#felt that if i didn't say anything i would be given assumptions that wouldn't make sense
Note
Hiiiii! So, a few days ago you were talking about the whole thing with Amy, Rory, and River. And when I saw those posts a thought arose in my head and I wish to share it with you.
Since River grew up with Amy and Rory as Mels. And Mels was Amy's best friend do you think that they ever talked about children? Since I know that it can come up when talking with friends, and like... do you think that Amy might've ever expressed whether or not she wanted children?
And if she didn't, that Mels would've had to listen to her mother say that she doesn't want children? The idea is so heartbreaking and sooo interesting.
What do you think about it?
no, no, see, you're so right and this drives me wild.
because, the way i see it, i don't think amy wanted children. she's somewhere on the 'hasn't thought about it' to 'vaguely negative feelings about it happening' range to me, which falls sharply into 'Not Happening Ever Again' post-s6. (specifically, in terms of having a kid herself, even if she could, i really don't think she would. i do love that she and rory end up adopting a kid later, because that does make sense, for amy pond who grew up alone in one universe with her family swallowed by cracks in time before the doctor helped her set it right again, for her to want to make sure another child won't be alone in the world like she was. getting off-track here.)
and that's so. because the first real memory river/mels has of amy is of amy shooting at her. and depending on how well the silence fucked up the rest of her memory, it might be one of the very first memories she has at all. that's how she met her mother, crying for help and getting a bullet instead. her mother tried to kill her, so of course, you have to think. she must have needed to hear that she was wanted, right? even if she was taken away, even if amy shot her, at some point, melody must have been wanted?
river is good at getting people to do what she wants, but she is very, very bad at subtlety. and mels is younger, has less practice, so when she wants to know this, she's just going to ask. blunt and quick, easy enough because amy's used to the way mels will open her mouth and you just have to be ready to roll with what comes out if you want to keep up. it's why they're such good friends (like mother, like daughter.)
they're nine, and mels asks if amy wants kids, and amy wrinkles up her nose and says she won't have time for children, obviously, once her raggedy doctor finally comes back. they're fifteen, and amy and rory dance will they-won't they in a way that makes mels twitchy to watch, and taunting amy about wanting to have rory's babies is a good way to get on her nerves. but amy calls her gross, tells her she's got more life planned than children would leave room for, and besides, imagine her, a mom? it'd be a disaster.
mels does. a lot. she looks at her mother and just sees her best friend instead. she's not even sure what she wishes was there, but. maybe amy's right. and besides. imagine her, a daughter, instead of the ticking time bomb she really is? it'd be a disaster.
they're sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and on. mels stands on the outside of a love story that births a universe. and her. how do you compete with that? not that she would know, not yet, she hasn't been there. but it doesn't make her feel any less alienated when amy and rory talk in whispers about a half-remembered world that's bled through to this life, about roman soldiers and boxes and the big bang of belief.
all these memories, they never mention children. on amy's wedding day, she's different, not like someone remembering a dream but someone who lived it. rory stands straighter, won't leave her side, and they're both so much older than they were yesterday. maybe now, right? a wedding's as good a time as any to decide you want kids.
mels not being at amy & rory's wedding is such an obvious lazy way of them trying to explain why they totally didn't just throw this plot twist together at the last minute that i'm not even going to acknowledge it. of course she was at their wedding. she's their best friend. there's too many people around the doctor, and she wasn't ready today of all days, so despite this horrible burning need under her skin to strike, she stays her hand. doesn't let him dance with her because she might just tear his throat out if he gets too close. stays with amy and rory as the maid of honor should. she must have been there for the awkward questions that always gets asked, 'so, any plans for a baby?' 'when am i getting grandkids?' 'oh, you two are going to have gorgeous children together.' standing a few feet from amy in her wedding dress and watching her mother tense and grit her teeth and brush off the questions. watching her look nervously at rory but never ask if he means it when his mom asks him if he'd prefer a son or a daughter, and rory answers 'either one, some day, not anytime soon.'
god i'm just going on and on, aren't i. but really, what's it like to know that amy never changed her mind. the next time she sees them, she's already been born and stolen. i don't like let's kill hitler for. so many reasons. but there is something compelling about how recklessly river lashes out at the world, at the doctor. even her sacrifice at the end is almost suicidal, throwing all her regenerations into this man without knowing if that will even work or if it might kill her to do it. but it makes more sense in the context of someone who has reached the end of a long, long wait for some kind of indication, any kind, that her mother wanted to have her. and finally been told, no. she didn't choose melody.
#like. to be clear also: i don't think the fact that amy didn't want kids and really didn't have a choice in giving birth to river#means that she wouldn't love river. i think it would make their relationship Complicated but i do think amy loves her. so much.#that's her daughter but it's also her best friend.#but like. god. to spend your whole childhood hoping you'll hear about some little glimmer of yourself.#a dream. a passing mention. a debate on baby names. anything. and to hear nothing.#and river is. like. she is really really bad at relationships right? we know this.#the person she's closest to is the doctor and she spends most of her life believing *he doesn't even love her*.#we're talking about someone whose base assumption about everyone is that they will try to hurt her at some point so she should always keep#one hand armed.#and her mother. didn't choose to have her. didn't have that choice. that has to fuck her up a little.#(and also serve as proof that river is. so so bad at knowing when she is loved. because maybe amy didn't choose to have her but she named#melody pond after mels her best friend. she has been choosing river every day for the past however many years since mels decided to come#here and be near her mom and dad even if only as kids. but river still can't see it.#and. given the nature of how the ponds disappear from her life. and we never get any closure about them and river.#you have to wonder if she ever did. river song do you know your mother loves you?#having the melody-as-river reveal be so close to the end of the season and then getting rid of amy & rory before they can actually do#anything with the three of them as a messed up little family unit is the show's biggest crime. because i don't know! i don't know if river#knew her parents loved her! i don't know if she *ever* came to terms with how she was born and how they didn't need to choose her then to#choose her now! i don't know if river ever really felt comfortable thinking of them as her parents rather than her friends?#according to the transcripts. river calls amy 'mother' twice. (and 'mummy' once jokingly.) she calls rory 'father' once. and 'dad' in angel#in manhattan. and it just. it drives insane right? it's almost weirdly formal. like the words aren't right but she knows she should say the#and. and. i don't think i'm ever going to get over river song.#i think that's the takeaway here.#ask#doctor who#river song#amy pond#rory williams
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
To that anon that asked me about why I still follow a certain person, I hope you can understand that I do not want hate for this. I am very much unaffected by the choice of belief someone else has. And while I know that others don't like or care for that person, I still do enjoy the art and writing by that person. Their choice of belief doesn't really matter to me, especially since that person hasn't ever done anything to anyone that was harmful, that I know of. Everyone is free to dislike someone, but I don't feel it necessary to hate anyone, especially over beliefs.
Please understand that I am not attacking anyone, nor do I advocate for hate of anyone really.
#discourse tw#felt that if i didn't say anything i would be given assumptions that wouldn't make sense#as far as i know that person has not been part of any kind of harassment against anyone#and that's why I don't think that person is as bad as people are making them out to be#freedom of religion and all that#free to believe what you want#so long as you aren't doing stuff that actively harms someone else#which. again. is something that they haven't done#that person has not hurt someone that i know of#even so#i think it should be alright if someone still enjoys some things#it takes way more energy to keep hating someone/something than to be either neutral or passively enjoying things#wanna say it again#anyone can dislike someone. you're free to do so#i don't believe someone should be harassed or hated just because they believe in something you don't or likes someone's stuff that you no -#longer like#it just comes across as a bit controlling#i don't think it should matter too much tho#especially since everyone has the ability to block the tags i said you can block so you dont see it#and again#you're allowed to not like someone based on their beliefs or whatever else that makes you dislike them#i don't think people should be telling others who/what they can/can't like if that person/thing isn't hurting anyone#yes i know there were people with those beliefs that did things in possibly the wrong way#but i don't think everyone who has that belief should be grouped with the ones who did it wrong#*by possibly i mean might have done it the wrong way by attacking others for not believing what they do*#and that is absolutely the wrong way#but they haven't done that(again. to my knowledge)#so i don't think that's worth hating#for me anyway#i did delete the reblog from that person tho
1 note
·
View note
Note
RE watching thoughts: I’m not 100% sure, but it might be that the whole “I am not my thoughts” is about engaging and identifying with your metacognition MORE than your initial thoughts. Because I get where you’re coming from - what is a consciousness but a collection of thoughts and feelings? But you can also have thoughts about your own thoughts that are more useful for dealing with whatever situation you’re in, I guess. (Random aside - every time I start thinking about thinking about thinking my brain inevitably starts thinking about Tiffany Aching and The Wee Free Men.)
I really should have replied to this ask sooner because it's going to seem like a non-sequitur now (this was sent much earlier in March) but I'm kind of glad I didn't, because I've been chatting with people about this and I think I understand more why there's an emphasis in some therapies on the idea that we are not our thoughts.
(I uh, haven't read the Tiffany books so I'm not much help there.)
I am coming to understand that many, perhaps most, people judge themselves, comprehensively and harshly, based on their thoughts. Perhaps it's just a lot of people who struggle with mental health, but given the commonality of the sentiment I don't know if I'd confine it that tightly; generally it appears that people cannot conceive of themselves as anything other than a binary of good or bad. So many people I've talked to about this portion of DBT, the watching-questioning-identifying thoughts portion, say that it helps to snap them out of a spiral of "I'm a horrible person, I deserve to suffer/die, I can never be redeemed" after they've failed at something, or had a negative thought, or reacted poorly to an unexpected event.
That is not something I've ever experienced. I mean, jokingly maybe, but not in a real, internal sense.
And that's not to brag -- I'm not saying I think I'm a good person, either, because I don't think I'm a good person. I don't conceive of myself in terms of good or bad. I never cuddle my cats and think "I'm such a good cat dad" or forget to feed them and think "I should die now." I have a perpetual morally neutral attitude towards my own existence; my thoughts and actions might trend me one direction or another but I'm aware of the temporary nature of that. If I fuck up I'll worry about who I might have hurt or whether I'll be fired or what's going to happen as a consequence, if I am polite to someone who didn't deserve it I know I was acting kindly in the moment, but I don't make an inherent moral judgement of myself based on that. And it seems like the vast majority of people do. Which you would think would make me feel pretty good about myself, but honestly...I don't know.
A lot of people I know who have ADHD or are Autistic have talked about seeing themselves as other, as alien -- like that one webcomic artist who draws themself with little antennae to indicate they're strange and different. I've always understood why one might do that, but I never felt that way myself, before or after the diagnosis. After all, let's remember, I was The Normal* Child of my siblings, and if I was The Normal One before the diagnosis, why wouldn't I remain Mostly Normal after?
* As ever, I'm using "normal" as a cultural term, to indicate what we think of as mainstream, not because normal is a thing that really exists.
My life has been relatively solitary -- I have friends and family and I love them but I'm rarely part of a large group, I don't spend a lot of time out in public interacting with people, I'm not a big socializer. Before the Adderall, I really couldn't be, I took too much psychic damage from interpersonal interaction, so I chose those very carefully. And now my DBT class has been a rare moment when I'm encountering contradictions to a lot of my assumptions about the way human beings in our society interact, react, and behave. I just...don't fit that mold very well. I think of it as having crossed wiring, not in the sense that I'm faulty but just in the sense that I'm very, very different. Not Normal. It's not exactly a bad feeling but it's certainly not a great one, internalizing the sensation of alienness.
DBT is proving to be a mixed bag but not in the way I or my therapist intended -- it seems to be either things I was already instinctively doing or things that simply do not apply to me. In one way it's disappointing because it means there isn't much help to be had (we're a little over halfway through the course and I keep thinking "Maybe next class will be useful") but on the other hand it's validating that so much of what I came up with myself as unconscious coping mechanisms is literally what I would have been told to do anyway.
Sometimes it's a combination of both, though, which really blows. I guess most people, if they reframe another person's actions, actually find emotional relief in that, and I don't. An example from the class is that if someone is rude to you, you can consider how they might be having a hard day, and be polite in return; that's great, in terms of defusing a situation, and it's something I do a fair amount of. But apparently it's also something that for most people results in feeling less awful about the interaction, and that's not the case for me. Which is why so much of DBT feels to me like lying to oneself. It's not lying for most people.
So, yeah. I'm going to finish out the course and keep trying things with the therapist but I suspect given everything, I might already be at "as good as it gets" in terms of emotional work. Which isn't the worst thing in the world, and there is still the option to try medication that could help, but I think there will come a point where I'm going to have to deal with the fallout of just how different I am, and how that has impacted my life. Might end up a good thing; something I've really been trying to resolve is unhappiness over being unpartnered and highly likely to remain that way, and at least if this provides a better understanding of why, then perhaps I can process that and put it to rest in a way I've been trying to do but not succeeding well at.
So, we'll see. But I find it both fascinating and kind of horrifying how many people can believe they are irredeemably bad, even if the belief is only temporary, simply because they had an uncharitable thought or impulse. It makes me somewhat grateful for the crossed wires, at least.
167 notes
·
View notes
Text
Overanalyzing King's POV
Part 2
Link to Part 1
Let's talk about Adoption
So Kiane adopted Mertyl and it's pretty obvious that it's a kept secret and that only a few people know the truth. Which is fine, in adoption parents tend to keep it a secret until the child is ready and prepared to know the truth.
And here's the deal, if King and Diane were just a normal Fairy and Giant couple that's all they have to worry about, but that's not the case here. King is the well the King and Diane is the Queen, they're royals and I don't think the fairies would be too pleased to know that their first prince is actually a human oh and not just any human. The human that was switched with their actual fairy prince.
Realistically, if Kiane we're to have told Mertyl that he's adopted. He'll still be in same situation, probably even worse. Fairies are already on his case, questioning his relation to Kiane. "Are you really their kid?" "You don't look like them at all!" Just imagine if Mertyl being their adopted kid is common knowledge. Their quips would be worse and would hurt Mertyl more. Kiane is trying to protect Mertyl from this, that's why they kept it from everybody.
At least now, yes they say these things to Mertyl but they acknowledge him as their prince because that's what they've been told and that's how he acts. They're actually really cool with Mertyl it's just to them, Mertyl is weird looking. So, even if the truth were to come out it wouldn't matter to them cause yes Mertyl is human but he's still Mertyl he's still their prince.
Now, why didn't Kiane tell Mertyl anything even though it's been 18 years. Cause Mertyl isn't ready yet, I mean based on Diane's expressions she knows that this secret is long overdue but in a way they can't do it cause it'll only break Mertyl.
Mertyl has always been insecure about himself and Kiane is trying to make him feel secure, shower him with love and affection in the best ways they could so that even if the truth would come out Mertyl knows that his parents loves him literally no matter what.
And they've done this, as shown in Mertyl's flashback but Mertyl still feels the way he does.
In a world where Mertyl is secure in his place, that he knows the love that his parents, siblings and everyone has for him. There will be no conflict between him and Nasiens. In this world Mertyl would actually feel happy that Nasiens is at their doorstep and would actually help and guide Nasiens into learning about their true identity.
Unfortunately, that's not the case here.
Mertyl saw King gave the Drug of Yore to Nasiens. Now this scene is just filled to the brim with misunderstangs that my only hope is for Sixtus to use his brain and talk it out with his pops.
Mertyl felt betrayed at this moment. This is his worst nightmare came to life.
There's this medicine that in his mind can cure him, can help him and Sixtus reassured him saying that their father is a kinder King than anyone out there and he'll give it to him.
Notice the phrasing here, they know their father's responsibilities as King, they can differentiate between his two roles. Yes, he's their father and he'll do anything for them but he's also the Fairy King, a being that has immense responsibilities and power. They're aware that there are some things that he can't do for them because he's the Fairy King.
But there he saw, his father giving the very thing he came there to ask for to Nasiens just like that. This is the ultimatum for him, so he ran off. Without knowing the full truth behind his father's actions.
Then, we have Nasiens, I love you but baby you kinda messed up on this one. He just jumped to his assumption here.
When King gave the drug, Nasiens refused and claimed that he's rather cruel for letting him run around and make medicine for Percy and fail everytime for the past 2 years only to give this to him now and argued that he should have given it to Mertyl.
Granted, Nasiens doesn't know that Mertyl is human so I guess good on you for having Mertyl's back. But Nasiens you can't just assume these things without knowing the full story, let the man explain. Regardless of King's reasons (I already made a post about it check it out if you wanna know my thoughts) in my eyes he made the thoughest decision a father could ever make here.
At this very moment, King is letting Nasiens go.
King knows what Nasiens is here for and he knows that the moment Percy wakes up they'll leave. King and Diane have suspected and confirmed to themselves that Nasiens is their kid. But Nasiens doesn't really need them, he's fine, he has friends that cares for him, he has hopes and aspirations, he grew up to be such a great person. To King, seeing Nasiens the way they are now and being able to take care of him for 2 years and help him with his goal, that is more than enough. King is letting Nasiens go because he knows that Mertyl needs them the most.
And here's the thing, I have a huge feeling that King decided on this a long time ago, that's why he didn't explicitly tell Nasiens anything for 2 years. And look at King's face here, he seems content, happy even.
King is willing to let Nasiens go without even saying that he's their father, without saying that they're family, without a hug, without a good heart to heart, not even a chance to hear the word Father from them, without any closure. None of that. Because King chose Mertyl
King chose Mertyl cause that's his son
King chose Mertyl despite the fact that he has finally found his firstborn
This is a sacrifice he's willing to make because that's how much King loves Mertyl
#that's it#it's done#i made my piece#nakaba owes me bigtime#that last bit made me tear up ngl#nnt king#king harlequin#fairy king harlequin#nasiens#mertyl#four knights of the apocalypse#nanatsu no taizai#seven deadly sins#nnt#4kota#mokushiroku no yonkishi#seven deadly sins sequel#nanatsu no taizai mokushiroku no yonkishi
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
02- Lover
pairing- Spencer Reid x Male!reader
summary- slow burn story of how spencer reid fell in love with Y/n L/n
warnings- profanities, some arguing, lemme know if theres anything else!
wc- 2k
a/n-big big thank you to @avis-writeshq for proof reading this!! And guys I know 2k isn't a lot but it's a lot for me and im rly proud of my self 😚
part 1//part 2
While the interactions y/n and Spencer had started sharing on the train had plagued both men's minds, it had been for very different reasons. If you asked Spencer, he'd be inclined to use words such as enchanting, or describe it as a delightful rush when he thought about it. But if you asked y/n, he might be more likely to use words like conflicting, frustrating, yet electric. Like the rush of doing something bad, while in motion you're given a short, small burst of adrenaline, but once done an equal rush of guilt follows.
This guilt was egged on by Gina- y/n’s girlfriend. If you asked any of his friends they would say that she’s not good for him. She was about as emotionally mature as a highschooler, to put it lightly. Almost immediately after the couple left their honeymoon phase, Gina became jealous and overbearing. She would yell at him for not texting her back immediately, or accuse him of cheating at least once a week. And many other incidents of the sort. Y/n knew it was toxic and had been telling his friends he would break up with her soon- but somehow never got around to doing it.
Lately their arguments had revolved around the topic of one man- Spencer. Gina felt y/n was spending too much time with him, 'I'm your girlfriend- not him!’, about summed up the argument they’d engaged in the night previously.
“Well how would you feel if i was hanging out with some guy from the gym all the time, and flirting with him, and sexting him all the time like a whore- wouldn't you feel the same?!”
Gina was absolutely incensed when she found out that her boyfriend traded numbers with the genius, and texted each other regularly. In her mind they were basically having sex, and y/n was basically creating on her.
“Oh don't you dare turn this around on me! we only hang out on the train, it's not like we’re getting dinner together or something! god you need to get a grip…”
The last part was mumbled but Gina still heard it- and was even more incensed by it. And although y/n knew the way he was handling it was a bit childish, but he didnt care- he just so mad in the moment. He was enraged at Gina for not trusting him enough.
“What the fuck y/n?!! You’re such a liar!!”
And so they went on in circles like this for at least an hour. Gina would make an argument consisting of primarily lies and assumptions, and y/n would try to convince her otherwise- fruitlessly of course. Round and round they went, and needless to say y/n slept on the couch that night. And the next morning Spencer noticed y/n massaging his neck every couple of minutes- despite y/n’s attempts to be discreet about the pains in his neck. He didn't want to make a big deal about it, as he had slept on the couch many times before anyways after fights with his girlfriend.
—
“You seem chipper-”
Derek observed with a teasing smile when Spencer pushed through the large doors of the BAU, the comment doing nothing to deter the unusually large smile plastered on his face. Said smile grew even slightly more when he felt the vibration of a text against the fabric in the pocket of his pants, knowing it was a text from y/n. He didn't text anyone else much anyways for it not to be him. If anything y/n had taught him how to text. Of course Spencer knew how to type and send a text to someone, but didn't do it unless he had to- he’d rather call them or talk to them in person. That was of course until y/n offered him his number and spencer had to then awkwardly explain that he didn't really text all too much. When he found this out, y/n had taken it upon himself to teach Spencer how to text with him. He called it their texting for dummies lessons. They spent almost a week's worth of commutes doing said lessons.
“Oh I just had a nice morning that's all.”
Spencer was quick to shrug off the comment, knowing the endless teasing that would ensue if Derek knew the real reason for his extra large smile that morning.
“or do you mean a nice night? who was it- the librarian, or no no the only other person in the theater watching a 3 hour long sci-fi!”
Derek spoke with a wiggle to his eyebrow and teasing lilt to his voice. Luckily Derek got Spencer's back when Penelope poked her head out the round table room and held up the casefile, announcing a new case.
“Heads up crime fighters! we got another one!”
Her words caught the attention of the Profilers scattered about the bullpen and drew them towards the briefing room. Spencer rushed to finish pouring the 6th sugar packet into his coffee mug and texted Y/n to let him know he had a case, before shoving his phone into his pocket and half jogging to his seat around the table.
Y/n knew about Spencer's job, mostly because the first time Spencer wasn’t on the train for a couple days while on a case, y/n freaked. When he got on the train again a couple days later as if nothing had happened- y/n demanded an explanation. And now Spencer texted him whenever he got called on a case- even though he knew y/n wouldn't worry and just assume he was on a case- it was an excuse for them to text more. And Spencer would take any opportunity possible to talk to him.
Later, as the team boarded the jet spencer overheard JJ and Emily practically gossiping about what had happened that morning with derek. spencer just sighed, pulling a worn book from the messenger bag at his hip, and flipping to the doggy eared page. Although he was still slightly distracted by JJ and Emily not so subtly talking about him.
“you think he’s found someone?”
emily’s giggle reminded spencer of that of a school girl gossiping. Emily leaned towards JJ, eager to hear what she had been told penelope- the ever terrible secret keeper. Not that his recent mood shifts were much of a secret anyways.
“i mean do you see how much more hes been texting? INstead reading during his lunch break he texts. What- or who could be so intriguing that Spencer Reid chooses it over a book? a crush! thats who.”
JJ and Emily seemed convinced at Emily's argument for Spencer's recent change in behavior. This overheard conversation sparked thoughts about y/n in spencers mind. And spencer agreed silently with emily that y/n was worth not making progress on a book he was reading. As in his opinion talking with y/n was the most entertaining thing he could do.
—
When Spencer returned home from the case in Kentucky, needless to say he was absolutely exhausted. But despite every signal his body was giving him- he decided to stay awake in order to finish the book y/n had recommended to him. That way the two could discuss the novel on their daily commute.
The moment y/n stepped onto the train the next morning, Spencer could tell something was off- and it didnt take a profiler to see something was wrong his hands fidgeted at his sides more than normal, his eyes had large bags under them, and his entire demeanor sagged like the bag on his back was filled with large stones. When y/n crossed the subway car and took his normal seat, Spencer had decided to refrain himself from asking what was wrong- as he didn't want to intrude. Spencer had always been a little awkward- and he knew from experience that asking could make it worse. So he left it alone for now and tried to make conversation about the novel he’d finished the night before. And y/n had actually perked up a bit when they got into an excited debate over two charachters- until his phone buzzed in his pocket again. At first Spencer didn't notice it, and continued rambling about his analysis of the aforementioned book, and the aforementioned characters they had been debating over - Spencer didn't notice until he heard an exasperated sigh leave y/n’s lips. He froze mid sentence, thinking he’d said something wrong- or that he’d rambled too much (as he often did) but then he noticed y/n's gaze was locked onto his phone- which was opened to text messages.
💕GF💕
-lemme guess your still talking to that ‘dr. reid’ AFTER we talked about it last night
-you need to stop hanging out with him- im better for you
Spencer didn't mean to read it, But he still did- and it hurt. His brows creased and he looked at y/n with a pained look. A lump formed in y/n's throat when he looked over and realized Spencer had read the text from gina- and the text he had already typed out to respond with. it read ‘ you know you shouldn’t make assumptions like that- we barely even talk after the argument we had about it last week.
“You know, you should’ve told me if your girlfriend didn't want us hanging out- i dont wanna ruin your relationship..”
Spencer's voice was a bit strained and you could hear the hurt in it. y/n rushed to apologize but Spencer didn't want to hear it.
“spencer i'm sorry- its just- just gina gets a little insecure sometimes and we argued about it last night- She just gets jealous a lot-”
Y/n's rambled half apology, half explanation did nothing to ward off the hurt Spencer was experiencing, or to slow down his thoughts, which were jumping to conclusions faster than Spencer could read. And before he spoke he had to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat and blink away the burning of tears behind his eyelids, threatening to spill.
“So gina never wanted us to hang out?! you should’ve told me y/n- i'm not gonna intrude on your relationship.”
While the pair argued, y/n could hear the previous night's argument with his girlfriend ringing the back of his mind. Gina yelling about him being a pathological cheater, and her having to put up with it. Gina often played the victim in any and all situations where she was at fault. Because deflecting was often much easier than dealing with her own issues.
Despite the fact that the pair was in a heated argument, the pair spoke in hushed tones as to not attract more attention than the already prying eyes of the quite crowded train car. Y/n was shocked- he could believe Spencer would say something like that- and in the heat of the moment he didn’t notice the tears lining Spencer's waterline- or in fact the tears that lined his own. After a moments silence, the train conveniently halted to a stop at spencers station- and wasted no time in hastily pulling his messenger bag that only a little while ago had been used to save a seat for y/n, over his shoulders with a huff and all but stomped out of the train car. And as the doors to the train car closed shut with a satisfy shhhk behind him, Spencer pulled the corner of his unbuttoned cardigan up to his face and wiped his slightly red eyes of their tears, feeling trickles of guilt now snaking their way into the pit of his stomach for what he said to the man he held so dear.
TO BE CONTINUED...
#criminal minds#spencer reid#bau#cute#bau team#fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x male reader#gay#Spencer Reid flangst#Spencer Reid fluff#spencer reid angst#Spencer Reid x reader#taylor swift#taylor swift speak now#taylor's verison#Enchanted (TV)#Fluff#lover#lover series#Lover part 2#02- lover#Lover - a Spencer Reid series
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
Our Song - A Gwynriel Songfic
Just a short songfic based on Taylor Swift's "Our Song" for Day Two of Gwyn Appreciation Week - Song Association
Originally I didn't have anything planned for today but the song came on at work, and I thought it would be fun to write something a little meta :)
The full fic is below the cut!
@gwynweekofficial
I was ridin' shotgun with my hair undone
In the front seat of his car
On yet another night that Gwyn and Azriel couldn't sleep, she found herself in his arms in the skies above Velaris. It happened less frequently now, but there were still nights like this, and they'd taken to flying once they'd given both up on attempting to sleep. The cool night air sometimes did them more good than trying and failing to rest.
He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel
The other on my heart
There was nowhere Gwyn would rather be than curled up against Azriel's chest with the city spread out beneath them. Even when they placed bets about how much free fall she could take before she screamed or if Az would beat his fastest time from one end of the city to the other, this felt like the safest place in the world.
I look around, turn the radio down
He says, "Baby, is something wrong?"
Tonight, though, they just made lazy loops around the city in companionable to silence. Gwyn might be able to draw Azriel out better than anyone else, but she didn't always need to.
After a while, Az glanced down at her and said, "Everything alright?"
I say, "Nothing, I was just thinkin' how we don't have a song"
And he says
It was, and Gwyn knew he'd know if it wasn't, but it was in his nature to confirm everything, not to make assumptions. Azriel didn't leave things to chance.
"Completely fine," she said, giving him a smile. "I was just thinking that for all the singing we do, it's a bit strange we don't have a song, isn't it?"
Our song is the slamming screen door
Sneakin' out late, tapping on your window
"It's probably for the best. Anything distinctive is predictable and easy to track."
Gwyn rolled her eyes and wondered if there was anything in the world he couldn't relate back to espionage. "Azriel. Not everything in life is about being sneaky."
When we're on the phone, and you talk real slow
'Cause it's late, and your mama don't know
"Not everything. But quite a lot."
His voice was deadpan, but Gwyn could read Azriel well enough to spot the barest hint of a smile on his face. He knew what he was doing, being pedantic just to rile her up a bit.
And Gwyn wouldn't give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait.
Instead, she just changed the subject and said, "Now that I think about it though, I wonder if you could use music to pass coded messages."
Azriel hummed thoughtfully, and Gwyn could feel it rumble in his chest. "A bit difficult to communicate much detail when there's only seven notes in a scale to work with, though."
If he wanted pedantic tonight, he'd get pedantic. Gwyn smiled.
"Actually there are twelve in a chromatic scale."
"That's still less than half the letters in the alphabet. My point still stands."
Our song is the way you laugh
The first date, "Man, I didn't kiss her, and I should have"
That was enough to consider it a draw. They lapsed back into comfortable silence and watched the city fly by underneath them.
Eventually Gwyn—completely incapable of letting anything go as always—said, "We really should have a song, though. And for the record, telling me having a song is predictable might be the least romantic thing you've ever said to me."
"Don't worry, I'm sure I'll outdo myself soon."
Gwyn laughed at that, then rested her head on the space between Azriel's head and shoulder. It fit perfectly, as if she was made to be there.
"There aren't a lot of things that are more important than being sneaky, but that laugh is one of them, you know," Azriel added softly.
Gwyn didn't have a sarcastic response for that, just kissed him.
And when I got home, 'fore I said, "Amen"
Asking God if he could play it again
They didn't stay out much longer than that. The flight had done its job, tiring Azriel out enough to catch a few hours of sleep. Gwyn wasn't quite so lucky, but sleepless nights weren't as bad when she spent them curled up against his side, one wing covering her like an extra blanket. While she listened to him breathe, she hummed to herself quietly and got lost in thought about music theory and cryptology.
I was walkin' up the front porch steps after everything that day
Had gone all wrong and been trampled on
The next day, Gwyn was not nearly as content. After only a couple hours of sleep, training the next morning was miserable. She couldn't bring herself to skip it. Instead, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep going, even though she lost three sparring matches in a row and failed to block countless hits she should have dodged.
No one asked what was wrong—the bags under her eyes were answer enough.
And lost and thrown away
Got to the hallway, well on my way to my lovin' bed
It had been a horribly long day, and Gwyn had pushed herself to get through all of it. Azriel considered telling her to rest, but he knew Gwyn—she'd only dig her heels in more if he did.
So instead, he made sure to be home first, ready to take care of Gwyn when the exhaustion finally overtook her and she collapsed into bed.
I almost didn't notice all the roses
And the note that said
And just as he predicted, she took one look at the carefully tabbed and annotated book he'd left on the nightstand for her and decided she'd open it when she'd gotten some sleep. The vase of roses next to it made her smile though.
Azriel was patient. He could wait until Gwyn had rested up enough to find the note he'd left explaining that he'd annotated the songbook for her because there was no obvious choice of which song should be theirs.
He'd rather just give them all to her.
I've heard every album, listened to the radio
Waited for something to come along
That was as good as our song
After flipping through the entire book together, Gwyn and Azriel agreed there wasn't a single song that felt quite right. Gwyn was beyond caring—it was the best gift she'd ever received.
But still, the next day, she'd returned to the library and gotten her hands on every book about music theory and codebreaking that she could find. She was on a mission.
I was ridin' shotgun with my hair undone
In the front seat of his car
Gwyn and Azriel had a few more weeks of peace before insomnia struck again. Gwyn had her nose stuck in the library books she was still making her way through when Azriel said he couldn't sleep either. He suggested flying again, and she never turned that down.
Gwyn sang softly to herself as they flew. She almost didn't realize she was doing it until Azriel joined in.
I grabbed a pen and an old napkin
And I wrote down our song
Something about the sound of their voices together unknotted the problem. When they got back home, she didn't come to bed, just cracked open the notebook full of staff paper and grabbed a pen.
Azriel might have thought that music was an impractical means of encoding information, but Gwyn was sure that with a few tweaks, her system would work.
And there was no song that was sweeter than "I told you so."
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jane's Pets Chapter 96: Resurrection
TWs in the tags
Previous
Masterlist
Next
You asked Barron about resurrection, once. You didn't really know if you'd want to use it if it did exist, but you were curious, and none of its books mentioned it. You also felt smart for figuring that if it did exist it would require the death of someone else to do, since magic cares so much about balance, and wanted to see if you were right.
"Once someone's dead, they're gone." It said. "At least, that's a foundational assumption we mages make in order to better understand magic, like the whole balance thing. It's possible we're wrong, but assumptions like that tend to lead us in the right direction when it comes to tinkering and stuff, which implies there's at least some truth to it. So, assuming our fundamental understanding of magic is correct, you could puppet around a corpse, but the person they used to be will never exist in that form again. Maybe you could describe vampirism as a form of resurrection, but I wouldn't. Vampires who are turned aren't the same person they were as a human. There are also some mages who claim that ghosts are real, but given how magic resists attempts to prove its existence and how ghosts aren't solid and observable in the way fae, vampires, and other species are, it's hard to tell."
You nodded. "Would puppeting a corpse require killing someone?"
It raised its eyebrows.
"I'm not planning on doing it! I just guessed that the cost of a spell like that would be death and wanted to check if I'm understanding the balance and cost stuff correctly."
"Oh, that makes sense. A spell that allowed you to continuely puppet a corpse would require that, yes, but more temporary ones have easier costs to bear. Not that I think it would really ever be worth it, what would you even get out of that?"
You nodded. All this talk about puppeting was starting to make you think about the brand on your arm, and you'd rather not think about that.
"Is there any way to communicate with the dead?"
"Maybe. Like I said, it's hard to tell. Even mages who argue you can claim that it's so different from talking to the living it's hard to get much out of it."
You couldn't help but be disappointed. It would be so wonderful to be able to talk to your dad again…
Now, of course, you wish you could talk to Diya, Barron, and Ray again as well. It's good you found out it wasn't possible before they died, or else you'd probably spend the rest of your life trying.
You can't think about them right now. Once someone's dead, they're gone. You need to focus on the living.
Resurrection not existing can be a bit of a comfort, too. Once Jane and you are dead, you'll be gone completely, never able to hurt anyone again.
–
"Come here Kitty, it's time for your medicine."
Kitty shows no sign that they heard Jane. They seem captivated by the puzzle they're trying to solve.
Jane appears right next to them before you can do anything. "Kitty." Her tone is warning.
Kitty carefully places another piece with a shaking hand and doesn't look up. Oh. They're not captivated. They're doing this on purpose.
You open your mouth to say something, to try and convince Kitty that if they can just hold on until your hands heal they'll be able to be themself again, but Jane speaks first.
She grabs their face bruisingly. "Bad ki-"
"No! No no no no, stop it! Stop it, don't touch me!"
Jane slaps them hard across the face. She's not angry, though. She's smiling wide. "Uh oh… you know saying no to me is against the rules. You know being noncompliant is against the rules. I've put in all this work, and it seems like… you're just untrainable." Her voice drips with disappointment, but she's still smiling.
Kitty tries to punch her, and she easily teleports out of the way. "Puppy? Help me get Kitty downstairs and restrained."
Jane grabs them by the hair and touches their collar, making it instantly disappear into her void. Puppy comes from the kitchen grabs Kitty's legs. They thrash and scream, but Jane and Puppy get them down the stairs easily. After a moment of hesitation, you follow. Maybe you can convince Jane to lighten the punishment, or take their place.
"Master-"
"Nope!" Jane finishes hanging Kitty from the ceiling with Puppy's help. "Both of you are going to go upstairs and out into the backyard. I have a job for you, I'll be out to tell you what it is in a minute."
Puppy immediately goes back upstairs and pulls you along by the elbow. You'd shake her off, but it doesn't look like negotiating will help this situation. Best to just obey so you don't risk them being punished for your misbehavior.
It's a nice day. Puppy's been tending to your garden after breaking your hands, so you haven't been going outside as much as you used to, but you really should be spending time outside anyway. It makes everything feel more manageable when you get fresh air and sunlight.
Jane appears with two shovels in her hands. "I need you guys to dig a hole. As deep as you can go, and about as wide as a twin mattress. Can you do that?"
"Yes, master." You say on autopilot. You're… not going to be able to do that with your broken hands, but she knows that. Luckily, she doesn't seem upset at the obvious lie.
Puppy nods.
"Excellent!" She throws a shovel at you and the other at Puppy with much more force than necessary. Obviously, you're unable to catch yours. Ow. Puppy catches hers gracefully.
Jane is gone by the time you look back up, so you turn to Puppy.
"I won't be able to dig. Maybe I can kick some dirt around, but besides that I think I'll just be moral support. Is that okay?"
Puppy nods. She looks pretty shaky… and now that you're paying attention, you notice her face is pale and her eyes are full of tears.
"Hey, what's wrong? I mean-" How can you figure out what's wrong with just yes or no questions? "Are you upset about helping Jane restrain Kitty? You know that's not your fault. Neither is my hands being broken. It's okay."
That doesn't seem to comfort her. She wipes her eyes and stabs at the ground with her shovel.
"Is it that you feel bad about hurting me or Kitty?"
She shakes her head.
"Huh. Does it have to do with digging this hole?"
She gives one short nod, tears streaming down her face.
"Are you… upset that I can't help?"
She shakes her head.
You decide you should be able to figure it out from there. You wonder why Jane's just giving you busywork. Is it just busywork? That's not the kind of thing she normally does, and wouldn't she want you to have to hear Kitty screaming and not be able to do anything about it? She loves doing that stuff. And why does she want the hole a specific width, why would that matter if this is just-
Oh fuck, oh fuck. She's having you dig a grave.
Puppy throws you to the ground and pins you before you can even think about running in to stop Jane.
"OW- Wha- Puppy, we can't just let her kill them!" You could fight her off if you needed to, and you will if it comes to that. But first you want to try talking to her. "Please, I know you don't want them to die. We can't do nothing!"
She seems to consider that for a moment, then shakes her head.
"Puppy…" You can't wait any longer. You shove her off of you and run inside.
You leap over the couch and get to the basement door in seconds. You try to twist the doorknob using your elbow, but it stays in place. The door is locked.
That's fine, the door is still breakable. You run at it and ram your shoulder into it over and over again with all the force you can muster, but it doesn't seem to help. You kick it as hard as you can everywhere you can reach that you think might have weakpoints. Wood starts to crack, so you keep kicking until there's a hole in the door.
There's metal beneath the wood.
"No!" You scream and pound on the door with your fists. "Stop it, don't kill them, take me instead!"
There's no response. You run to the kitchen and grab the heaviest pot you can find, then run back and start banging it against the doorknob- the door doesn't need to break, just the doorknob- but that doesn't work either. You can't grip it tightly enough to bang with any real force with just your elbows.
"Puppy! Please, I can't do this without you!"
You turn to look out into the backyard and see Puppy curled up on the ground, sobbing and twitching, why is she-
The collar, her sobbing set off the collar, damn it! You scream in frustration. With the twitching and the shaking, she probably wouldn't be able to get a good grip on the pot either, even if she wants to.
You- you need a spell, there's got to be a spell that can break down the door! But- your hands-
Thinking about your hands again, you realize they're in agony. You might've re-broken them pounding on the door, shit shit shit!
"No no no no no no-" You can't lose them too. This is all your fault, again, and you can't do anything to help. If Jane's decided she's going to kill Kitty, she's going to kill Kitty, and there's nothing you can do about it.
You waited too long. You should've been trying a new spell every day, should've been attacking Jane at every opportunity, should've comforted Kitty well enough that they didn't feel the need to to be noncompliant to regain their autonomy- this is all your fault!
Now that you're not screaming, you can hear Kit crying out every once in a while from the basement. They're still alive, and you still can't do anything. You pound on the door weakly again.
They're going to die. They're going to die and it's going to be all your fault.
You lean against the door and sob and sob as the light coming through the windows slowly fades. At some point, Puppy manages to stop crying and starts working on digging their grave again. It's all she can do. And you can't even do that. You can't do anything. Cold wind comes through the open back door. You can't hear Kitty downstairs anymore.
"Aren't dogs supposed to be good at digging? This isn't nearly deep enough."
You whirl around at the sound of Jane's voice. She's looking down at the (admittedly fairly small) hole with her arms crossed, but a satisfied smile is on her face. Puppy looks near passing out.
A horrible thought occurs to you. She was never going to bury them anyway. She's going to force you and Kitty to eat their bodies. This really was just busywork.
Jane looks over to you and tsks. "And what have you done to that poor door? That's not what I told you to do."
"Where's Kitty?" Your voice is hoarse.
"...In the basement? Where else would they be?" The smug smile never leaves her face for a second.
"Y-you… Can I see them?"
She giggles. "If you want to. You won't be able to talk to them, though. They're dead."
You knew that on some level, but hearing it still sends the world crashing down around you. You can barely breathe. Not again, not again-
You can hear Puppy wailing, distantly, and Jane laughing.
You failed. The only thing keeping you going was the determination to save them and you failed. Even if you manage to kill Jane now, you and Puppy will never be okay, never be able to get past this. You'll live the rest of your lives with gaping holes in your hearts, and neither of you have enough left to compensate for it. You'll be empty forever.
From the other side of the basement door, you hear the click of Jane unlocking it.
"Well, do you want to see them or not?"
You stumble down the stairs in a haze, and Puppy follows close behind.
Kitty is still hanging from the ceiling. Their feet are in some sort of tub-
Their chest rises and falls. They're breathing.
"Kitty!" Your voice comes out as more of a scream. You run to them and wrap your arms around their body. "Kitty, Kitty, I thought you were dead, I thought-" You can't speak through the sobs wracking your body.
Kitty's eyes slowly open. "Wha-?"
Jane is laughing so hard you can hear her struggling to breathe. Puppy is at your side, gently tugging on your shoulder. Right, Kitty doesn't like to be touched, and they can't push you away right now.
"Sh-She- I thought you were dead- she had us dig your grave!"
"I'm… sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, nothing, it's all her, I'm just so glad you're alive-" You want to hug them so badly but you know that they probably wouldn't like that.
"You really thought- you really thought I wouldn't make you watch the whole time if I was actually killing them!" Jane wheezes.
You don't care. You don't care what she does or what she says, as long as Kitty's alive.
"I'm going to kill her. Soon." You say softly. Kitty doesn't react, but Puppy…
Puppy looks at you with steely determination in her eyes and nods.
A/N: Man, this one was fun to write. Originally it was going to be titled 'Death' just to be mean but I figured I'd give some hints that Kitty wasn't actually going to die. I didn't plan on this landing on April 1st but what a fun coincidence! Let me know if I should tag anything else, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list! Next chapter is the season finale!!
Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @thecosmicmap @quins-whump-stuff
@fuckcapitalismasshole
#whump#whump writing#whumpblr#intimate whumper#creepy whumper#nonhuman whumper#multiple whumpees#pet whump#whumpee#whumper#whump caretaker#2nd person pov#mock execution#mock execution tw#implied torture tw#drugging tw#suicidal ideation tw#(Liam's not necessarily suicidal but he genuinely can't imagine a world where he survives killing Jane and I think that's close enough)#jane’s pets
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
my thoughts on twc book 3
spoilers ahead! feel free to drop ur own opinions on things in my ask
anyways let’s get into it. this will be long-ish
so i will just say that book 3, much like the previous books, does read like a young adult fantasy book. which does kind of makes sense given mishka has said in the past that twc was going to be a book at first, iirc. also the amount of GRRRR GROWLING these vampires do........ like all the time
the blood drive... why was it included. i don't understand because it turned out to be such a Non-Problem. which it was never a problem to begin with, seeing as there are 2384923 legitimately normal reasons the detective could've come up with to Not participate in the drive. i genuinely would've loved for the auction to have lasted Wayyy longer and to have been wayyy more nerve-wracking than it actually was.
i do feel like the slow burn of M and A's routes have been...... Not as slow as i expected? while i did actually enjoy both of those routes, particularly M's, A's in particular felt... a bit ooc at times? in my opinion, the outward denial of A's feelings should've lasted longer, at least until book 4 or 5. especially since it's still only been, what, a few months since they all met? some of these vampires have lived for centuries. they wouldn't just Give up on repressing the feelings and admitting them after less than a year of knowing the detective?? especially when there's 7 books in total planned. there's still plenty of time
i feel like a love confession with F would've made more sense than with N. i really wish we were given the option with F, and not with N. i also have a lot of grievances with N's route in this book, particularly because they can admit their feelings to the detective while still omitting the part of themself they apparently don't want us to Ever Know. i understand the fear N has. it's just like...........,,,, how can N love the detective ALREADY when they can't even be completely honest with them about their past yet? in my opinion, it'd make more sense for a love confession to come after N telling the detective everything.
in terms of the tina bff route, @cekorax referenced something to me that made me even more uncomfortable with the flirting between tina and the agent sent to watch over her undercover as a police officer. firstly, it just feels weird, consent feels to be an issue here since tina doesn't Know they're an agent. and they're flirting with her. what my friend mentioned specifically was something that happened in the uk: undercover policemen sent to spy on activists ended up Marrying them. obviously we don't rly know where their ""relationship"" is gonna go (we CAN make likely assumptions tho lol) but it does make me nervous if this person is to be tina's love interest
rebecca............... i feel like there's usually 2 ways people feel about the relationship she has with the detective, and it seems to come down to one's personal experience. in my opinion, the detective holding something over rebecca's head that happened on their birthday at age 7 is a bit odd. but again this is coming from me, someone who did not have a parent who was similar to rebecca in any way. i will add i would've liked to have the choice of the detective to choose not to say anything about it, because mine wouldn't have even thought about it????? idk it just felt weird to me
lastly, i personally would have preferred to choose whether to stay detective & human liaison rather than have No Choice and have to become an agent. most of my detectives would've declined the offer. it kind of felt out of left field for me, i was veeery surprised when i read that scene. i didn't expect it
ok thank u for ur time <3
#twc spoilers#twc book 3 spoilers#twc critical#<3#disclaimer: i do generally like the book because ub are like my comfort charas rn#but u can be critical of something u enjoy
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
Another perspective on the "Fray Incident", and a necessary follow up conversation. A rather unpleasant encounter followed by a far softer one.
(References events from both the Fray Incident and recent Exarch POV.)
Ao3
[choking, mild injuries, referenced past (unintentional) self-harm]
“While I hardly have the time to check in constantly, I nonetheless cannot help myself from wanting to be sure of your continued survival.”
The sentiment came from a place of genuine relief, and slight embarassment, but truly it was a mercy to have S'ria whole and unharmed back in his Ocular. He was not paying incredibly close attention to what he was saying, but it seemed quite harmless and inoffensive. Perhaps not, though.
The Exarch knew he'd made a mistake of some sort the second the words left his mouth, with S'ria's eyes going cold. He'd never truly been scared of the Warrior of Light before, only awed, but – striding quickly towards him like this, the Exarch had a flash of genuine fear.
Perhaps warranted, as S'ria shoved him into the wall just adjacent to the portal. His hand closed around the Exarch's throat and – he'd always thought S'ria's hands looked deceptively delicate, but he'd never felt the wrongness of that assumption as keenly as he did now.
The Exarch was… fairly certain that S'ria would struggle to kill him like this, in the heart of his tower and with crystal half protecting his neck. That logic did not stop the instinctive panic of his breathing being restricted, grabbing at S'ria's arm for leverage and keeping the toes of his sandals on the floor as much as possible.
S'ria closed much of the space between them. Like this, the Exarch and S'ria were nearly face to face, with him partially lifting the Exarch and closing some of that height gap. He makes some sort of growl, low and threatening, and the Exarch quite frankly wasn't aware that a miqo'te could make that sound. He almost missed it when S'ria started to speak.
“The room you gave S'ria.”
It was harsh, flat, nothing like the man the Exarch knew. Even before the Exarch noticed the third person referral to S'ria, he already had his suspicions about what may have been happening. He hadn't expected the tales to actually be true though, even if they were rather pervasive.
The Exarch's head was entirely full trying to process the smoothness with which S'ria had been replaced, so much so that he nearly forgot anything had been said.
The Exarch swallowed before trying to respond and – gods, it felt awful, to be honest, the bony shift of cartilage against a chokehold. “I don't… follow?”
At least the pressure didn't increase, but he could feel the increase in anger and frustration from – well, he knew who this was, right? If the accounts were true, this must be that missing piece of the puzzle that had eluded him, trying to understand what people had possibly meant about this Fray.
Upon meeting them, the Exarch thought he understood a little more, about how obvious it must have been in those accounts that this was not the same person as S'ria.
“The room”, and the Exarch can feel their hand twitch, “have you been watching?”
“Wh–”
The Exarch didn't even quite get the whole word out before he understood exactly what had Fray so aggressive. He worried that he had given the wrong impression, the way he venerated S'ria, and he could easily see why Fray so belatedly realizing that the Exarch could scry anywhere with impunity might… bring about some mistrust. He wouldn't… as much as he wanted to check on S'ria's safety, intentionally trying to satisfy some crude curiosity was unthinkable.
He should have clarified this from the beginning, that he'd had such a thing at his disposal but promised not to use it for ill.
(Or would that have been worse, to so blatantly stoke paranoia without any way to tell if he broke the promise?)
The Exarch tried his best to shake his head. “No! No, I would… never…”
S'ria had been through enough. He would not add to that.
Fray leaned in, so terrifyingly close. Close enough that it made the Exarch realize, with a sort of wry irony, that this may well have been the first time “S'ria” had ever touched bare skin on him. Close enough, too, that it made the Exarch's eyes lock onto Fray's in alarm.
He knew S'ria's eyecolor. Perhaps embarrassingly well. That wasn't it. They were lighter and brighter – in truth, the Exarch wanted to pretend he did not notice the change since arriving here and put any implications of that well out of mind.
Fray's eyes widened and the eye contact somehow felt painfully exposing and – oh fuck.
In his utter distraction of racing thoughts and being strangled, he'd lost focus on his glamour for just long enough for Fray to briefly tear it away. It was only for a moment before he put the active effort in to fully restore it, but it felt like it was far too long.
They had to have seen.
Maybe Fray was a new tagalong, not present during the days of G'raha Tia.
Maybe there was no danger of losing his painfully kept anonymity.
Fray let go of his throat, with at least the decorum to let the Exarch use their arm as support for the few seconds needed to kneel gently – as opposed to fully collapsing. The gratitude only lasted long enough for the Exarch to realize he needed to retract his claws from their arm, that his fingers were wet, and then it was replaced with horror. The Exarch hadn't even noticed doing that – he wasn't sure if he'd dug new injuries into S'ria's skin or reopened the half-healed injuries already there. He wiped his hand on his robe as if hiding the evidence meant it'd not happened.
Fray seemed entirely unbothered by the injury, just stepping well away as if they'd rather get away from the situation.
By the time Lyna was fussing over him, having dashed to him the second Fray backed away, whatever change seemed to have reverted. S'ria was clutching his bleeding arm, staring at the Exarch with a look of confused guilt on his face, already starting to ramble apologies. Oh dear, S'ria really didn't remember all that, did he?
“I apologize. For the accusation.” It was a painfully stiff delivery, but it at least sounded honest.
----------
“I want to talk about what happened, before we set out from the Crystarium again.”
The Exarch sat at the table in S'ria's room, looking somehow distinctly uncomfortable with actually being inside and even more uncomfortable with S'ria sitting at his side. Upon hearing S'ria's words, he looked up with a smile.
“If you have called me here to apologize again, pray do not concern yourself.”
S'ria gave him a wry look. “That is not all I have to say, but I will still apologize. I may not remember it, but I hurt you – and could've badly harmed you – so I am still… very very sorry for that. I do not know what the problem was, but you could not have said anything to justify violence.”
The Exarch chuckled with little mirth. “No, the fault is truly mine, for making it so difficult for you to trust my intentions. I simply hope that you and Fray both are satisfied that I mean you no harm.”
S'ria frowned at him, wholy unsatisfied with such a response. “I believe we are, but – there are others who deserve this more than you. I worry the anger was… misdirected in frustration.”
There was a long moment of silence in which it was obvious that the Exarch was fighting the urge to ask about recent events, but it was likely for the best that he decided not to. Too delicate a moment by far.
With no immediate response given, S'ria continued. “No, what I wanted to talk to you about… well, Fray themself. As interesting of a misconception you've gotten, I'm nervous it'll cause more problems than it'll fix. I just hope a half-explanation will be good enough.”
“No explanation at all would be good enough, any more than that is not to be taken for granted.”
S'ria wished somewhat that the Exarch would be a bit less charitable. It threw him off-guard every time.
“It really isn't anything so – I just don't want you to go around thinking I'm possessed by something and getting any unnecessary concerns about it later. Fray is just part of me, not something that could just be banished or some entity with schemes of their own." It was an odd feeling for him. That was the first time S'ria had ever openly accepted that link between them, at least in those words. "And I do not know of a single other time they've intentionally harmed an ally so… I don't think that there is any danger – though I'd understand if you had your doubts.”
The Exarch still seemed relatively calm and still unworried. “If they do not see me as an ally, then I dare say that streak remains unbroken.” Despite the calmness, there was a palpable amount of sadness seeping into his voice.
S'ria looked stricken. “I don't think that there is any remaining confusion about that, not on their part. But truly, I am so sorry for –”
The Exarch did not even audibly shush him, simply held a finger up to his lips in a motion that made S'ria cut off the moment he saw it.
“I shall have none of that. Fray may have gotten aggressive with me, yes, but you were entirely uninvolved – and yet I have left you with injuries.”
S'ria's expression was unreadable, caught somewhere between disbelief and something vulnerable.
The Exarch slowly lifted two upturned palms, kept low and well away from S'ria.
“Will you at least permit me to right that wrong?”
S'ria's breath caught in his throat. The smart thing to do would probably be to say no, given the other factors still in play. And yet, whether it be some lingering softness towards the shy scholar who'd told him stories by the fire years ago or just a desire for kindness in the moment, he did not refuse.
S'ria's coat was already off, leaving his arms mostly bare, so there was little more to do than just lean forward and place his arm in the Exarch's waiting hands. Based on the stifled gasp he heard, the Exarch had not expected him to agree either. Belatedly, S'ria realized he hadn't actually needed to go so far – it wasn't as if the Exarch actually needed to touch him. This was, perhaps, excessively intimate – but not quite uncomfortably so.
“May I?”
He was even waiting for verbal permission, despite how clear the motion had been? S'ria nodded and felt another pang of guilt over Fray's paranoid aggression, merely over how wrong they'd been.
The Exarch gently turned S'ria's arm to inspect it – deep gouges from his still clawed hand, bruises in the shape of his crystalline hand, and, of course, a slightly more healed version of the sight he'd glimpsed before at Holminster Switch.
(The Exarch was unsure if it was better or worse than he'd thought from that brief accidental glance, but the mess of claw marks was…extensive. It was frankly a wonder nothing had become infected, but S'ria must've at least taken care of the injuries after whatever incident – he was uncertain which set of injuries he felt worse about.)
The Exarch's face was calm and blank as he handled S'ria's arm, and that was somehow both immensely reassuring and terrifying at the same time. After all, S'ria knew exactly what he was allowing the Exarch to inspect – and the man was hardly dense.
The sudden glow and warm wash of healing magic was mostly familiar – though the feeling of it was not.
Normally it stung at least a little (if not more than a little), but this was painless. Perhaps it was that injuries this small were rarely healed, perhaps a century of studying magic really did work wonders.
Beneath the obscuring light, the injuries inflicted by the Exarch disappeared. He wordlessly continued to heal the others, healed to the faintest of lines. Almost like such a mistake had never happened.
S'ria drew his arm back, fingertips still tingling from the hum of magic. The Exarch smiled up at him, shy and nervous.
“Might you allow me to do the same with the other?”
The brief panic that rose in S'ria made him freeze. He was tempted to insist that it was fine, the Exarch had done no harm on that side, so there was nothing to concern himself with. Ah, he really wasn't managing to hide the situation from the Exarch at all, was he?
It wasn't meant to be acknowledged – and while the Exarch breathed not a word of worry or judgment, this in of itself was acknowledgement.
In lieu of trying to explain himself or dig himself into a conversation he wished to avoid, he simply offered the Exarch his other arm. S'ria could've almost crawled out of his skin watching him gently inspect the extent of it, without the excuse of pretending he was only looking at the injuries he'd dealt Fray.
S'ria relaxed suddenly, as the healing began. It took several moments to realize part of his reaction was from recognizing the faint out-of-practice purr from the Exarch's chest. He probably was worried about soothing S'ria's anxiety, but S'ria doubted he was quite aware that he was doing that – given that the miqo'te thing was ostensibly still a secret.
It was still more pleasant than it had any right to be, after not hearing the sound for quite some time. The Exarch finished his healing, leaving only mostly unmarred skin in his wake (and he still didn't ask any questions, thank the gods). The purring was still ongoing and the feeling of his thumb absentmindedly tracing S'ria's arm was both far more pleasant and far less alarming than he'd expected.
He was half tempted to ask for those things back, the chaste touch and rusty rumbles both, but – much as the Exarch refrained from asking if he'd harmed himself, S'ria was not meant to draw attention to the rapidly unraveling mystery of the Crystal Exarch's identity. So it goes.
All nice things come to an end, as the Exarch's distraction did not last long. He pulled his hands away from S'ria and cleared his throat, killing the purrs before they could continue.
#snow-system#ffxiv-oc#ffxiv-reactions#s'ria 🌸❄️#writings#for a thing that is so unsettling in its first half#the second part of this has some moments that I am so soft for....#ahh#snowgraha foreshadowing or whatnot#well foreshadowing their compatibility I guess we've known G'raha's side of things for a very long time now
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
There was a little strange moment in the “do we know how he look” GMM. I am quoting from memory so it is not going to be the exact words perhaps, but it will be the exact meaning.
Rhett was looking at himself at that special, non-reversed 3D mirror. Link asked him if it felt to him like he was dating that guy (the Rhett in the mirror).
Rhett: I wouldn’t date this man….. That’s because I wouldn’t date a man.
Link’s face fell a bit but it was only a slight change.
Link: That is YOUR prerogative but-
Rhett: I wouldn’t date a woman because I am married, man!
Link immediately perked up.
Link: Thaaat’s the ticket!!!
Rhett shook his head, a little done, a little affectionately.
So... what did happen here? Based on what we factually know, Rhett wasn't saying anything big when he said he wouldn't date a man, right? Aren't they straight men who straight? Why was Link annoyed and why Rhett essentially had to say the problem is he's married and not that the person is a man or woman for Link to approve of it? Link literally made Rhett to declare himself bi. In other words, this was the exchange:
Rhett: I wouldn't date a man because no homo-
Link: Okay maybe YOU'RE backpedaling once more by hiding behind your het attraction -
Rhett: No I am not backpedaling, I'm bi but I am committed!!!
Link: Muuuch better :)))
The thing however is that initially, it did seem like Rhett backpedalled. Let's be real, the assumption that he could date...uhhh... himself was purely theory therefore it didn't matter whether he was married or not. He added this quickly to ease Link's nerves. But "I wouldn't date a man" is a very clear statement on its own.
There are two explanations here that I can think of:
a) Rhett did backpedal because it wasn't an episode where they had agreed to go heavy on implications, given that their wives were featured.
b) Rhett told the truth, which makes Link uncomfortable. Rhett has been making bi jokes but in other occasions he seems to also genuinely pass as hetero. This could bring back the possibility of heteroflexible Rhett or bi Rhett with a great preference towards women and essentially means that Link is an exception to the rule for him or where he unleashes all his flexibility. This, however, might make Link feel insecure instead of flattered. If he has Rhett as heteroflexible in his mind rather than as bisexual, he might be worried that Rhett isn't as happy in their relationship or that he secretly would still rather be with a woman. Which is why Rhett probably made the silent decision to come out (when the time comes) as bi, so that he will be better understood by both Link and other people. But maybe this is not what exactly he feels about himself. If suddenly Jessie and Link disappeared from his life, it's more likely he would go back to dating women first again.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Foster Part Five
TW: language. Angst.
SUMMARY: The reason for your return is brought to light.
WORD COUNT: 1000
*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*
The Foster Part 5
Your mind shuffled a million excuses before you decided on an altered version of the truth. But before you could utter a single word, JJ made himself known in the corridor just over your shoulder.
"Can you have your little lovers quarrel outside or something?" He asked, a hand rushed through his hair before he noticed the change of your attire. Even if he knew you were off-limits due to his friend's interest in you, it hadn't gone unnoticed of your figure. A figure he was well aware wasn't wearing his best friend's Tshirt when he went to bed a few hours prior. If this was not evidential enough, the disheveled locks of both yours and John B's hair along with the fresh just-fucked flush had acted as a tattle of sorts.
"JJ-" John B warned as he was oblivious to the tension within the room.
"You know if you two ever need pointers-"
"Seriously, get out-" John B pushed him into the hall. .
"Just saying if I didn't hear anything might mean you did something wrong-" He teased as the door slammed.
"Why do you have a picture of the Camerons?" He asked again, this time, taking a step forward.
"Are you some stalker or something?" Your eyes narrowed to his assumption. "Is that why you lashed out like that?"
"I was in the same Foster home with you, John B. Before you…"
"I wouldn't put it past…I don't know you…"
His words were painful. Even if what transpired between you couldn't have possibly have been love, it was a comfort you'd never felt prior. Now obliterated into an upset of pieces at your feet.
"My parents knew them..." You explained, eyes evading his cast to you in judgment.
"When I was sixteen I was given a box of their things. This picture is the only hint of what I have of who they were-" You pulled the picture back into your possession. Having explained this for the sole purpose of wanting to make him eat his words.
"Not that I owe you an explanation...If you don't trust me, that's fine. You don't even know me..." You hesitated, pulling your clothes back over your body as he struggled between being modest and trying to read your expression. Yet it would become clear by the way you threw his shirt back at him that you were less than understanding of his reaction.
"And I don't know you. Neither one of us owes each other anything...But you should take that chip off of your shoulder, John B...it's not exactly going to get you anywhere... Especially the gold…" You caught yourself in the corridor.
"And don't worry. I won't tell anyone you've embodied the Goonies, okay? Not like they'd believe me, anyway..." You confessed, backpack over your shoulder before you set off into the night. You would hear JJ inquisitive to John B before you walked the rays of moonlight just barely illuminating the street.
The sudden appearance of headlights behind you interrupted your thoughts. John B's kiss. His hands trailing down your body and pulling you to and from him in passion. The race for gold against unnamed figures wishing them harm. Those damn headlights right on your ankles. You set your steps well into the shoulder before stopping within your tracks, realizing the car had as well. A large truck was noted within your peripheral vision to your half turn. A revved engine offering you a sort of "game on" before you sprinted.
Mindless paces sent you into the heart of The Cut's downtown section. Bars and stores closed a few hours prior, you found solace between two buildings, using the decrepit stone along with the hour of the early morning as cover. Your pulse finding some form of rest before the sound of heavy steps over gravel tightened you against the wall.
"Come out, come out wherever you are..." An unrecognizable voice teased as you searched for any other option. But the only thing you had was that of God's mercy as you'd set yourself into a literal dead end.
"There you are..." An arm pulled you away as you struggled to break free, two lackluster men with enough strength to keep you in place, pulled you into the direction of their truck. Immediately, you twisted and shifted before being hit with the back of one of their hands.
Dazed beyond comprehension, you were transported a short distance and removed into some type of shed, hands tied behind your back and a raging headache from the blunt force. Able to feel the swelling forming at the left side of your face, you struggled to make sense of the darkness before you until a set of steps at the door behind you made you shuffle in place. Never before had you focused on so many sets of steps, but never before had they been such a promise of danger.
"Just tell me where the compass is and this doesn't have to get messy..." A voice spoke at your back as you found it vaguely familiar. Like an old song you'd forgotten the words to but somehow remembered the melody.
"I used to be like you. Thinking I could outrun and escape the things bigger than me." He now curved in front of you, a lamp igniting a clamp of your eyes to the cruel light giving you a moment to learn of his identity.
"Until I learned it was better to just become bigger than them...so you have a choice here. Be smarter than your friends...Tell me where the compass is..." He suddenly came to light. An indisputable political expression you'd held in memory for years, all because of his photograph set within your back pocket.
Ward Cameron.
Your father.
TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916
MASTERLIST
JOHN B ROUTLEDGE MASTERLIST
THE FOSTERS MASTERLIST
MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST
#john b routledge fanfiction#john b fanfiction#john b routledge#chase stokes#outer banks fanfiction#outerbanks#outer banks#outerbanks fanfiction#obxfanfiction#obx#obx fanfiction
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
otherworldly! s/o
A/n: happy monday! I woke up at 7am and since then I've been grinding out assignments/classes and now this, so I actually feel productive even though I've been staring at my computer for a while. but thank you for requesting anon! I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it! <33 also to understand this more, I'd like to point out that this connects to the speculation Genshin and Honkai are alternate universes of one another. so for example, Scaramouche is a harbinger from his time, but he may have been a warlord in a different, with a completely different name (keeping his appearance ofc) hope that makes sense. so if you've paid attention to what I've been saying about Scara and his mini-series, etc. you'll understand what I mean in Scara's lol. his reader insert is fem for the same reason as above btw!
Summary: otherworldly! s/o who arrived as a fallen meteor, that can bring back plants to life/heal deep wounds/scars and resurrect people.
Parings: Albedo/Gn! Reader, Xiao/Gn! Reader, Scaramouche/Fem! Reader
Warnings: swearing, fluff, alternate realities/time traveler au! (reader is not the traveler), death/resurrection
Word count: 1.7k
Albedo
you don't have a vision like some people in Teyvat, because you're not from there; you're from a whole different world itself. instead, you have healing abilities that allow you to any energy you absorb in the form of food/sunlight, and you can use that energy to heal others. though, the healing can only go as far as healing minor injuries such as shallow cuts, scratches, or smoothing out scars. the same can work if you were to heal yourself.
Albedo is so intrigued when he finds you passed out in the pit of a meteor, half of your body hanging out while the other is awkwardly still in it
one, because who is this stranger in a meteor for crying out loud
and two, he notices your wounds on your arms are healing by themselves, slowly though
as someone who studies alchemy, life forms, and such, he's very intrigued that you're able to heal yourself without medicine, and he wonders if you can do the same to others
so he takes you to his lab, and runs a few tests
yes, you're still passed out when this happens, but he's just so curious and couldn't hold back
don't worry though, he's just drawing some blood and testing to see what you can do, because who knows, you may not even speak his language and won't be able to communicate with him (doesn't make a difference Albedo, you need COnSENT-)
so, just for science, he cuts the palm of his hand a little and decides to see if you can heal him
it doesn't take him long to notice the way the tips of your fingers are glowing a light greenish-yellow, so he immediately assumes that's the source of your powers and places a finger on his palm
it takes a second before anything happens, but eventually his cut starts to slowly close
once again he's even more shocked and intrigued
you have the natural ability and he's never come across someone with so much raw strength being able to do that
so you're right up his alley
when you wake up you're confused as hell (obviously) but thankfully, you can speak his language and are able to share your story
Albedo decides to make a deal with you
he'll help you get home if you can educate him more about your ability and your homeland. you agree
it works out perfectly, because you both have something the other needs/can do for the other (you have your power that he's interested in, and he's found a way for you to return home)
it's also easy to work together because of those same common interests, and it helps that he studies alchemy cause he's way more knowledgeable about you and the process can go a tiny bit quicker for you if you wish to return home sooner
at first you're merely friends, co-workers if you wish
but then he starts falling for you and vice versa
you both genuinely enjoy each others company, so you decide to stay in Teyvat a little while longer, even after he finds a way for you to go home
I wouldn't put it past Albedo to want to return to your world if you allow it
he'd be interested in this new or not so new world ;)
Xiao
you're like the traveler in a sense, where as soon as you climbed out of the meteor, you felt this connection to Teyvat and your vision randomly appeared. you have a dendro vision, something you learned was a rarity within liyue and mondstadt. along with that vision, you had the previous ability to grow/heal plants. you can bring back dead plants, though if they've been dead for a very long time, that's beyond your ability. they also can't be brought back if they've been badly burned.
Xiao may not be interested at first about what vision you have or even where you came from + why the hell you climbed out of a meteor
he's more interested in getting you home so you can stop asking questions about his own abilities/vision and odd, unfamiliar, but beautiful world
but boy when he catches you bringing back a wilted Glaze Lily?!? shook
he secretly thinks you're so cool and it piques his interest
he's never seen anyone do this before, and though his eyes were deceiving him when he first saw the lily spring to life again
but then when he catches you healing more plants, on your way to Liyue to hopefully find Zhongli for answers, he's so interested
he doesn't ask a crapload of questions, BUT he's going to ask at least one or two
"how're you doing that?"
"what are you?
the questions are kind of vague and require more in-depth explanations than he'd originally hoped, but he's surprisingly willing to listen to your story on the way to the harbor
after he learns your story and calls for Zhongli, he'll immediately leave and claim he has no further interests in you
but he's obviously lying
he finds as he's sitting on top of one the smaller mountains one night, looking down at the glowing Liyue town, he has more questions
way more questions
surprising Zhongli, Xiao shows appears when he's showing you around and getting you accustomed to the people/culture
he finds himself hoving behind you, shyly almost, never asking questions (at least not in Zhongli's presence
his reason for standing behind you is to protect you from any harm, so that way, when he decides to ask you more questions, you'll be there for him to do so and not dead or lost
when you tell Zhongli you'd wish to stay in Teyvat, specifically Liyue, Xiao is happy ngl
he can ask you questions and now that you're somewhat used to Liyue, having been here for four months already and planning to stay forever, he can catch you alone and ask questions without Zhongli hovering or acting as your tour guide lol
slowly, and I mean sluggishly slow, he's going to ask you more questions and he may, emphasis on may, tell you his own story
Scaramouche
you're from an alternate reality of Teyvat, a former doctor in your world. basically, Teyvat hundreds of years in the future. you've studied the human body to become a doctor obviously and you used to be able to bring back the dead using your bare hands. it didn't matter how far back ago they've died, as long as their full-body was still intact (full skeleton needed). though, the further back they died, the more energy you'd use, and if you run out of energy too soon, you couldn't bring them back. but now in this strange land, you can't. in exchange for your powers being lost, you're given an electro vision.
Scaramouche is tasked with finding out more about these odd meteors that keep appearing in various corners of Teyvat
and one very large one
he doesn't care who you are, what you are, what your excuse for being in Teyvat is, but he's been ordered to explore the fallen meteor and since you happened to be passed out inside it upon further exploration, you're part of the mystery he's been told to check out
and, it doesn't further help your situation that you landed in Snezhnaya, in the weirdest, not-so-warm clothing AND he finds you attractive (yes, you heard it here folks), plus you're going to catch hypothermia out here dressed like that
it would suck for a pretty girl such as yourself to be frozen to death
so Scaramouche decides to take you to the Tsaritsa, who leaves you in Scaramouche's care since he found you
she says he can do whatever he wants you, dispose of you, etc.
when you finally come too in an odd room on a couch in front of a fireplace, you're confused, cold as hell despite the flames, and when you see his face, you're immediately angered, which he finds odd
it's almost as if you recognize him... but he doesn't recognize you so he's confused as well
"what're you doing here?"
bold of you, he thinks. to question him with that tone as if you have authority here, over him
"watch yourself. I was going to ask you the same."
you don't seem too pleased with him though
"we agreed to never speak again, or so I thought..."
"are you stupid or are you just playing the stupid card to be released?" he'd say
though as soon as you burst and yell at him about a situation he's not familiar with, he's starting to understand a bit more
you're not from here, not anywhere in Teyvat at least, and by the way you're talking to him as if you know him, he assumed correctly that you're from an alternate reality, where he's also present
though despite his correct assumption, he demands answers and you cannot be allowed any kind of freedom until he gets them
you tell him your story and how in your world, a version of himself exists and that you were briefly married, though split because he was too much of a control/power freak for you and your daughter
he disagrees with the last part about him being a control/power freak ofc but
he decides he'll keep you around, against your wishes
one, because you can become useful if your resurrection abilities are awoken; you'd be able to save many fallen Fatui soldiers, with more training so you don't run out of energy ofc
and two, he doesn't think his other self would miss you very much if you're both on bad terms, he sure would miss such a pretty face if you were to leave though, that's for sure...
so, he's going to keep you around, so he can help train/get used to your electro vision. it works best that way since he has the same vision and can train you more efficiently (I think Scara has electro powers, just an assumption!)
he will also hopefully be able to awaken your resurrection abilities and if you can't, well then sorry you're disposable
overtime, all the Harbingers tease him about his little crush and he either denies it or strongly provokes it cause his ego is through his fucking hat
exhibit a. literally doesn't care that he's caught by childe staring at you train and will say something like, "and? you're just jealous she's not interested in you like she is me."
exhibit b. will throw a fit if someone accuses him and says he has, "no room for crushes or love." even if he was somewhat capable of it in your world...
3.22.21, rayofsunas
#rayofsunas#genshin impact#genshin#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact scenarios#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#albedo#albedo x reader#xiao#xiao x reader#scaramouche#scaramouche x reader
651 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 11
WC: 2077
Rated: E
Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort
🧠
The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.
Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.
Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.
"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.
"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."
You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.
You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."
The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.
You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.
The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.
Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.
Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.
His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"
"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.
"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.
Bubble popped.
Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.
Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."
You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."
Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."
He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"
"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.
"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."
Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.
Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.
Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.
"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.
"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."
He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”
As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.
“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.
Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.
“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.
Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.
But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.
You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.
“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”
“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.
You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”
Tag list
@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams
#the interpretation of dreams#laszlo kreizler x reader#laszlo x reader#laszlo kreizler#the alienist#the alienist angel of darkness#daniel brühl#daniel bruhl#laszlo kreizler fanfic#laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl#scuttle-buttle#tw self harm#tw suicude#tw child abuse
135 notes
·
View notes
Text
dissolve (rewrite)
natasha x reader
note: this was just a huge vent fic idk. these type of fics seem to be the only thing im okay at writing. mistakes are mine as always. but i did proofread, yay!
if you want to read the original (as awful as it is) you can read it here!
wanrings: this heavily revolves around eating disorders.
i’m not tagging anyone because the content isn’t really the lightest to read.
words are used everyday, everywhere – whether to describe something or someone. there’s thousands upon thousands of them.
so you were having a hard time figuring out why you were struggling so much to justify your feelings through the basis of words. it was unnerving, draining and very annoying.
your emotions should be simple, right? you were either sad or happy, angry or scared. but there was something more, something unexplainable.
saying you felt alone only scratched the surface of the wave of emotion that took over. it was excruciatingly painful, far worse than any physical pain you ever had to endure. and for some reason it seemed to come crashing down at night while natasha slept peacefully.
you weren't exactly sure how to express your emotions to the extent you felt them. how else was anyone supposed to understand your pain? they couldn't, not unless they could somehow shift into your body and feel your emotions themselves. but that was merely impossible as such powers do not exist. so you were inevitably stuck with words foreign to your lips.
over the years you were deemed unsafe, a hazard, "an accident waiting to happen" you recall one doctor say. everyone’s eyes were on you at all times, monitoring every little movement you made. it was suffocating and at times doing more damage than good.
as an adult now you learned how freeing it could be without the fear of gaining weight or eating a bowl full of rainbow marshmallow cereal. your worth was not defined by your weight.
(at least that's what you believed prior to any relapses.)
everything was going well in your life. you were a college graduate working as a psychiatric nurse and you had found love, something your teenage self could only dream of. natasha was by your side through everything. and really, the only downfall in the relationship was that she had to travel a lot for her job. but you were secure enough in your relationship not to worry or decide to call things off. in the end natasha always made up for it when she came back, so you couldn't complain too much.
things were going well for you, really, they were.
until they weren't.
(and you didn't know why.)
it happened out of nowhere. work was a little more stressful than usual, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. natasha had been away for three months, only stopping by a few times to check in on you. but again, your wife being away for so long wasn't anything new or worrisome.
the two of you had followed the routine of her leaving and coming back more than a thousand times; yet somewhere along the way you lost yourself. food became less of a priority, your hunger decreased drastically, and within the first month you'd lost thirteen pounds.
it truly was an accident, slipping into a full blown relapse was never part of the plan. but thirteen pounds lighter you wanted more, to feel small again. you didn't have an answer as to why you became so attached to your eating disorder, but it didn't seem like it would be letting go any time soon. the rate at which you were going natasha would most definitely be able to see a difference; not only on your weight, but in the person you once were. she'd ask what happened and why it happened, poking and prodding for an answer, but you didn't have one.
so here you stood in the kitchen of your shared home, a cup of sliced fruit in one hand and your cell phone in the other. you poured the fruit into the bottom of a blender along with a spoonful of yogurt and half a cup of soy milk. another half cup of ice followed suit.
while the fruit blended, you shamelessly scrolled through your instagram. there was nothing interesting going on in other people's lives, you didn't even know why you had social media in the first place. it was dumb, and quite frankly you didn't give a shit whether or not sharon went to the beach.
the sound of your blender coming to a halt brought your attention back to the real world. you poured your smoothie into your water bottle. the green liquid would be your breakfast and lunch for the day - dinner was still up for debate.
a soft sigh left your lips. work was beginning to feel more like a chore and less of something you enjoyed. you were quickly growing tired of it. nonetheless, you grabbed your keys and rushed out of the door.
you thought about the irony of working as a psychiatric nurse with an undealt eating disorder telling teenagers how to deal with their own issues. you felt hypocritical to say the least, especially given that all the nasty side effects were starting to make themselves known.
your hair was beginning to thin, small clumps of it already starting to fall out when you tugged a little too hard. bruises could be seen scattered left and right on your body, and you were cold. god you were cold. your fingernails were tinted blue, warmth seemingly too far out of reach. you looked ill, and it didn't go unnoticed by your coworkers.
a few hours into your shift you found yourself sitting behind the nurses station filling out paperwork. lunch had passed and when your coworker, steve, asked if you were going to eat something you lied straight through your teeth, telling him you'd grab something when the patients were eating dinner.
but steve rogers could read you like an open book. he knew you were lying because he already knew what was going on. the signs of an eating disorder were quite obvious when you were a licensed therapist. and despite your futile attempts at hiding it, everyone could tell something wasn't right.
steve played it by ear for weeks until he contacted natasha, but by then you'd already lost a considerable amount of weight. as soon as she heard the news, natasha booked the next flight home. unfortunately for her though, there was only one flight and she would have to wait two and a half weeks before being able to leave.
you didn't know it, but those were the longest two and a half weeks natasha ever had to wait.
–
patients were having group therapy, so you could tune them out - not that you should, but it was hard to focus when the only two things you could think about were food and your weight.
the need to lose weight sounded so stereotypical for someone with an eating disorder, but honestly it wasn't about that. it was never about wanting to be thin. you genuinely didn't know why this was happening. the only thing you noticed was how rewarding it felt seeing the number go down, as if for you were good for becoming less. it was addictive. and it didn't help that you based your entire worth on how much you could lose.
the next time you stood up from behind the nurses station steve met you in the the cafeteria. while the patients ate you took occasional sips from your smoothie. the bottle was still full of its contents from the morning. you had completely forgotten to drink it during the day, but you didn't seem to mind it that much.
the surprise touch of steve's hand on your shoulder startled you.
i am gross, you thought. do not do that.
steve caught onto the slight flinch your body produced as a reflex, but he didn't say anything about it.
"you can leave early, boss said so."
he laughed as he saw confusion plaster your face.
"what? no!"
"go home, seriously. we have this handled. you know tony doesn't like being told no."
you bit your lip, puzzled by the sudden request. most people wouldn't mind being sent home early, but all it did for you was give you a level of anxiety reserved for food.
what you didn't know was that natasha was home waiting for your arrival. she came back just short of an hour after you left for work.
while you were gone natasha made a few thorough rounds in the house looking for key signs of your eating disorder. there was bound to be evidence given that you didn't know she was home.
unsurprisingly, natasha found a glass scale beside the counter of the bathroom floor along with empty bottles of laxatives in the trashcan. the food in the fridge had been expired a few days past their date, giving her the indication that you weren't eating as much as you should be. her concern grew even more when she found your food journal on your nightstand. flipping the pages, natasha could see that throughout the moths she'd been gone your calorie intake had decreased significantly.
guilt began to gnaw at the back of her throat.
during the few days natasha stopped by, she hadn't noticed anything wrong with you. but then again she knew most people with eating disorders were very good at hiding them up until the point they were discovered. three days wasn't near enough time for her to catch onto your tricks, not when her mind was still focused on her job.
natasha always listened intently whenever you would talk about your eating disorder, the first time being six months into the relationship on a date you felt like you had ruined.
but talking about it was much different than experiencing it with you, natasha had never done that before up until now. she read nearly every article there was about anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder and ednos. sometimes when you were asleep she would watch documentaries on the disorder, always making sure to keep her volume at a low level.
the videos that hurt her the most were the ones teenagers struggling with the simple task of eating food.
(although natasha knew it wasn't that simple.)
it hurt because she knew that was you at some point in time.
upon your arrival, natasha cooked dinner. she wanted to hold onto the one sliver of hope that steve was wrong - that he was just overreacting - but she knew in her heart he was right about his assumption. however, dinner would only confirm what natasha so desperately wanted to deny.
when you walked through the door you were greeted with the overwhelming scent of food. you cringed at the thought of having to eat, but as soon as you looked up to see the redhead who'd been gone for so long your frown was washed away. a wide smile overtook your face and you rushed to jump into natasha's arms.
"i missed you so much," you whispered. "i thought you'd be gone for another few weeks?"
natasha's arms found their way around your waist as your legs wrapped around hers. "what? i can't come home early to surprise my wife?" you giggled in the crook of her neck. she smiled feeling the vibrations against her skin, happy to know that you'd missed her just as much as she missed you.
she sat you down, back facing you, she tended to the food. "you've lost weight," she commented, not missing the sharp inhale of your breath.
"how was work, nat?"
she nodded to herself. yeah, she didn't expect you to be so open on the first try.
"it was fine. dinner's ready, i made your favorite!" natasha threw a smile in your direction as she carried the plates over to the table. she had hoped to see your face light up the way it used to, but seeing the panicked look in your eyes further confirmed your relapse.
if nothing else, natasha wanted you to have a meal before she brought up the conversation.
"great... i love it, thank you nat!" your attempt at being enthusiastic failed miserably and you knew by the look she gave you, she already knew what was going on.
but throughout the meal, and despite the shakiness of your hand as it gripped the metal fork, natasha didn't say anything.
you weren't really sure which was worse; being confronted or knowing the both of you knew what the other was thinking and still not addressing it.
natasha's meal was good, you couldn't lie about that, but each bite you chewed caused the tightening in your chest to constrict further.
now you couldn't be good. or worthy. or deserving.
nat took away your plate when you were halfway through. she knew your limits, and she didn't want to push you too much out of your comfort zone.
"go change, i'll wash our dishes. meet you on the couch?"
you did as you were told, taking as long as you could to do so. except this time was different. you didn't glance in the mirror like you usually did, you chose to fully take in your figure.
what you saw was not what you expected to see. for the first time in months you saw a version of yourself that wasn't twisted and turned to be something you didn't know was real or not.
your skin was dry, hair thinned out beyond your belief, eyes sunken and dark underneath. the revelation gave you an odd feeling – was once again something unexplainable, unjustifiable by words.
good.
that was how you were supposed to feel, right? after all of this time, after the many pounds of protection and warmth lost, you were supposed to feel good.
but you didn't. and you never would.
there was something so surreal about the realization of your own destruction. you were aware now, which meant you had to either take responsibility or choose to lose everything you worked so hard for.
"y/n?"
your wife's voice snapped you out of your gaze and you scrambled to pile your dirty clothes and rush out of the bedroom.
as you made your way into the living room you could feel the intensity of natasha's gaze. any other time you would not mind her green eyes looking at you, but this time around you felt like you were in trouble.
she patted the empty spot next to her, to which you reluctantly joined. but even after everything you still tried to play it cool.
"what's up? is everything okay?"
she gave a low chuckle, "you tell me."
"what do you mean?"
"oh i think you know what i mean."
natasha’s reply was met with the loudest silence you ever had to sit through.
she bit her lip, "you know i got a call from steve a few weeks ago. he's concerned about you, and from what he's told me so am i."
you were quick to respond, automatically knowing what steve’s phone call was about. "i'm fine. so what if i've lost a couple of pounds? that doesn't automatically mean that im relapsing, natasha."
your quick snap reminded natasha that this kind of confrontation was like walking on eggshells.
she tilted her head, licking her lips. "i'm here with you, always." nat put a hand to the side of your face, gently rubbing her thumb at the top of your cheekbone. "i'm here."
it seemed pointless now to try and say anything because your secret was already out.
your mind began racing back and forth.
you wanted to keep what you knew best and natasha understood that. even by reading your body language she knew what you were debating.
"you know, to keep it you have to give it away." your eyes darted to meet hers. "mhm. you can still have that piece of you. mourn it, grieve it, do whatever you need to do to move onto a stage where it doesn't hurt you. and from there you can help other people, share your experience, let yourself heal by helping others."
she paused, “we all have choices. some of those choices are taken from you while others leave you with only one option.”
although what she said seemed to resonate with you, there was one thing still holding you back.
"i just want to be good."
natasha hummed. you had explained it to her in the past, though your words were jumbled together as you tried to describe it.
"you can be good in other ways. you're allowed to live a life outside of the barriers your eating disorder puts in the way."
you swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. "i don't even know how it got to this point. in january i enjoyed ihop and dennys. in february i could have oatmeal and bananas, sometimes half of a sandwhich if i was feeling brave. now it’s march and i only eat one or two things a day. the idea of having a full meal makes me want to cry. and i just- i don't know how to stop."
natasha wouldn't show it, but your words cut through her heart like a knife. her mind wandered briefly to all the teenagers in the documentaries she'd watched, hoping you weren't too far gone into your eating disorder to ever come back. those cases scared her the most.
"you've got my complete support. you've tackled this before, maybe this time you can beat it? i know its easier to abuse your body instead of growing comfortable in it, but i think you’ve got this. i know you do."
"what about your work?" your question caused natasha to frown. "you think i wouldn't set my job aside for you?" you shrugged, it's not like you felt like you were worth being taken care of anyway.
natasha grew hesitant to tell you her news, but did it anyway because she’d rather you hate her than see you dead. "i've already made some appointments for you. the first one is tomorrow morning."
"i figured you would natasha. it's okay."
you spaced yourself out the rest of the day. each time you made the executive decision to recover, whether that be a genuine recovery or not, the process never failed to remind you that even trying to recover from an eating disorder felt like mourning the loss of a friend who was never good for you in the first place.
#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow x reader#avengers x reader#natasha romanov x reader#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff imagine
204 notes
·
View notes
Text
I gonna break in this acocunt with me being angry about something that doesn't really matter (very fitting for tumblr if you ask me), this article.
First: "And I’m sorry to open with this, but part of that is due to the age difference between them. Two years is hardly worlds apart (I’m personally working with four), but a 12-year-old boy and a 14-year-old girl are. Especially the way these two are drawn. Not to be too voyeuristic about Y7 cartoons, but Katara has clearly gone through puberty, while Aang hasn’t. There is something just…off, about a sixth grade boy having a full on make-out sesh with a high school girl."
This argument is one of the most stupid ones if you ask me, because it blatantly ignores the culture we have been presented by the show. I can understand why people find this weird, but we have to try not to look at it as if its our society, because its not. In A:tla, specifically the water tribes, 16 is marrying age. Right there, our "age norms" (idk what else to call it) are very different. And there are no divisions between ages in their world like we have with middle and high school. To me, two people are fit to be together based on their maturity, not their age. That's why 45 & 40 is not the same as 15 & 10, or 20 & 15. This is the same for Kataang. They have very similar life experiences and matured together, literally side by side, so a two year ago gap is irrelevant.
Second: "...Katara took on a very maternal role with Aang. Sure, she’s a caretaker and sort of a “mom friend,” but it’s a bit more than that. She served as his literal guardian during the show’s run—there’s just no other way to look at it. By the third episode, she called herself his “family,” and later even went on to role play as his mother to get him out of trouble at school. Aang, meanwhile, was… Well, I wouldn’t say “immature” for his age, […] However, Katara is 14 going on 25, while Aang is just, Aang."
There's a compilation of Katara doing thing with Aang that if someone saw a mother doing with her son they would call it incest:
Katara definitely acts motherly towards Aang, but that is just her nature. She is more than just motherly with him. And some people like to call the check kisses familial (which is kinda weird imo), but we know Katara herself doesnt think that:
"Easy there, big brother" She pushes Sokka away. Not to mention, this was about a scene or two before she kisses Aang on the check.
Calling someone close to you your family does not mean you see them in the same way you see your parents/siblings. And Sokka played Aang's father in that scene, but we aren't sitting here using that as evidence to call him Aang's paternal figure.
Something Aang haters forget (or chose to ignore) is that being lighthearted and goofy does not equal immature. Yes, Aang does some juvenile things, but that shouldn't take away from his growth and maturity.
Third: "In fact, in the last season, Katara was shown to be uncomfortable each time Aang kisses her, and even went as far as to tell him to back off with the romantic stuff in the episode before the finale, because she was confused about how she felt. [*new paragraph*] Yet, in the end, she just trots up and blushes at Aang, than happily makes out with him when he goes for it,"
Katara initiated 2/4 of the kataang kisses (not including the check kisses). The kiss in The Cave of Two Lovers and the kiss in the finale. Yes, she's the one that "goes for it" in the finale (she also initiates the hug). She only pulls away once out of the 3 times we see a kiss end (this would be excluding the kiss in The Cave of Two Lovers). She wasn't confused about her feelings, she didn't want to have to worry about a relationship when they were nearing the end of the war.
Fourth: "The post-canon comics only furthered the lack of exploration of her feelings in this relationship"
Fifth: "[referencing a scene in The Promise in which Katara is jealous of a fanclub being around Aang] "I'm sorry, this amazing, adult communication is blowing me away"
The are both still teenagers, who have zero previous relationship experience. Also, Aang had no ill intentions and Katara recognized it.
Sixth: [refencing Katara's role in The Legend of Korra] "Did Katara want to do anything other than sit in a healing hut and be known for having Aang's kids?"
This is another argument that just pisses me off. You can not use Katara's lifestyle in her 80s (she is 85 in s1) as judgement for her adulthood. It's purely assumption based. Constantly this author assumes that because she is in a relationship with Aang, Katara would drop her whole personality. What? Katara would not and could not be forced to do something or conform to some label and Aang wouldn't let it get to that point either. He would squash any idea that she is just "The Avatar's wife" or "The mother of the Avatar's children" the minute he heard it.
Seven: [comparing Katara's reaction to Aang The Desert to Aang's reaction to Katara in The Southern Raiders] "You'll spend a long time looking for her condescending tones. "Anger won't help, Aang," Katara never said, because she got that he was processing something painful and needed to sort it out himself. This difference in behavior is something that would be really fitting for a twelve year old boy to learn and understand. There's just no indication that he ever did."
Maybe I'm remembering wrong, but I don't remember Aang being condescending towards Katara. He was offering his advice because he knew her and knew that she would regret doing what she thought was right when her judgement was clouded by anger. And guess what. He was right. He never forced anything on her, either. Sure, he was a bit more pushy than he could've been, but in the end he let her go on the trip with no complaints. He even agreed that this was something she had to do.
Eighth: [referencing The Ember Island Players] "When the actor says 'Wait! I thought you were the Avatar's girl', Aang agrees. Katara is his."
You know damn well Aang doesn't see Katara as just his. And she's give him PLENTY of reason to believe that his feelings are reciprocated (which they are).
Ninth: "It's the story of a woman who swallows everything lest the man she's interested in has to learn anything about his behavior that violates her boundaries."
Ha! You said she was interested in him.
But in all seriousness, you mentioned how Katara stood her ground and told Aang that she was confused, but apparently now she's swallowing her feeings.
Tenth: [talks about the cloud babies daddy issues]
I don't disagree with what is said here, for the most part, but I don't think it is a reflection on Aang and Katara's relationship.
Eleventh: "... given what what we got with Kataang, it's completely unsurprising that Aang and Katara's parenthood/adult life was defined by a lack of communication and availability, at least from what we can tell. This also puts Katara's choice to immediately moved to the South Pole once Aang died in perspective; perhaps the city he poured all his energy into, at the cost of his family, held some bitter memories."
Once again with the lack communication. We can't use the early years of their relationship to determine their whole relationship. Also, there wasn't consistently a lack of communication, you just pointed out one time and ran with it.
We don't know at what point Katara moved back to the South Pole, but there are plenty of reasons for Katara to leave Air Temple Island:
a) Her son moving in/or planning to move in with his family.
b) She was no longer needed in the city and thus had no need to stay.
c) She wanted to go back to her native home for comfort after the love of her life died at a relatively early age.
d) The next Avatar was discovered and she came home to train them.
That's all. Thank you for reading my unnecessary rant if you made it this far, and I just want to close out with a few things:
- There were some things in the article that I did not include for the fear of this becoming a novel of me repeating myself.
- I agree with most thing said in the final segment of the the article. Most, not all.
- I appreciate the author for not trying to shove Zutara in just because Kataang wasn't there. That is becoming increasingly uncommon, so it was nice to see.
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
6:45 PM
Pairing- Lee Jeno x reader.
Genre- Angst, Fluff.
Word count- 1.91k
Warning- False accusation, Jeno seems a little thick headed but he was just caught up in the heat, mention of breaking up but not really :))
Summary- Not the ideal off day with your loved ones that you were looking for.
"You need to tell me what's wrong, Jeno." you demand with a stern voice, having had enough of the way your boyfriend was acting.
Earlier today Jaemin, a good friend of yours, a best friend of Jeno's had come over, reason being missing his two best hype mates and not getting much time to spend with you after having a hectic schedule.
Jeno was fine the first two hours, interacting well, cracking stupid tacky jokes, sometimes even ganging up with Jaemin to make fun of you. But you noticed the gradual strip out of his patience, furrowing his eyebrows or gripping the pillow in a death grip. His subtle glares towards his friend was not given a blind eye, you noticed it all. Typical Jeno. He's always been a little jealous over your slightly curved affection for others.
It was only when he did something he's never done throughout the years of one, your relationship, two Jaemins friendship that had you completely shocked.
"I have nothing to tell you, Y/n" He replied with the same tone he held an hour ago after the guest left the house. You weren't going to buy his bullshit.
"You screamed at Jaemin asking him to get out. Do you still have nothing to tell me?" you ask, walking up to where he sat by the edge of the bed.
"I said i have nothing to tell you." Voice hoarse, the veins on his neck protruding prominently from how strained his jaws were. "Well you do." You spit out as soon as you stood in front of him, his gaze still fixated on the floor.
"I. Don't." he repeated the words through gritted teeth. For a normal person, he'd be extremely intimidating and would've had the other weak in their knees from how threatening he sounded. Fights are normal for any couple but the last you'd heard him use this tone was when someone tried to touch you at a club you went to for the weekend.
"Then I do. Jaemin's your best friend for god's sake! He came in here, wanting to spend some quality time with us and he was an absolute sweetheart throughout even! And what do you do? Scream at him? For what? He seemed so hurt! What must he be thinking right no-!"
"Enough!" Jeno stood up, towering over your much smaller figure with his as he narrowed his eyes down at you, nose flaring. You wouldn't be shocked if he started breathing out flames.
You jump from the sudden raise of his voice, having to crane your neck to look up at him, hands shaking the slightest from the flinch you just experienced.
"Jaemin this, Jaemin that. Who's your boyfriend, huh?" He started walking forward, almost stepping on your toes if you hadn't moved back, "Actually, he might as well be! You're always on about him and now you even want to go defend him" he poked at your right shoulder, pushing you back as you gaped at his words, completely taken aback by his assumption.
"All i wanted was one fucking day to spend with you but nope! You want your dearest Jaemin with you. All the fucking time! Do you not love me anymore, Y/n?" Jeno let out an exhale, pushing you back with a single finger still on your shoulder, making you step back, "Jen-" "No you wanted me to tell you what's wrong right? Hear me out then!"
"Is Jaemin all you think about, Y/n? Is that why you're getting so worked up over me shouting at my best friend?? Emphasize the word, my. My best friend, why is it affecting you? Huh?" He raised his voice once again, you turn your head to the side, crunching up the facials trying to make out why he's making this a big deal. It was his fault to begin with.
"You want him that much then just go to him right! Or you want both of us because i won't be shocked at that, you're a sucker for anything remotely good looking anyways you won't hesitate to run your mouth all over town-!" Jeno stopped midway to completing his sentence, now noticing your glazed eyes and the heavy puffs of air you took.
"are you done?" you ask with trembling voice, Jeno opened his mouth to speak but you held your hands up, stopping him, "If this is about Jaemin-" Jeno took in a sharp breathe, hands going from poking at your shoulder to holding your shoulder in a tight grip at the mention of his best friends name. Though the grip was bruising, you muster up all the strength you had, removing his hands from you, quickly stepping back to create some space between the two of you.
"Then he's my friend too." you step back once again as Jeno stood his ground. "But if you heard yourself and actually think of me that way. You're more than welcome to just break things off." you grab the door knob as a tear slipped out, turning away to shield the weakness from your boyfriend who's head is stuck up his butt at the moment, and dashed out the room.
"Y/n wait-" you hear him call out for you, footsteps shuffling close behind but you grabbed the car keys, wanting away from him to clear your mind the least. One of you should stay sane.
Driving away to your safe space, the old library that took a journey of around 25 minutes, which is most likely to be 'anything living and breathing'-free as not many knew of that place, which made you love it even more.
Whiffs of old bookcases are calming.
You were pleased to find out your assumptions were correct, not a single soul other than a tired out cashier who seemed long passed out, given he failed to hear the ringing of the entrance opening.
You make your way to the extreme back, not particularly wanting to read anything with your thoughts clouded, allowing yourself a seat you found at a secluded corner.
You take your phone out, that had been vibrating since you left home after Jeno's sudden outburst, ignoring them, wanting him to feel bad for what he's done throughout the day, you scroll through your phone searching for Jaemin's contact, opening up messages to type in a quick apology for your boyfriend's behavior, explaining it must've been the the fatigue that got to him, but made sure to tell him not to wave off this behavior and screw him when they meet later.
Getting a reply almost immediately, you were shocked to find out Jaemin was still as bubbly as ever, saying it's fine and that he didn't take anything to heart which just made you feel even guiltier than you already felt.
Texting back and forth, Jaemin being more than ready to keep you company after you narrated what had happened back home, cracking jokes to make you feel better when you wantedly missed out on a few parts to tell him, you jolt when you feel a hand tear you away from the screen and the table in front of you, pulling you into a tight embrace.
Warmth being familiar, you resist the urge to hug him back, not even bothering to ask him how he'd known where you'd be at as this is known to be the place you go to calm your mind, rather all those cliché places like the bridge or a cliff, or the beach, or taking a stroll in the twilight whatsoever.
"Y/n I'm so so sorry, please don't run off like that again" he spoke, Jeno mimicked your voice from before, this time quivering with guilt. "Let go, Jen" you spoke with a voice void of all emotions, tables turning as you mirrored his voice from the time of the argument.
"No, I won't, I'm so sorry, I meant nothing of what I said! Trust me, I was just being unreasonable and petty, i would never want to let go of you. I'd be an idiot if i did so" he spoke against your hair, grip around you tight, yet delicate, soft enough for you to step out if you'd wished.
"Yes you were." you reply, slowly raising your hands to feather over his elbows as he pressed you further against his chest, "I know. I'm really sorry, love. I was just jealous is all. And it had been a rough week at work and all that got to me but trust me when I say I'll do anything to repent just, please don't let my words get to you" he caressed your back.
"Those were all words of spiked up anger, and i really want to throw myself off a cliff, I'm really sorry, i am" he pulled away enough to place a peck on your forehead.
"you'll do anything?" you repeat his words for confirmation, finally allowing yourself to throw your hands around his torso. You look up at him, seeing a faint crimson at the white of his eye, the hue being really pale that you'd not make out if you stood a couple yards away. He must've shed some tears, just like you.
"Anything." with a nod, he hesitantly placed a delicate kiss on your lips, scared you'd shatter if he'd pressed any harder.
"house chores for a week." you narrow your eyes at him, not wanting to drag the fight for long as it'd only take a negative toll on your relationship.
"Okay!" Jeno's face evidently lightened up, quick to think he's forgiven, "thank you for forgivin-"
"Don't be so sure on that, boy. You still have one thing left to do until I completely forgive you" you step back, turning to walk back towards the exit, fishing for the car keys from the back pocket of your jean, turning around and throwing the keys at him swiftly, his reflexes allow him to catch it.
"You're driving to Jaemin's house and begging for an apology, right now." it was only the right thing to do even after the lad insisting on not being hurt. Jeno is his best friend, it's always sucky when you have your friend mad at you without knowing what you did. Worse if you didn't actually do anything.
"You have it." Jeno exclaimed, walking towards you as the two of you made your way to the exit. "you're doing it the way i want you to, though", you turn your body towards him after both of you stood by the door of the passengers side.
"And how do you want me to do it?" He inquired, leaning against the car. "First tell him exactly what you said to me" Jeno nodded, agreeing to do that, "Then give him a tight hug and repeat sorry until he swats you away" he contemplated for a moment, but eventually ended up agreeing to it too. "And then.. Give him a kiss on the cheek." Your boyfriend let out a sound of protest, leaning back further onto the surface.
"Do i really have to??" he asked, whining.
"Yes."
"Like, really? really?"
"Mhm"
"for real? Real? Is it that important?" you let out a sigh at his constant poking at your side as he pushed further with the question.
"Do you want me to forgive you or not?" you ask, voice demanding, a hint of teasing evident. "Yes!" he was fast to reply.
"Then give him a kiss. "
#jeno scenarios#jeno imagines#jeno fluff#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct fluff#nct angst#nct dream scenarios#jeno angst#jeno x reader#nct dream fanfic#nct scenario#jeno ff#jeno smut#nct dream smut#nct dream fluff#jeno soft hours#nct ff#nct au#nct smut#wayv#nct jaemin#nct doyoung#nct jaehyun#nct jeno#nct chenle#nct jisung#jeno fanfiction#jeno imagine
531 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
joqahocac
Untitled
shardtale
Shardtale
3-minnnn
3 MIN
0640carlos
0640carlos
claireitis
Claire’s Outfit