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#the rare moments of honest vulnerability between them
chiizuburger · 6 months
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since both episodes are now out, i just want to share my favorite details about spyfam episodes 24 and 26.
In the manga, the yor-just-got-shot-in-the-butt episode came waaaay before the whole fiona arc where it accumulated to loid having to reassure yor that she will not be replaced.
Loid made several attempts to make yor “happy again” in the shot-in-the-butt chapter and, from his perspective, yor cheered up after drinking her cocktail.
I love how, several chapters later when loid wanted to talk to yor about fiona, he chose to invite her to a bar because he fully acknowledged that booze helps yor relax.
On top of that detail, my absolute favorite progress between these two chapters is how much loid and yor are becoming more open with each other, specifically loid with yor.
Between them, yor has always been the one more “open.” She expresses her honest, sincere feelings and thoughts to loid more than loid does with her.
Still, that scene where yor was looking over the fairgrounds from the hill and she tells loid how she rarely had fun growing up because she spent most of it taking care of yuri?
Even for readers, it was a first to hear yor acknowledge that part of her past. And it was absolutely a tender moment when she hoped loid would invite her out again.
Chapters later, when loid and yor talked about fiona, it delivered the first moment loid spoke from his most honest and sincere self: twilight remembering his mother.
In the context of the manga, I truly appreciate how loid and yor are slowly but surely confiding to each other? Or are opening up to each other?
Twilight could have used any other example that didn’t relate his own past to reassure yor, but he actually talked about the one thing he had held dearly. My absolute favorite twiyor moment to date!
More than the romance, for me, what I love most about their relationship is how they gradually allow the other to see their vulnerable side and trust the other with it.
And that’s why i love these two chapters / episodes a lot.
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seraphiism · 1 year
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❀ ゚. ༄ ┊ 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 ( 𝐩𝐭. 𝐢𝐢 ) ;
( AT THE END AS AT THE START, & THROUGH ALL THE IN-BETWEENS, I LOVE YOU )
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characters : kaveh / dehya / cyno / ayato / diluc fandom : genshin impact quote cr : amal el-mohtar and max gladstone a/n : part 2 of 4! each character is limited to 150 words.
pt. i
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↬ kaveh ࿐ ࿔
"of all the creations i've made, none can compare to your beauty."
kaveh has always been a romantic, love language born from touch and fervor. you blink, disoriented expression meeting your lover's through the mirror. it is barely morning. you've just woken up, head out of sorts as you brush your teeth. you wouldn't say you're the epitome of beauty at this moment, but he thinks otherwise.
how can someone be so radiant in the most mundane of things? he leans against the doorway, watches as you get ready for the day. you toss a reluctant glance in his direction, but he simply smiles.
"already hitting on me, huh?"
he hums, beckons you closer.
"what can i say? i'm an honest man."
his hands rest on your hips as if that's where they have always belonged and he presses a gentle kiss to your temple in greeting.
"good morning, dearest."
↬ dehya ࿐ ࿔
"sunshine, you're not blushing, are you?"
dehya is not one to be trifled with, strength and skill in combat unmatched. she is not as intimidating as she lets on, altruism in her nature.
no, dehya isn't one to be messed with, but you do it anyway. with one hand in hers, the other pressed against her cheek, you grin, almost think it might have grown warmer after your words. she has yet to become accustomed to these nicknames, and in truth, she does not think she ever will.
"sunshine? you..."
she sighs, knows this is already defeat. she has fought many battles, none of them this difficult.
"not a fan? should i call you something else?"
she blinks furiously, tries to hide her flustered visage. she clears her throat, fails to maintain eye contact, but squeezes your hand all the more.
"i'll only let you call me that, you know."
↬ cyno ࿐ ࿔
the first time cyno made you laugh is the most memorable, he decides. his jokes, while quite humorous, often miss the mark, so he vividly recalls that moment, knows it to be one he cherishes ever so dearly.
the flow of time is one that cannot be changed, days gone by as he seeks out those who taunt justice. it is an arduous role, but one he carries with pride.
it's when he finally comes home to you that he feels at ease, heart lightened, and so he is once more reminded that the passage of time is not one to be taken for granted.
"did you know," cyno begins, "that your laughter is one of my favorite things to hear?"
"are you saying that because i laugh at your jokes?"
cyno grins, loves the way you naturally place your hand in his when he reaches out for you.
"maybe."
↬ ayato ࿐ ࿔
the role as the head of the kamisato clan is seldom easy, ayato's past filled with hardships paving the road to a masterful deception, fabricated smiles shown with ease despite a quiet suffering.
how warm you are, he thinks, so he relaxes in your hold, allows a rare vulnerability in the presence of the one he's sworn devotion to.
"what a special occasion." he comments, wavering between consciousness. "you're hardly this kind to me."
you've always been used to his banter, but there is something dispiriting in his teasing tone, so your fingertips lightly trace circles into his skin, your lips against his forehead in reverie.
"what can i do for you, ayato?"
he leans into your touch, and you know the smile that blossoms on his lips is one of genuine happiness.
"you've done enough. so long as you remain by my side, i could ask for nothing more."
↬ diluc ࿐ ࿔
diluc does not know when the right moment is for declarations of adoration; although you've already exchanged confessions, it has always been a challenge.
maybe it's the way you weave cecilias into crimson locks, tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. maybe it's how you smile, look at him wordlessly yet announce your love for him. diluc is uncertain, but he recognizes this feeling that takes over and makes the echoes of a heartbeat terribly known.
it is instinct, the way he draws closer to you when your fingers trace his jawline with utmost reverence. you still at the little space that exists between two lovers, and perhaps the silence is louder than ever.
i love you is spoken in the way diluc kisses you, and in the way he pulls you closer, there is a i love you, i will gladly give all of myself to you.
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wen-kexing-apologist · 3 months
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Best of QL 2023: Favorite Lines
Okay well, I was going to spare everyone (and myself) from having to choose between all the pre-2023 shows I binged this year, but @twig-tea wanted more pain and suffering so here it goes:
Top Five Pre-2023 Lines that Lived Rent-Free In My Brain This Year:
"I don't want to see him sad." -Oh'Aew, I Told Sunset About You, Ep. 5
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Okay so you see, my real problem here is that my favorite parts of ITSAY, the things that stay in my head rent free. No. The things I pay to stay in my head because I love them so much are the things that happen in the silence. Beginning of Ep 3, end of Ep 3, the kiss in Ep 4, the wrestling at the end of Ep 2. Those aspects, those moments are what absolutely destroyed me with this show. But I am gonna be real with you all, when Bas let Oh go like that? I wept. And I do love what it says about Oh that despite how much he has been hurt by Teh, he loves Teh enough to know how utterly devasted Teh is right now, and he cannot bear the pain of seeing someone he loves so hurt. Especially when he and Teh haven't spoken since Teh gave up his seat.
"You're tired, aren't you?" -Mork, My Ride, Ep. 5
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If you saw my Favorite Lines 2023 post you would notice that this line is very very similar to my favorite line in Moonlight Chicken. And that is because loving and caring for people is super fucking exhausting. Meeting the world with kindness and grace and radical empathy in the face of horrible things, in the face of people who think you are weak for your kindness, or who seek to take advantage of it is fucking exhausting. And it is honestly quite rare that I see kind characters being asked this question, so I always go feral when they do because it is such a testament to love to say 'i see you' but to grant people enough space and autonomy to decide how honest and vulnerable they are going to let themselves be. I was talking with @ginnymoonbeam about this line a little so I am going to steal a line from her: "have you eaten" = I love and care for you
"are you tired" = I see how much you love and care for me/others
Of course the fact that Tawan absolutely just melts in to a puddle of tears because yes, yes he is tired, so so fucking tired does absolutely nothing to help me stop thinking about this scene. I love my boys!
"Because you raised me this way, that's why I'm not like other kids" || "I had to hate Pran, to compete against him, because of you? That's the reason? -Pran || Pat, Bad Buddy, Ep. 10
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I cheated here. I do not care. These lines come almost one right after another and are just the same level of one-two gut punch that makes Bad Buddy so fucking incredible. Pat and Pran have been through so much because their parents were trying to save face. All the pain they have suffered, the lies they've had to tell, the caution, the fear, the secrecy in their relationship. How long Pran has had to keep his feelings for Pat at bay, how much Pat is sacrificing to let Pran maintain a good relationship with his mother, is all because their parents have decades old beef. There are so many good lines in this show, if I were to pick another one it would be "do you want to be friends?" "no" from Episode 5, but I feel like no lines sum up the conflict of Bad Buddy better than Pran and Pat confronting their parents.
"You must be disappointed in me." -Wang, 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us, Ep 7
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Ok so I lied about this one, the line that absolutely stays in my head rent free is the line "Mom." Wang sobs after his fight with In in Episode 8 but I had a legitimate 30 minute melt-down over that singular line and moment so I am picking one of the next most painful lines for me. And if it wasn't this it would be the entirety of the 52 Hertz Whale monologue that In gives in Episode 3 because that is the saddest gayest monologue for the saddest gayest man. And if it wasn't those it would be the boy in boarding school monologue Wang gives in Episode 5. Honestly this entire script, and this entire show is with me always.
BUT what absolutely kills me about this line in particular is that Swasimol tries to shake her head no, and can't bring herself to lie, and Wang watches his mother nod in confirmation that she is disappointed in him when he tells her he is in love with In. And that's the part that is truly crushing.
"I know you're hurting," -Shiro, What Did You Eat Yesterday?
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GOD. THEY MAKE ME SO. AGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH. Honestly a huge fuck you to @bengiyo for introducing this show to me, this brain rot is 1000% his fault.
There is something just so fascinating to me about Kenji and Shiro's dynamic especially around how they handle and navigate their queerness. Kenji is loud and out and proud and while we don't know if there was time his mother had to work up to it, we know that Kenji's mother is pretty accepting of Kenji being gay. But Shiro didn't have that same experience, and he is quiet, and struggling with internalized homophobia, and decently rooted in the closet. And I think when you have a character like Kenji who rarely seems to take the insults and the jabs to heart, who is just the human embodiment of sunshine you can forget that Kenji is human, and Kenji uses his sunshine as armor the way that Shiro uses his silence.
Shiro never says I love you to Kenji, in the first season he rarely engaged in any level of physical affection, and kept a distance from Kenji if they were walking together in public. But Shiro loves Kenji so goddamn much, so so fucking much, and while he can't bring himself to say the words it is in moments like this one, where Shiro knows despite the fact that Kenji hasn't given any indication, that Kenji is hurt by the fact that Shiro's mother rescinded his New Year's invitation.
Shiro and Kenji mean everything to me.
If anyone is curious about any other favorites (shows, cinematography, pain, etc) from this year, feel free to drop an ask!
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commander-rahrah · 4 months
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Talking to the Moon: Part IV
Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~4700 Warnings: swearing, PTSD, trauma, past/implied abuse, fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort
archiveofourown: here
masterlist: here
part I: here part II: here  part III: here
Summary: Set at the end Act II in the Gauntlet of Shar. Shadowheart finally faces Reader/Tav's blessing from Selûne in the temple of her dark mistress.
Notes: We finally got to the angsty part between Reader and Shadowheart muahaha. I've had a couple of these lines stuck in my head FOREVER. Does anyone else play the game and immediately start thinking of the scenario and more detailed dialogue for their specific Tav?? No.. just me? ahaha...
Also — Shadowheart rejects Shar in this, as an FYI. If that isn’t your cup of tea or prefer other decisions, etc. that is your discretion for your own game, etc.! For the purpose of my fic and this specific Tav, that is the route I took and don’t want it to be a debate! 👍🏽 Cause I know that happens in fandom sometimes - and that’s not what this fangirl is about baby!
I also just really really love the idea of letting Astarion and Reader/Tav explore things sloooooooooowly. Like little tiny fingertip touches and touching shoulders. I think that Astarion being emotionally vulnerable with someone first and slowly building up to being physical intimate is just MUAH chef’s kiss.
ANYWAYS Ted talk over — Thank you so much for reading and interacting! It means so much to me ♡♡♡
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“Tell me another thing.”
It was Astarion’s new favorite game — asking for you to confide in him, to tell him about how you see him. The things that made you fall for him. 
Each one had made him feel more and more seen. More and more safe. Some had been surprising characteristics he would have never assigned to himself — but you had explained them so earnestly that he couldn’t help but believe you. You had said he was strong, that he had more strength than he realized. That he was funny (obviously). That he was open-minded. 
He was collecting the compliments and observations, letting them stroke the flame inside of him that he had long thought dead. 
“Hmmm…,” You were sat on the worn, dirty floor leaning against a crumpling wall. The group was taking a moment to rest after another harrowing trial in Shar’s Gauntlet. Squinting your eyes you pretended to study him, before speaking, “I like how materialistic you are.” 
“Oh." Something akin to shame flooded through him. "I don’t like this one, pick another.”
A chuckle escaped you, shaking your head. “That’s not how this works.” 
The vampire frowned at your laughter, “This one seems like some back handed compliment." He turned his nose up, trying to mask the small twinge of pain spreading in his chest, "Just tell me I’m pretty instead.” 
You finally recognized the hurt, the smile vanishing from your face. “Astarion, I swear it's not a backhanded compliment. It’s something I genuinely like.” You sounded earnest, you looked solemn. 
He met your wide eyes, nodding as he believed you. “Hmph. Why?” 
“Well, you know I come from a noble background… I grew up with certain luxuries and I miss them." You admitted, your nose scrunched. "It’s nice to have someone who also appreciates the finer things in life.” 
He realized that you thought it was trivial to admit such things, surrounded by death as you all embarked on a seemingly impossible mission. But you were being honest and vulnerable with him in the broken hallway of the dark temple. 
He kept his tone light, smirking at you. “I do have good taste.” 
“Excellent taste. You would love the keep I grew up in, the art and amenities…" You closed your eyes as if you imagined them right there. "I dream of them on cold nights on my bedroll.” 
“Hmmm, tell me about them tonight when we are holed up in our tent.”  
Our tent. A slip of his tongue, but it really had become that way. You rarely were in your own tent anymore, only enough to change and store your things before you were slinking into his.  
“I’ll take you there someday and you can see it yourself.” 
His eyebrows shot up his face, shock morphing his features. You thought that far ahead? Taking him to see your home? Meeting your family? 
You smiled at his reaction, before filling in for his stunned silence. “And… you’re very pretty.” 
A puff of air escaped through his nose, his lips quirking. “Oh I know.” He stretched his fingers, before sweeping his thumb across the back of your knuckles. “Thank you," He whispered. 
You smiled at his touch, your eyes darting to where his pale fingers met yours. 
The pair of you stayed in that quiet moment, until it was broken by the sound of a swear echoing down the length of the crumbling hallway. "Shit!"
Karlach and Shadowheart were sat across the hallway, the tiefling putting on a new bandage across the half elf's small palm — or was attempting to. The cleric had sliced her palm three times now, offering her blood in the name of her dark mistress before every trial. The party had winced every time she did it — but the woman never faltered. 
And she didn’t not heal it with her divine abilities, instead letting the wound remain, cutting into it deeper with each trial and then only wrapping it up. She said it was intentional, purposeful pain that her Goddess demanded. And that she alone would pay the price for it. 
Astarion had immediately marked the strain in your face as she said it. Knew that you wanted nothing more then to remind her that she was not alone, that she could be anything, anyone she wanted to be.
But the words had remained unspoken. Like you didn't have the right to say them to her anymore. 
The vampire was now watching you watch them — studying you once again, trying to decipher how you were feeling. Karlach continued her efforts, but her large fingers fumbled as she tried to tie the knot and the bandages fell off again. 
"Godsdammit! Sorry, Princess." She said sheepishly, snatching the bandages up quickly. 
"It's okay, Karlach." Shadowheart shook her head, looking down at her hand and squeezing it into a fist. She winced from the pain, a hiss coming from her mouth. 
"May I?" Your voice was soft, quiet as a mouse. But not so quiet that Shadowheart did not hear you. She flashed her eyes over to you, her face contorted with genuine surprise. The cleric said no words, instead nodding and offering her hand out. 
Astarion remained sitting, watching as you stood up and crossed the hallway to the two women. You knelt before her, bowing your head slightly as you grabbed the bandages and began to wind them tenderly around Shadowheart's hand. If it were another moment, another person, the vampire would be jealous. Wishing he had a wound himself so that you could offer your services and gentle touches. 
But this was monumental. Not only was it a rare sight — one blessed by Selûne taking care of one of Shar’s disciples. But it was an olive branch, a silent offering that meant much more then those bandages. An offering of peace and acceptance. 
He was sure he saw Shadowheart's eyes lining with silver as you worked, the bob of her throat as she swallowed thickly. With a slight cough, you made to stand back up. "All done." You said in a hushed voice. But before you could stand up, the cleric grabbed your elbow. 
"Thank you," She choked out. The gratitude was for more then just this moment, he imagined. 
You bowed your head again, "Of course." As you marched back across the hallway, Astarion stood up to meet you. He ducked his head to look at your face, a silent conversation passing between you as your eyes met. An art the two of you had begun to master already. 
Are you alright?
I will be. 
He blinked and nodded in understanding, before falling into step at your side. 
• • •
Every place they explored in the Shadowlands somehow topped the previous wretched place. If Astarion never had to step foot in a temple of Shar again, it would be too soon. 
The air surrounding them was freezing, and the hairs on his arms and back of his neck had been standing up for what felt like hours. It felt like eyes were always on him, trailing after your group and judging every step taken. 
Glancing behind him, he waited for you to step onto the disc with the rest of the party. You were hesitating on the edge, the smallest tremble in your hand as you stared down at the floor. "Darling?"
Your face shot up, like his voice snapped you back to reality. You looked rattled, completely shaken. 
Astarion extended his hand out to you, beckoning you forward. He grabbed your hand easily, pulling you into him with a questioning glance before letting go. The rest of your party was looking at you, worry forming in their features. 
You had all but stepped into him, your shoulder pressed into his. He actually didn't mind it one bit. 
“You look pale, are you feeling okay?” He kept his voice low, his mouth downturned. 
You gathered yourself for a moment, before flashing him a smirk. “I’m pale? Coming from the vampire himself?” 
“Ha," He rolled his red eyes. "Trust me, my sweet. I’ve memorized the flush of your features by now — something’s off.” 
Your eyes settled on Shadowheart for a moment, before looking down at your boots. “I think it’s being in here… Her gift is straining inside me.” 
Her gift, Selûne's blessing. You didn't dare say the Goddess' name in Shar's ruined temple. The rest of the party had heard the tale over the campfire about a week ago. While most of their faces had been filled with awe and astonishment when you had told them then, now their faces were only anxious. 
“Oh gods, you’re not going to...?" Wyll trailed off, his brows furrowed together. 
“Drop dead? I hope not.” You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. 
“Not funny.” Astarion hissed, flashing you a look. The sentiment was echoed by Gale, chastising you for saying such things. 
You quirked your mouth, before wrapping your arms around your torso. "I'll be fine." 
Suddenly, there was a loud click and the disc you all stood on began moving — descending deeper into the ruins. 
Astarion heard the heartbeats of the entire party begin to increase, the thrumming pounding in his ears. None were as loud as the rhythm of your heart. 
Then the scent of your fear filled his nostrils. 
He could think of no words, no quips or jokes. The dark ruins had been taxing, draining. And he did not know what to expect at the bottom of this temple. 
But he was afraid too. Afraid for you, for both of you. 
The disc settled below with another audible click, and as the rest of the party began to move off of it and deeper into the next area you stayed planted where you were. 
The vampire stayed with you, eyeing your complexion that was turning paler by the minute. Your breaths labored as you blinked, long and slowly. His red eyes followed your line of sight — to Shadowheart and Karlach. 
The half-elf and tiefling were standing before large ornate doors, shoulder to shoulder. Their hands were intertwined, fingers laced together as they continued to stare the door down. 
Your eyes were fixed on their hands, before you licked your lips and spoke quietly — only for him to hear. "Would you be okay with that?”
His brows furrowed together in confusion. “With what?” 
“A touch like that.” 
A bewildered look crossed his features. Here? Now? This is where you wished to discuss such things. Moments before stepping into the unknown darkness of the mistress of night. He stepped in front of you, his back to the rest of the party as he looked you in the face. 
“Holding hands? What next, you want to cuddle?” He teased with his sharp tongue.
The smallest twist in your features was your only tell. Anyone else would have missed it — a flash of sadness at his rejection. 
He suddenly realized it. Longing. You had been looking at the pair holding hands with longing, yearning to be touched like that right now. "You want that, don't you?"
You stiffened, as if you had said the wrong thing. You stumbled over your words, immediately backtracking, “Not if you don’t want to. I'm sorry, I just thought—“ 
His eyes softened at your reaction, “You’re upset.” 
“No, never." You shook your head, your voice unwavering. "It’s your choice, Starry.” 
“I’m not the only person in this—" In this, what? Finish the sentence, Astarion. He thought to himself. "Is it, something you would like to do?” 
“Maybe." You licked your lips, before nodding self-consciously. "Yes, but only if you were okay with it.” 
“I can try." He whispered sincerely, before looking back over his shoulder to the group. Shadowheart and Karlach remained at each other's side, their fingers still intertwined in a tight grasp. "I just— I don’t really understand it. The touch I’m used to is… sensual, erotic. Or incredibly violent. I thought touch was only supposed to lead to some explosive end, one way or another. What’s the point of it?” 
“It’s comforting, holding the person you care about. Feeling their presence with you, when you need it." You admitted, your eyes unguarded as you looked at him.  
He recalled how he felt when you had held him in your arms in the river. How he had let his fingers linger and hold onto you as you pulled away from that first hug. The overwhelming urge he had sometimes to just be near you. He could understand that feeling, he knew that feeling now. He just wasn't sure how to act on it. 
"I think I'd like that." He agreed, the corners of his mouth pulling up with a hopeful expression. "I will try." 
You smiled back at him, the pair of you momentarily forgetting where you stood. What was to happen next. What could happen next. 
As you made to finally step off of the disc, he called your name softly — halting your movement. "We will get to try."
It was a promise. A vow.
No dark mistress or Absolute or bastard vampire master would stop him from having you. 
You nodded, smiling back at him before moving to join the others. 
The group was cautious as they entered into the final chamber, the hundreds of candles in the room suddenly lighting with an eerie purple flame. The coloured flames flickered and cast dancing shadows on the stones around them, all leading to a pool of still water. A ginormous, untouched statue of the Mistress of Night stood in it — her arms outstretched, beckoning you forward. 
"This must be the last step. I need to pray. Only by Lady Shar's grace did we even make it this far." Shadowheart fell to her knees immediately, offering silent prayers to the intimidating figure ahead. Karlach stayed loyally at her side, but her brows were crinkled with worry. 
Everyone lingered behind, unsure of how to proceed. 
"I'm ready." The dark-haired cleric spoke, determination flashing in her features as she stood up. The spear she had fought and bled for in the trials strapped to her back. She held a boot over the unmoving water for a moment, hesitating for a moment before stepping into it. 
A voice spoke throughout the chamber, echoing and rattling the stones. The candles flickered with her voice, as if the magnificent voice caused the cold breeze that suddenly filled the room. "You are so close, my child. So close to fulfilling your destiny. And is that another trophy you bring for me? You honor me with your dedication.“ 
The party turned to stare at you. Shar was aware of who you are, of what lingered in you. Astarion swear he saw Shadowheart’s bottom lip tremble as her gaze fell on you again. 
But you put on your practiced expression of calm, nodding at your companions to continue. But as you stood on the precipice of the pool, Astarion noticed your fingers twitching at your side. 
It should have been be so easy for him to reach out and hold them, like you said you wanted. He had been daring himself to touch you more lately — a brush of his knuckle against yours, tucking an unruly strand of hair behind your ear. He was trying. He wanted to, so badly. 
But something was holding him back. A weight on his chest and lungs that made it feel him feel so tainted and undeserving for such things. 
He hesitated for too long, and your hand was moving away as you stepped into the sparkling water. So he took his own steps in. The water was ice cold, instantly sending goosebumps over his entire body. Then a frozen sensation that went deep into his half-dead body. It began clutching at him, at everything he was and ever could be. 
His red eyes widened, searching frantically for you beside him — his hand reaching out wildly for you before he was suddenly pulled under. 
• • •
The last thing you had seen was Shar’s menacing face —looming over you, spelling your end. A blanket of cold had surrounded you, tightening unbearably around your ankles and wrists before yanking you down into the darkness. 
You had never been afraid of the dark before. 
You could no longer say that. 
With a gasp, you wretched your eyes open to find yourself somewhere new. Standing on a craggy rock, floating in raging winds and surrounded by streaks of lightning. A living storm of black and purple swirling around you. 
"Lady Shar...," Shadowheart's voice was quiet — her tone a strange mixture of astonishment and fear. "I can feel her all around. This is her domain. This is the Shadowfell.”
“Bloody hells.” Gale muttered, the wizard's mouth a hardline. 
“We best keep moving.” Lae'zel ordered, eyeing the surroundings with a look of disgust on her face. 
You all murmured in agreement, before traveling down the precarious craggy rocks until you were at the very bottom. You hesitated at the site of a person— a pale, large woman dressed in only shredded rags.
The Nightsong. 
She stood in the centre of several complicated sigils, the symbols radiating a sickly green. Her head flicked up to your group, her eyes narrowing as she inspected every single party member. Before they settled on you, and softened. 
“I recognize you." Her voice was hoarse at first, like she hadn't spoken out loud in ages. "You aren’t a sibling… But I recognize you. Why are you so familiar to me?” She cocked her head at you, her eyes studying you. There was a flicker in them — hope.
Her hair shined silver like yours, but her eyes glowed even brighter. Much more than any mortal could. Your mouth fell open as you realized. She was not blessed by a divine being like you, she was immortal herself. 
“You are...“ 
“A child of the gods.” She finished for you, and even clad in nothing but rags she stood tall at the words.  
“Selûne’s?”
Your mind raced as you put together the pieces, the ritual on the stone similar to the secret room of Balthazar. Kethric’s undying nature. She was bound here in the Shadowfell — being syphoned like those fairies in the lanterns. And the dark justiciar’s — they used her, killed her like a bounty for their goddess. Over and over. As Shadowheart was meant to do now. 
But you. You were bound to nothing, and you were not born from the goddess — only a mortal woman, who feared for her child. A mortal mother who was thousands of miles away, not knowing where her child now stood, not knowing that they were waiting to see if a spear would be driven through their chest too.
"My mother spoke of you once. I don't think that even she knew we would meet." The daughter of Selûne eyes shone with quiet understanding. The flicker of hope in them still catching light somehow in the dark storm in the Shadowfell as she stared at you. 
Shadowheart stepped forward, toeing the edge of the ritual symbols carved onto the floor. Her face was stoic, determined. Yet she refused to look at you. 
"But you.” The woman’s eyes dragged to the cleric, her voice a vicious snarl. “YOU. You, who have come to seek the praise of your wicked goddess. You, who have come to drive a dagger through my heart." 
"Not a dagger — a spear. My Lady Shar's spear. Your fate is mine to seal." You noticed Shadowheart's hands were trembling fists at her side. 
"The fate that you seal is your own. To be a Dark Justiciar is to turn your heart from everything but loss. You will know no love, no joy — only servitude." Karlach stiffened next to Shadowheart, concern etching every feature of her red face. "Until, of course, your mistress inevitably discards you. And there is much she does not tell you — a terrible blood price that may extend beyond my own death. Beyond your companion's."
The cleric looked over her shoulder to you, her eyebrows furrowed. You said nothing, keeping your face steady. 
But it was the first she looked you in the eyes since you found yourself in the dark place. Truly met your gaze. And the rage and betrayal you had first seen in them that day she learned the truth about you had lost their heat. Instead you saw only pain and regret. 
Astarion made to move in front of you, to act as your shield as Shadowheart turned her attention on you. But you waved your hands at your side, silently asking him to stop. 
You knew the rest of your party waited with bated breath for you to intervene, to speak up for this woman, for yourself. 
But instead, you held Shadowheart’s gaze and waited. 
The Nightsong spoke again, drawing her attention away from you. "You may think you know what they are, but do you know what I am, little assassin? For I know you — a lost child, frightened by wolves in the dark." 
"What did you say?" 
"Much has been promised to you, hasn't it? But what has been taken from you?" She asked sadly, her eyes piercing through Shadowheart. "What do you know of your own heart — your own life? I sense more in you then you know." 
"I—" The spear was suddenly summoned into her hand, her light coloured eyes widening as she feels its weight. It was as if Shar would wait no longer, and would thrust the weapon into her hands and guide it through the Nightsong if need be. "I..." She raised it up, inspecting the intricate designs and deadly tip of the spear. The bottom of her eyes filled with silver as she studied it. 
And just as fast as it was summoned, it was gone. Soaring over the party's heads, away and into the swirling storm below them. 
You let loose the breath you didn't know you were holding.
It was echoed by a sigh of relief from the rest of the party. 
Shadowheart's mouth was agape, staring into her empty hands and then to you. A humorless laugh escaped her, like she was in a state of shock. "I can't believe I just did that. Lady Shar will disown me... what will happen to me?"  
"Not what will happen — what will you do? Your past is not yet lost. Your future is not yet fixed. Lay a hand on me in friendship, not-quite Sharran, and I will fight the battle that been waiting for me this last century." The large woman knelt before them, bowing her head. "Then — oh then, we will have much to discuss. All of us." She looked up to nod at you, still standing on the edge of the circle. 
The cleric stepped forward with more certainty then she had in most of the trials in Shar's Gauntlet. Her head held high before she grasped the child of the god on her shoulder. Suddenly the green of the binding ritual turned into a bright, silver light. The woman fell to all fours as the silver light traveled through her.  
"Our lady of Silver. Hear me! She Who Guides, the Moonmaiden Selûne — mother of the so-called Nightsong. THE NIGHTSONG IS NO MORE!" Then she began to levitate in the air, a shining light of white and silver wrapped around her before large wings spread from her back, and spectral armor and sword appearing upon her body and in her hands.
The group was amazed as they watched her fly up and up. Before she landed with a gentle thud.
A child of a god indeed. 
"I am resplendent. You have given me a great gift, little warrior." She nudged Shadowheart's chin with a gloved hand, before stepping back. "Come now — there is a battle to be fought." 
"My kin," She looked back to you, her eyes and brow set in a determined line. "Are you ready?"
"Ready for what?" You asked, stepping forward until you were at Shadowheart's side. 
"To kill Ketheric Thorm." She flashed a wolfish grin that was filled with a controlled rage. Vengeance and justice was to be served by that glowing spectral sword in her hand. With a large woosh, she was soaring into the air and vanishing back to the mortal plane. 
• • •
It wasn't until you were out of the Shadowfell, away from Gauntlet and endless depictions of Shar that you all finally spoke. 
The cool air of the Shadowlands was welcoming for the first time since you had arrived. Astarion watched as you took large gulps of air, your hands resting on your hips as you centered yourself again. The colour was already returning to your cheeks, your heart slowing to a familiar rhythm. 
He made to reach out for you, but Shadowheart got there first. A look of surprise flashed across your face as she threw herself at you. "I don't— I don't know what to say." She muttered into your shoulder. 
You swallowed hard before holding her back fiercely, your mouth quivering. "You don't have to say anything. I forgive you."
Astarion blinked. You gave her your forgiveness so easily, much easier then he would have. But wasn't that one of the things he was so fond of? Your kind heart, your innate goodness. That even though he didn't feel he deserved your attention, or that Shadowheart deserved to be forgiven, you still granted it to them. Your kindness was not just for him, but for everyone in the group. The hubris wizard and seasoned fighter who didn't think they were enough. The warlock and barbarian ripped from their homes. The manipulated manipulators who were used and discarded.  
“You can't—You can't just forgive me." She pulled away from you, staring at you like you had gone mad. "What I did, what I almost did — I almost didn’t bring you back that day, oh gods—" Her hand moved over her mouth, her brows meeting in the middle. 
“But you did.”
“But if I didn’t—" Her voice broke.
You grabbed her by the shoulders, ducking your head to look at her. “But you did. And we will not speak of the past any longer. But we will get you answers for your own, okay?” 
"What she wanted me to do in there, what she's made me do..." A sob escaped Shadowheart, the sound breaking something in Astarion. Something that hit a little too close to home. His red eyes flickered to his boots as he tried to keep his own emotion at bay. 
Your next words were a whisper in her ear, too low for even his elven ears to hear. But you both nodded together, before Karlach was pulling the cleric into a hug of their own. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, whispering her own affections to her. 
Before the vampire could even try to will himself to do the same things for you, you were in front of him. He could see no hint of expectation on your face, only relief as you took him in. 
He ran the tip of his finger down your wrist, to the back of your hand, before trailing it in your palm. "That was all a little dramatic, wasn't it?"
A tired chuckle escaped you, "I'd thought you'd learned by now that we have a flair for it, don't we?"
"We certainly do." 
Suddenly, flashes of divine white power swept above you, before shooting fast across the sky — the light silhouetting a set of large wings. Without further thinking, Astarion threaded his pale fingers through yours, squeezing them slightly as he watched the light head closer and closer to the imposing tower in the distance. 
He gulped as you squeezed back. 
Your party watched the sky for a moment, silence filling the air before you all stared at each other. Your tired, aching bodies were begging for rest. But the world would not wait for you to rest. 
"To Moonrise?" Gale asked, a sad, tired smile on his face. 
"To Moonrise." You nodded, starting to march forward and lead the group forward. 
Astarion curled his pinky around yours as you meant to pull away, not quite ready to let you go again. 
Read part V here
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pynkhues · 1 year
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What do you think about it is about Kendall that’s it’s like, of course he’s the only one with a real friend?
It's lowkey one of my favourite choices on the show, anon, just because I think it's so revealing in more ways than one. Like, it makes sense, not just because of who Kendall is, but also who his siblings are, and the different ways they navigate their way through the world.
Interestingly, I think Connor and Shiv actually have the clearest boundary (or hurdle, depending on how you look at it) when it comes to fostering friendships, and while I think those things are different, I think they're both steeped in these factors of them as characters that shape their experiences of adulthood.
I think Connor's stems from an extremely disrupted childhood between his mother's mental health, her institutionalisation, his father's absence and reappearance, and then his being pushed into a parentified role to the golden trio at a formative age (canon explicitly tells us that too! Camping trips, fishing trips, fulfilling the father duties at Shiv's wedding before Logan decides to show up!) when he should've been away at college building his own relationships, in order to feel he had any sort of place in his family.
Similarly, I think Shiv has been soaked in hatred for her own gender since she's been born. Her relationship with her mother is strained and seems to have been weaponised by her father, she likely went to an all girls school (Spence, I imagine, which is basically the all girls equivalent of Buckley, the all boys school we know Kendall went to) and her own misogyny hampered any genuine friendship attempts. I think Shiv probably had frenemies, but nothing deeply meaningful, because vulnerability and emotional honesty is something she can't allow herself if she wants to survive in a male-dominated household festering in a male-dominated industry. I think male friendships were off the table in that sense too because Shiv seems to have always sought power in whatever way she could, and the two things she has to exert power are her name and her sexuality and at least her sexuality is hers.
I think Roman's a little harder to put a pin in in that sense, because I think he's a little bit of both of them, and a whole lot his own thing. I think he's experienced a part of Connor's disrupted childhood by having been shipped away to school and for his physical abuse, and I think he's experienced a part of Shiv's self-loathing for a part of his identity he can't face up to, but I also think Roman on paper should have friends. Roman's funny and insightful and (most of the time) the right sort of mean, and he's no more self-defensive than the rest of them, but I think the reason comes down to the biggest difference between him and Kendall:
Roman can be honest without being vulnerable, whereas Kendall can be vulnerable without being honest.
Roman as a character isn't actually particularly duplicitous. He can absolutely be an asshole, but he doesn't play to what people want in the way that both Kendall and Shiv (and even to an extent, Connor) do. His moments of vulnerability though are rare, often private, often, still, fleeting and guarded, while his moments of honesty are more frequent, yet often just ugly and naked and there. He fronts to it, and takes it, and usually tells the other person to take it too, which is what he did with Gerri and Tabitha and even Lawrence way back at the start of the series.
Kendall's not an honest person, but he is someone who's inherently vulnerable, and I think it pulls people to him, despite themselves. We've seen it in real time with Naomi and even Greg, and retrospectively with Rava, Stewy and Frank. He can break, he can curl in a lap or bury a head in a shoulder while still telling half truths or nothing at all. God, probably one of the best examples is in 2.04 when he pulls Shiv into a hug while talking around what she actually wants to hear.
Kendall lets people mop up the blood while he either tries to hide, ignore or justify the wound, and I think that vulnerability lets people feel a degree of intimacy with him and protectiveness of him that becomes muddied as they discover that Kendall is inherently a dishonest person and an addict, as it seems most characters in this show have learnt the hard way. After all, discovering that he's not told you a whole truth doesn't erase the memory of the weight of his head against your shoulder.
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loadinghellsing · 7 months
Note
How do you think Alucard and Anderson would confess their feelings to each other?
How do you think Anderson deals with coming to terms with his feelings towards Alucard?
When it comes to Alucard and Anderson's dynamic, majority of their feelings are understood without ever being spoken or directly acknowledged. So for them to confess, truly confess, I don't see it coming naturally to either of them. Alucard needs a shove, and Anderson needs a bit of coaxing.
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(WARNING: LONG POST - goes into depth beneath cut)
---
While Alucard shamelessly flirts with and praises Anderson at every opportunity. His admiration, awe, amusement, and thrill all evident. Because Anderson is a willing, capable opponent who shares beliefs parallel to Vlad's own. He's eager, passionate, and raw with his humanity. And he's capable of taking a hit and outliving those who are doomed by time alone. Alucard can endlessly adore him in specific and concept.
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However, for Alucard to admit he loves Anderson. That he cares for him, both mentally and physically. Is an entirely different matter. To confess that he'd prioritize Anderson's needs over his own, is the type of commitment that distinguishes love (platonic or romantic), from obsession. It's an intimate and vulnerable feeling. So even if he acts on these emotions, the only way I see Alucard confessing to the hold Anderson has on his heart is when the honesty of that care is challenged.
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It's confessed as a pained, furious scream. Not directed at Anderson, but at himself. Reflective of what it implies about his humanity, both past and present. It's confessing not only how important Anderson is to him, and the entirety of what that means. But it'd be a visceral moment where every word would burn his throat. Because it confesses how what remains of his humanity longs for Anderson, yet it's humanity he gave up. So it hardly matters, not when it all ends the same.
---
Contrast of Alucard, is Anderson. He's a naturally caring person, and to a degree, he's honest about his feelings. Including those for Alucard. In the heat of combat, they're easily set aside. But provided a moment of calm, of comfort and safety; he wouldn't deny that truth. Confessed feelings with all the fondness, protectiveness, honesty, pity, and love he has. Perhaps tired and defeated by the weight of those words, but they'd be genuine in their entirety.
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However, extracting a compliment-based confession from Anderson would be a near impossible feat. It's not a matter of him 'denying his feelings'. But the challenge of acknowledging those feelings in relation to Alucard being a vampiric monstrosity. And admitting that he finds such a creature beautiful,  a cosmic event functioning as a living force. A stunning, yet damning storm. It's a thought infinitely harder for Anderson to admit.
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Any praise would be admitting his sins to the greatest sinner he knows. Perhaps over time, he'd make a quip or two. But it would remain a rare indulgence. He'd never be fully comfortable with it, but it's not entirely denied. Because it's a form of damnation he'd indulge in with Alucard. Since the idea of being condemned together isn't entirely unappealing.
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---
In the end, it's Anderson struggling with damnation, and Alucard struggling with salvation. It's hard to tell who's leading who. If ones falling or the others rising. Majority of their relationship is deciding it doesn't truly matter. They lie somewhere in the between, where it is neither night nor day.
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siempre-bucky · 2 years
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Are you willing to write a blurb with Hangman and his girlfriend writing each other love letters? I love when writers explore his soft side☺️
Jake Seresin x Reader
wc: 917
a/n: ahhhh! This was so cute and so much fun to write!! I hope you like it!!!
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“Claudia, my dear,” Jake spoke as his pen hurried across a white envelope. 
The woman behind the desk grumbled at the appealing aviator and stood up, “What do you want, Hangman?” she intoned as she leaned over the metal desk, her thin eyebrows lowered to show her lack of enthusiasm. 
“Got any mail for me?” he asked, a toothpick twirling in between his perfect teeth. 
Claudia sighed and opened her filing cabinet. Jakes's heartbeat sped up as she pulled out a few letters. The white one had to be from his parents, but the bright pink one was from you. Back when he was in boot camp you had told him you would always send your letters in pink envelopes so they could easily be picked out in a sea of envelopes. 
He smoothly took the letter and placed one back in her hand. 
“You know we’re getting off this thing early right?” she scoffed, a small smirk coming to her lips. 
“Romance, Claud. Romance,” He laughed, wagging his eyebrows before sauntering off. After he turned his back, he held up the envelope to his nose and inhaled the fading scent of your sweet perfume that was mixed in with the smells of the envelope’s glue and jet fuel.  
The rooster clock on the floral wallpaper-covered wall clucked throughout the kitchen. It was four, right on the dot. With a light gasp, you peeled open the lace curtain to the back door and grinned as the mailman walked towards your mailbox. 
“Afternoon, Miss Y/L/N,” the mailman chuckled, tipping his hat to you as you hurried down the cobblestone walkway. 
“Hi, Will, got anything for us today?” you asked hopefully. You should have asked if he had anything for you. Bills and credit card offers came every day, but it was rare to get a letter from your boyfriend while deployed. It wasn’t Jake’s fault his letters didn’t come every day, you were lucky for Will to hand you a letter at least once a month. 
“Let me check,” he hummed happily as he dug into his large satchel. “Ah-ha!” he yelped as he pulled out a couple of pieces of mail for your family. “When does he come home?” he asked as you giddily flipped through the mail, your thumb lovingly swiping over his name in the corner. The thick white envelope looked like hell with its bent corners and skid marks like it was run over a bunch of times. 
“What a journey you must’ve been on,” you whispered to yourself before returning your attention to the mailman. “One more month,” you said, trying to remain composed and not like you have a small calendar in your bedside table drawer that you mark off each day. 
“Hopefully we’ll see a wedding around these parts,” he chuckled, shooting you a playful wink, “Have a nice day now, Y/N. Tell your folks I said hello.” 
You waved him off and pressed the envelope to your nose, you could faintly smell the cologne that he religiously sprayed the letters with. You held it there all the way to the little porch swing, recalling your first kiss years ago on the very same spot to get in the proper mindset. 
Jake must’ve written a page a day, you marveled at the folded pages that landed in your lap. His handwriting was nothing to rave about, sometimes you were lucky if it was legible but you knew him well enough to make out the rough parts. He told you about his days on the carrier, how many whales he saw in the water, knowing you loved when he counted them.  He didn’t fail to tell you all the bad parts, how homesick he was, or when something in training scared the hell out of him. 
He was always at his most honest in his letters, he shared the best with you in texts or when you talked on the phone. It was his letters that showed the most vulnerable side of your boyfriend, you loved every moment—the good, the bad, and the ugly.  
Turning to the last page, you broke out into a love-sick smile. He always ended his letters with how much he loved you and how he couldn’t wait to be back in your embrace. “Have you gotten to the end yet?” a voice asked. 
Tears instantly sprang to your eyes, blinking them away and shaking your head. This wasn't real, he was in the middle of the ocean. “Stop,” you told yourself, eyes glued to the letter. 
“Sweetheart.” The voice was gentle, sounding like it was right in front of you. You looked up hesitantly, your eyes peeking above the white paper. Jake stood there on the other side of the porch, his truck parked right outside the gate. 
“Jake!” You cried as you jolted from your seat, sprinting from the deck and right into his arms. You clutched onto the fabric of his black t-shirt, nuzzling your face into his chest. “You’re not supposed to be home yet.” 
“Training ended early, looks like my letters just beat me,” he chuckled. You pulled back and he was quick to cup your face and wiped the tears that managed to escape your eyes. 
“Tell me how it ends,” you said, motioning your heads towards the letters. 
“How about I show you?” he smirked, leaving forward and kissing you softly. You smiled through the kiss and wrapped your hands around his wrists before he could pull away.  
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Text
Unsung Hero [TP!Link + Veterinarian!Reader]
The care and management of domestic animals is not new to Hyrule, but your kind of practice is.
The indulgence is growing out of control. The other piece for the results of this Poll.
Masterlist
Companion piece:
Fall Birds [BOTW!Link + Reader]
TW: None.
Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.
---
Seven little fluff balls wait contently within their holding pens, five young females, one adult and a male not even old enough to have a tween's characteristic lank. Three have taken a liking to the soft rags and old shirts you've crafted into makeshift beds, two still picking cautiously at their food bowls, one is grooming with quiet concentration. The kitten is up against the bars, meowing loudly for your attention.
These cats have been well taken care of. They are not afraid of people, many of them want to be picked up. None of them have any issues accepting the food you've given them, they all having been pawing at their enclosures expectantly the moment you'd passed through the doors with food in your hands.
This is a good village. You can tell, for there is no greater indication of a community's character then how they treat thier animals. Creatures whom often rely upon their human caretakers to provide basic needs. Truly, the most vulnerable in any civilized society, safeguarded not by the reigns of biology or sacred law, but by will of the people who keep them.
You smile as you approach, and no less then three of the younger females join the male up against the bars. You are forced to dodge little paws as you crack the doors open just enough to reach in and switch out thier water bowls. Though you give into temptation once or twice and capture their little paws between your fingers, squeezing softly against their smooth beans.
It is harder than you'd like to admit to pull away from them, especially when they are just as eager for attention as you are to give it. But you have work to do, and unfortunately, they only partially involve playing with little beans.
So you eventually leave the room, old water bowls in hand and steadfastly ignoring the pitiful little meows chasing after you. Sometimes you have to play the villain, but that's just an unavoidable consequence of the profession you lead.
And so, unfortunately, is this.
"May I help you." You ask pleasantly enough, irked that this unknown man (hyrulian?) had entered the back of your workplace uninvited, but not really surprised either.
Hyrule and the lands surrounding it is, strange, as far as privacy and security is concerned. No door is truly locked unless it's physically barred, by the locals reckoning. No shop guards their precious stock with carefully maintained distance, no home sacred to the eyes or ears of their community.
Even thievery is taken in stride, rarely punished but for the occasional snide remark or displeased glower. Occasionally, the victimized shop owner may strike at the thief, maybe lecture them, and by the eyes of social justice this seems to make right the wrong.
So, no. You are not surprised. Nor are you surprised by the untrusting tension corded through this man's body.
This is to be expected, or more precisely, this should be expected. And rather than make you feel unnerved or frightened, you are gladdened by this man's formidable presence.
You are happy, because someone cares enough about these animals to ask you what you're doing with them. Cares enough to notice their absence. Cares enough to confront potential abusers with righteous fury, because you can see that in his eyes. That unrelenting need to protect burning in this man's gaze, waiting for a reason to unfurl like Hellfire.
"Why are you taking the cats." He says simply, so honest and to the point. Your heart is gladdened further, because finally, someone who's not going to meekly dance around the issue to avoid offense.
Let them be damned offended. Priority is the wellbeing of the animals. It always has been, and if you're going to dig into other people's business, you best be prepared to get in their face too.
You smile at him, and he seems taken aback by it. "I'm a veterinarian from overseas, specializing in spading and neutering small mammals."
He blinks, long lashes framing wide blue eyes now brimming with cautious curiosity. "A veterinarian?"
You grin, taking the opportunity. You always take the opportunity to educate people. It's just as, if not even more important, than what you actually do.
And so, you talk. You speak of eventual overpopulation, of a single female cat's extensive breeding potential. Of bird populations decimated, of entire litters lost to the dangers of the wilds and the inevitability of disease and death. Of the benefits of fixing felines young, of the health hazards avoided and the behavior issues soothed.
All the while, his eyes get wider and rounder and softer. His world opens up, the light of newfound knowledge enters his inquisitive gaze. At some point he sat, ushering you to sit too. He leans forward as you talk, riveted, asking questions when you begin to slow. Spurring you onwards one breath at a time.
Minutes turn to hours, hours become a promise extracted from the man himself. A promise that you would continue to explain to him the purpose and riggers of your little known profession.
You'd agreed readily. Heart fluttering with the quiet hope of like-minded companionship.
He returns the next day. And the next.
All seven of the cats are fixed by that time, safe and recovering in their pens. And the man, Link, is there for two of their operations. Witness to your practice.
He is enthralled by the precision of your blades, the skill of your hands. Not once does he shy away from the unsavory sight such a profession entails, asking questions only after you've placed the last stitches into shave-short fur. His eyes burning with the need to know and to learn.
You give him everything you have. Every scrap of knowledge and wisdom accumulated after years of education and trials. You share it freely, anything within your power to give is his should he ask.
And he- replies in kind.
Time, effort, rupees. You'd tried to deny, but he could not be moved. The fire in his spirit burning too hot, too intense for you to have any hope of outlasting it's blaze.
He brings in more stray cats, dogs, squirrels (?) than you have holding pens, children trailing behind him with proud expressions of excitement and pride. You give them candy for their efforts, they give you hugs and little scraps of cloth for more beds.
He hands you rupees, brows fixed in stubborn defiance, unwilling to back down from his contributions. There's more than you've ever seen in one place, more than a year's worth. It's too much, but the gleam in his eyes tells of a man who will burden you with untold excess should you refuse his first offer.
The threat is nearly tangible in it's closeness. Take the damned rupees, or prepare to drown in them.
Collars appear like magic overnight upon a precious few cats and dogs, bands of every color staking a bold claim. You leave those ones be, waiting for the loving hands of owners to bring them to you.
Your clinic grows, your place within the community settles. Your new friend becomes your best friend and your most trusted confidant.
Link buys a goat ranch (the one he's been working on for years now), beaming with pride as he tells you how he finally convinced Old man Fado to pass over ownership to him. You congratulate him of course, overcome with pride for his persistence and success.
Your not surprised though. While many might have questioned his hesitance to settle, those who knew him well saw this coming years ago. It was only ever a matter of when the man would pluck up the resolve to fully commit.
The long wait had not been wasted though. A stack of worn books, old and new, sitting prominently at your bedside spoke quietly of that.
"Hey, Link. Now that you're a respectable ranch owner, want to go into business together?" You smile, eyes crinkled at the corners as he caught your gaze in (unnecessarily) hopeful disbelief. "I've been doing a bit of light reading on the biology of ordon goats, after all."
You held out your hand to him, and he gripped it back fiercely, a suspicious shimmer at his lower lashes as a bright smile stole across his lips.
"Might as well not let the knowledge go to waste. Right?"
---
Back to the safety of the shadows.
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kastlenetwork · 4 months
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Hi! So I'm pretty new to the kastle fandom and wanted to know if there are any like- classic fics or interviews or memorable moments in panels and cons (with the actors) that I should know about? I know about the interviews that are on the kastle wikifandom page but only because I've read them.
helloooo! welcome to the family! it's been quite quiet lately, but frank and karen are always in our hearts lolol and every now and then there's a little resurgence, so that's nice. umm first up interviews. there's a lot of little quotes here and there that were a big deal. we didn't get many interviews of the two of them together, if i remember correctly. i think two comic cons were pretty exciting.
here are some interviews from comic con 2017 yup
this is a cute clip from last year, where deborah talked about how jon's intense but really uplifted her. and that they want to work together again.
(i'm looking at kastle's wikifandom and, really, the big interview quotes all seem to be there.)
“ … just in terms of whether this is Jon’s story to tell or my story to tell, you just want to kind of be respectful of everybody’s contributions. Jon and I have certainly felt that there is room for a romantic story in there. And there were certainly scenes where we took it farther in some takes than we did in other takes. We’ll have to sort of wait and see what the editors chose, and how far they decided to push it. But we as actors allowed for that possibility.” -deb cinemablend
deborah and jon were both supporters, but deborah was always including frank into karen's romantic potentials:
“But all of the romance I’ve gotten to play, with any of the characters in the series, whether that’s Frank or Matt, they all come from a need. From a lonely person, a person who doubts whether she is deserving of love.” -deb collider
**
“I like that Karen can say, ‘How far down this road of violence of revenge do you go before you’re ripped apart?’ and he can look at her and go, ‘I’m already ripped apart. And you are, too.‘” -deb 92.1 bobfm
**
“When professor [Jeph] Loeb [Marvel TV head] told me we were gonna do a series on The Punisher,” Bernthal continued, “first thing i asked him is would I have the pleasure and the honor to work again with one of the most honest, the most kind, and the most talented actors I’ve ever had the privilege to work with.” --jon ew
oh! karen page being announced for the punisher. very cute.
youtube
"i just want to say, you guys don't love him as much as i do" was very exciting when it happened lmaoooo. the hope for kastle was high.
*****
i'll be honest up front and say, i tend to forget a lot of stuff? so, basically, i can read a fic and then read it again months later and it's like a brand new experience. which is both a blessing and a curse. so, i basically just zoomed through my bookmarks to try and find some things?? 😩😩
(i'm scanning my bookmarks and.............a lot of them are basically just smutfdjklgsdfjglkdfjglkdfjg)
ballads for a dead man ❤❤ [three parts, unfinished] Safe up in the mountains with Frank following a bloody showdown in Hell's Kitchen, Karen wonders just how much more complicated things between them can get. She's about to find out.
these heavy words, your open heart 😘😘 (this was a kastlechristmas gift to me from @carry-the-sky 😊❤) “You told me once that I was honest. That I don’t lie to you. But the hospital—you asked me to start over, and I said I didn’t want that.” Karen sucks in a breath. Frank’s eyes are still on her, wide and bright. It’s the most vulnerable she’s ever seen him look. “I lied,” he says.
The Reporter  [kinda iconic ❤👀] Force Recon missions keep Marines isolated, entrenched for long periods in covert locations. They rarely received visitors, and in Frank’s long experience, the visitors were almost never civilians, let alone gorgeous blondes with mile long legs and sky blue eyes. Frank was trying not to stare. They all were. Well, everyone except Bill, who’s face had just split into a shit-eating grin.
The Flower Cam [oh god, the flower cam! i just remembered!! ❤] It had been a long time since there had actually been any flowers in the window. She must have trashed the white roses after his latest bullshit at the hospital with Madani and the kid. Good. Good for her. She should forget about him. But still… Frank couldn’t help but check every once in a while.
actually just, everything in their ao3. i have all this bookmarked.
(..................god, my bookmarks are really all smut. this says a lot about me.)
Castle’s Auto Shop ❤❤ yes. yep. Karen Page is in need of a car mechanic. Castle’s Auto Body Shop seems a reasonable choice. There’s just one problem: This little auto shop has become a well-known spot where less than honorable people to go get their car fixed…only to have justice find them at the next stop light. Having her brother’s truck fixed there means Karen will have to own up to a few secrets in her past.
Blood and Bone ❤❤❤! this is the fic that has seared itself into my brain. i've never once forgotten this. iconic. Frank Castle is a boxer at the top of his game. Laconic and anti-social, he has a reputation for being an incredibly-tough interview. Karen Page is a sports reporter trying to prove herself in a male-dominated field. She's done playing games--trying to be the "Cool Girl" who caters to the male fantasy--and now she's on a mission to take no shit. "For a while, the fact that an interview with Castle lasting longer than 5 minutes even existed was big news. Splashed all over the message boards—circulated among boxing and Castle fans alike. The very concept that someone actually got the man to sit down for more than a breath of time and give multiple-sentence answers to a question—it was huge. Massive. It was the only thing Castle fans could talk about. Until three months later, when Frank Castle disappeared. Then that was the news. It was the only news."
this is hard lmaoo how ludicrious. i have about seven collections from some of our events, as well. there's loads of good stuff in there:
kastlesmutweek 2018
kastlesmutweek 2019
kastlechristmas 2018
kastlechristmas 2019
kastlechristmas 2020
kastlechristmas 2021
kastlechristmas parent collection
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freesia-writes · 10 months
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For the celebration: 17 and Tup!! Thinking about that sweet soft boy today, I wanna hold him, I get so worried for him ;;; @fives-girlfriend
Oooooo baby. I was excited for this one!
#17 - "Don't ever do that again! You have no idea what it does to me…"
Tup x Reader (I think GN but correct me if I missed anything) Word Count: 3.6k Content Warnings: drinkin and kissin. Apparently all I write, LOL.
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“Come on, Tup. It’ll be awesome!” Hardcase exclaimed, clapping him on the back with enough enthusiasm to nearly knock him off his bench. 
“Yeah, they’ve never done this at 79s before!” Fives added, and even Dogma nodded vigorously through his mouthful of food. 
“I know, it’s just…” Tup began, but Jesse’s arrival, accompanied with a loud “who’s ready to party tonight?!” drowned out the rest of his reply. 
It was the talk of the mess hall -- Sy Snootles was coming to perform at 79s, and she was bringing along an infamous troupe of Twi’lek dancers, supposedly heralded throughout the galaxy as some of the most luscious and lascivious one could encounter. The clones who were lucky enough to be on Coruscant were undoubtedly excited, as they were rarely considered deserving of such luxuries. A few squads were planning to attend, the 501st being one of them, as you had heard on your lunch break. 
You worked with them frequently when they were on world, providing armor improvements, repairs, and tune-ups beyond what they would do for regular inspections. You were part of a small team that scuttled from armory to armory, equipping troopers with updated devices and outfitting new squads. The 501st boys were some of your favorites, having enough personality among them for the entire GAR. One in particular had always held a soft spot in your heart, with his unassuming demeanor and quiet insight. You’d chatted with him often while going over various armor components, and the stories he’d shared about the horrors of Umbara had broken your heart for him. He’d formed strong bonds with his brothers, especially after enduring that nightmare, and you’d felt your affection growing as you saw him grow from a fresh little rookie to a skilled negotiator, brave soldier, and man of strong convictions. 
If you were honest, he’d grown on you a lot. You found yourself daydreaming, during slow hours, of slowly freeing his hair from its neat little bun, running your fingers through it, and tracing your lips across his cheek to the little teardrop tattoo beneath his eye. But you’d also become close friends, and you were fairly certain that was the extent of his perspective and feelings toward you. There was an intimacy and familiarity between you that had been established as he’d shared some of his most vulnerable moments and harrowing experiences while you’d listened quietly, patting his hand and offering empathetic platitudes that couldn’t begin to match the magnitude of what he had been through. At some point, it had grown into more than just fondness, you’d realized, and it resulted in a simmering attraction that burned in your chest whenever you saw him. 
So when you found him at the back of the cluster of troopers waiting for the lift after lunch, and he caught sight of you as you approached him from the side, it sent a little shiver of tingles down your spine at the small smile that curved across his face. 
“CT-5385,” you said quietly, giving him a solemn salute that earned you an eyeroll as he looped his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into a warm side hug. 
“Cut it out,” he commanded, dropping his arm as you filtered into the crowded lift. “You heard all the fuss about 79s tonight?” he asked, barely audible over the rest of the chatter in the small space. 
“I did. You going?” you asked, feeling a sudden whirlwind of mixed emotions at it. 
“I’m not really feeling it, but it doesn’t sound like I have a choice,” Tup answered, shrugging and tipping his head toward his fellow blue-striped 501st brothers. 
“I can call you in for an emergency armor upgrade if you’d like,” you offered, to which he chuckled and shook his head. 
“Why don’t you just come?” he asked, looking up at you with those large honey-brown eyes. “It would make it a lot more bearable, that’s for sure.”
Your heart skipped a beat, wondering if he did have feelings for you after all, or if it was just the simple statement of one enjoying the company of a friend. You couldn’t help but smile, though, and tried to angle your face away from the light as you felt your cheeks grow slightly warm as you wondered about his affections. 
“I will if you will,” you said, resuming your light and airy attitude as the lift doors whooshed open. 
“Game on,” he declared, giving you the cheesiest finger guns you’d ever seen, promptly cringing at it, shrugging, and pulling his helmet on as he trotted off after his squad. 
“It’s a date?” you whispered under your breath as he disappeared around the corner.
* * * 
79s was packed to the brim, and clusters of troopers spilled out onto the streets all around it. The atmosphere was infectiously exciting, as though the entire world were on pause and tonight was a chance to escape it all for a few hours. There were three times as many food carts as usual, as the local vendors were quick to pick up on any chance for some extra business, and the entire block seemed like a party in itself. You started to feel anxious and out of place, as this wasn’t usually your thing. It had been something you and Tup had bonded over from the start -- a preference for more quiet, intellectual, serene spaces as opposed to the vibrant party scenes that more of the troopers opted for. 
You adjusted your outfit, feeling slightly self-conscious as it was decidedly more fitted and flattering than your simple work jumpsuit. You realized you had never really seen Tup in a more informal setting, as your interactions were primarily in the mess hall, the armory, or the barracks. All the questions and doubts began to swirl in your mind, amplified by the booming music that assaulted you as soon as you pushed your way into 79s. Heading straight for the bar and downing a double shot of liquid courage before you even looked around, you wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, returning the glass to the countertop and scanning the room for familiar faces.
“You’re off to an ambitious start,” came a smooth voice from behind you. “Lookin to stir up some trouble? Give those Twi’leks some competition?” You smirked, turning to face Fives, whose presence could be felt as much as heard. His boisterousness and joviality always brought a smile to your face, and you admired his ability to channel that even after his harrowing experiences at war. 
“Oh, you know me…” you said, shrugging as you felt the tingly burn down your throat, warming your chest. “Where are the rest of the boys?”
“Upstairs, for now. Lost a fight with the 212th for the table by the stage, but we’re plotting our revenge,” Fives said with a conspiratorial wink as he jerked his head toward the stairs, motioning you to come along. There was something different about tonight, whether it was the setting or the occasion or some strange alignment of the stars, and you just felt an apprehensive prickle down your spine, as though something were about to happen. You ordered another double shot, taking it with you as you trotted up the stairs after Fives. 
A couple whistles and hoots met you as you reached the top of the stairs, and you grinned bashfully as Hardcase and Jesse catcalled you while Fives announced your presence. It felt like being welcomed home, as cheesy as that sounded in your own head, with the kind familiarity and brotherly acceptance they always had for you. Hopefully not TOO brotherly… for all of them at least… Your eyes roved across their faces, finding the one that made your heart flutter. Tup was crushed in the corner of the booth, mercilessly squeezed between Hardcase and Dogma, arms pushed into his sides. You laughed at the sight of him, and he carefully arranged his features into sarcastic disdain when he met your eyes. 
“Our little armorer here thinks she can keep up with us,” Fives proclaimed, gesturing grandly toward you as you gave him a quizzical look, having promised no such thing. “So let’s show her a good time tonight, eh boys?” A cacophony of agreement, friendly taunts, and promises followed his words, and you shook your head, the elation of the moment sweeping you up, and downed the double shot in your hand in one gulp. 
“Ohhhhhhhh she ain’t messin around!!” Denal howled, slapping the table amid the cheers and squawks. 
“Alright, move out. I want to sit right THERE,” you demanded, pointing to the corner between Dogma and Tup, who were surprised by your sudden attention. Hardcase laughed, eternally ready to join in any sort of shenanigans and feeding off of your energy, and rose to his feet, pushing the rest of the clones right off the bench to make way for you to climb in. They filled back in, squeezing even more, and jostled each other for room until Kix toppled off the end and had to search for a chair instead. 
“Hey buddy,” you said to Tup, happily pressed against his side from shoulder to knee. His plastoid armor plates were carefully positioned to avoid digging an edge into your side, although as you snuggled in, you found yourself wondering what it would be like to slowly take each one off…
“You’re in rare form,” he noted, lifting an eyebrow at your effervescent attitude. “What was Fives on about?”
“That was all him,” you laughed, “But for some reason this just sounded really fun tonight. You excited about the dancers? Perhaps get yourself a special one?” Why were you baiting him like this? Your head felt a little bubbly, and the wild atmosphere was doing nothing to help it. Tup gave a low chuckle, dropping his eyes to the table, tracing his finger around a ring of condensation drops from his tall drink.
“Jesse threatened to buy me one, but I doubt he’ll go through with it. He’d rather spend the credits on drinks for the ladies…” 
“Well. You deserve a break. You can’t keep everything pent up inside all the time,” you affirmed, nodding confidently as you shifted to survey the rest of the crowd. Tup looked up at the side of your face, suddenly pensive and solemn, as though he yearned to speak. You felt his eyes on you and turned back curiously, eyebrows lifted and an inviting smile on your lips, but he just returned your grin with a small one of his own, shook his head a little, and followed your previous glance out to the crowd as the announcer began introducing the infamous guest stars. 
* * * 
The show seemed to go on forever, punctuated with breaks where the performers would come out and work the crowd… both literally and figuratively. The booth had emptied a bit, as the troopers scattered to the refresher, the bar, and other groups. You and Tup had been lost in conversation, heads leaned together, living through adventures and faraway thoughts, completely engrossed in each other’s company. The connection was absolutely vibrant, and you felt pulled to him more than ever before. The general raucousness of the bar got louder as the performers were making their way upstairs, scattering to dance and laugh with the clones there. You felt a sudden flare of passion, a mixture of jealousy, protectiveness, and the mounting pressure of all the feelings you had for this trooper that you’d been stifling for so long. 
Two of the dancers whirled over to the booth, purring their invitations. One slowly sat on the eager knees Jesse, who laughed and yelled, “For free?!” The other climbed onto the bench on all fours and began crawling toward Tup, who looked alarmed. In a rush of emotion, you scrambled to get up, banging your knee on the table incredibly hard as you suddenly threw yourself across Tup’s lap. As you straddled him, you turned and put a hand out toward the Twi’lek. 
“This one’s mine, honey!” you said, channeling all the sass you’d ever seen on the holovids. The performer laughed, waggling her finger at you and sidling back out of the booth, only to be quickly scooped up by a pilot trooper. You turned back to Tup, resting your hands on his shoulders and looking down at him now from your perch on his lap. He was sitting straight as an arrow, hands held up slightly out to the sides as if he didn’t know where to put them. Heat blossomed across your cheeks and throughout your chest, and you laughed, trying to seem lighthearted but also not wanting to move anytime soon.
“I’m just looking out for you,” you said teasingly, glancing over your shoulders in mock fright as though there were horrors lurking around every corner. As you came back to him, he let out a laugh that almost sounded forced, and you noticed his eyebrows were working overtime to conceal the cesspool of emotions that were funneling through his brain.
“Thank goodness,” he breathed, with another nervous chuckle, awkwardly lowering his hands to the outsides of your thighs and setting them down so precariously, you’d think you were made of glass. 
“Better make it convincing though,” you said, lifting your hands to his hair, where you gently pulled the band off of his ever-present man bun. His textured brown locks toppled down, holding their shape where they’d been twisted around each other day after day. It was comical, as it lay in messy tufts around his shoulders and one decidedly large bump in the middle, but it was also incredibly sexy, and you felt yourself literally salivating. You also felt a panic settle in all of a sudden, wondering if you were wildly crossing the line… Or perhaps you were getting a question answered that had been burning for a long time now. 
He lifted his chin, eyes fluttering shut for a full second as you slowly, painstakingly raked your fingers through his hair, now free of its tight constraint. Your hands continued across his skull, down the back of his neck, and then forward along each side of his jawline until they came together at his chin, where you finished by giving his nose a tiny boop. His eyes widened, realizing your face was within inches of his, and he suddenly shifted himself to the side, knocking you off balance and onto the bench. He scrambled out of the booth, catching one quick glimpse from Jesse, who had been oblivious to you two due to the undulating distraction in front of him.
You felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, cringing so hard at the thought that you may have just ruined everything, and you flailed to get out of the booth after him. You caught sight of him disappearing out the balcony door (you didn’t know 79s had a balcony did ya? It does now!) just as it closed behind him. Pausing before following him out, you watched him lean on the railing, looking at the Coruscant underworld stretching out before him as his hair drifted across his eyes in the speeder-induced breeze. His expression was unreadable, and startled you in how foreign it looked. 
Taking a deep breath, you ventured outside, steeling yourself to try to patch things up. You pulled up next to the railing next to him and faced the city skyline, feeling too sheepish to meet him head-on. You fumbled for words, wringing your hands together in not-so-subtle anxiety. “I’m sorry…” you began.
“Don't ever do that again!,” he said suddenly, startling you into standing up straight and facing him fully. You were filled with regret, looking up at him apologetically and readying your explanations, until he continued speaking in a low growl that sent an electric shock through you. “You have no idea what it does to me…” he admitted, voice slightly hoarse at the end. He slowly stood from his lean over the railing, leaving one hand on it and turning toward you, the other hand pushing his hair out of his face. As your eyes found his, you were lost in the rich brown pools of emotion, accentuated by the wildly mess of his hair that made him look like an entirely different person. His hand clenched at his side, and he shifted his eyes off to the horizon again. 
“What does it do to you, Tup?” you asked quietly, and he closed his eyes at his name, soft on your lips, before slowly opening them and taking a step closer.The intensity of his gaze and the singular focus of his presence were electrifying, and you felt as though your insides were trembling. 
“It drives me crazy,” he whispered, some dark waves twisting across his forehead as the breeze ruffled past. He looked from eye to eye, taking in your face with an enamored stare as though he were seeing it for the first time. “I don’t want to make things awkward. I love our talks. I love getting to see you. I love your wit, your intelligence, your curiosity…” His confession had been coming out more confidently but hit an abrupt halt as his gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m sorry if it ruins our friendship,” he said with a resigned tone, and your heart took a tentative leap in your chest as you processed his words, hoping they meant what you thought they did. 
Fueled by his vulnerability and absolutely irresistible look, you reached for him, slipping your hands around the back of his neck, one slightly roving up into the roots of his hair at the base of his neck, and pulled him gently toward you. His arms were around you in a flash, and after one last meaningful, searching glance that seemed to stretch out into eternity, he closed the distance and kissed you deeply. Your tiny gasp of delight was swallowed up by his mouth pressed against yours, muscles tightening around you, pulling you against his armor. His hair gently tickled your cheeks, and you savored the taste of his lips, the scent of his shampoo, and the electrifying excitement of being in his embrace. 
He pulled back, mouth falling open as though he couldn’t believe what had just happened, and stared at you in awe. You offered a sheepish smile, giddy at the sight of him so shocked and enthralled. He lowered his hands to take yours, shaking his head at the ground, still dumbfounded. 
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” you admitted, and he jerked his head back up to you, mouth curving into an elated smile. “You’re my favorite, Tup. You’re brave and insightful and kind and complex… I think the world of you.” Each word you spoke seemed to inflate him more and more with an overjoyed enchantment that lit up his face in a way you hadn’t seen before. 
“I didn’t think people saw us as unique enough to be interested… for real…” he murmured, and you shook your head, surprised and sad that he’d have such a notion. You lifted a hand to his cheek, which sent his eyebrows up a little further, and touched your nose to his. 
“Well I do,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again. He eagerly reciprocated, pressing one hand against the small of your back and drawing the other up between your shoulder blades. His lips were so soft, yet firm and commanding, and his nose pressed into your cheek. There was more of a passion to it now, an intimacy and urgency that set off fireworks in your soul, and you dug your hands into his hair again, relishing the thick tufts between your fingers as you clenched it gently at the roots. A satisfied rumble came from his chest, and he tilted his head, deepening the kiss until you were seeing stars. When he finally let you go, you gasped in as much of the cold night air as you could as though it alone were tethering you to reality. He smiled, face inches away, glowing with wonder. 
“I think there might be more of those Twi’leks up here,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, and you laughed breathlessly. “Better make it convincing,” he murmured, turning to back you up against the side of the building, leaning in with a sudden confidence, and bringing his hands to your face. He was kissing you again, pressing against you all over, hands roving from cheek to shoulder to waist to hair. It felt as though a dam had broken, and so much that had been held at bay was crashing down in the most incredible, unbelievable way. You lifted your leg, wrapping it around him, and he immediately gripped it with a gloved hand, moving his armored thigh and hip into you for support and stability. Kissing your way down his neck as he rolled his head to the side, closing his eyes in blissful abandon, you gave the top of his turtleneck a little snap, sending both of you into a quiet giggle fit as you held yourselves together. Every inch yearned to be connected, and you slowly lowered your leg, nestling your head into his neck and shoulder, not daring to move lest you wake up from this dream. 
“I guess we did show you a decent time tonight, eh?” he whispered in your ear, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a warm, protective hug.
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cdyssey · 1 year
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Thoughts on Abbott women and their relationships to the cameras:
AUSHSHS, OKAY. One of my favorite things to think about how is how the Abbott characters are super aware of the cameras and how they have different relationships to the fact that they’re being filmed all the time. Here are some thoughts/headcanons for women esp.
Janine: Janine is the most honest with the cameras, treating them like friends, and thus shares a lot of her life with them: her triumphs, her plans, her sadnesses, her insecurities. Hell, I think it’d be fair to say that she even overshares, allowing the cameras unfettered access into her home and car and life beyond the workday. I especially thought this during “Sick Day.” This poor girl was literally, like, letting herself be filmed running to her bathroom!!! Like, girl, set some boundaries. You have a right to some privacy!!!!! But, of course, this is the crux of Janine’s central character arc. So lonely, once a clearly neglected child, our protagonist has a hard time with boundaries in general, and that extends to how she interacts with the cameras. They have become her closest companions and her dearest diary, her safe place for unapologetically being herself. We’re always getting Janine unfiltered, and it’s an incredibly humbling experience for an attentive viewer. She’s fully let us into our lives, and we feel for her deeply. My God, we just want her to be happy.
Barbara: Of the cast, Barbara is one of the most vigilant of the fact that she is being constantly surveilled and has to perpetually maintain her perfect facade because of this crucial fact. It’s her almost doll-like smile into the camera when she says that she doesn’t have a weird thing about her. It’s how she’s always emphasizing how proper and moral and Christian she is in her talking heads. One of my favorite recent examples is from the tattoo episode when she initially says her favorite “b” word is Barbara, but then her first correction is to the more upstanding and characteristic answer of “Bible.” But, as some of my favorite Work Wives gifsets have shown, Barbara occasionally forgets that the cameras are there—usually when she’s drawn into the intimacies of a moment, allowing herself to feel her own emotions without disciplining or regulating them. And it has to be with someone she emphatically trusts, such as Melissa. But any slippages, which are few and far-between, are quickly and efficiently amended. She studiously remembers herself. She slips the mask back on and smiles directly at the cameras and dares them to question what they saw in the place. She is Barbara Howard, married woman of God. She’s always perfect, don’t you know?
Ava: OKAY, OKAY, so I genuinely think that out of everyone, Ava is the most aware of the cameras being on her at all times. TikTok queen and social media extraordinaire, how can she not be? Like Barbara, and honestly even more proficiently than our favorite repressed lesbian lady, she touts an expert facade to the cameras, hyping up her natural charisma and her extrovertism and coolness—sometimes to the point of excess. She’s always catering to a targeted audience. She knows her way around an algorithm, a trend, a hashtag, perpetually attuned to what the people like and want to consume. Of course, she, too, has her rare moments of vulnerability, but the cameras have to be super quick and sneaky to find them. Avanine enjoyers, I think one of my favorite shots is when the cameras initially locate Ava and Janine talking about Ava’s grandmother during the step episode. The framing is faraway at first because the cameras are at the distance—clearly intruding and zooming on this quiet moment—and that’s pretty much the only way they ever catch our Ava Coleman slipping. I am sooooo invested in the fact that we can probably count the times that we’ve seen Ava unmasked on one hand!!!!!!
Melissa: Melissa has a fascinatingly contradictory relationship with the cameras, perhaps to match the oxymoron between her own well-chosen facade and her personality. She presents herself as tough and unflappable, likes to maintain an air of “dark mystery” to others as she once famously smirked in a talking head, but simultaneously—behind Janine—she’s probably been the most candid of the cast with the cameras. She actually let them stay in her house! Oh, yes, she absolutely insults the cameras from time to time—clearly distrusts them, stops herself when she thinks she’s saying too much, fears that they’re snitches—but she’s also told them some pretty damn intimate things too, like showing them pictures of Kristen Marie and literally crying. I really love LAW’s headcanon that there’s one camera person that she thinks is cute and so confides in more because I think that tracks with our general conception of Mel as someone who only relaxes around people she trusts. Some cameras are cops to her—they invite suspicion and paranoia, alerting her fight-or-fight response. Others have seen her at more unguarded moments and teased a lovely softness out of her.
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effervescentdragon · 11 months
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@petitprince16 i guess this is for you since i didnt even wait till i seized this opportunity 😅 mwah ❤️
"I guess I'm playing you again," Sebastian says with that infuriating half-smirk he has always had which used to drive Charles crazy even before he finally saw it directed at him. He's leaning against the door of Charles' locker room, and his playing shorts are really short. Charles gets distracted by Seb's legs for a moment too long, before his eyes return to his face and that damned infuriating smirk.
Namely, the way that smirk drove him crazy changed many ways over the course of his career and with the times, but Charles isn't really ready to get into that. He's blushing already, and he has embarrased himself in front of Seb a million times. He'd give anything to be able to embarrass himself against him a million more, if he were being honest, but honesty is overrated, and Seb is retiring at the end of the season.
There's a whole thing happening, him and Lewis playing each other in one final match. Charles knows all about it, from Pierre and George and Mick and everyone, and he doesn't know what he thinks. Doesn't know how he feels about it, really. Doesn't want to figure it out.
That's a lie, actually. It's jealousy, and annoyance, and sadness, because Seb has always been there, always, someone Charles looked up to before he climbed the ATP ladder, someone Charles met on the courts all over the world, grass and gravel and all in between, someone Charles even beat regularly for a while. He's still not sure if that was the best or the worst thing to have happened to him. But aside from that, Seb was a voice on the phone in the middle of the night and the face across from him in the bar, a warm hand on his neck and even warmer lips on his in the dark of the nights in England and Spain and Australia and everywhere in between.
And now he's retiring, and playing Lewis for his final match, and Charles is just supposed to, what? Go on? Play like nothing is changed? Live on like Seb isn't leaving?
He can't. He has to, though. He hates it with his whole being, but he has to. Fuck.
"Yeah," Charles replies, and tries to smile. "I'll try not to grind you into dust." He shrugs. "At least you can win against Lewis, later."
He isn't sure why he said it. He wishes he hadn't, but he knows Sebastian, and the damage is done already. Seb knows him, too, always has, always had a way of cutting through Charles' bullshit and opening up the most vulnerable parts of Charles, prying him open and making him admit things he didn't even know he thought, or felt.
This time is no different. Sebastian looks at him, really looks at him. His mouth opens a bit on a quiet exhale, and there is recognition and understanding in his expression. Charles flushes fully, bites his lip and puts his hands in his pockets. He scuffs his shoes and tries to think of their upcoming match, but it's no use. His mind is stuck on the fact that Seb is leaving, and that this will probably be the last time they play each other.
A warm hand splays on his shoulder, and soft fingers graze his throat. He looks up into Seb's eyes, then glances around, to see if anyone is in the locker room with them. There's nobody there, and Seb presses his hand into Charles' collarbone. The touch burns, but Charles is used to it. Seb's touches always burned.
"Charles," Seb starts, then cuts himself off. Charles' name always sounds unfinished on Seb's lips. Maybe it's because Seb rarely finishes what he wants to say to Charles. "I - you -" he tries again. Charles is sweating too much already, and he can feel his shorts cut into his stomach. He tries not to move, but Seb is too close already.
"It's okay," he makes himself say. "I - understand."
Seb scoffs. Charles blushes again, but that's fair. He doesn't understand, not really. He's young, and hungry for victory, and he doesn't understand why Seb would walk away. How he even could.
Seb says nothing, and silence is pervasive for a moment. Sounds of the crowd are muffled, and Charles feels his heart in his throat. This tournament isn't really that important, but Charles still wants to win. He wants it more than anything, except, maybe - no. That's foolish. Seb has made his decision. There's nothing that can make him stay anymore. There is nothing worth staying for anymore.
"Charles," Seb says again, and this time, there is something soft in his voice, somthing that hurts Charles. It's the same tone he uses when they're done with fucking and they're wrapped around each other, right before one of them has to get up and leave. That's when they talk, about silly things, and important things. That's when time stops for a while, and everything gets relegated to second place, tennis and playing and winning and injuries and all of the world that's outside their bed. That's the times Charles yearns for and fears the most. "Do you have plans for the summer break?"
Charles blinks. Seb's final match is in July, during the first week of the break. Charles has already confirmed he'd be there, with Seb's PR team and his own, and Lewis' people too. He was planning on coming to Germany, watching the match and then fucking off to Ibiza or somewhere else where he could drink his - whatever away. He doesn't know what Seb is asking. He doesn't know what this all means.
"After July," Seb says, and there is something in his eyes that makes Charles' breath hitch and stop in his throat. "I have some things to do, to wrap up, but August, I - I will be free." Charles doesn't think he's only talking about tennis. "I'll be - I will have time. And if you, if you want - I have a tennis court at my place in Switzerland."
It's not a question. It's not even an offer. It's - it's not like Seb, not to say what he wants, at least not to Charles. He's never had issues with telling Charles exactky what he wants, and what Charles is doing wrong, and what he's doing right. It's not like Seb, to mince words. It's not like him at all. It's more like - Charles.
He looks at Seb, and sees it all then. The tightness of his lips. The crow's feet around his eyes. The way his chest rises and falls. The way he clutches onto Charles' red shirt harder than it's necessary.
Charles feels himself start to smile. Seb is close to him, but Charles takes a step which brings him right into Seb's space.
"I have no plans," Charles says quietly. Seb's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "I would appreciate using your tennis court. To exercise, for next season."
Seb licks his lips.
"That means this isn't our last match."
Charles can feel Seb's breath against his own lips. It smells like watermelon, like the gum Seb likes to chew. It's familiar. It makes him giddy.
"I'm still going to win," Charles says cheekily, and it startles a laugh out of Seb.
"You think?" Seb asks, and his eyes sparkle. His fingers trail a burning path slowly over Charles' skin.
Charles looks at Seb's lips, then back up into his eyes.
"I know," he says with a certainty he has rarely felt in his life. I won today already, he doesn't say.
He's pretty sure Seb knows it already, if the grin on his face is any indication.
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mads-weasley · 6 months
Text
Epiphany Pt. 10: State of Grace
Lewis Nixon x Reader
Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Inspo: State of Grace TV (Acoustic Version) : Taylor Swift
A/N: it's short and sweet, but here is the final chapter from Paris! Thank you to everyone who's been reading this series. It really means the world. this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!
Word Count: 1.5k
Summary: Following their heartfelt confession, the new couple shares their last night in Paris together.
Warnings: none :)
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Under the soft moonlight, they walked back to the hotel, their hands intertwined, fingers fitting together like puzzle pieces. The streets were a bit quieter now, and the distant sound of laughter and music added a charming melody to the night.
“So,” (y/n) began, her eyes lifting to meet Lew’s. “How long have you had this planned?”
He used his free hand to scratch his scruff, a bashful smile playing on his lips. “Uh, a day.”
“A day?” Her surprise was evident, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “No way you came up with all of this yesterday.”
“Well, I love this city,” he admitted, a fondness evident in his tone. “So I knew where I had to take you.”
“You chose correctly,” she replied, her voice filled with warmth and appreciation as she leaned up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. 
As they strolled past the café from the night before, the memory of their waitress and her heartfelt words flashed in Lew’s mind. He considered stopping to share the new news, but the café sat locked and dark, embracing the quiet of the night. 
“You know, I wasn’t completely honest with you last night,” he confessed, a sheepish smile tugging his lips. (Y/n) looked at him, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Our waitress told me we reminded her of her and her husband, and that I needed to confess soon because it's rare to find two people who look at each other like we do.”
A soft smile bloomed on her face, and she released his hand, opting to wrap her arms around his waist as they walked, leaning her head on his shoulder. He reciprocated by draping his arm over her shoulder, drawing her close. 
“That makes more sense,” she mused, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness and affection.
The soft glow of the hotel’s lights welcomed them as they arrived at their destination. They made their way to the elevator, the click of her heels echoing in the quiet. He pressed the button, and as they waited, he gently took her hand in his, fingers interlacing naturally. 
As the doors slid open, they stepped inside, and the elevator began its ascent, carrying them to their floor. Lew glanced at her, a delicate smile playing on his lips. When they arrived at their floor, the doors chimed open, and they walked down the long hallway hand in hand. They stopped at her door, a comfortable silence settling between them.
Lew gently squeezed her hand. “I guess this is goodnight, sweetheart,” he said tenderly.
(Y/n) looked at him, a mix of emotions in her eyes. The night had been magical, and being so close to him felt right. “Lew,” she began softly, her voice carrying a certain vulnerability. “Would you like to come in for a bit?”
Lew hesitated, caught up in the moment. He looked into her eyes, a swirl of emotions dancing in the depths as if debating whether to accept the invitation. 
“Are you sure?” he asked gently, his voice filled with care and consideration. 
(Y/n) nodded. “I’m sure. I just want to spend more time with you before we get sent back to reality tomorrow.”
He smiled softly, feeling the warmth of her sincerity. “Alright then.”
They stepped into her room and sat at the end of her bed, taking off their shoes. (Y/n) sighed in relief after taking off her heels. “I miss my boots,” she joked, rubbing her aching feet.
He grabbed them from her hands quickly with a smirk. “I’ll just take them back if you don’t like them so much,” he joked.
He had bought them to go with her dress, and she loved them to no end.
“Lewis Stanhope Nixon,” (y/n) groaned, trying to take them from him. “Don’t you dare!”
Rolling his eyes, he handed the heels back to her, their laughter lingering in the air.  He then carefully settled down on the bed, propping his head up with his arm, the playful banter slowly giving way to a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. She took the heels and placed them back in the box before plopping down beside him, mirroring his position. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, and amidst the lightheartedness, a moment of quiet seriousness settled. 
“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if the war never happened?” she asked, her gaze thoughtful as her mind pondered the question. 
Memories of his life before the war flickered in his mind like distant stars. “I used to,” he admitted, his stare full of admiration as he looked at her. “But then we met, and I realized all of this was worth it because I found you.”
Her face bloomed into a gentle smile, and warmth spread through her. There was a certain magic in imagining an alternate life, one untouched by the brutality of war. 
“You know,” she began, her voice carrying a soothing, pensive tone. “Sometimes I imagine a life where we met back home. A simple life, free from war.”
Lew’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “What would we be doing?”
Her gaze held a dreamy quality, the faint glow of the room adding to the wonder in her eyes. “Maybe you’d work at the Nitration Works,” she mused. “Or be a salesman of some sort. I like to think I’d teach at the local school. Maybe we’d even have a kid or two running around the house, driving us crazy.”
He could almost picture it: the quaint home, the giggles of children, the shared struggles and joys of a peaceful life. There was a bittersweet tinge to it, a longing for a reality they hadn’t experienced. But they were here, together, and that was something extraordinary in itself.
“Would you still want that if we make it through the war?” he asked gently, his eyes searching hers for answers.
“When we make it,” she corrected, reaching for his free hand. She threaded their fingers together and squeezed once. “And I want that more than anything, Lew.”
A warmth swelled in his chest at her words, a tender smile gracing his lips. The simplicity of her answer resonated deep within him. 
“I couldn’t agree more,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But can we add a dog in there somewhere?”
(Y/n) shrugged, quirking an eyebrow. “I think that can be arranged.”
Lew leaned over, his lips brushing hers in a sweet, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that held promises of more beautiful moments, and of a future they were beginning to envision.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly, painting a vivid picture of their hopes, dreams,  and fears. Time seemed to fly, and before they knew it, (y/n) was overcome by the warmth of the room and Lewis’ comforting presence.
He watched her closely, the soft glow of the lamp accentuating her features. Her eyes grew heavy, her breathing steady as she gradually succumbed to sleep. Lewis’ gaze caught a line of discolored skin beside her eye, the scar on her temple from D-Day. Nix gently traced it with his fingertip, his touch delicate on the raised skin. He marveled at her, his hand sliding from her scar to tenderly rest it on her neck, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. The man’s touch was tender and loving as he ran his thumb along her neck gently. He admired her beauty and grace in which she carried herself, even dead asleep. Lew carefully rose the bed and pulled the comforter up to her waist.
Kissing his forehead softly, he whispered, “Goodnight, doll.”
Reluctantly, he rose from the bed, his heart heavy with the longing to stay by her side. Lew turned off the lights, dimming the room into darkness. As he reached for the doorknob to leave, her sleepy voice stopped him.
“Lew,” she murmured, her eyes half-closed. “Stay with me.”
He paused, looking back at her. Her eyes were half-closed, but the softness and warmth of her gaze were impossible to resist. “Of course,” he whispered, a smile playing on his lips. Deciding to make her as comfortable as possible, he gently slipped off her tie, unbuttoned his jacket, and unbuckled his belt. He hung his tie neatly over the back of a chair and folded his shirt before setting them aside.
Lew glanced at (y/n) who was already deep in sleep once again, her breaths steady. He carefully slid out of his dress pants, placing them on the chair. Now in his undershirt and shorts, he moved to get into bed with her. As Nix settled into bed beside her, she shifted slightly in her sleep, her body unconsciously seeking warmth and comfort. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she turned towards him, nestling closer. (Y/n)’s head found its way to his chest, her arm draping over his middle. It was as if her subconscious recognized his presence and sought his embrace.
Feeling her draw near, Lew wrapped an arm protectively around her, his hand resting softly on her back. He raced idle patterns on her back with his fingertips, lost in the gentle rise and fall of her chest. As the darkness deepened and the world outside embraced the quiet darkness, the rhythmic pattern of her breathing lulled him into a gentle slumber. Lewis couldn’t help but smile. 
He whispered to the quiet room, “I could fall asleep like this for the rest of my life.”
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distort-opia · 8 months
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oh now im intrigued by your thoughts on who are bruce’s best friends in your opinions 👀
...You know, in the end, I think it actually might be Alfred. And that's because, if you think about it at length, Bruce has not had ONE SINGLE FRIEND who hasn't either 1) betrayed him, 2) attacked him/tried to kill him, or 3) both. And that's leaving aside the friends he had as a kid who died.
Thomas Elliot? Steals his face and tries to kill him. Harvey Dent? Gets disfigured and becomes a villain and tries to kill him. Then you've got Clark Kent and Minhkhoa Khan, but both have physically fought Bruce and tried to kill him. In Clark's case it was under the effects of mind control or kryptonite or whatever, but it happened. It's arguable how different actions Clark participated in were considered a personal betrayal by Bruce (e.g., the infamous JLA decision to wipe Bruce's memory, or Clark taking on Bruce's memories post Superman: Emperor Joker). Which brings me to Zatanna, perhaps the only childhood/teenage years friend Bruce has who hasn't tried to kill him, but who did deeply betray him (again, the mind wipe incident). There's even that one time Bruce thought he made a new vigilante friend in Baphomet, but actually it was Onomatopoeia (a villain who betrays him).
And it isn't just friends, at the end of the day. Bruce has physically fought off attacks from almost everyone he's ever cared about. His most important romantic relationships are with villainous women (e.g., Talia al Ghul, Selina Kyle), and he's fought members of the Family too more than once (that is, if he didn't just hit them in a moment of anger). It is striking, to be honest, how deeply defined by violence Bruce's world is; not just because he fights criminals and villains, but because his deepest interpersonal relationships also contain violence. It's so familiar to him it's probably a comfort. King did understand this very well about the character, especially in his Knightmares story arc.
Um. I ended up on a tangent, but I think my point is that it's difficult to name a best friend for Bruce. I still feel as if labeling Alfred as a best friend is... not entirely accurate, because he's so many other things to Bruce. Alfred raised him, he's an incredibly important pillar of support, and yet he's also an employee, someone who gets his paycheck from Bruce. I would still say that Alfred is the person Bruce trusts the most, and the most supportive relationship Bruce has ever had. Alternatively, I guess one could say his best friend is Clark Kent, but Bruce has shown time and time again that he's unable to let go of the hero worship and the wariness he has of Clark's powers. And I guess you could say it's Dick Grayson, but similarly to Bruce's relationship to Alfred, there's a bigger element there of mentorship and being a father figure. Jim Gordon is definitely a friend, but their dynamic is defined by "work", by their crusade against crime...
Well. In the end, it's that fascinating pattern in Bruce's choices, I suppose. He's a very lonely individual who is terrified of loss and being vulnerable to others, but not enough that he doesn't surround himself with people who love him; he's just rarely able to cross the wall he puts between himself and them. This wall can vary from one relationship to another, but a power differential tends to be a core reason; master-butler, father-son, leader-soldier, squishy-human vs overpowered-alien, hero-villain.
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deathsbestgirl · 5 months
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So i just read your never again and Leonard Betts analysis…I have to admit, sometimes I find the ep quite complicated in parts, but I understand the overall point that she’s ‘rebelling’ against mulder, in the same way she’s rebelled against other men in her life, because she doesn’t feel fully valued. I’ve never really liked the implication that mulder is another one of ‘father figures’ to her, I’m sure we’d all agree that her deep connection to murder goes wayyyy beyond daddy issues etc.
Sorry, not really an ask, just a general observation ☺️
i completely agree!! that's exactly why i tried to phrase it as she's kind of putting him in that role. because he isn't. like, every other man had expectations of her to fit into a role. they wanted her to be something specific (her father & daniel wanted her to be a doctor, a respected & safe choice), i don't really have a thought on jack specifically because i think he falls somewhere between ahab/daniel & mulder. whereas mulder, he just wants her to be herself. he wants her to he scully, it's why he panics every time she believes too easily, or when he doesn't believe. he wants to be believed but not at the expense of her character & who she is. his respect for her is far more important and their partnership works so well because they come at their cases from different perspectives. scully helps him shape his crazy theories and with her science, they find answers (even if they don't get to explain them lol)
he isn't really a father figure, and he isn't controlling in the way she's used to. she doesn't know how to be what he wants. it's also why she doesn't always understand how he values *her* because his expectations are just for her to be honest and who she is. moments she's truly vulnerable are so rare, and most are with him or when she's alone (or with maggie & melissa).
it's hard for her to be emotional when she's grown up in a navy family with such a strong father & an older brother who followed in his footsteps, when she entered male dominated fields and women can't be too emotional or they're dismissed. mulder isn't like that and through the whole show, scully's learning from him that it's okay to be vulnerable & stay soft. at least with him. scully spends so much time protecting his heart, compassion, belief & hope because she loves those parts of him so much, and he helps her learn to love it in herself too.
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csprslvt · 5 months
Text
teachers aide; pt 4
Summary: Ellie interrupts some personal time between you and Abby. But this time she really needs you.
Warnings: drug use. mentions of vomit, reader is kind of not a good person but whateva. Ellie is down so bad. Cringe flirting.
Waking up with you in Ellie’s arms was a rare occurrence. Normally you woke up early and snuck out, leaving her alone to gasp at empty sheets you left behind that smelled so strongly of your shampoo and light perfume. She liked it better when she woke up first, she could admire you without being embarrassed or shying away from your gaze. Today was one of those mornings that Ellie woke up early.
The look she gave you was so soft and adoring, her feelings were so incredibly honest and true. She never experienced such a desperate need before. The need to wake up with you by her side, to see you smile, to make you laugh, to hold you endlessly. But she knew she wasn't the only one thinking so highly of you, you were just so kind and oblivious you didn't notice. Abby Anderson wanted you too, but she would never have you high and vulnerable and oh so trusting the way Ellie did on your frequent meetings. Ellie would never take advantage of that trust or vulnerability, she cherished it instead, taking care of you, providing you with whatever you needed was her only wish. She wanted to be the one you went to, not Abby Anderson
After a few moments you stirred awake,
“Els?” You mumbled, “What time is it?” 
“It's exactly 6 am.” 
You groaned, burying your face in Ellie’s neck, she shivered a bit when your lips grazed her neck and pulled away. After a few moments of stalling you sat up. 
“I gotta go.”
“It's friday, we don't have class, do you have too?” Ellie questioned, you never stuck around long enough for her.
“It would be scandalous if everyone saw me leaving your dorm, they’d get the wrong idea.”
“Wrong idea.” Ellie repeated, “I think the truth is scandalous enough.”
“Well I don't need people assuming I'm sleeping with a student.”
“Hey, you're a student too.”
“It's better to keep a professional mindset.”
“Professional? Y/n we smoke together, you're literally in my bed right now. We snuggle.”
“Okay well, you got me there but I just don't want any false rumors.”
Ellie frowned, was the prospect of having rumors that you were her girl that bad to you? Ellie personally knew those rumors aren't true but the thought that you belonged to her, made her heart flutter.But she knew, that isn't what you wanted, so she let you go. You left her once again alone to bathe in the sheets you had laid in until she was graced with your presence.
When sneaking out of the dorms into your own, Abby didn't see you. She must've been still asleep, after all there was no class on friday. You realize you could have stayed with Ellie longer but that would increase the chances of being seen, and that was the last thing you wanted. You decided you get ready and go to the student gyms that were a part of the University campus.
Clad in workout gear, you made your way to the cardio floor.It was filled with rows of treadmills and ellipticals and those weird electric workout stairs that made your thighs burn when you attempted to climb them. The cardio floor was above the weightlifting area, it was on the second floor while lifting was on the bottom. You could see down there from the clear glass balcony on the second floor. You decided to take a look down, for no particular reason at all. Not many people came to the gym this early, so the weightlifting area was nearly empty. That was until you spotted Abby Anderson, glowing with sweat, lifting probably double her size. It was very impressive to see her able to do such a thing. You didn't realize you were staring, until she dropped her weight and turned to wave at you. You smiled and waved back, despite the embarrassment of your lingering gaze. Abby motioned for you to come downstairs, and you did, walking briskly down the steps.
“Hey y/n!” Abby said with a bright smile showing off her perfect teeth.
“Hi.” You smiled back, Abby was so pretty, her hair was falling loose from her signature braid, a slight flush covered her creating rosy cheeks. She looked so relaxed despite the amount of physical labor she was doing. It made you wonder how easy this was for her, if she could pick you up as easily as that weight. It didn't mean anything of course, the thoughts you had were simply curiosity.
“That weight is huge.” You said, stating the obvious, Abby laughed.
“I normally bench 205 lbs”
“205?” You gasped, “Jesus Christ Anderson.”
Abby seemed proud of herself, she gave a humble smile, “ I've had lots of practice I guess.”
You poked Abby’s Bicep, it was hard as rock. “ Uh huh, I can tell.”
Abby smirked, she flexed her muscles and you kind of swooned, I mean who wouldn't? Abby was kind of… attractive and her muscles were crazy, but she was just a friend.
“You need to be my personal trainer, I’ll literally pay you.”
Abby’s smirk grew, “I'll give you a pretty girl discount.”  she said boldly
“Sounds bad for business, how many of those are you giving out?” you inquired
“Only you y/n, only you” Abby was fucking smooth. She was kind, gentle and almost treated you as if she was courting you. Or trying to win your affections. She paid for every meal, always respected you, kept her eyes on yours rather than letting them wander, and genuinely cared about every conversation you had. In a way, she seemed kind of like your perfect match, the ideal partner. But with Ellie’s jealousy it would be difficult to pursue a relationship. You were smart, you picked up on things. You knew Ellie liked you, and yea maybe you were a shit person for leading her on by cuddling with her, spending nights with her but you never slept together. You had never kissed nor flirted with her though. You were just more intimate than normal friends. It was a typical lesbian situationship. The both of you were confused. You liked being with Ellie, liked being in her arms, laughing with her. But you spent most of your moments with her high. Not really processing what was going on. Focused on the floaty sensation you had. Abby was different. She saw the authentic you, not the high you. Still it was so soon into your friendship despite months of coffee meetings going by. You can’t force yourself to like someone. You decided you’d wait if feelings would develop on their own and take it from there. Hopefully no one would end up heartbroken.
It felt wrong flirting with Abby when Ellie was pining over you. So, you changed the subject.
“Did you finish the lab I assigned thursday?” You questioned, looking for an excuse to talk about anything but yourself.
“I did actually, I’m here working out as a congrats to myself and all my hard work.”
“You consider working out this early in the morning as a reward?”
“Working out is actually proven to lift your mood and relieve stress. So yea, it is a reward.”
“Well I’m about done with my workout so, I can take you out and we can get something to eat? I'll pay this time. You deserve it after that lab”
Being with Abby was so easy. Cozy inside a cafe, she spoke to you about everything on her mind ( other than her deep admiration and heartache for you) and you did the same, no worries or fears about overstepping were present. Just you, just her.
Abby loved literature, she was quite the bookworm, currently she was telling you about her newest read.
“It's a classic, one of my favorites. Everyone thinks dracula was the first vampire novel but Carmilla came before that. People just erase its history because it's women loving women.”
Oh? Abby read wlw vampiric novels, therefore, she had to be gay.
“People really suck, wlw history is so often misinterpreted and erased I mean look at Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-west. They were clearly very in love, but no one likes to recognize it.”
Abby’s face grew surprised. You also liked wlw history, you had to be gay.
“You know your history.”
“History is my second best class other than physics, especially women's history. I've always found it so interesting.”
“Virginia and Vita’s love letters were beautiful, have you ever read them?”
“I've heard some famous quotes here and there but I've never sat down and read them.”
“I have a copy of a book filled with their letters, you can borrow it if you'd like”
You smiled, she melted.
“I'd like that, thank you” you said sincerely.
You talked and talked, that was until your phone started vibrating insistently with text messages.
Brrrr.
“Hi babe” at 12:31 pm
Brrrrr.
“Got a new dab rig and wax lmk if u wanna hit” at 12:34 pm
Brrrrrr.
“I got ur fave snacks come over” at 12:35 pm
Brrrrr.
“Where r u” at 12:36 pm
Brrrr. 
“y/n?????” at 12:39 PM
“You wanna check your phone?” Abby chuckled, “Looks like it's been going off for a while.”
You flipped your phone over and saw messages from “Els”, normally you would answer in a second, you didn't keep her waiting often but this was your time with Abby. Ellie could wait…or not.
“It's just Ellie.”
“She seems like she wants something, you should text her back.” Abby exclaimed, sounding a little hesitant as if she didn't really want that.
“No, I'm with you right now, she can wait.”
So you ignored her, that was until she called. You groaned embarrassed at the entire situation and stepped away outside to answer the call.
“Ellie I'm in the middle of lunch right now and-”
“I'm high and I need you here.”
“You've been high without me before, you'll be fine.”
“No, no no no it's bad this time. I smoked a lot, way too much and the world is spinning and I threw up and I'm shaking. I think I greened out” Ellie sounded breathless and exhausted.
Your heart dropped, you wanted to spend time with Abby, It was so blissful. But Ellie needed you, you couldn't let her be all greened out and sick alone. She would have taken care of you, you had to take care of her.
“Okay Els, I’ll be there in a few.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah, of course.”
You headed back in to break the news.
“Listen, this was fun, I had a good time!” 
“But?” Abby prompted, raising an eyebrow.
“I gotta get going, Ellie needs me.”
Abby’s face visibly fell but she held up a smile.
“Okay, I understand.”
You paid for the both of you and hugged Abby goodbye, she smelt of clean pine trees and slightly of sweat from working out. In a way it was comforting.  
“I’ll see you around.”
“See you around.” Abby repeated, releasing you from her strong arms and watching you walk away. She was down bad. So bad.
When you made it to Ellie’s dorm she threw the door open and pulled you in, shutting it behind her and fixing the towel under the door to avoid smoke or the smell from cascading through the hallway.
She looked awful covered in cold sweat, her hair in a messy ponytail was sticking to her forehead from the condensation. She was wearing nothing but a savage starlight oversized tee shirt and minecraft boxers. She looked like she was about to say something until she ran to her dorm bathroom and started to throw up in the toilet.
You pitied her, it wasn't a pretty sight. Gently, you kneeled beside her, rubbing her back and holding her loose hair back.
“That's it Els, let it out. Atta girl.”
Ellie groaned, pressing her sweaty forehead to the toilet seat.
“I'm sorry you have to see me like this.” She mumbles, sniffing. “I just, I didn't know who else to call, I didn't want to be alone-”
“No,no” You hushed her, “I'm right here, you haven't scared me away don't worry.” you spoke softly and gently as if she was a wounded animal.
She looked up at you with glossy eyes, her lip was trembling as if she was about to cry. Something about your words only made her want you more. You always knew what to do, what to say.
“It's okay Ellie, I don't mind.” you offered her a gentle smile, and you were so pretty when you smiled. If she hadn't just vomited her brains out, she would have kissed you right then and there. You helped her up and she sat on the edge of the bathtub while you wiped her face with a warm, clean, wash towel. Softly scrubbing the grime off her skin. She watched you the entire time with lovesick eyes. You avoided eye contact. After, she brushed her teeth a few times, trying to get the smell to go away (or in case you kissed her.) The way Ellie looked at you ignited your soul. It was like being set on fire, warmth spread throughout you but at the same time, it was still a fire, it was still scary. You lead Ellie to her bed, keeping a trashcan nearby if she throws up again. You turned around while she changed into clean clothes that consisted of one of your shirts she had somehow ended up keeping after a sleepover and a different pair of kirby boxers. 
“Okay, you can look now.” she said once she was decent again. “Do I still smell like dabs and vomit?” she questioned.
You leaned forward, close to Ellie and sniffed the air. “No, you're all set”
Now that Ellie was in a significantly better state, you wanted to leave, to escape her loving yet overwhelming gaze. But you saw how she reached out to you, like a greedy plant to the sun. You would feel guilty if you left her alone. So you pulled her into bed, let her lay on your chest and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. Every part of you screamed that this was wrong. Friends dont do this, Ellie certainly wanted more than you could give her.
Waking up with you in Ellie’s arms was a rare occurrence. Normally you woke up early and snuck out, leaving her alone to gasp at empty sheets you left behind that smelled so strongly of your shampoo and light perfume. She liked it better when she woke up first, she could admire you without being embarrassed or shying away from your gaze. Today was one of those mornings that Ellie woke up early.
The look she gave you was so soft and adoring, her feelings were so incredibly honest and true. She never experienced such a desperate need before. The need to wake up with you by her side, to see you smile, to make you laugh, to hold you endlessly. But she knew she wasn't the only one thinking so highly of you, you were just so kind and oblivious you didn't notice. Abby Anderson wanted you too, but she would never have you high and vulnerable and oh so trusting the way Ellie did on your frequent meetings. Ellie would never take advantage of that trust or vulnerability, she cherished it instead, taking care of you, providing you with whatever you needed was her only wish. She wanted to be the one you went to, not Abby Anderson
After a few moments you stirred awake,
“Els?” You mumbled, “What time is it?” 
“It's exactly 6 am.” 
You groaned, burying your face in Ellie’s neck, she shivered a bit when your lips grazed her neck and pulled away. After a few moments of stalling you sat up. 
“I gotta go.”
“It's friday, we don't have class, do you have too?” Ellie questioned, you never stuck around long enough for her.
“It would be scandalous if everyone saw me leaving your dorm, they’d get the wrong idea.”
“Wrong idea.” Ellie repeated, “I think the truth is scandalous enough.”
“Well I don't need people assuming I'm sleeping with a student.”
“Hey, you're a student too.”
“It's better to keep a professional mindset.”
“Professional? Y/n we smoke together, you're literally in my bed right now. We snuggle.”
“Okay well, you got me there but I just don't want any false rumors.”
Ellie frowned, was the prospect of having rumors that you were her girl that bad to you? Ellie personally knew those rumors aren't true but the thought that you belonged to her, made her heart flutter.But she knew, that isn't what you wanted, so she let you go. You left her once again alone to bathe in the sheets you had laid in until she was graced with your presence.
When sneaking out of the dorms into your own, Abby didn't see you. She must've been still asleep, after all there was no class on friday. You realize you could have stayed with Ellie longer but that would increase the chances of being seen, and that was the last thing you wanted. You decided you get ready and go to the student gyms that were a part of the University campus.
Clad in workout gear, you made your way to the cardio floor.It was filled with rows of treadmills and ellipticals and those weird electric workout stairs that made your thighs burn when you attempted to climb them. The cardio floor was above the weightlifting area, it was on the second floor while lifting was on the bottom. You could see down there from the clear glass balcony on the second floor. You decided to take a look down, for no particular reason at all. Not many people came to the gym this early, so the weightlifting area was nearly empty. That was until you spotted Abby Anderson, glowing with sweat, lifting probably double her size. It was very impressive to see her able to do such a thing. You didn't realize you were staring, until she dropped her weight and turned to wave at you. You smiled and waved back, despite the embarrassment of your lingering gaze. Abby motioned for you to come downstairs, and you did, walking briskly down the steps.
“Hey y/n!” Abby said with a bright smile showing off her perfect teeth.
“Hi.” You smiled back, Abby was so pretty, her hair was falling loose from her signature braid, a slight flush covered her creating rosy cheeks. She looked so relaxed despite the amount of physical labor she was doing. It made you wonder how easy this was for her, if she could pick you up as easily as that weight. It didn't mean anything of course, the thoughts you had were simply curiosity.
“That weight is huge.” You said, stating the obvious, Abby laughed.
“I normally bench 205 lbs”
“205?” You gasped, “Jesus Christ Anderson.”
Abby seemed proud of herself, she gave a humble smile, “ I've had lots of practice I guess.”
You poked Abby’s Bicep, it was hard as rock. “ Uh huh, I can tell.”
Abby smirked, she flexed her muscles and you kind of swooned, I mean who wouldn't? Abby was kind of… attractive and her muscles were crazy, but she was just a friend.
“You need to be my personal trainer, I’ll literally pay you.”
Abby’s smirk grew, “I'll give you a pretty girl discount.”  she said boldly
“Sounds bad for business, how many of those are you giving out?” you inquired
“Only you y/n, only you” Abby was fucking smooth. She was kind, gentle and almost treated you as if she was courting you. Or trying to win your affections. She paid for every meal, always respected you, kept her eyes on yours rather than letting them wander, and genuinely cared about every conversation you had. In a way, she seemed kind of like your perfect match, the ideal partner. But with Ellie’s jealousy it would be difficult to pursue a relationship. You were smart, you picked up on things. You knew Ellie liked you, and yea maybe you were a shit person for leading her on by cuddling with her, spending nights with her but you never slept together. You had never kissed nor flirted with her though. You were just more intimate than normal friends. It was a typical lesbian situationship. The both of you were confused. You liked being with Ellie, liked being in her arms, laughing with her. But you spent most of your moments with her high. Not really processing what was going on. Focused on the floaty sensation you had. Abby was different. She saw the authentic you, not the high you. Still it was so soon into your friendship despite months of coffee meetings going by. You can’t force yourself to like someone. You decided you’d wait if feelings would develop on their own and take it from there. Hopefully no one would end up heartbroken.
It felt wrong flirting with Abby when Ellie was pining over you. So, you changed the subject.
“Did you finish the lab I assigned thursday?” You questioned, looking for an excuse to talk about anything but yourself.
“I did actually, I’m here working out as a congrats to myself and all my hard work.”
“You consider working out this early in the morning as a reward?”
“Working out is actually proven to lift your mood and relieve stress. So yea, it is a reward.”
“Well I’m about done with my workout so, I can take you out and we can get something to eat? I'll pay this time. You deserve it after that lab”
Being with Abby was so easy. Cozy inside a cafe, she spoke to you about everything on her mind ( other than her deep admiration and heartache for you) and you did the same, no worries or fears about overstepping were present. Just you, just her.
Abby loved literature, she was quite the bookworm, currently she was telling you about her newest read.
“It's a classic, one of my favorites. Everyone thinks dracula was the first vampire novel but Carmilla came before that. People just erase its history because it's women loving women.”
Oh? Abby read wlw vampiric novels, therefore, she had to be gay.
“People really suck, wlw history is so often misinterpreted and erased I mean look at Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-west. They were clearly very in love, but no one likes to recognize it.”
Abby’s face grew surprised. You also liked wlw history, you had to be gay.
“You know your history.”
“History is my second best class other than physics, especially women's history. I've always found it so interesting.”
“Virginia and Vita’s love letters were beautiful, have you ever read them?”
“I've heard some famous quotes here and there but I've never sat down and read them.”
“I have a copy of a book filled with their letters, you can borrow it if you'd like”
You smiled, she melted.
“I'd like that, thank you” you said sincerely.
You talked and talked, that was until your phone started vibrating insistently with text messages.
Brrrr.
“Hi babe” at 12:31 pm
Brrrrr.
“Got a new dab rig and wax lmk if u wanna hit” at 12:34 pm
Brrrrrr.
“I got ur fave snacks come over” at 12:35 pm
Brrrrr.
“Where r u” at 12:36 pm
Brrrr. 
“y/n?????” at 12:39 PM
“You wanna check your phone?” Abby chuckled, “Looks like it's been going off for a while.”
You flipped your phone over and saw messages from “Els”, normally you would answer in a second, you didn't keep her waiting often but this was your time with Abby. Ellie could wait…or not.
“It's just Ellie.”
“She seems like she wants something, you should text her back.” Abby exclaimed, sounding a little hesitant as if she didn't really want that.
“No, I'm with you right now, she can wait.”
So you ignored her, that was until she called. You groaned embarrassed at the entire situation and stepped away outside to answer the call.
“Ellie I'm in the middle of lunch right now and-”
“I'm high and I need you here.”
“You've been high without me before, you'll be fine.”
“No, no no no it's bad this time. I smoked a lot, way too much and the world is spinning and I threw up and I'm shaking. I think I greened out” Ellie sounded breathless and exhausted.
Your heart dropped, you wanted to spend time with Abby, It was so blissful. But Ellie needed you, you couldn't let her be all greened out and sick alone. She would have taken care of you, you had to take care of her.
“Okay Els, I’ll be there in a few.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah, of course.”
You headed back in to break the news.
“Listen, this was fun, I had a good time!” 
“But?” Abby prompted, raising an eyebrow.
“I gotta get going, Ellie needs me.”
Abby’s face visibly fell but she held up a smile.
“Okay, I understand.”
You paid for the both of you and hugged Abby goodbye, she smelt of clean pine trees and slightly of sweat from working out. In a way it was comforting.  
“I’ll see you around.”
“See you around.” Abby repeated, releasing you from her strong arms and watching you walk away. She was down bad. So bad.
When you made it to Ellie’s dorm she threw the door open and pulled you in, shutting it behind her and fixing the towel under the door to avoid smoke or the smell from cascading through the hallway.
She looked awful covered in cold sweat, her hair in a messy ponytail was sticking to her forehead from the condensation. She was wearing nothing but a savage starlight oversized tee shirt and minecraft boxers. She looked like she was about to say something until she ran to her dorm bathroom and started to throw up in the toilet.
You pitied her, it wasn't a pretty sight. Gently, you kneeled beside her, rubbing her back and holding her loose hair back.
“That's it Els, let it out. Atta girl.”
Ellie groaned, pressing her sweaty forehead to the toilet seat.
“I'm sorry you have to see me like this.” She mumbles, sniffing. “I just, I didn't know who else to call, I didn't want to be alone-”
“No,no” You hushed her, “I'm right here, you haven't scared me away don't worry.” you spoke softly and gently as if she was a wounded animal.
She looked up at you with glossy eyes, her lip was trembling as if she was about to cry. Something about your words only made her want you more. You always knew what to do, what to say.
“It's okay Ellie, I don't mind.” you offered her a gentle smile, and you were so pretty when you smiled. If she hadn't just vomited her brains out, she would have kissed you right then and there. You helped her up and she sat on the edge of the bathtub while you wiped her face with a warm, clean, wash towel. Softly scrubbing the grime off her skin. She watched you the entire time with lovesick eyes. You avoided eye contact. After, she brushed her teeth a few times, trying to get the smell to go away (or in case you kissed her.) The way Ellie looked at you ignited your soul. It was like being set on fire, warmth spread throughout you but at the same time, it was still a fire, it was still scary. You lead Ellie to her bed, keeping a trashcan nearby if she throws up again. You turned around while she changed into clean clothes that consisted of one of your shirts she had somehow ended up keeping after a sleepover and a different pair of kirby boxers. 
“Okay, you can look now.” she said once she was decent again. “Do I still smell like dabs and vomit?” she questioned.
You leaned forward, close to Ellie and sniffed the air. “No, you're all set”
Now that Ellie was in a significantly better state, you wanted to leave, to escape her loving yet overwhelming gaze. But you saw how she reached out to you, like a greedy plant to the sun. You would feel guilty if you left her alone. So you pulled her into bed, let her lay on your chest and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. Every part of you screamed that this was wrong. Friends dont do this, Ellie certainly wanted more than you could give her.
NOTES: apologies for not updating for a longgg time, the fanfic writer curse has hit me lol. also I didnt proof read this, lmk if theres any mistakes. Feedback and interaction is much appreciated.
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