#(not really - this isn’t leaving to a love epiphany)

[timbit-robin-art]

I am loving your x-men art atm!! It is all so good and so cute!! Especially your chibi versions!! And I am very intrigued by your recent band au too! Logan as the reluctant yet supportive teacher is perfect! I'd love to hear more about that!! Xxxxxxx

More about Mr. Logan? Let’s see.

I think it’s a very funny idea that his backstory is the exact same despite it being an X-Men-less universe. He’s still Weapon X and did military work, it’s just that once he decided he was done with it all, he decided to become a teacher at the private school. You find this out when he’s whisked away for S.H.I.E.L.D shenanigans while the band is doing some mundane activity. Cue everyone trying to get Kurt’s chemistry grade up periodically interrupted by Mr. Logan going through actual hell.

I mentioned before that I think he knows the bass. It’s just a hobby of his, mostly to take his mind off of things, so no one else really knows he can play. Except for one specific alumni;

Mr. Logan actually recommended Rogue to Xavier’s mutant education scholarship after having a chance encounter with her. While she refused to take residency up in the Institute, she eventually gave into Mr. Logan’s urges to at least attend the school. This is the start of their delinquent-child-who-gets-adopted-by-the-gruff-old-man dynamic. Mr. Logan eventually teaches her the bass, and she really takes off with it. I can see her being a part of her own southern fem punk band after she graduates.

(I think it goes without saying that Rogue is the group’s vodka wine aunt that makes her occasional appearance. When Mr. Logan is preoccupied, leave it to Rogue to recklessly drive them to their gigs.)

Also, while we’re talking about the band universe, I think I figured out the eventual 5th member;

Meet Kitty Pryde, the freshmen that joins as their second guitar. She also knows how to play piano, but she prefers the mobility guitar grants her (she cannot stand still when she plays music). She probably met Kurt first in the music room while she was practicing for a piano recital. Though Kurt can recognize the musical talent she has, she can tell her heart isn’t into it. So now there’s a montage of Kurt and Kitty messing around with other instruments. Neither of them really know how to play anything besides piano, they’re just trying to see what feels right for Kitty. And that’s how she finds her interest in guitars.

I think it would actually take a while before she gets used to guitar. Hank would try to teach her, but Kitty’s learning style just doesn’t match well with Hank’s teaching style. So everyone thinks that she’s just not meant to play the guitar until some sort of epiphany happens, and suddenly she can absolutely shred.

She rounds out the group quite well, don’t you think?

[thelightsandtheroses]

6. baby, if your love is in trouble

Frankie Morales x female reader | let's get lost chapter 6

Summary: You and Frankie aren’t together anymore but you’re in a good place. However, spending a week together for your mutual friends’ wedding on a luxury resort might challenge that slightly and realising you’re still in love with your ex is a sure-fire recipe for disaster … Tropes: it was always you, getting back with the ex, beach!Frankie (you know *that* photoshoot) miscommunication, only one bed, good parent Frankie Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of alcohol, some difficult conversations and some kissing(you’ll have to keep reading to know which order that is), allusions to TF canon events, brief discussions or references to addiction recovery, lolabee typical flangst. Word Count: 4.4k Notes: The next chapter is the last full one (there may be an epilogue) so we are very close to the end now. Thank you so much for all your patience and love with this fic, I cannot tell you how much it means to me. Also this chapter is dedicated to @undercoverpena because her art for this fic (and our chat about it afterwards) really reminded me why I love this fic and helped get me out of a little block I had, even if she made me cry (in a good way, honest) - ily jo!

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Time is strange on vacation. The time leading up to it drags, every second feels like an hour, every hour feels like a day. It’s exhausting and draining which only makes you need the break more. Time seems to pass normally - well, almost normally - at the start of a vacation. It's usually somewhere around day two, when the post travel fatigue finally abates, that time changes again. It goes too fast, so just as you finally start to feel relaxed, it’s almost over.

You know the end is coming. Soon Benny and Lia’s wedding will be over, soon you’ll be on a flight home and then you and Frankie will go your separate ways. Back to an empty house that’s haunted by what could have been, to a job that you don’t know if you love, to a life you feel like is existence when it could be so much more.

You don’t want to leave here, not when you and Frankie feel so unresolved.

There are memories of the day before in every inch of this hotel room. The bed that Frankie took you apart so expertly on, the bathroom counter he kissed you against in a way that makes kissing feel like a small world. You remember it was good before, but not like that.

Love.

You still love Frankie. It’s not an easy epiphany; it’s messy and painful and raw. That’s love though. It’s a dangerous yet fragile emotion.

You love Frankie. Did you ever truly stop? When you hated him, when you were furious and your relationship was nothing but scorched earth, it was always more from heartbreak than hatred.

There’s part of you that wants to scream triumphantly, to run into his arms and declare it to the world. It wants to live in this vacation bubble fantasy forever.

You’re a parent though and Clara changes everything. You both need her to have stability in her world, to be able to have her parents as a strong foundation. You’re sensible and scarred and oh so reliable now.

Love isn’t pragmatic, it’s wild.

This morning you questioned if it was enough, if the love could be enough between the two of you to repair those wounds and fill between the holes of your breakup, of Will’s wedding, of the lost trust and bitterness on every side.

“You look serious,” Lia says, a nervous expression covering her face as she sips her drink.

You blink, shaking your head like it can shake away the gremlins in your mind. “Sorry, I was a million miles away.”

The sun warms your skin as you look out at the bright blue around you. Sparking, azure contrasts with the bright white of the catamaran. There’s music playing softly by the bar, light chatter around you and a sense of peacefulness.

“How are you feeling? Are you ready for tomorrow?” you ask, focusing on Lia - definitely not Frankie.

No, you’re definitely not paying attention to Frankie who is just in your eyeline and is wearing a suitably loud shirt that’s completely unbuttoned, allowing a peek of his tanned skin, the faint hints of hair below his navel racing down to -

You jolt at the sudden reminder of what you were doing just a couple of hours ago. The feeling of his skin against yours, the weight of his body that was so welcome. He looks relaxed though, a bottle of soda in his hand, head tilted back as he laughs.

Is it just you who’s panicking? No, no, you don’t think it is. You notice how he looks away just for a moment, the way his free hand is tapping against his leg nervously, the feeling that if you look away maybe he’ll steal a glance at you too.

You hear your name and look back at Lia, even more guilt rising. This, this is exactly what you wanted to avoid.

“Did you and Frankie have an argument?”

“What?”

“Well, you seem out of it and I caught you looking at him just now and … I thought things were better?” You hear the unspoken words ‘please don’t ruin this, please don’t ruin my wedding too’.

“We’re fine,” you say, “Good. It’s all good.”

“I know it must be awkward sharing with him, but you’ve nearly made it through the whole break!”

“Honestly, Lia, we’re fine. Good. Yeah, it’s not a thing.”

“I just - I’m very intuitive, I can feel tension when you two look at each other.” It’s the other type of tension, you think. The type of tension when just a few hours ago he was inside of you, where he was tracing kisses along your jawline. It’s the type of tension that only happens when after that you panic and make everything worse.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Frankie and I are -”

“Fine?” Lia squeezes your arm. “Just, just don’t let it fester.”

You want to tell her everything, you desperately crave her advice. You want to sip a cocktail and giggle with her about what happened, have her console your panic. This vacation isn’t about you though. It’s for her, for her and Benny. So your anxieties and secrets will have to fester, it’s the only way.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing … relax Santi.”

“I’m not fucking relaxed when …” Santi says something you can’t hear. You shift nervously, aware that you’ve walked into something you shouldn’t be hearing. You just needed a break for a moment and you had no idea they were here though. You just wanted to get another drink.

“I was there, I remember.”

“Just, she’s not gonna ….” You need to get closer so you can hear more.

You edge just a little closer, feeling the condensation around the soda bottle as you lean just a little more so you can make out their words. You feel guilty but it’s a chance to finally understand where Frankie is in all this, especially after what’s happened today. It’s probably wrong to admit, but this feels like a litmus test of where this all could possibly end up, if there really is hope.

“She’s the mother of my child, Santi, she’s the person I love.” Frankie is so firm, so quietly assertive and matter of fact about this it takes your breath away.

He loves you. He still loves you and for the first time, maybe it does feel like enough. The warmth surges through your body and you smile to yourself.

“Love?” Santi spits. “After Will’s wedding? After that breakup? You might forget it was my sofa you crashed on, but I saw it all, Frankie.” And there’s the reality crush you were waiting for.

“I was high, I was high and it was a shit night for everyone and I’m sorry about that. It’s the past though. You’ve all gotta stop talking about it, stop waiting for her to react. It’s not right, Santi, not for her and not for me.”

“It’s not you, it’s-”

“She’s on eggshells, and so am I. We’re so scared of being the ones who wreck another - you have no idea what’s in her head. The pressure -” You watch how Frankie runs a hand through his hair, how he leans against the wall of the cabin.

He gets it, you think, he actually understands what’s happening for you and how you feel.

“Must be a lot for you.”

“Not just me, like I said.”

“Okay, I hear you.”

“Good.”

“You know, the way you’re being, it’s like you’re …” Santi pauses and looks at Frankie seriously “Frankie, oh shit. Oh shit. You two fucked?”

You freeze - how has Santi worked it out? Will everyone else now? The tension twists your stomach into knots. Is it that obvious?

“Don’t, Santi.”

“I warned you, I freaking told you that sharing a room was a bad idea.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever..”

“So, what now? Are you getting back together?”

“I don’t know. It’s not just up to me, right? It’s not that simple. Besides, it only happened today - it’s not been, we haven’t even had a chance to figure it out yet.“

“Oh, you slut, Frankie,” Santi teases affectionately. “So, I don’t even know what to say, bro. But you say you love her; she looks at you like … I don’t know. Sounds like you’re overcomplicating it. Isn’t it that simple?”

“There’s Clara - I can’t bring her down, bro, I just can’t be that fucking guy.” You watch as Frankie wipes his eyes roughly and wish you were closer to him so you could squeeze his arm and reassure him. You hadn’t realised he was worried about the same thing as you.

You hear your name being called and immediately cringe as Frankie looks around, a slightly startled expression on his face. Santi doesn’t say anything but he squeezes Frankie’s shoulders as he walks away.

He sees you standing there and just shakes his head a little - it’s not angry, it’s almost affectionate in fact. “You two are gonna be the fucking death of me, I swear,” he says in a whisper.

You don’t reply, you just wait because you know Frankie’s going to find you in a moment..

“How much of that did you hear?” Frankie asks when he spots you. He runs one hand in his hair and leans slightly against the door jamb. His eyes are downcast, avoiding you and you want to see them, to know what he’s thinking.

“Nothing.” It’s a terrible lie, the sort of tone Clara uses when she sneaks cookies or candy.

He says your name, draws it out teasingly as he cups your face to meet his eyes. He’s so warm, radiating body heat and ease. Comfort. It’s a pleasant warmth that eases your knotted stomach.

“I may have heard something about you being a slut,” you tease,” “And that maybe you’re worried about messing it all up too.”

“You didn’t know that?”

“I have been having my own existential crisis if you hadn’t noticed!”

“Yeah, your brain whirs pretty loud when those happen.”

“I’m always whirring,” you say.

He pulls you closer, one hand resting casually on your hip and he’s close enough you can smell the sea-salt on his skin, the slight ghost of his cologne and suncream too. You look at the hand on your skin, follow every detail of it up until you meet you his eyes. You catalogue every detail on the way; a mix of freckles, sun-stained skin and muscle, the stubble that just hours ago was on you, memories of it against your thighs intrude your soliloquy.

”I - I didn’t mean to make things awkward with you and Santi. I didn’t realise he … he had such a problem, with us, I mean. With me.”

“He doesn’t. Not really,” Frankie says softly, “How would Lia initially react? Santi is the one I went to after we broke up and maybe - maybe it’s hard for him to look at some of the triggers for back then. It’s not an excuse, I was - you know I relapsed before Clara, but it wasn’t bad then, it wasn’t as bad. It was just a few times and I was in meetings and dealing with it and then - then well, you remember what happened.”

“Oh.” You remember Frankie’s ashen face when he returned from Colombia. You’d been furious with him - exhausted from sleepless nights with Clara and an aching, terrifying fear that you were going about your life when Frankie was lying dead somewhere. It had been a catalyst for your relationships end, of course, but what it really did was light a spark for Frankie’s addiction. You wondered for a long time if Frankie ever came back to you or if he’d died like Tom, just in a less invisible way.

He’s back now though. He’s here.

He’s here.

You lean into him, kissing him lightly on the lips. A confirmation of the moment, of the feeling between the two of you. A reminder that you’re here too.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

“You heard that? I - if you want the truth, I never stopped. I’m not sure I could ever stop being in love with you,” Frankie admits.

“I’m scared of this, of what happens if it goes wrong again.”

“Then at least we tried, right? At least we know, because this limbo isn’t right either, baby. I think - I think we can do it this time. I’m clean and I don’t want to go to back, not when it risks Clara, not when it risks you. I don’t like the me back then.”

“I definitely got a lot wrong too.”

“We’ve got this.”

Frankie pulls you tightly against him, one hand entwined in yours as meets your lips again briefly.

“You and me?” you say, more as a question than a statement.

“You and me,” he repeats.

“We tell them after the wedding, we’re not taking over another wedding, Frankie.”

“That works for me.”

He kisses you again, deepening the kiss, as the two of you pour all the words you want to say but that get stuck in your throat into this moment. He spins you against the wall of the boat, moves his hand down from your shoulder to your chest, to the edge of your swimsuit and although he’s barely touching you, it immediately sends heat and shivers to your stomach. Frankie’s always had an effect on you, always been able to tease those sounds and crescendos of pleasure that seemed so far away before.

There’s something about his smile when he notices the effect he has on you. The hint of surprise in his eyes combine with a steely confidence, a slight cockiness that he is the one causing this, that you’re responding to him.

He moans into your mouth as you pull him closer against you yet, wanting to move somewhere else, somewhere you can be alone.

You stumble slightly and Frankie grabs your arm, places the other on the wall to steady yourselves. A tangle of limbs and the two of you smile. His phone falls out of his pocket, the sound echoing around you.

“Shit,” he says quietly.

You both spring apart and look around nervously. Close, so close. You wait for the voices, for one of your friends to call you or worse, to come over.

“We should -”

“Yeah, yeah. Uh - we should.”

You lean back against the wall and shut your eyes, willing your heart rate to slow down, letting the adrenaline burn off.

She’s the person I love.

Maybe, just maybe you were wrong earlier. Perhaps love is enough.

The rehearsal dinner is an informal affair. Lia and Benny deliberately opted for an earlier dinner time so that Clara could be part of it and have already said they’re eschewing as much of the formality for the rehearsal as they can.

It’s considerate and thoughtful and you’re so glad you’ve been able to make this wedding trip work as a family vacation too.

Of course, in practice, scheduling the dinner for just a couple of hours after getting back from the boat trip is far more stressful than they may have anticipated. Especially with a toddler.

“I wanted to stay in kids club,” she cries to Frankie, face screwed up with tears and arms folded.

“I know, baby, but you’ll get to go after the wedding.”

“Tomorrow?”

“No, tomorrow’s Uncle Benny and Aunt Lia’s wedding.”

“This isn’t fair,” she cries, “we were making puppets!”

Frankie looks up at you helplessly. You’re half-dressed, your dress unzipped and no-makeup yet, your hair still damp from the shower.

“Clara, we need to get ready for dinner now,” he says steadily.

“Daddy’s right, Clara, it’s time.”

“No.”

“Clara,” Frankie says, a hint of firmness slowly coming through in his voice. He looks exhausted but he’s meeting your daughter’s eyes, trying to gently assert that she needs to get moving. “It’s time to get ready now. You will get to go to the kids’ club again, but not right now. Now, we’re going to dinner and when we get back, you can watch one episode of your show before bed, okay?”

”Okay.” Clara had clearly forgotten she’d already negotiated that episode of her show earlier in the morning.

Frankie smiles at you as Clara toddles over to you, ready to comply.

“Need a hand?” he asks, pointing at the zip.

“Sure.”

Your eyes watch Clara carefully choosing between two pairs of shoes as Frankie comes up behind you, touches the back of your shoulder before he glides the zip up and gently kisses the side of your neck.

“Frankie.”

“She’s not looking,” he says in a low voice, “and that fucking dress always destroys me.”

You smile, “I know.”

“Why, are you planning to seduce me?”

”Maybe, haven’t decided yet. Play your cards right and perhaps you’ll see….”

Frankie laughs, low and with genuine happiness. He claps his hands together lightly as he moves over to Clara.

”C’mon, princesa, let’s get this show on the road.”

The dinner was a success and now everyone is milling around the bar, enjoying the sunset and each fleeting moment of this vacation.

Clara's on Frankie's hip as he talks to Will and Benny, one of his arms on Benny's shoulder as they all laugh.

You could get used to this again.

You're still at the table, having spent most of the dinner talking with Lia who is now working the rest of the party.

You take a sip of the dregs of your drink and shut your eyes, letting the moment sink in.

There's the sound of a chair being pulled next to you.

You open your eyes to see Sophie sititng next to you. She's wearing a stunning dress that seems to match the sunset and her makeup is immaculate as ever. You don't feel self conscious though, don't feel the usually creeping doubts rising.

You feel a little different actually. Maybe it's relaxing, maybe it's the vacation, maybe it's hope.

Sophie looks at you carefully and lowers her wine glass. “I know you are a good friend to Lia and that you care about Benny.”

“Of course.”

She leans closer to you, a subtle hint of alcohol and fruity cocktails radiating around her. “I also know that despite what you say, you and Frankie - you aren’t over. You still want to be with him. Everyone knows he’s not over you. I’ve seen your face this week.”

“What are you saying Soph?”

“If you two want to figure things out, to see if there’s something still there, then you guys do that. You’re both adults.”

“I’m sensing a but here.”

“I love you both. I do. It’s just you and Frankie are like storms. You’re beautiful and powerful and sometimes a little inspiring too. You endure and you survive, but you leave wreckage in your wake. Wreckage and destruction no-one wants on their wedding day. Trust me. I lived it with you that day.”

You burn with shame as her words land. The memories of Sophie and Will’s wedding feel like an albatross around your neck, something that can never be forgotten or erased.

You’re sick of it - it makes you think your friends will never truly support you and Frankie reconciling, despite Sophia’s words. If they’ll always be watching, guarded and waiting for the chaos or storm, then how can you and Frankie ever relax.

“What are you saying?” you ask in a low voice.

“I’m saying that this is Benny and Lia’s moment. I’m saying that I can’t - I can’t sit by and watch them go through what I - what we … you know what I’m saying. Not while you and Frankie are in a vacation bubble that isn’t - it isn’t real,”

“Things are different. We’re both different. Frankie’s clean now too.”

“I know, and I can’t pretend I know how it felt for you that day, or the ones that led up to it. I know you’ve been through a lot too. I just - Benny’s like my little brother and I know Will can’t say this to you, but we’re all worried. So, I’m going to be the bad guy, but it’s out of love, I promise. I promise. I love you both so much, and I love Benny and Lia too.”

“It wouldn’t be like that. It wouldn’t - that was a - we hit rock bottom, but it wouldn’t happen again.”

“You can’t know that,” Sophie says simply, “So I am begging you, please don’t pull us all back into that storm. Think of Clara.”

The final punch meets its target.

You feel deflated, completely and utterly deflated. You avert your gaze to the paved stones beneath your feet, blink back tears.

In a way, Sophie’s right. You can never know it won’t happen again, that’s love though, right? You have known for years that they saw you and Frankie’s demise as wreckage they were pulled into, that you two became the problem friends as you both lashed out after the breakup, trying to retain control of the uncontrollable in the only way you knew how. You knew this deep down.

It hurts though. It is agonising to realise that every one of your anxieties and fears here was correct, that your friends still treat you with kid gloves, that you and Frankie will always be the problem couple. Even if you get back together, even if it’s perfect, everyone will be waiting for the storm to hit.

“Oh no, I’ve overstepped, I’m sorry. I - I - I’ve drunk too much. Ignore me. Wine makes me funky,” Sophie says, looking panicked.

If it’s a fight, if love is truly a battle, then you need people in your corner. You need to know that the people you love are rooting for you as well, that there is a support network. You require someone to encourage the two of you as things get tough, as you do battle against your anxieties, Frankie’s demons and anything else life throws at you and to know they won’t judge either of you.

It’s clear now that your friends are not in your corner though. Instead, they view you and Frankie as adversaries, not allies, and they’re always waiting cautiously for the next round of hits to land.

How do you try again if no one else really wants you to? If they all think the worst?

You ruined Sophie’s wedding. What on earth makes you think you deserve a happy ending with Frankie after that?

You needed Sophi’s buy-in, you needed her support. You hadn’t realised that until now, but it’s clear. You knew it the moment Sophie started speaking to you. There’s an anxious and scared version of you that requires your friends’ validation, their support that trying all over again is a good thing, that it won’t fuck up your daughter, or your friendships all over again.

Without this, you’re at sea without a buoy, without a lighthouse. You’re floundering in the dark in a lifejacket and rapidly realising hope alone won’t get you to land.

“I need to go,” you say, brushing Sophie’s hand of your arm and heading down towards the beach.

You walk across the sand nervously. You’re hoping the sea will have answers, will calm you down. The sound of waves lapping in and out is like someone soothing you, saying it’s going to be okay.

You sit down rest your head against your knees. You just need a minute, to let it out.

So you do, you finally let yourself break.

Several minutes later, you hear footsteps behind you and a concerned voice saying your name,

You look over to see Frankie. His top three buttons are unbuttoned and his brow is furrowed as he takes in your general demeanour.

“Where’s Clara?” you sniffle.

“Lia’s taking her back to our room, and we’ll meet her there. She also said she needs an early night with the wedding tomorrow. Hey, hey what’s - what’s wrong?”

“I think we’ve made a terrible mistake, Frankie, I’m so sorry,” you manage to say before you burst into tears. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Frankie pales, sinking next to you. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think any of our friends want us to get back together - how can they all be wrong?”

“Santi isn’t all our friends. I told you he’s projecting his own shit.”

“It’s not just Santi!”

“Who said something? What the fuck did they say? This is our relationship, okay? It’s not theirs. They don’t have a say.”

“When we ruined their wedding, they do.”

“So, it’s Will or Sophie. What did they say? I’m going to fucking -”

“And storm into the rehearsal dinner and prove their point, yell at Sophie? Cause a scene and have tonight go down as yet another of our disasters?”

“You’re crying. Sophie had no right to -”

“I’ve had wine, it’s fine. It’s just hot and I’m worried about going home and - I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s a reality check. I hadn’t realised. I thought they’d be happy for us, but perhaps they can’t be.”

“They’ll see,” he says desperately, “we’ll show them it’s real. That it’s different this time.”

“Frankie, I need to know, what happens when we go back?” you ask.

He sits down beside you and takes your hand. “I want to say something smooth, talk you through how I’m going to woo you, and I am going to woo you, tell you that it’s all going to be great.”

“Good start.”

“I can’t promise that though, not right now. Not knowing what you’ve just said. I want to think our friends will be happy for us, but they might not be. Or they might be cautious. It’s us though, it’s you and me. I know that this vacation has reminded me of how much I lost, how much I want every day back with you and Clara.”

“If our friends aren’t supporting us, how do we even carry on? What do we do? Do we cut everyone we love -”

“No.”

“So what then, Frankie?” You barely recognise your voice between your sobs and the way it’s so shrill, so desperate. You had finally made peace with your decision, finally thought that maybe this was all going to be okay. That there was a future outside of this vacation bubble.

Frankie is silent for a moment. You feel how he’s rubbing your back, soothing you as you purge your emotions.

“You forgave me, right?” he says softly after a moment.

“What?”

“For the relapse, for the mess I put us all through, for not talking to you. It took time, it took months, but you did, right?”

You nod.

“Maybe it’s like that for them. And if it’s not, we’ll show ‘em either way. I just - I’ve only just got you back. Please, don’t go anywhere yet. We won’t tell them, not until we’re home, until we’re sure. That way it can’t affect us, can’t bring us down when we’re trying. Don’t give up on us because of Sophie’s drunken idiocy. Please.” He pulls you tighter to him, one arm wrapped around and the other hand reaching to wipe away tears on the side closest to him. His hands are warm, radiating comfort and peace as you feel so adrift.

Maybe he’s the rock, maybe he’s the buoy. Perhaps that is what you are to each other as well?

You laugh, an ugly half-sobbing sound. “Okay, okay, I won’t. I promise.”

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Girl On Fire 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, neglect, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: neglected, you find comfort in another home.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Loki

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

You don’t know why you’re trying. Why you’ve marked the day on the calendar. Loki’s coming home but nothing’s going to change. Still, there’s a glimmer of hope inside of you that wants him to prove you wrong. 

So it is that you wake up early with a list of to-dos and to-gets. You have a plan. That makes the days a bit easier. When you have something to do, you don’t have time to think. 

You think maybe if your husband comes home to a nice dinner and a tidy home, he might have some epiphany. He might realise he likes it better there then on the road. He might just see what’s been right in front of this the whole time. He might even remember the vows he spoke a decade ago. 

What happened? When did he forget? When did you become an afterthought? 

No, you won’t be. Not forever. He’s just overworked. He’s busy. He has a lot going on. He can’t pay for your lifestyle sitting at home. Get over it. Get over yourself. 

You grab your purse and head out. You have a list. You’re going to make his favourite dish; sesame crusted salmon. You’re no Michelan start chef but you know a few tricks. It feels good to have a purpose, to have something ahead of you. And it will be nice to eat more than the microwave noodle bowls you’ve been living off of. 

You ignore the dirt littered across your walk as you clutch the reusable bags in your fist. You’ll fix that before he gets back. He won’t know the difference. Hell, if you dug up the whole strip, he might not even notice. 

You try not to fixate on it. That’s your problem. You latch onto things and they just build and build until they boil over. You’re a mess. It’s like he always said, you hold onto stuff. You just can’t let anything go. 

The grocery store is busy. The cramped aisles add to your impatience as you search out each ingredient. Why does that woman need to have her cart right there? Why does that man keep inching closer as you’re searching the spice shelf? Back off! 

You join the queue to check out, feeling worse for having made the trip. All the people have you amped up and anxious. People are always so stressful. Why is that customer bitching at the cashier about an expired coupon? They don’t care, they make minimum wage. 

You make sure to offer a smile to the overworked staff. You were once one of them. Loki likes to remind you of that when he remembers you exist. Nope, don’t do that. This isn’t about the past. You’re going to have a lovely dinner and talk and laugh and... try. 

Yeah, you thought the same thing last month. And the month before. 

Your optimism is waning as you come out with your bags over overpriced ingredients. Every time you go shopping, you swear it’s more expensive than the last. You tuck the bags behind the seat and brace yourself for the drive home. The clogged parking lot gives you little hope for a smooth ride. 

The traffic mellows as you reach the suburbs and you slow down and take each speed bump with caution. Children run after each other or walk with parents. You don’t know if you want any but Loki’s not really offering up the chance. His fleeting touches don’t offer much more than his own satisfaction. 

You turn into your drive and rub your lower back as you lift the bags out of the car. You push the door shut with your hip and turn, stutter stepping in place. Something’s different. Your flowers! 

The white and pink tulips are still lost to the squirrel’s mischief but in their place are new stems. Blue petals standing tall. You glance across the street then back again. You’ll have to go over and thank Jonathan. He really didn’t have to do that. 

You’re almost teary-eyed as you get inside. It’s just something small. It’s not that big but it feels like the world. He thought of you. Someone thought of you. 

Were you that pathetic? To go to that effort just to replace some flowers, you must’ve made quite the tragic scene. Suddenly, you’re not so eager to show your gratitude. 

You put everything away and make your way through your list. You check the clock between chores. Scrub the stove, clean the dishes, mop the floors; do everything you neglected in your husband’s absence for your bouts of tears and lazy nights of reading romance novels until you pass out. 

As the hours pass, you feel your stomach fluttering. You’re almost excited to see him. Loki’s coming home and you’re going to make it special for him. And you’re going to ask him that big question. Do you think you could stay home for a bit? 

It’s fear as much as it is excitement. It’s not like you haven’t thought to ask it before. The answer is clear. Each time he leaves, it’s for a little longer. He always tells you the same thing; he has to pay his dues, he has to show that he can do the job. 

Not this time. If he’s not going to change, then you have to. If he won’t stay home, then you’re going to start looking for a job so he can. If you bring in money, then he can’t hold his wallet over your head. Worse comes to worse, it’s a way out. 

Makeup done, hair too, your best dress on, the food is cooking, the house is fragrant with savoury aromas, and you’ve timed it all perfect. It’s almost five. His flight was supposed to get in half and hour ago. 

Your phone vibrates.  You grab your cell from the table by the front door where you left it to charge. It’s him! 

A text. Not a call, just a text. You tap the screen and read it eagerly. Your shoulders drop and you drop your phone. 

‘Won’t be home til ten. Business dinner in town. Big client.’ 

Worse than the disappointment is what he doesn’t say. No ‘love you’, no heart emoji, not even an apology. Just the facts. Just another excuse. 

You don’t respond. What’s the point? You don’t even know why he messaged. You should be flattered that he even bothered. 

You shake your head and drop the phone on the screen. You should’ve expected this. Maybe you did. Maybe you get some sort of thrill out of the rejection. 

The oven beeps. Just in time. You go and take the pan out, silencing the alarm with your thumb. You toss the fish onto the stove and spin away. You want to scream but you just don’t have the energy. You march back to the doorway and stop yourself. 

You take a deep breath and push it all down. The rice is done. You turn it off and the veggies are glistening perfectly. You might not be a professional but damn it looks good. 

You take a glass container from the cupboard and carefully begin to transfer the portions. You make up two full meals. You were precise in your measurements, sure not waste a morsel. You seal the lids and the walls fog up. You stack them and carry them down the hall. 

You steel yourself as you pass through the front door and keep your chin high. The tulips sway gently in the early evening breeze. You get to the curb and muster a smile. You cross and march up to Hattie’s house. The old woman has been reclusive of late but by her nephew’s report, you can assume why. 

You go to the front door and ring the bell. Your stomach is churning again, in a much different way. You wait, doubt rising with each second. You’re about to turn away when Jonathan answers the door. He’s just as you remember; strangely familiar but refreshingly not. 

You swallow and stamp your smile in place, “I just wanted to say thanks for the flowers. They’re lovely.” 

You hold out the containers and his brows rise, “oh, you didn’t need to do all this.” He takes them, his warm fingers brushing against yours, “that’s so nice. And it wasn’t any trouble. It was getting crowded in the garden.” 

“The least I can do,” you insist. 

“Don’t you look wonderful? Special occasion?” He looks you up and down. When’s the last time a man did that? 

“Oh, uh, no... not anymore,” you look away, “anyway, I hope you enjoy. Salmon, jasmine rice, and some roasted veg. Nothing very special.” 

“Ah, but it is,” he says, “unfortunately, my aunt’s already abed and she has a very strict diet,” he intones, “so... would you like to join me? I’m afraid it’s all too much for just me.” 

He raises the containers and examines them. You’re too embarrassed to admit what’s happened. It would also be insulting to admit the food isn’t even meant for him. 

“I’ve some wine that would pair nicely with fish,” he continues, “and good company.” 

You consider his offer as you peek over your shoulder. Your house looks ominous like a horror movie. Empty and dark. There's nothing for you there. You face him again. 

“I’d love to.” 

[dangopango00]

ABYSS RAZOR W LOVE LANGUAGES

Abyss Razor x gn reader

Pt 1 | Pt 2

A/N: I was gonna do loser so hcs but i keep getting annoyed bc i wanna improve my writing but dk what to do bye ANYWAY I JUST CAUGHT UP WITH THE ANIME AND OUEUEU 😭😭😭😭 Im down bad even more they animated the scenes so well hes so kewt

Mostly not established relationship outside of the “as you get closer” sorry im a sucker for the slowburn also oh my god i have to make this two parts why is it so long ill write part two laterrer

GIVING From best to worst (more utc)

1. Acts of Service:

This is his specialty for sure; he just feels as if he has to be useful to you and if he isn’t then you won’t want him anymore. Acts of service are the only thing he can do without stammering or messing up in some way and it’s the only one he’s confident with too. It comes naturally to him tbh he:

- Reminds you of things you need to do even if you only mentioned it to him once in passing

- Brings extra materials or snacks with him if you often forget to bring those things

- Organizes your stuff if he notices your bag and/or your room is messy

- ALWAYS asks if you need help with anything and will do that even if u just tell him to relax he’d instead start trying to help YOU relax

Even as he gets more comfortable with you, excessively partaking in acts of service is something he just can’t shake which isn’t a bad thing! Its his love language afterall, but you just wish he’d stop worrying about if he’s being useful enough and just do what comes naturally. With more reassurance and time he will eventually start to slow down more though.

2. Gift Giving:

I think his gift giving usually comes with his acts of service like bringing snacks. He also just gives you a lot of small gifts because he wants you to know how much you mean to him but he really can’t put it into his words and even if he could theres no way he could articulate it out loud. Some things he gives you includes:

- Origami— I feel like origami is sth he does when he’s bored but even so, he puts the utmost love and care into each of his creations so giving them as gifts is sth reserved for the people closest to him

- Snacks— This one is simple he just cares about u and gets concerned if it seems like u aren’t eating enough or if ur hungry but without food

- A Deck of Cards— ODDLY SPECIFIC but I feel like he’d want you to have one so you and him can play cards even if he forgets his. I think even though he usually plays for Abel he does really enjoy physical games like cards and dominoes etc. like playing cards is how he bonds with people

- Accessories— Now this is RARE bc to him this is reallll bold but under the right circumstances he will give you things like earrings if your ears are pierced or a bracelet or charm (MOST likely the far latter). He sees a lot of accessories that remind him of you and its a little ridiculous, he’ll buy them but because it’s very bold he either won’t give it to you and wait for the “right moment”, give it to someone else to give to you or just leave it somewhere in your room when he’s there

As you grow closer Abyss will get more comfortable with giving you bigger things and will lean more into the accessories when gift giving. He might even feel bold enough to give you the plush he won while koala snotting with Mash.

3. Quality Time:

I was gonna put this one at #2 but I had an epiphany. I fear in the beginning stages Abyss would definitely try to keep you at arms length because of his eye. Oh especially if you met him while he was wearing an eyepatch and didn’t know about his eye; in fact, he feels guilty because he feels like he’s tricking you by being around you at all. Not only this but he has to split his time between you and Lord Abel as well so. However he does feel a little selfish with you and he really does like you so he spends time with you when:

- In the Forest— Just being alone with you in the forest takes the weight of social pressure off of him. It’s almost like the forest is keeping a secret between you and him. He doesn’t have to worry about whether or not people would avoid you seeing you with him nor does he even have to think about his eye or if you’d accept it, he can just live in the moment and enjoy reading with u

- In Classes no one else he knows attends— Similar to the forest it’s like keeping a secret but this time it’s specifically because none of his friends are here to see him acting so selfishly.

- He’s Jealous— Now he wont say anything buttt when he’s jealous Abyss will stick to you like a bad habit although still keeping you at a short distance. He just feels like he needs to be with you atm don’t mind him.

- You Reassure Him— Similarly, when you assure him that you don’t mind his reputation or eye (if you know) it makes him want to be around you more and all of that day he’ll be around you more than usual. He’s so grateful just to have met you and for you to say all that? He’s over the moon; he almost feels like he can finally breathe freely

As time goes on he definitely gets insanely good at this considering he loves being around you and the only thing holding him back is his insecurity. I def think that once you’ve been dating a long time or married he clings to you like crazy and even in the beginning stages once he’s gotten comfortable with you he’d follow you like a lost puppy even though his behavior is more catlike lol

4. Physical Touch:

He’s not very good at touch I’m ngl he can barely form words around you let alone touch you 😭. BUT. He does sometimes put the moves on you without noticing and he does try his best. This would include:

- Playing with ur hair when you’re alone or fixing it if he notices it got a bit messed up

- Fixing/Tidying up ur clothes between classes if he notices sth wrong like you tying your tie wrong or if the way you tied your bow was a little crooked (idk why I just think he’d be insanely good at tying bows/ties I bet he ties Abel’s for him too that boy can NOT tie a tie without it looking a little goofy)

- Resting his hands on your back or shoulders when you hug him. Now this seems like normal behavior but its A LOT for him ok his heart is pounding but he really does enjoy being in your arms

- Patting your head awkwardly or holding your face (if he’s feeling bold) when you’re upset bc he doesn’t know what to do but all he knows is he wants you to feel better and that he misses your smile

As time goes on he slowly gets better with physical touch but honestly he gets better VERY slowly like even if he can handle your advances I’m not sure he’ll be able to initiate things like kissing until marriage LOL ok well thats a bit much but you’ll have to have been in a relationship for a while

(Also a silly little tidbit when he initiates physical touch he gets it from you. For example he holds your face because you’ve held his face before and he never felt more at peace so he wanted to give you that same feeling)

5. Words of Affirmation:

Well. Speaking words isn’t one of his strong suits especially to someone he’s infatuated with. HOWEVER his sincerity is unmatched when he does manage to say something. Usually when he speaks words of affirmation they aren’t direct words of love like “I love you” or anything like that but it is always very sweet. He says things like:

- “Thank you.” — He never stops thanking you and apologizing 😭😭 He just needs you to know that he knows he’s so lucky to have you and that he would never EVER take you for granted

- “It’s an honor” — He says this OFTEN everything he gets to do with you is an honor because he feels as though he doesn’t deserve you; he can’t give you all that you deserve yet you stick by his side with no hesitation? He feels blessed; even wonders if The Lord (tm) Abel has something to do with this. He’s just so happy and most of all, grateful

- “I’m so glad to have met you” — This is one that he often mumbles under his breath when you’re being sweet to him; his feelings just swell in his heart at that moment and he lets it slip from his mouth

- “I need you” — He only said this like one (1) ☝️ time but im running out of words ok ANYWAY he’d say this to you only in critical moments like in the heat of the moment if you had been badly injured and you’re just barely hanging on. Besides this under normal circumstances, he’d say this while asking for your forgiveness after he had been avoiding you for a long time out of insecurity and you’re mad at him

As time goes on he gets MUCH better with words of affirmation and has been consciously making an effort to say more because he doesn’t want you to ever think that he doesn’t love you or isn’t proud of you. It’s so often in your beginning dating stage that he’ll stutter something incomprehensible and then give up and try again later going, “A-about earlier…(incomprehensible stuttering)” (he’s trying to say I love you or I’m proud of you or something similar but he couldn’t quite find the words)

[verspia]

—𝐢 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

You frown in thought as you cradle a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands, huddling a little close to the heat emanating from the fire place, which you’re seated in front of.

Christmas is one of your favorite holidays of, and this year, you celebrate it with your boyfriend, Oscar. Normally, with the end of the season, he would be in Australia with his family, spending the holiday under the blazing sun, not under frosted snowflakes and the biting cold of London with you.

The thought makes you pout a little, guilt eating at you for keeping him away from his family during the holidays, as if he isn’t apart from them for most of the year anyway.

Originally, you both were meant to go together, but with christmas being near, the visa application process had taken a lot longer than you’d both expected and that meant that you were only eligible to travel to down under after New Years.

You had insisted that Oscar leave without you, urging him to spend the christmas holiday with his parents and sisters, but he had resisted, arguing that he would make it up to them and it was far too late to book a flight, what with the rush that came during winter break, and you had reluctantly agreed.

That didn’t stop you from feeling guilty though, but you refrained from thinking about it more, knowing that there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Instead you wondered what you could gift your boyfriend for your first christmas together.

You knew that Oscar wasn’t much of a material person, and that he was happy with anything you would give him, but you wanted to do something meaningful.

Given the fact that gifts were your love language, both giving and receiving, it was important to you that you find the perfect gift for Oscar.

You worried your lip between your teeth as you pondered, when your eyes lit up with an epiphany, and you stood up abruptly, abandoning your hot chocolate on the kitchen top, grabbing your keys and heading out to the store immediately.

You payed no mind to the snow that nipped at your face, staining your cheeks a rosy red as you hurried out, charged with excitement for the gift that you had in mind.

When Oscar awakes on Christmas morning, you are not where you’re supposed to be, cuddled up in his arms, and the loss of your presence next to him startles him awake.

He steps into the living room, rubbing away any trace of bleariness from his eyes and finds you there, still in your pyjamas and with one of his hoodies on, Home Alone playing on the tv screen.

Your smile is radiant, and your zealousness for christmas is almost childlike. His heart warms at the sight of you and he smiles widely, trudging over to you.

“Why aren’t you in bed, love”

You turn around at the his voice, beaming impossibly wider, and your eyes sparkle with delight as you spot him.

“Oscar!” His name on your lips always makes him giddy, but the exhilaration in your tone today is tremendous, and vastly contagious, to the extent that Oscar begins to wear the same excitement you do.

“It’s Christmas! I was waiting for you,” You grab Oscar, pulling him on to couch with you, “We gotta open the gifts, Oh you’ll love what i’ve gotten you!”

Oscar stares fondly at you, “I’m happy with anything you give me, baby, you know that.”

You nod at him, not really paying attention, as you stand up and pull him along towards the direction of the christmas tree that you both had decorated together, weeks prior.

He happily lets you drag him along, and soon, both of you have unraveled the presents from your friends and family.

You open the gift that Oscar has gotten you, and gasp in elation, throwing yourself at Oscar, Thank you’s and I love you’s falling from your mouth as you pepper his face with kisses.

He laughs as he holds on to your waist, and then finally, both of you turn to the last present, that is inside a conspicuous bag, glittered golden.

You move over a little, eyes fixed on Oscar as he opens the bag, pulling out a cardboard box that is too, shimmering golden, with a red ribbon holding it together.

He unwraps it, and the sides of the box fall flat in five sections, each have attached a packet of Tim Tams on it, and another box stands proud in the middle.

Oscar uncovers the lid, and another lid appears, the words Merry Christmas on it and much like the first time, the sides fall into sections, each holding polaroids of you and Oscar.

The pictures are of monumental moments of your relationship, His first sprint win and you congratulating him with a kiss, his first podium as he smiles brightly, you wrapped up in his arms, smiling equally as bright. There’s photos of Oscar surprising you at your graduation ceremony, and kissing you when you win a debate’s competition, as well as a few pictures of your first date, and first kiss.

He pulls away the last lid, and finds a heart shaped letter inside, which he picks up and discovers a keychain for his car.

The keychain is shaped as a heart, and he examines it closely, accidentally clicking it open and finds both his and your initials together in a smaller heart inside.

He breathes softly, a little baffled at the thoughtfulness of the gift, and looks up at you, adoration clear in his eyes.

He’s a little breathless as he whispers I love you to you, and you smile shyly at him.

“Do you like it?”

Your eyes glimmer with hope and a little uncertainty, and Oscar pulls you into his lap, kissing you softly.

He’s not good with words, so he hopes to show to you just how happy you make him, pulling you closer than you’d ever thought possible, kissing you deeper to convey his appreciation to you.

You both are enveloped in a warmth that contrasts the dreary weather outside, but it’s clear that you both have a jolly christmas, under the shimmering pine tree.

This was inspired by this

didn’t proofread so pls don’t mind any errors

[queercanon13]

The Karma music video is packed with queer and sapphic themes. But what’s with that yellow beret?

We all watched the Karma music video on Friday (or Saturday), right? And then we all watched it ten more times because there IS JUST SO MUCH THERE. Right?!

I can’t even begin to unpack the whole thing yet, but let’s talk about the yellow brick road scene.

Taylor is obviously wearing ruby slippers (“the rubies that I gave up”) alluding to Dorothy/the Wizard of Oz. But she’s not wearing the rest of Dorothy’s getup. That’s because she’s not Dorothy, but in fact a friend of Dorothy.

She’s holding a broom (lots of witchy themes from her lately) and blows a kiss of blue (iykyk) glitter to three grim reapers (the two SBs and…?).

She’s keeping her side of the street clean, which harkens to the YNTCD MV where she clearly shows which side of the street she’s on:

Other things of note: it appears there are daisies embroidered on her collar, as well as growing along the yellow brick road. Her braids are also looped (“your braids make a pattern”).

The yellow brick road itself may be a nod to Elton John and his album/song Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. Here are some of the lyrics from that song, as well as a generally accepted analysis of the lyrics:

&

Seems like it would be super relatable to Taylor, right? Add in Elton John’s queerness/coming out journey, and the parallels continue.

There are probably a hundred other things I’m missing just from that scene alone, but what I really wanna talk about is the yellow beret, especially in light of current news surrounding Taylor.

When I saw the yellow beret, I furiously googled “yellow beret” + the names of Taylor’s muses, but I came up empty-handed. Because Taylor is specifically not wearing a Dorothy costume, I knew that fucking hat had to mean something. Then I remembered — isn’t yellow beret a military term? And we know she loves a good war story. To Google I went, and the results did not disappoint.

During the Vietnam war, all physicians in the US had a mandatory draft order. One of the ways to avoid the draft was to apply for a position with a Public Health Service program called the NIH Associates Training Program. Because the elite program was highly competitive, only a small percentage of doctors were able to serve their required military time without going to war.

Yellow beret was a self-deprecating and derogatory term used by and for doctors who avoided getting a green beret/going to war (yellow can be associated with cowardice, i.e. “yellow-bellied”) via the NIH program.

Sounding familiar? But wait there’s more.

Bob Seger wrote a song in 1966 called The Ballad of the Yellow Beret. It was written as a parody of the song The Ballad of the Green Berets. Here are some of the lyrics (I encourage you to read all of them!):

Verse 1: Fearless cowards of the USA // Bravely here at home they stay // They watch their friends get shipped away // The draft dodgers of the Yellow Beret

Okay, I’m seated.

Verse 3: Men who faint at the sight of blood // Their high-heeled boots weren't meant for mud // The draft board will hear their sob stories today // Only the best win the yellow beret

Oooookay.

Verse 4: Back at home a young wife waits // Her yellow beret has met his fate // He's been drafted for marching in a protest //Leaving her his last request

Are you screaming yet? Just wait.

Verse 5: Put a yellow streak down my son's back // Make sure that he never ever fights back // At his physical have him say he's gay // Have him win the yellow beret

And if that wasn’t enough, two of the last lyrics are “I've got a pimple on my trigger finger” (ew) and “well, we were planning on having children sometime soon” (devastating). These themes also align with The Great War, epiphany, etc.

But despite attempts to diminish their efforts through claims of cowardice, these “yellow beret” physician-scientists contributed to some of the most important and innovative medical research we have today. Dr. Fauci attended the training program, as well as nine others who went on to win Nobel Prizes.

Could it be that Taylor is trying to tell us that, while it looks like she dodged the draft (didn’t come out), she’s doing some important mastermind shit behind the scenes? Only time will tell, but since we are now at “dawn,” I believe daylight is soon to follow. ☀️

[shmaptainwrites]

How do you think Wilson would react accidentally figuring out that his partner has a gift for diagnostics like House?

ok nonnie i think this calls for some comedy because could you imagine 💀

like maybe you’re working as a new doctor in princeton-plainsboro and become first acquaintances then eventually friends before you start dating, and as you spend more time around wilson, you also spend more time around house

this means that, on occasion you’ll look at the case files or consult on a case for him, or just overhear them talking about something when you’re in wilson’s office. at first maybe it’s just an offhand comment you make after hearing the symptoms that maybe it could be [insert sickness that fits all the symptoms] and house is like “huh, i was gonna say that” before leaving and wilson just stares between you both so confused at the interaction that just occurred

then it happens again, but with one of his patients, or more so a patient someone sent him to consult on because they thought it might be cancer. you point out that it’s unlikely due to an inconsistency in some of their medical records before suggesting an alternative and wilson, on your hunch decides to test for both, finding out you’re right again

the kicker is probably the third time it happens where you and wilson go to house’s office to talk to him about something important when you see all the symptoms listed out on the board. the whole team is stumped, house is waiting for his epiphany, but since you’ve done in with fresh eyes it’s almost obvious to you the options of what it could be. you suggest one thing and they say they ruled it out then you say “oh then it has to be this,” and house looks at your curiously before telling his team to go test for it, and when the results come back positive wilson finally decides to talk to you about it

maybe he’s pretty direct and just says “i don’t think i’ve met anyone who was as good as house when it comes to diagnostics, but i’m starting to think maybe you come pretty close.” you chuckle a little because you never particularly noticed it, you were just good at seeing all the puzzle pieces and putting them together. wilson asks why you don’t pursue it and maybe work on house’s team (with your skill set he’s sure they could open a position for you if you wanted) but you tell him you much prefer where you are with your job, you’re doing something you’re passionate about and you love your patients and also love that you get to build connections with them and so diagnostics isn’t really where you want to be

wilson obviously accepts this and thinks it’s very sweet, even telling you as much with a kiss before asking if he can at least suggest to house that he give you a call to consult if the team is stuck and you say sure, but you doubt house will take him up on that offer

pausing asks until i catch up with what’s in my inbox!

[juliettedunn]

Epiphany: King and Luz are how fanon imagines Philip and Caleb

King is clingy, and has major separation anxiety. He insists he’ll never let Luz leave him, gets anxious and upset when she does anything without him. He wants nothing more than to have her stay with him forever at all times, having assurance and full control over it. He even specifically was afraid Luz would leave him for another realm. He wasn’t just orphaned, but he lost his entire species before he was born. Luz and Eda are the only family he has.

He’s a scared little kid who just wants a family who stays with him. That’s almost exactly how I see Belos stans portray young Philip. And maybe that is indeed how Philip acted when he was King’s age.

Though, crucially, King doesn’t target Luz’s other loved ones and then kill her, only to clone her tons of times and abuse those child clones before murdering them. Because King isn’t a pathetic weirdo bitch.

King grows up. Which, he shouldn’t have had to mature so fast, because unlike Belos, he really IS just a little boy during all this. When his entire world gets shattered, TWICE, he has every reason to think only of himself and cling desperately to everything.

When he learns his entire species was killed, that he’s alone in the universe, it’s even clearer that Luz and Eda are all he has. But he chooses to open up his world and see things more widely, to pay attention and have a deeper understanding of his loved ones.

He becomes more aware of other people and their own lives, his worldview expanded outside himself. He uses that knowledge to reach out to others, like having empathy for the Collector, not condemning him. He tries to help Collie with the lessons he only learned recently.

In the end, King himself sends Luz away to another realm to protect her. All that time swearing he would never let her leave him, but he loves her more than that. He expresses his joy over her having her as a big sister, and he saves her. Because he truly loves her.

King is a CHILD. He couldn’t be faulted for acting more selfishly. It would have been reasonable of him to cling and beg Luz to protect him during King’s Tide, but he was a hero.

Belos never understood actual love like this. Caleb gave it to him, but he didn’t return it. It further emphasizes what a fucked up weirdo Philip is. He hasn’t been a child in hundreds of years. He was an adult who couldn’t learn to think beyond himself and the idealized fantasy narrative of his brother existing for him.

He thinks that any attempts for Caleb to have his own life are an insult to him, that the entire world starts and ends with Philip and his own desires. Hundreds of years and he never learned to see beyond that. He doesn’t feel joy that Caleb was his big brother. Only that he has a right to control and possess, and he will do anything to make it happen. Murder, abuse, enacting sick, petty fantasies.

He even disguises himself as a little kid and clings to Luz, hiding behind and clinging to her, tricking her into caring for him, in Hollow Mind.

Two clingy, anxious, possessive little brothers terrified to be abandoned when the world already took what should have been their family from them. One who matured greatly at only eight years old, and sacrificed everything to protect his older sibling.

And one who maintained a petty, selfish obsession for hundreds of years, colonizing a world and trying to commit genocide, while playing out a sick power fantasy of caretaking and control while screaming about what was taken from him, which was his own doing

Istg, if King wasn’t placed into the “animal companion” category as default, the fandom would have been all over the parallels. I would say “Hey Belos stans! Your cute, sweet, angsty,clingy younger sibling with abandonment issues is right here in King! Make stuff with Titanlights!” but they’d probably hear that and miss the whole damn point.

[red-pill-to-swallow]

Doing your part in a relationship

Hey babes,

it’s Monday – a new, fresh week and the ultimate opportunity to make some changes.

I don’t know why it feels so much better to start a new routine on a Monday than it does on a random Wednesday.

I took some time after I posted my last two posts and really thought about the relationship dynamic between my man and me.

I thought about changes that I would like to make and what could help us to become a better couple.

Honestly, I was pretty shocked after all my thinking because it turns out that my man is the rock in this relationship and I am not sure why he is still sticking around when he could probably do so much better.

But let me explain:

I gave up working in my full-time job around January 2023 and have been home ever since then.

My man was aware that I was totally burned out from my job and offered me that I could stay at home and take care of the household chores.

Previously we used to split the chores around the house roughly 50/50. It was very fair and in some weeks he did more than me and some weeks I did more than him, like it’s in every relationship.

I would say that I am fairly good at housekeeping. I know how to cook, how to clean and how to do laundry.

However – I never before was responsible for everything. From going grocery shopping and planning meals to cleaning the bathrooms every week – suddenly all of this was on me.

I struggle really bad with organizing myself, this was one of the reasons why I was so burned out from my previous job, and I started slacking.

I would do the laundry one day and take three days before I started folding it. My man literally had no underwear one time and flipped out because that’s obviously disgusting and instead of improving – I started to get mad at him.

It wasn’t only the laundry, it also began affecting my cooking – which I loved doing before – and I would start making only frozen meals or just serving cold meat cuts with bread.

We started fighting a lot more because my man was sad, that instead of relaxing at home he would need to help me with my chores – after a full workday.

I had my epiphany a few weeks ago (when I made this blog) and realized that my man has every right to be mad at me. He does his job. I am not.

So, let’s see – my man works really though hours. He leaves the house early in the morning and comes home in the early evening. He’s usually stressed because his job is very demanding and he is responsible for a lot of people.

Imagine coming home to your girlfriend, who’s staying at home, and almost nothing is done. The fridge isn’t restocked, the floor is dirty and there is no food. After your shower you realize that you have no fresh underwear because your girlfriend didn’t wash any.

I would flip out too.

My behavior was/is borderline disrespectful and I am honestly ashamed because of it. I would have broken up with me if I was him.

But here we are – still together and I don’t plan on dodging this second chance.

I think many girls that want the lifestyle of a spoiled girlfriend or a stay at home girlfriend don’t realize how hard it is to organize a whole household on your own.

Yes, there might be some men out there that are so rich that they don’t mind employing staff to help around the house, but I don’t think that this is achievable for a woman in her twenties without having various high value connections in the right circles. At least I don’t have those connections.

I am responsible for keeping the house clean, making food and going grocery shopping. That takes maybe 5 hours of my day and the rest of the time I can do whatever I want.

My man only wants to come home to a clean, organized house with a stocked fridge and possibly a hot meal on the stove.

Honestly – he is the one that is working his ass off every day, not me.

The worst is, that I even started to neglect my appearance. I used to shave every second day and that slowly progressed to only once a week. I used to color my hair religiously and worked out at least three times a week.

Now I haven’t touched up my hair in over three months, my roots are disgusting and I am very ashamed because of it. I mean, even though my man pays for my beauty appointments – I couldn’t get my ass up.

However, I cleaned our whole house today. From the bottom to the top. It’s spotless. I did laundry and went grocery shopping and I made a plan on how to maintain all of those things.

I won’t share the plan just yet because I want to make sure that I can actually follow it before I share it with you.

What should you take with you after reading this rant?

Be careful that you’re always a responsible partner. Don’t be like me. If you’re telling your partner that you plan on doing something – actually follow through and do it. Don’t disappoint them all the time.

Make sure that you acknowledge what they do for you and thank them for it every once in a while.

It is unattractive to be lazy and not being able to keep up with your standards. It’s unfair to your partner to let yourself go and they have every right to be upset about it.

Think before you speak and start an argument. Are you really right? Is it worth to start an argument about something that is your responsibility?

I mean, my man made it clear in the beginning: If I want to stay at home and live a cozy life – I have to take care of the house while he works and provides for us both.

He does his part of the agreement. Every single day.

I’ve only done my part of the agreement when I felt like it and that is not okay. But I am changing and I know that he has already forgiven me for all the hassle.

See you soon

[carrieblmt]

The Name Change…🐍

This blindsided my brain yesterday, so of course I had to rewatch several GO clips/episodes to be sure my brain was braining correctly. And now that I know it is, here’s my most recent epiphany. It involves Crowley’s name change.

Here we have the demonic CRAWLEY, with an A…

…fairly fresh from crawling & slithering around Eden & causing the Fall of Man.

He meets angelic Aziraphale…with whom it can be argued he is immediately smitten when he learns that Aziraphale has just given away his flaming sword:

TELL ME this isn’t the face of a demon in love. You look me in the eye and TELL ME!

Oooo, he’s got it bad.

Fast forward a couple thousand years, and our heroes meet again on the eve of The Flood, where Crawley is still Crawley…

…popping up behind Aziraphale & recognizing him immediately. He expresses his regret that kids are going to be killed in the flood, and we start to sense maybe this demon’s not really quite so terrible. It gives Aziraphale something to think about, too.

The next time our duo come face to face, Crawley has been given a permit to destroy the goats, geese, property & children of blameless Job…

BUT…..does he really WANT to? After all, the goats & geese & kids are just as blameless as Job, maybe even moreso.

And Aziraphale clearly agrees. Not only that, in just the couple interactions he’s had so far with this Fallen Angel, he’s seen Crawley’s ‘soft side.’ AND he remembers the angel Crawley USED to be. So he calls him out on it…

Crawley unflinchingly asserts that he LONGS to strike down the blameless children of blameless Job, leaving Aziraphale to walk away with his head hung low as he questions his character judgement of Crawley. But just moments before he leaves the courtyard, he hears a bleating coming from some crows…and in moments, he’s miracled away the illusion that Crawley had created to disguise Job’s blameless goats.

TELL ME this isn’t the satisfied face of someone whose character judgement has turned out to be correct after all.

Crawley then goes on to help save Job’s children from destruction; and along with the assistance of a lie from Aziraphale, he returns them to Job & Sitis no worse for the wear.

Later, he helps allay Aziraphale’s fears of going to Hell by telling him that *he* won’t tell Hell about Aziraphale’s lie if Aziraphale won’t tell Heaven. And thus, a rather unlikely friendship is born.

NOW we come to the good part.

Ah, who have we here? At their very next meeting following the Job escapade?

Why, it’s Aziraphale and Crawley!

Wait…no. It’s CROWley now…because CRAWLey sounds too slithery.

But is that all? Nay, I say:

CRAWLey dredges up images of him slithering & crawling through Eden tempting Eve and causing Man to Sin.

CROWley, however, brings to mind the scenes of him sparing Job’s goats by turning them into CROWS…and the further moments when he also saved Job’s children.

This big, bad demon wants this glorious angel to REMEMBER THE GOOD IN HIM—and, perhaps, even remind Crowley himself…?—EVERY TIME THE ANGEL SAYS HIS NAME.

CRAWLEY: BAD.

CROWLEY: CAPABLE OF GOOD.

Remember that, Angel.

Headcanon accepted?

[atomicradiogirl]

house md christmas episodes ranked with commentary:

s1e5 damned if you do:

overall: 4.5/5

medical case/patient interest/plot twist: 4/5 pretty interesting patient and case plus the copper IUD allergy twist was sooo smart

hilson: 4.5/5 they had christmas dinner together <3

medical malpractice: 2/5. house’s mistakes were rectified by cuddy, minimal antireligious remarks against nuns, no breaking and entering. house prescribed a patient cigarettes.

christmas spirit: 5/5 christmas songs used throughout and a patient was santa. as christmassy as it can get.

s2e9 deception:

overall: 3/5

medical case/patient interest/plot twist: 3/5 interesting concept but the overall twist wasn’t that shocking or interesting and i didn’t really connect with the patient all that much

hilson: 1/5. they have 2 interactions and they’re all cordial but nothing too special.

medical malpractice: 4.5/5 breaking and entering and obvious HIPAA violations. house flirting with lab staff to get what he wants. house falsified blood tests. poor treatment of a suspected mentally ill patient. house drugged a patient outside of hospital grounds with the risk that it could kill her.

christmas spirit: 1/5 just because it’s christmas time and there are decorations and it’s snowing does NOT make it a christmas episode. there is one christmas song at the end but no one says merry christmas. they wasted my TIME.

s3e10 merry little christmas:

overall: 3.5/5

medical case patient interest/plot twist: 4/5 interesting patients and commentary about disabilities and being “normal” and parenting as a disabled person.

hilson: 2/5 tritter arc plus wilson’s betrayal is so… but i love angst. at least they interact this time. wilson refuses to testify against him though. wilson still wants to spend christmas with house “thought you’d prefer people over pills” but house rejects him :( house ODs on oxy and wilson leaves him alone

medical malpractice: 3.5/5 house makes fun of little people. breaking and entering. HIPAA violation plus being rude to a grieving widow but he’s detoxing so i guess it makes sense. house tries to steal oxy from a dead man.

christmas spirit: 4/5 christmas songs used plus lot of decorations plus snow. christmas tree opening and PPTH has a whole nativity scene in the lobby. tritter wishes house a merry christmas.

s4e10 it’s a wonderful lie:

overall: 4/5

medical case patient interest/plot twist: 2/5 didn’t really care but it went along with house’s “everybody lies” philosophy. house performs a christmas miracle yayyy. the twist was cool

hilson: 4/5 “you are so full of love… or something” they’re so :) they interact a lot in this episode. “happy solstice house” :-)

medical malpractice: 3.5/5 why are foreman and taub questioning people?? house and a patient flirt? going through a patient’s computer.

christmas spirit: 4/5 house throws away all the diagnostic room christmas decorations. christmas songs used. secret santa!!! wilson in the reindeer hat!!!!! “you wouldn’t hang dreidels from a christmas tree” “you could”. house singing “god rest ye merry gentlemen”. house had a christmas epiphany!

s5e11 joy to the world:

overall: 3.5/5

medical case patient interest/plot twist: 3.5/5 general patient case isn’t that interesting but the clinic case of virgin conception was CRAZY (even though it was faked by house but whatever)

hilson: 4/5 wilson’s gift and note “greg - made me think of you” and an antique medical book?? that is sooo cute. also the way that wilson lied about a girl giving house the original gift because he was probably embarrassed to admit it was his but then he admitted it hehehe. house didn’t even open the original present.

medical malpractice: 2/5 shockingly minimal but house did fake a patient’s test results just to win a bet with wilson. cuddy does breaking and entering.

christmas spirit: 4/5 christmas music used. house says merry christmas. i mean it’s christmassy but not like that christmassy.

[starsarefire824]

Fic Recs

In honor of things being shitty in the tag right now and everyone in their depression era, I'm offering a few fic recs in these trying times. Hope you discover something new, friends. 🖤

the comforts that make us feel numb by passerine_in_jade.

“No, but really. If I were a girl,” Mike presses on, looking up at Will with red-rimmed eyes through dark lashes. Leaning in. Somehow, fully unaware that this line of questioning has Will's heart climbing up to his throat. “Would you want to kiss me?”

or, Will and Mike get high in the desert.

Well written, almost dreamy quality to it. Author to watch for me! Can't believe I only just discovered their writing.

A Wish For Something More by @waroftheposes

Seven year old Will didn't have a problem with kissing his best friend on a dare. Seventeen year old Will, however, would not do it if someone held his hand over a fire.

Or: Truth or dare at seven and truth or dare at seventeen.

They're silly and sweet and oh so confused. The writing is lovely as well. Great if you're in the mood for fluff.

On the Same Frequency by @oldfashionedmorphine

Ever since his best friend Will Byers was murdered back in 1985, Mike Wheeler wanted nothing more than to leave his hometown of Hawkins, Indiana and never look back—only each and every year he’s forced to make an exception when it comes to the holidays. And when Mike visits for Christmas in 1995, his mom asks him to help clear out some junk in his room and down in the basement before he returns home to Indianapolis. But when he comes across an old trunk containing his Supercom walkie-talkie and ham radio, he discovers something strange that has the potential to change everything…

(or an AU inspired by the movie “Frequency” from 2000)

I'm only just starting this, but Frequency au?? Hell yes.

Fleeting by olliecoddle. @souverian-are-we

Mike liked Will’s art shows, albeit slightly less the higher class they had gotten. Little paintings in the corner of a cafe morphed into white walls and rich spectators poised with champagne and well-mannered criticism. Still, he had been looking forward to it. He wanted to go. But now, walking up to the glass doors, he had to admit he felt jittery.

or, Will's new paintings are a little too personal

This is one of my absolute favorites ever. The writing of course, it's ollie. But the descriptions, the entire buildup of Mike's reaction in the art gallery, the content of the painting? The entire concept is beautiful. And be sure to look up the painting Will's was inspired by. It will tell you everything.

any semblance of touch by anonymous.

“Nothing,” Will says, right into Mike’s ear. “Still feeling good?”

So good. Mike makes sure to not say it aloud this time. “I think,” Mike says slowly, heart pounding, “I need” — Will pulls back just a little, just enough for their noses to bump against each other, clumsy, and Mike bites the bullet — “one more.”

Will is still in Mike’s lap, which is maybe not very platonic of him, and the joint has smoldered its way down to the end, nearly over, all eaten up by the fire. Will swallows thickly, then leans closer, a perfect imitation of their positions from earlier. Mike isn’t sure how long it’s been, but fire has been eating away at him too, this whole time, leaving him on the brink of going up in smoke, slow and burning and so good.“Yeah?” Will murmurs, realization dawning on him, eyes wide. “One more?”

or: Mike’s still new to this whole smoking thing. Will has a few ideas.

Utterly depressing this is anonymous because the writing is phenomenal. So alive and vivid. Not sure where this fic was hiding, but I'm glad I found it. Highlights: Mike’s inner dialogue, the playfulness between them, the lowered inhibitions finally letting them relax into the moment.

nosebleeds from epiphanies (i took full in the face) by wheelersboy @karenchildress.

Hawkins, Montana, June 1988. When Lonnie Byers catches his youngest son in the arms of another boy, he calls in that favor owed to him by rancher Jim Hopper in Lenora: Will must work as an unpaid ranch hand and learn to "man up." Mike Wheeler follows him to the creepy ranch with electrical problems, like any best friend would.

jo's writing is always fantastic. he has such a unique voice and mike's struggle in this just does things for me.

When The Sun Runs Out by olliecoddle @souverian-are-we

On a dreary day in March, 1989 the population of Hawkins, Indiana dropped to four. Will Byers watched as the final family left, the bed of their truck packed to the brim and tied down with a tarp. Furniture stuck out at odd angles, and the corner flap flailed in the breeze as they turned onto the highway. Will followed the vehicle with his eyes until it disappeared as a dot on the long stretch of pavement. Then, he got in his car and went home.

Or, Will is burning out, and Mike is mesmerized by the flame.

This was sexy as hell and all I'm gonna say is tattoos. I really enjoyed this little rougher around the edges, let down by life, closed off Will after being left in Hawkins alone with El, Hopper, and Joyce to wait for the end of the world that never seems to come.

dirty rain by henrycreel

mike wheeler is an average alpha teenage boy working on keeping tight control of his raging hormones in the wake of being seventeen years old, unmated, and a virgin who's never spent his rut with anyone before. when one of his teachers makes an innocent request of him, he finds himself spiraling almost right away. the omega sitting next to him in class is going to be his omega one way or another even if it means employing some traditional and unconventional means to show him who he belongs to.

will byers is an omega with a tendency toward anxiety and outright fear, marked by years of abuse at the hands of his father. high school should be a chance to open a new chapter for himself, but he only truly finds comfort sitting next to mike, an alpha whose presence seems to keep the usual mocking and bullying at bay. but when mike starts to cross the line from friendly classmate into so much more, will has no time to decide if he's ready to move on to a relationship of his own, to finding a mate to settle down with like his big brother already has.

mike is making the decision for both of them.

A solid Omegaverse fic! <3

[hollygl125]

On Gil Grissom’s devastation:

A few weeks back I had an epiphany about Grissom—except, of course, it really wasn’t anything new; it was just that I felt it. I really, really felt it.

Obviously we know Grissom is upset (disappointed, distraught, devastated, other “d” words, etc., I’m sure) when he learns Sara is dating Hank (03x02). We’ve already seen him go off and stew (while listening to his Italian opera) an episode earlier (03x01) just over Hank’s apparent interest in Sara. We know he doesn’t really respond well to it at all (03x03).

I kind of think of Grissom as a wounded animal during this time (actually, for most of the time before he and Sara finally get together in Vegas), hurt and flailing and very much not knowing what to do (and as such I think I may tend to forgive him his trespasses more easily than some).

But, for as much as I’ve always understood intellectually how he must have been really hurting during this time, I think that’s always been tempered by thoughts along the line of, “Oh, you big goof of a genius, she’d be yours at the drop of a hat—the snap of your fingers—whatever!” (This is not to say that I think Grissom would or should be snapping his fingers for her, of course!)

But then a few weeks ago I had the thought—the feeling—of what it would be like to think you have this . . . connection . . . with someone—someone 15 years your junior—and then to realize, no, in fact that person is dating someone their own age (Christopher Wiehl, aka the Bad Hank, is actually a year younger than Jorja Fox), who is better looking (not my opinion or Sara’s, but I’m sure Grissom’s) and basically just more eligible in every way (ditto). I was imaging if I were in that kind of position in my own life, and I have to say that I would just be so, so devastated (and, honestly, so, so, so humiliated).

And then you remember that it’s Grissom, who’s always being told that he’s terrible at dealing with people, who’s completely convinced of his own ineptitude and unsuitability for love and relationships, who’s convinced he’s this dark character that he really isn’t.

So he’s madly in love with Sara, but he thinks she’s 1000 times too good for him, and he’s satisfied himself with having just this work thing with her, because he’s 100% convinced that he’d ruin anything more serious, that he’d give up everything for her and eventually she’d realize all his flaws and leave him.

Of course, if he weren’t so bad at all this, he’d realize that she’s just as madly in love with him, that she’d follow him to her dying breath if he let her, that him keeping her close but not too close has been hurting her terribly, too.

If her were a bit better at all this, he’d see this. But he’s not. For whatever reason(s), he’s completely convinced of his own worthlessness—his own unworthiness—in this respect. So he has just been satisfying himself with having this mutual work bond with Sara, and he thinks they have this . . . connection . . . that there is something between them . . . and then he finds out she’s actually dating this young stud? He’s just this foolish old man who’s deluded himself that this perfect, brilliant, beautiful young woman who works for him and whom he loves could possibly feel something for him, too? (Sure, maybe for a little while . . . when he was younger and more impressive, as an eminent conference speaker . . .)

Honestly I think he’d feel completely stupid and completely heartbroken. I know he doesn’t handle it well. I know that. But my goodness his devastation would have been immense.

[ask-nico-and-the-sides]

I want to apologize.

The ending of season one is posted. I’m not proud of its quality, but I provided a possible ending, even as ambiguous as it is. I got to the point where I started really hating the stuff I was writing as I felt like there was too much I had to wrap up (along with an epiphany that stuff in my personal life is getting to be too much to manage everything), but I felt like I owed you guys some kind of conclusion to the Janus thing… I have a habit of getting bored with my writing right at the conclusion and never coming back, and leaving the story where it was would have been unfair to the people who trusted me to provide a conclusion. So even if it isn’t the conclusion I had hoped, it’s a conclusion, and I hope you can find some satisfaction in that fact.

As for a season two, I do plan to take that route unless there is any strong pushback against it, but I’m taking a quick break first. Season 2 will be returning to the old lighthearted mood, I hope at least, and will most likely center more around Nico. (And of course, it will be resolving the thing between Logan and Cyrus, I know we all love them!)

My apology goes out to everyone who loves my work and were disappointed with the end of season one. I’m sorry if any of my passion for this blog started feeling like it was fading, because honestly it was, but I didn’t want it to. I’m hoping that as I take this step forward into the hopefully-less-filled-with-angst season 2, I feel more ready to supply an experience that I can feel proud of and one that you can find tons of fun in!

Thank you for your support,

Admin

[mistchievous]

Happy Thursday! I come bearing gifts!

A collection of one-shots by the wonderful @extasiswings as a fic book you can purchase with beautiful cover art from @like-the-rest-of-la. If you're interested, please send me a DM for the link!

This book includes the following Buddie one-shots for your enjoyment:

fire on fire • 6.7k

"You’re sleeping with him.” “I’m not—” Eddie rolls his eyes and corrects himself halfway through. “I’m not sleeping with him like that, okay?” Sophia looks at him for a long moment as her gaze turns from teasing to thoughtful. “But you want to be. Right?” [Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.]

With A Little Help From My Friends • 2.9k

“You know…several of us parents get together once, maybe twice a month or so. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. I can add you to the email chain.” Not for the first time that day, Eddie’s surprised. It’s not that he’s opposed, more that the invitation is unexpected. He’s not particularly social—when he is it’s with the team or with Buck or with his family, all of them in each other’s houses, in each other’s lives both at work and away from it. Outside of them… It occurs to him that he’s never really known how to make friends. [Or: Eddie makes friends outside of work and realizes that Buck might not, in fact, be just a friend]

unfold me (tell me you love me) • 2.4k

Eddie follows the sound of running water to the kitchen. He stops in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and spends a moment just watching Buck scrub potatoes in the sink until the other man glances up and notices him. “Hey,” Buck greets. “Chris is reading in his room, I’m just working on dinner. How was the date?” God, I love you, Eddie thinks, and nearly has to bite his tongue to keep it to himself. [Or: Eddie goes on a date and has some realizations about what he really wants.]

for all the perfect things I doubt • 5.2k

Evan Buckley is really good in bed. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t.

dream of some epiphany • 7.4k

Evan Buckley is lost. It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door. Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name. Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

of men and of angels • 13.5k

For now we see in a mirror, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know fully even as also I was fully known. - 1 Corinthians 13:12 Eddie Diaz learns a lot as a kid. Boys aren’t soft. Boys don’t cry. Boys don’t kiss boys. As he gets older, he realizes that everything has exceptions. Boys can be soft sometimes. Boys can cry sometimes. And some boys kiss other boys. But Eddie likes kissing girls. And since he likes kissing girls, that’s the end of the story. Isn’t it? [Or: the one with all the repression]

translate the magic (show me) • 8.1k

“I think I might be bad in bed.” Eddie rolls that thought around in his head, trying to decide the best way to respond, weighing the options of what Buck needs to hear versus how to say it. It’s not a conversation he wants to be having, is part of the problem. Thinking about Buck desperately seeking connection through fleeting sexual encounters with strangers already makes him swallow back a wave of petty jealousy and possessiveness. But there’s an added level of insult to injury to the idea that Buck wasn’t even having good sex. Which maybe explains why despite his initial commitment to delicacy and tact, what comes out of Eddie’s mouth is— “You probably were. Bad at it.” Buck’s eyes widen, a strangled noise sounding from his throat. “Don’t pull any punches,” he shoots back as he hunches in the chair and drains the last dregs of his beer. “I didn’t mean it like that.” [Or: the one where Buck has a crisis and Eddie teaches him what good sex really is]

paint me a heaven with your bloodied mouth • 3.3k

Buck. Four letters. One syllable. Eddie knows it’s a nickname. He doesn’t know why Buck picked it or why Buck seems to use it exclusively, but he figures it isn’t really his business. And also that it probably isn’t that deep—all of them use nicknames at work or otherwise in their daily lives. Eddie himself might find it weird if anyone outside of his immediate family suddenly started using his full name regularly after so many years of only rarely hearing it from anyone else. So. Eddie calls Buck Buck. And he doesn’t think anything of it. At least…not at first.

all my atoms • 3.9k

Every atom of me and every atom of you...we'll live in birds and flowers and dragonflies and pin trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams...and when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won't just be able to take one, they'll have to take two. There are three things every child learns about daemons: Don’t ask questions or talk about another person’s daemon—it’s rude. Don’t put too much distance between yourself and your daemon—it’ll hurt. Under no circumstances should you ever touch someone else’s daemon. Simple. Straightforward. Easy to remember, easier to follow. That’s what Eddie thinks of the rules.

half agony, half hope • 4.4k

“My brother does look well tonight, doesn’t he?” Adriana asks, changing the subject as they turn. Her eyes spark with mischief when Buck hums idly in agreement. “Strange that bruise on his neck, though. I can’t imagine how he could have gotten such a thing.” “Perhaps his fencing partner got a bit overzealous,” he offers, despite knowing that won’t be good enough for her to drop it. [Or, after four seasons, the ton remains baffled that no engagement appears forthcoming between Viscount Buckley and the youngest sister of the Duke of Cederhall. But perhaps they should be paying more attention to the viscount and the duke himself...]

safety and home • 3.1k

The thing Eddie remembers most about the shooting isn’t the shot itself, or the pain, or even the fear—it’s the cold. He’s been through enough in his life to know that his subconscious works in weird ways. After Afghanistan he dreamed more directly of burning helicopters and gunfire, blood in his mouth and smoke on his tongue. Shadows and screams and guilt. After the well his dreams were of Christopher, Shannon, waves crashing on a beach. And Buck. Sunlight. This time...this time Eddie dreams of drowning. [For the prompt: "I'll keep you warm."]

light the dynamite • 1.6k

Buck shivers as he thinks back to earlier in the day, at the way Eddie snapped his name like a whip across the radio when he did exactly what Eddie and Bobby both had told him not to do. At the frosty glad to hear it, Firefighter Buckley, when Buck called dispatch back to tell Eddie he was fine if a little bruised. At the way Eddie had called him at the end of the shift, voice low and quiet and commanding, hooking deep beneath Buck’s skin and stealing the breath from his lungs until all he could manage was a rasping acknowledgment before hanging up. It could be seconds, or minutes, or an hour more, but finally the bedroom door clicks open and— “So you do know how to follow instructions,” Eddie says, the edge in his voice not quite sharp enough to cut but a warning nonetheless. “I was wondering.”

show your cards • 2.7k

“What was this tonight?” Buck rasps, his voice rough as sandpaper to his own ears. Eddie’s lips quirk as his eyes flick to somewhere just to the left of Buck’s ear like he can’t respond if he’s looking at Buck outright. “It was dinner, Buck,” he says. “Dinner and a poker game.” And Buck could leave it there. Honestly, he probably should leave it there, leave it alone, let it drop despite the fact that he can practically taste the lie in the air. But he’s too warm and his pulse is so fast that he’s dizzy with it and Eddie is so close that Buck can’t breathe so he can’t help himself— “Eddie.” His voice cracks. Eddie looks back at him, meets his gaze. Slowly, with more than enough time for Buck to move or to stop him, Eddie brings a hand up to curl around Buck’s shoulder, his thumb brushing Buck’s neck in a way that lights up every inch of his skin. “Tonight was whatever you want it to be,” Eddie corrects finally. “No more, no less.”

you make my heart beat • 1.9k

Eddie Diaz knows two things: 1) he's a great nurse; and 2) he does not fall for patients. After spending five months with Evan Buckley...well. Maybe that second one is a little more of an open question.

graveyard whistling (and why things hurt) • 3.2k

“Eddie?” Buck’s hand touches his shoulder and Eddie inhales sharply and comes back to himself. His eyes flick back to the phone—the screen now dimmed and black—then settle on the counter next to it as he swallows hard. “You okay?” Buck asks quietly. “She died today,” Eddie replies. “And I forgot. I forgot that it was today.”

only human, nothing more • 1.9k

It’s stupid maybe, but it feels a little like something happens in that chair. They cut away the softness and leave behind sharp regulation edges and it doesn’t stop Eddie from being afraid, but it...helps. Helps him pretend. Helps him fall into the role of someone who is responsible, someone who knows what they’re doing, someone who— Someone who is in control. (Stupid, maybe. Stupid, definitely, is what he settles on years later when he’s back from war, trapped in his own head and drowning on dry land, because regulation edges make him flinch when he looks in the mirror and he knows no haircut in the world is going to help him fake his way back to normalcy. So he just lets it grow again. It doesn’t matter anyway.) [Or: Eddie introspection through the seasons as explored through haircuts]

It’s 5.5 x 8.5 in. and 319 pages.

Of course, no money is being made off of this collection. Here's the evidence of that:

(For other 9-1-1 fic books, check out @tsoanatural's fic book tag here. For "Stuck on Fast Forward (Throw Away the Blueprint)" by @extasiswings, you can check out my post here.)

[giggly-squiggily]

Hi squiggly!!! I’m excited you’ve started taking requests again ❤️ Can I request for Demon Slayer: a Lee!Gyomei and a Ler!ChaosTrio (Tengen, Rengoku and Mitsuri) ?

Hope you have a wonderful day!~❤️

I've been combining alot of fics lately- apologies for that- but these three prompts all said Lee!Gyomei and Y'ALL..I had an epiphany. I hope y'all like it! :D

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @backy-san @t-wordiiish @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mystwrites

Gyomei was known for two big things: incredible strength and tears.

It was no secret the gentle giant was a big bag of emotions beneath those steel muscles. A good chunk of the time you’ll always see him with tears streaming down his face, his head bowed in prayer as he whispered to beings beyond this world.

Still, today seemed…off. It wasn’t just that he was sad, but Gyomei looked…numb. His face was dry, but etched with sorrow so deep and painful it was hard to look upon it without feeling like crying yourself. He was only around long enough to greet the master before he was off to the waterfalls, leaving his fellow Hashira watching with wide, worried eyes.

“What’s going on, Master? Did something happen?” Sanemi was the first to speak- he was quick like that.

“It’s…complicated.” Kagaya offered, something pained in his smile as he turned his head towards the direction Gyomei left. “Gyomei is my oldest friend, and because of that- I will not share his sorrow. Do be kind to him these days; he is going through a great deal.”

No one knew what “A great deal” implied, nor did they really need to be told to be kind. For the most part, they let him be today; knowing he preferred his solitude.

In time, however- that was going to change.

~~~

“Kaw! Master Kagaya wishes to see you! Kaw!” Gyomei’s crow cawed from above, guiding Gyomei to the mansion. It had been a few days since…his disappearance. While he felt better, he was far from happy. Shame curled in his belly at leaving so abruptly- how could he just walk out on the master like that?

It was the pain in the other’s he felt that moved his feet. He could sense their ache for him and it became…overwhelming.

He should apologize to all of them. Would that help?

Just as he thought this, something brushed against the back of his neck. Pausing, Gyomei reached back, figuring it was a leaf or possibly a bug.

Nothing. Odd. He went to leave-

There it was again! Something soft and ticklish. Definitely a bug. He reached back, but the ticklish insect had already creeped up to his ears, prodding along the backs and making him shudder. “Wha-heheahhahha what is thahhaht?” He tried to grab it gently but it was far too fast, switching from ear to ear with rapid pace.

Something slithered against his skin, adding to the tickles. Ah, so that’s what that was.

“Iihihihihigurohoohoho! Whahahaht are you dohohohohoing?”

“Figured it was me?” The tickles stopped, the slithering retreating until he was completely free of the invasion. Obanai’s hand reached out and patted his shoulder before the sound of leaves followed. Gyomei was alone once more.

“How..odd.” He decided before going on his way.

~~~

“Gyomei-san! Good morning!” Shinobu’s sweet voice greeted him next on his walk to the master’s. He smelled salt water- Giyu was with her? “Come, come- have a cup of tea before you go!”

“Oh, but I shouldn’t keep the master waiting-” Gyomei began, but a warm cup was pressed into his hand, smaller ones pulling him along until he found himself sitting on a bench. “Well…for a moment.”

“Yes yes- having tea with friends is lovely. Isn’t that right, Tomioka-san?”

Giyu seemed surprised by this- Gyomei could feel him startle beside him. “Yes, it is.”

It would be rude not to drink. Gyomei raised the cup to his lips, taking a small sip. Then he drank some more, finishing the cup in one gulp. “That was lovely. Thank you so much, Kocho, Tomioka.” He reached out to give the cup back when fingers suddenly poked at his sides, making him stiffen. The cup tumbled from his hands, likely to break. “Ah! AHehahaha- whhahait, the cuuuhuhuhp!”

“I got it- you big klutz.” Sanemi was here? Gyomei didn’t even notice. “It must have been a good cup if you drank it so fast, huh?”

“Sanemi is quite good at making tea.” Giyu added softly.

“You two must have it often then.”

“We do not!”

“Hmmmm~”

Gyomei would have added his own opinion to the matter had he not been attacked by multiple fingers at once. “Plehahahhase, I muuhuhust seheehehe the mahhahahhaster!”

“Sure sure- let’s just make sure you’re ready for him. Hehehe.” Sanemi’s snickers were drowned out by Gyomei’s growing chuckles.

~~~

“How peculiar…what is going on today?” Gyomei mused when he finally escaped, sides tingling from the attack. The tea was quite lovely- and he was fed snacks after; all made by Sanemi. Tickles for a snack break?

First Obanai, then Shinobu and the boys? What was…

Oh.

Oh dear.

“GO!” Tengen roared from his left. Three pairs of feet were running full speed at him from three different directions. Had this been a demon, Gyomei would have been fine- knocking them aside with ease.

But as this was his fellow Hashira…

“Oof!” He yelped when Mitsuri hit his back, legs coming around his torso like a vice. Rengoku was on his right, grabbing onto a leg with a booming “Gotcha!” while Tengen finished the grip from his left. “You’ve got me. Now- what are you three up to?”

“No time to talk- team chaos: Attack!” Tengen commanded, and within seconds Gyomei was being ambushed by tickles once more. Mitsuri was scribbling her nails into his neck and ears while Tengen went for his upper ribs and armpits. Rengoku was at the base, squeezing his knee with all his might- so much so Gyomei dropped to the other one.

“Ohoohoohohooho gohohoohhodnehehehehhehess! Uuhuhuhuzui, Kahahhhanrohoohohji, Rehehehhengoku, plehahahhhahse!” Gyomei wheezed, giggling up a storm as he resisted the urge to move. This was the worst attack yet! They seemed to have learned all his tickle spots! How did…

It all came together now.

~~~

“Ah, there you are Gyomei. I’m pleased you’ve come.” Kagaya smiled in his direction as Gyomei took a knee, bowing. “Please, there’s no need for formalities. We are old friends, afterall.”

“Mas-...Kagaya. I apologize for my behavior the past few days. It was disrespectful of me to just leave so abruptly. I can understand now why you did what you’ve done.”

“Did what…huh?” Kagaya tilted his head, blinking. “What did I do?”

“Hm? You didn’t order the others to…?” Gyomei paused, equally confused. They sat in silence for a good few minutes.

Then…

“Pfft- Ohohoohohoho! Oh yes- now I remember!” Kagaya laughed, the sound unclenching Gyomei’s chest. “I didn’t give any orders, no, but young Uzui had came to me with questions regarding your…sensitivity.”

“Kagaya! You ratted me out!” The idea was so absurd he forgot to be formal. The  master giggled like a child, caught in the act with little shame.

“I merely mentioned a few spots to try. Come, Gyomei- I think you and I both can agree this was necessary.” Patting the spot beside him, he invited his oldest friend to join him. Gyomei wasted no time, taking a seat a step below so they were shoulder level. “Forgive me- you seemed so sad lately. It was the only thing I could think of to help.”

“A trick- and here I thought becoming the master would rid you of those.” Gyomei couldn’t bring himself to be angry- he was rather impressed really. Pleased too, knowing it wasn’t a punishment but rather an attempt to be kind. “I had quite the day with everyone- I wasn’t spared by a single soul.”

“Good. That shows you how much we care about you.” To emphasize his point, he scribbled a few fingers into the crook of Gyomei’s neck, making him scrunch away. “If you ever need time, Gyomei, please don’t be afraid to ask. You’re my dear friend first and one of my Hashira second. I never wish for you to suffer in silence.”

“....Thank you, master.” Tears rolled down his cheeks once more, but something warm was in his expression this time. He reached out, taking Kagaya’s hand within his own like he was handling a bird. “I appreciate it very much.”

Thanks for reading!