#Inner Words Used

[brainrot-jikan]

im not the biggest alhaitham/kaveh shipper (because im a rare pair ho) but it seems to me that in alhaitham/kaveh getting-together fics tend to be... unequal.

the beautiful thing about alhaitham and kaveh is that they're both equally right and equally wrong and equally dicks about it. but the writers for alhaitham/kaveh much more frequently seem to give alhaitham the burden change (the burden of the character flaw) instead of kaveh.

in any good character arc, the main character has a fatal flaw or misconception, and by the end of that arc they have addressed that flaw in some definitive way. scrooge was a scrooge and learned that being that way was detrimental; merlin from finding nemo was overprotective to a fault and had to learn that he couldn't (and shouldn't) control everything and to let go; the wolf from little red riding hood learns that you should stop while you're ahead.

stories centering around romance tend to lean heavily on character arcs, which makes sense. and since romance generally requires two individuals to be vulnerable and open and emotional with each other, it makes double sense that alhaitham/kaveh authors zoom straight into alhaitham's lack of emotional vulnerability.

this bothers me.

in society, individuals are expected to experience and present emotions in a specific way. if someone dies, you cry. if someone smiles at you, you smile back. if you're at a party, you're supposed to be having fun. if you don't do these things, you're seen as impolite at best and a inhuman freak at worst. when these behaviors are frequent it's often viewed as emotional immaturity, or a lack of ability to feel at all. the inability or lack of willingness to conform to societies emotional expectations of you is seen as a flaw and a reason for exclusion.

alhaitham is canonically disliked and avoided for being the way he is. he prefers it this way, but that doesn't mean the people perpetuating this avoidance are in the right. they are the societal pressure to conform that alhaitham blows off. alhaitham could be the way he is for a lot of reasons: avoidant attachment style, trauma, following someone else's example (eg. his grandmother), or just his base personality. it doesn't MATTER. he is the way he is. kaveh having to accept that should be part of the story.

putting the burden of the fatal flaw on alhaitham, making the way alhaitham treats kaveh and the people around him the problem, feels invalidating. it implies heavily that alhaitham's way of interfacing with the world, alhaitham's very SELF, is incorrect. my suggestion is to flip a larger portion of that burden onto kaveh. kaveh 👏 character 👏 arcs 👏

some examples/recommendations:

- make kaveh project his insecurities onto other people but especially onto alhaitham; he's overly reliant on other people for his own self worth, and he perceives alhaitham's lack of positive feedback as a direct reflection of how alhaitham feels about him. but learns along the way that alhaitham doesn't hate him, kaveh's actual struggle is with hating himself and being unable to his own self as worthy of love. maybe throw in how you are responsible for your own recovery, other people can help but you can't rely on them to carry you through self actualization.

- or, kaveh tries to make alhaitham behave more like a "normal" person, to be more pleasant and emotive and forthcoming, and then realizes he's in the wrong for trying to make alhaitham into something he's not, possibly for all the wrong reasons (not because he likes alhaitham better like that, but bc society says that's healthier and a better/more conforming way to be)

- or you could go ahead make alhaitham's issues the main problem but they're too complicated to overcome in a short period of time, so kaveh has to accept alhaitham is doing his best in his own way and not push for unrealistic and unhealthy changes. he could alter his own behavior to give alhaitham space and time and a safe place to land.

that got sappy so it's past time for me to dip out. go forth and ship things; but maybe consider letting alhaitham be a rude stone-faced bastard if he wants to be.

[crazy-fangirl2524]

Andrew Minyard puts on his black combat boots and black armbands. He wears his black hoodie because Andrew is not like other boys. His newest teammate Neil Josten has an aura of danger that Andrew knows he is better off not getting close. But Andrew cannot help it. He is like a moth drawn to a flame. Neil’s untamed auburn hair that is never styled yet it is messy in an effortless way and his big blue orbs that must have a lot of hidden secrets. Andrew knows he should not play with fire but with that toned body Andrew minyard can not stay away.

Whatever, not like Neil josten would notice him anyways. He is the outcast in his teams and no one likes him. Neil josten would not care about him.

Imagine Andrew’s surprise when Neil josten joins him on the roof and shares his secrets. Andrew is right, Neil has a very dark past that is even darker than Andrew’s. Neil is involved in the mafia! But because Andrew is not like other boys he does not care and promise to protect Neil even though Andrew probably cannot do anything if anything happens. Neil probably has to be the one to save Andrew.

Neil also turns out to be loaded and he buys Andrew a car when his was destroyed and Andrew cannot say no to a Maserati.

Everyone else on the team is so shock when super attractive good looking Neil josten will choose to be with someone like Andrew minyard but Neil does not care and growls at anyone that says anything bad about Andrew.

[downbaddetective]

Soooo... uh, this happened. The Cat King seems to have possessed me momentarily so as to wax poetics about his favorite ghost? This is also without much editing, so I'm sorry if it's kinda bad. All mistakes are my own, and so are all of my commas that you can try and pry from my cold, dead hands. (Please be nice, I haven't written anything but essays for the world to see in a looooooong time. The Howl's Moving Castle AU will probably benefit from me practicing a little before diving headfirst into it, so...) This can be read in any way you'd like, but I see this as pre-relationship Catwin.

Edwin had been at it for hours, staring into the void of... something. Something there in the middle distance that Thomas desperately wishes was him in moments only known to himself. Longing to be at the center focus of that gaze. Stupidly gorgeous, intelligent eyes that would without hesitation cut him down if the urge struck.

Thomas regrets the gift now. The stupid coin ('drachma', a familiar voice sounded in his mind. Even when in the same room, he still plagues his thoughts, unbelievable!). The coin has been worn smooth with handling, and age wasn't doing the damned thing any favors. But, oh, it was mesmerizing to watch quick fingers passing it amongst themselves. Edwin's hands were always busy, not unlike his own, so it only seemed natural to offer tribute to the force of nature that was and is Edwin Payne.

The coin itself wasn't anything of any significance; in fact, Edwin would probably be able to say more about it now with its smoothed over faces than Thomas would have had the day he obtained it. But significance has been bestowed upon the soft metal simply by making contact with just about the only deity that Thomas would pray to in this day and age, time only having made him jaded and guarded since the last time he dared.

"Thomas?" And no, he takes it back, green eyes sear through him once more, and he remembers why he shies away every time. And the name, gods that name, his name, in the possession of the first in his long, long life that he hoped would choose to keep him. The facade slips back into place quickly, but before he could respond, the ghost is already continuing, "Heads or tails?"

"Oh, talk dirty to me, kitten."

Edwin raises one unimpressed brow but merely asks once more, "Head or tails?"

The coin is still being woven between his fingers, but now the Cat King of Port Townsend has had his prayers answered, Edwin Payne's unwavering focus entirely trained on him. And he had meant it all those moons ago when he had told the detective that want and pleasure and punishment were not mutually exclusive. This right here had to be punishment, to want something, someone, so badly and yet have to look away or risk being blinded.

"Don't know what I'm playing for, sweetheart. You know I don't work like that."

Edwin's face shifted ever so slightly, just enough that Thomas could see the hellfire burning deep down within him, that thing that saved him, that got him out of hell the first time, alone. And, for a brief moment, Thomas took the time to pray again, this time to anyone listening that, for once, Thomas would be allowed to keep Edwin right back.

"Heads..." and in a movement too quick for even the cat in him to catch, the coin is flicked up in the air at an impressive height and is caught by Edwin's palm flat to the desk in front of him. "Or tails, Thomas? Or do you distrust me that much?"

It truly is pathetic how that gets his heart racing.

"You should know me by now, kitten."

"Tails then, is it?"

One slight nod of the head was sufficient enough for him, apparently, because Edwin's hand began to lift off... of nothing. He could feel his face contort in confusion before he could school his features. And looking back up to the ghost's face, he saw what he could only describe as childlike glee in place of the fire that had been there earlier.

"You think you're clever, don't you?"

" I happen to know I'm clever. I don't see how that has any relevance right now."

"Okay, so now what, hmm? Are you going to pull it out from behind my ear now?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You would know if it was behind your ear."

Would he, though? Edwin took up all of his senses when he was around so Edwin could drop a house on him, and he probably wouldn't notice (probably). But he looked at Thomas expectantly. Even through the playfulness, a challenge has been issued, a puzzle to be solved. 'Find it.' his eyes told him.

And so he closed his eyes. He had used magic that much was obvious, but Edwin was still novice on pockets and travel that didn't involve mirrors, so it couldn't have gone very far. And... no. No, that was too easy, probably a diversion to make him look foolish. But still, he could taste the faint ozone on his tongue.

Thomas stood and leaned over the desk, bracing himself with the arm that wasn't reaching for, arguably, the bigger trickster of the two. For his part, Edwin was keeping eye contact, his face not betraying him one bit. And Thomas is so very grateful to have witnessed this kitten learn that he has claws.

And the only thing Thomas, The Cat King of Port Townsend could do in this moment was once again pray to any and every deity listening that Edwin would want to keep him and that he would be able to keep him right back.

Edwin's eyes flutter closed momentarily when the heat of Thomas' hand passed close by the side of his face. He was right, though. There's a little bit of buzzing energy right behind his ear. He grabs the coin out of the pocket that Edwin had created, out from behind his ear.

He offered up the coin once more as tribute to this beautiful creature in front of him. Edwin took it carefully from his hand with a faint grin on his face.

[mishy-mashy]

Do you think Banjo is the type of person who hides his problems behind a clown mask?

The guy acts like a bit of comedy relief, but I think he's the kind of person to face his problems head-on. I don't think he uses humor as a coping mechanism. We never see him do that for himself. He's just a loud guy

Look at how he first appears to Midoriya

He's loud, and it steals Midoriya's attention. But he's calling him out on why he's messing up

But as a character's debut, the first things he does are:

Call out Midoriya for trying to do things alone, when Yoichi's first message to him was that he wasn't

Tell him that if he can compose himself, things typically work out

Understands Midoriya's side of things, and tells him he knows (like lacking a mouth)

And once he says those two previous things, he exhales, and his eyes show their pupils properly

The parting advice he gives Midoriya is a reiteration of the second point: It's okay to be mad. What's important is controlling your heart.

Blackwhip is a Quirk that responds to the holder's emotions. Like other Quirks, but Blackwhip goes out of control when the user isn't able to get a grip on themselves

Banjo used his Quirk effectively. He'd have to live that advice to pass it on to Midoriya, back when Abilities were starting to become normal, but Japan was still wrecked. And we know that Quirks are influenced by, and influence, the holder's personality.

Banjo would have to be able to be honest with himself, understand his emotions, and has the maturity to say it's okay to be mad. Just control it.

When he said that for the first time, it actually surprised me. Everyone in fiction or reality says "Don't be mad", but a character on his debut and says it's okay to be that. I never heard anyone say that controlling your emotions and outputting them in a healthy manner is what matters. People just say not to he negative or annoying, because it's inconvenient; but Banjo went past that.

And when he fades, he tells Midoriya he's got this. He reminds him that they're all behind him.

Whenever he speaks, he doesn't make the receiver feel bad, or speak down to them. He understands them, and gives the next step in a familiar, friendly way.

On his debut, he told Midoriya to control his heart, and to remember he wasn't alone. Here, he tells him he should try understanding their Quirks better.

He's actually got a mature way of seeing things. He's an adult, and being the holder between Shinomori and En, he wouldn't be able to deal with either of them if he wasn't mature about himself. Shinomori probably wouldn't choose someone who can't be honest with himself upfront, after spending almost half his life for OFA. And En is young, prone to panic, and a guy who acts like his problems aren't there or funny wouldn't help that.

I can visualize Banjo sitting at a small fire with Shinomori, having an honest, calm talk about life (until Shinomori says the wrong thing and Banjo yells something about it). But not Banjo trying to push his problems down with a hearty laugh, and Shinomori being okay with that.

When Midoriya used his Quirk for the first time, Banjo did get loud at the start, but he did lecture him in a way that was kinda teacher-mentor-ish.

I actually like the way Banjo talks about his observances. He's got the demeanor of a good teacher, he's clear, and direct. He's light-hearted about serious things, but doesn't diminish them. He just approaches it in a way that you aren't feeling the pressure, and can feel like it's possible.

He seems to have this habit of being loud to get people's attention, and simmers down once he has it. He's never indirect or leaving the addressed to figure out the answer on their own, he gives it outright.

When Midoriya used Blackwhip for the first time, Banjo was all "You got it all wrong!" and then explained things. Since he felt himself fading, he could've been talking louder to compensate himself past the daze he felt. To make sure he was talking, heard, and to keep himself awake

When the first Three made the void silent because Kudo and Bruce didn't want to help, Banjo broke it with what Midoriya should do next

When Shinomori got yoinked, the first thing Banjo did was report it in a panic to Midoriya. This just tells Midoriya he really has to be careful now, because OFA can really be stolen. Even if Banjo just panics and doesn't say that aloud

Every time Banjo is facing some kind of problem, he doesn't let others panic too hard. He's not pressuring about problems, and steps back to let Midoriya figure things out.

When Midoriya was running himself into the ground, Banjo was one of the vestiges that didn't show up to tell him to rest. He already understood how Midoriya saw things, and was doing them his own way

Rather than trying to be a clown, I think Banjo is just a friendly person. He's honest with others and with himself, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to utilize Blackwhip right, or be the holder between a sagey hermit and young, scared adult.

[yummy-teeth]

I NEED TO DRAW THIS IMAGE 8 BILLION TIMES DESPERATELY

!! original image on the keep reading 🤯🤯🤯

[taravangians-storming-balls]

There is plenty of talk about adolin calling kaladin bridgeboy being a bit. Off. But something that continuously bugged me was that everyone outside of bridge four constantly calls them bridgemen long after they've been freed. Like these guys are your honor guard why are you still saying "bridgemen, come here." They aren't bridgemen anymore my dude

[codenamesazanka]

extremely questionable methodology but i compiled all the dialogue spoken between Shigaraki and Deku starting from when Shigaraki breaks out of AFO’s control in Chapter 379 up to Chapter 412.

(There are chapters where they appear but do not speak. Those are the chapter numbers.)

The takeaway is that Shigaraki is extremely chatty! A lot of it is taunts, but Shigaraki’s also revealing a lot of stuff about his plans and his opinions.

Deku does not seem as interested in returning the conversation, however. Whenever he does speak, it’s less in response to any of the content of Shigaraki’s chatter, and more heroic statements of intent. (The ‘you’re still human’ is the only direct refutation, I think.)

To be fair, his focus is all on surviving Shigaraki’s attacks. Nearly all his internal thoughts are strategy - combining a quirk with this quirk, how exactly he can physically stop Shigaraki. Additionally, before Chapter 410, he was probably too worried about All Might; while for most of Chapter 412, he was asphyxiating. Hard to chat when so much shit is happening.

And you can argue Shigaraki is just Villain monologuing. Deku doesn’t have to pay attention to anything he says - a lot which are, after all, taunts - he doesn’t have to engage with Shigaraki’s dumb rants.

His goal is to save Shigaraki/The Crying Child, and only that - not like talking or asking questions about anything or responding is required for that.

[rainbowpopeworld]

I know this is a bit unhinged, but I keep looking at Michael Sheen’s Twitter and feeling like Crowley watching Aziraphale getting into that damn elevator.

Like, when are you coming back? Are you coming back? What are you going to say when you do? 😭😭😓😩😔🕶️

[themthistles]

i think that while micro labels can seem useful and affirming ultimately they're isolating and kind of an obstacle to your understanding of self. that's because you can never find a word specific enough. there will never be a label or two labels or even ten, twenty of them to perfectly capture and describe all of your thoughts, feelings, experiences, preferences, needs, interests, identities, etc. because you learn more and more about yourself every day and then you change and your wants and needs change with you. having to hop between labels, fearing that you don't 'fit' into a label anymore (both in your own and others eyes), worrying how soon your current label will wear out, questioning if you'll ever fully fit a single one. all that causes a lot of uncertainty and anxiety which could be avoided by just picking a more general thing and molding it according to what it means to YOU. because words will always mean different things to different people, you will never be understood immediately and maybe never completely by anyone but yourself and that's fine

[clowningaroundmars]

Happy bday Miles!!!

it was miles' bday yesterday! i was hard at work pumping this thing out but alas it was already past my bedtime when i finally finished it u_u

this is... very last minute and i'm p sure you can tell but i hope yall enjoy anyhow LOL

for my (belated) gift to the mileses i present: miles and miles g celebrating their birthday together! and g getting a gift better than anything anyone could wrap up for him :) <3

Miles G was nervous. Very nervous.

It was already August third, a date he never really ever paid much attention to before today, but here it was.

The day.

His birthday. His 16th birthday, to be exact. And not just his birthday, but the birthday that other dimensional variants of himself shared as well.

Namely, one Miles Morales from Earth-1610 came to mind, especially now as he held his wrapped package in one hand and shuffled nervously from one foot to another.

The suffocating darkness of Earth-42’s late evening was falling and falling quickly, which would otherwise ignite something in him on a normal day. But, as he fiddled with his dimensional watch strapped to his right wrist, he knew this wasn’t any normal evening out.

After the events of… the utter and total chaos of his inter-dimensional doppelganger crashing into their universe out of nowhere once many months ago, life was never the same for him or his family.

As a result of the inter-dimensional shenanigans that ensued, his mother Rio finally found out about his secret identity and his illicit vigilante dealings on the nights he usually got away with his uncle Aaron, and that was… well.

It was a Time, alright.

Eventually, after boxing both his and his uncle’s ears and giving them a stern lecture, Rio slowly warmed up to the idea of her son going out and doing what he needed to do in order to assist with NYC’s battle against the fascist oppression that the Sinister Six were insisting upon the city. With help, of course.

Rio’s one condition was that Miles G’s new spider-themed friends would come and help and make sure her son was still on the straight and narrow, that he wasn’t going to get too hurt.

She figured that if Miles G wasn’t going to back down from being a hero in his own right, then he might as well have someone by his side helping him achieve his goals… and helping out at the hospital and F.E.A.S.T. as well every now and then, of course!

Now, she was waiting right by the door to the rooftop, holding it open with a hip and looking on at her son approvingly. It was August of course, but that night on Earth-42 happened to be a bit chillier than normal. Her hair frizzed with the humidity that hung thick in the air and she wrapped her hands around her arms as she smiled.

Miles glances up and notices the rolling darkness overhead moving in a bit too quickly. Must be a storm brewing again, then. It sure smelled like it, anyways.

“Good luck, mijo! Tell them I said happy birthday to the other you!” Rio calls, just as something suspiciously thunder-like starts growling on the other end of the city. “Y no te preocupes tanto, Miles! Tu pareces tan nervioso! Relax a little, it’ll be a fun time, right?”

Miles G offers her a crooked smile. It didn’t really feel genuine at all, just a mask he plasters onto his face to hopefully placate his mother, which seems to work. Rio beams at him and then the winds start picking up.

“Okay, goodnight Miles! Te amo!” Her voice is almost drowned out by the sudden chilly gust that blows through and whips her hair in different directions. She gives her son one final wave before turning and letting the door shut behind her.

Miles breathes in the ozone that materializes in the air, trying to ground himself in the sudden temperature drop before a streak of lightning bursts through the clouds and flashes out of the corner of his eye. Feeling his anxiety bubbling through his nerves and into his chest, he hastily starts the search for his “twin’s” dimension.

The idea of going to a party and celebrating his birthday for the first time in years, alongside his doppelganger and his family in a dimension that isn’t his-- but probably should have been-- made his stomach roil a bit.

But thunderstorms? Those were a whole different level of hell no.

The quickly-developing storm gave Miles G just that last bit of courage he needed to take the leap, metaphorically speaking.

The portal he opens once he finds Earth-1610 almost instantaneously blinks into existence right before him. Well, also literally speaking, too, he muses sardonically as well, peering into the bright neon hues of his own custom-made portal.

He didn’t really know whether he liked Hobie Brown from Earth-138 yet, but he sure as hell was never going to get used to the fact that that kid straight up just reverse-engineered technology from the future, on his own. That alone put Hobie high up on the ranks of respect in Miles’ own mind.

Well. No more time to waste. Another burst of electricity streaked through the night sky, illuminating the angry dark rain clouds advancing on the city like jaguars ready to pounce. The anxiety threatened to burst forth from Miles’ chest just like the booming thunder that clapped in the air just then, and he took that as his cue to move.

He hated jumping through these portals, but hated storms even more. With one breath held tightly into his lungs, he stepped forward…

… And landed on some cardboard boxes.

Goddamnit.

Not a bad place to land, though, given his watch was still a prototype Hobie had cooked up last-minute to enable non-superpowered beings to travel through space and time without getting their nuclei scrambled like omelets.

All in all, not the worst position he’s found himself in, either. Not like that one time with those guard dogs… shudder. Anyways.

Miles G slowly stood up, head on a swivel as he immediately takes in his surroundings, hoping no one saw the giant burst of purple and blue lights that his portal emitted. Behind him, the aforementioned portal quickly fizzled out and blinked out of existence.

He seemed to land in an empty, but very smelly alleyway next to some restaurant on Earth-1610, if the wafting smell of greasy food hitting his nostrils was anything to go by. Dozens of styrofoam containers and wet-looking garbage bags sat piled up next to an overflowing dumpster, and a rat or two started to make their break for it once Miles lifted his legs out of the pile he landed in to connect sneaker soles to concrete.

He dusts himself off, groaning something about needing to find that twiggy punk and throttle him for not getting him his own stabilized watch sooner, when the back door of said restaurant suddenly swung open and a mean-looking, heavyset man with a hell of a beer gut started scowling at him.

“Aye! Whaddya doin’ back here, dumpster diving? Punk kid! Get outta here!”

Miles G’s own upper lip curled with full teenage disdain. “I’m not dumpster diving, genius. I’m takin’ a shortcut through here. That alright with you? It ain’t illegal,”

“Takin a shortcut?” The man’s eyes bulge out with rage. “Lyin’ punk! Get on outta here!” He hurls more curse words at Miles and shakes his fist like a cartoon character yelling at someone to get off their lawn.

Miles simply rolls his eyes, stoops over to fetch his gift from the giant pile of discarded cardboard boxes and brushes it off as well. He tosses a sarcastic salute at the man as he makes his way down the alleyway.

“Stay classy, my man,” he grumbles and steps out into the blinding rays of the late August evening on Earth-1610.

It was lucky he was found by this man on this dimension rather than back home, because otherwise his encounter would have been possibly twice as deadly than a grumpy old restaurant cook simply shaking a fist at him.

It was one of the many things about this mirror-dimension that he needed to get used to, at first. The adults back on 42 were twice as aggressive and authoritative as the ones from here, and it was something very relieving to find out once he first stepped into this world.

Here-- even though things didn’t quite sit right in his cells about being in a world so similar to his, but yet slightly skewed-- he could really relax. He could let his shoulders down a bit, loosen his muscles, not hold his head up so high. He could truly live.

So now, even though he was most definitely going to be late to this party at his twin’s house (if his directional instinct was anything close to accurate), he was relatively chill.

Miles G strolled through the city streets of what looked to be Queens, though whether he was in the east side or the northern side was really up in the air. He turned on his heels towards a subway station and made a beeline for the underground oasis in the desert only to find that the subway map on Earth-1610 was completely flipped from the ones in his dimension.

Damnit. Damn it all. Well, then. Looks like he was gonna be even more late to the party.

He sent his dimensional twin a quick update text and began the long and frustrating process of taking pictures of maps, attempting to turnstile-hop as often as he could, and asking New Yorkers for directions.

Asking for directions and train info from New Yorkers here seemed to have the exact same success rate as it did back home; that is to say, little to none. Great. Miles stopped asking New Yorkers for directions after a while.

It killed him that he couldn’t just go as the crow flies with his gear, on account of needing to keep a low profile in order to not land 1610’s Miles in any hot water.

He missed his bungee and parkour gear something fierce after getting turned around yet again, hands picking at the stupid present’s gift wrapping impatiently after hopping onto the correct train this time. You’d think that a kid living and getting by all on his own in the city would make him a better navigator of public transportation, but alas. Even a 16 year old kid living his entire life in the bowels of the concrete jungle gets inbound and outbound trains confused sometimes. Go figure.

It seemed like it took forever and a half to finally find himself setting foot on the familiar streets of the Williamsburg area in Brooklyn, but the brownstones and corner streets eventually started shaping themselves into something much more familiar to him, much to his relief.

Cool. So this was Miles G’s domain, finally.

Even if all of the details were slightly off, even if some stores weren’t quite named correctly enough not to tickle a weird part in his brain as he walked past them, this was home. He knew it, and he felt his own “spidey senses” go off once he made his way closer and closer to his-- and Miles’-- apartment block.

G did a double take as he walked past the usual stream of faceless pedestrians and spotted a familiar puff of dark hair in the crowd. It was Miles!

Miles G may not have had that strange precognitive superpower that all of the other spider-people seemed to have, but it looked as though his body's cells had minds of their own as they gravitated towards his dimensional doppelganger bounding up to him with a joyful gait.

Miles was clad in his usual bright sporty colors, grinning as brightly as the sunset that cast everything in a nice warm hue all around them.

They dapped each other up as a casual greeting, immediately starting up their banter.

“You’re finally here, man, goddamn! Gettin’ old now, getting turned around more nowadays?” Miles ribbed his twin playfully.

“Ha, ha,” Miles G replied sarcastically, “You and me are the same age, remember? Anything you say about me--”

“You say about yourself. I know that one, smartass. I was the one who came up with that first, you can’t quote me back at me!”

“Arrest me, then,” G stuck out his chin defiantly and laughed when he got a strong jab to the side.

They quibbled like this all the way down the streets, two teenage boys just basking in the last golden rays of the sunset before it finally darkened to a nice purple haze on their shared birthday. A beautiful cloudless evening, the complete and total opposite of the raging storms most likely tearing their way through Earth-42's Brooklyn night.

G was enjoying himself so much that he forgot how nervous he was before this moment.

Navigating the streets of New York City alone with not much help from his own cellphone or the people around him distracted him long enough to put his worries off to the side for a while, and now that he’s reaching the steps to his own apartment building, it seems like all those worries are bubbling back up again.

His purple sneakers freeze right on the bottom steps of the Brooklyn brownstone he always called home, watching as his doppelganger reaches for the door handle and only stopping once he notices G fall silent behind him.

They pause together, and Miles tosses an all-too-casual glance over his shoulder up towards the stairs before letting the door shut behind him again.

They sit together on the stairs, side-by-side.

Miles G is taking a couple of deep breaths, using the box breathing method Miles taught him a while ago.

Miles asks him, “you sure you wanna do this, bro?”

“Yes,” Miles G answers, a little too quickly.

Glances are exchanged, a million words shared with just one look. G sighs then.

“Okay… maybe… I mean, I do. I really do, wanna… uh,” Miles G takes another deep breath before sitting back and fiddling with the ribbon on the present once more. “… I wanna celebrate this, like not just for you. For me, because it’s… this is gonna be the first time I ever had a party since… well. Anyways, yeah, so I wanna do this. I do! This is important and I have to do this.”

“But?” Miles adds, a bit hesitant. He’d never want to make his dimensional variant feel like he’s being pushed or pressured, especially when he looks like he’s teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

“But,” G emphasizes the T, “I… fuck, this is gonna sound kinda lame but, ugh. I hate sayin’ it out loud. But…!”

“Jeff, right?” Miles offers him his most comforting expression. G hates it anyhow.

G hangs his head, clasping his hands over the box. “Yeah,” he admits, full of shame. “It’s dumb and I should be over it by now--”

“Bro, stop. Look,” Miles sighs in a way that reminds G of Rio a little too much, making his heart clench. “Your dad passed away, man. That is tough. That's the literal definition of trauma, and there’s nothing anyone can say about that. But you shouldn’t beat yourself up over not having like a linear progression on healing or whatever. You’re never really gonna get over it, like ever. And that’s okay, man. Losing a family member like that’s hard. Real hard.”

Aaron, G thinks to himself then, nodding slowly. Miles is probably the only person who understood the visceral and soul-crushing feeling of watching a beloved family member die at such a young age; and a father figure as well, at that.

Sure, all the other spider-people lost their uncle Bens or Tonys or whatever they said their uncles’ names were. But Miles lost Aaron. Aaron Davis. A man that was held in such high regard by the both of them, a key player in the way they both grew up and formed their own personalities as kids. There was nobody like him, and that was a fact.

It felt simultaneously weird and also comforting to know exactly what Miles was thinking, feeling, because in a lot of small but significant ways, their pain mirrored each other’s. Miles knew. G knew.

There wasn’t anything else left to say.

Well…

“I gotta go up,” Miles G said quietly after a small bout of silence.

Miles shrugged non-committaly. “Only if you’re ready,” he replied.

“No,” G shook his head, his neatly-done braids wiggling alongside the movement. “I have got to man up and stop bein’ so pussy right now. He’s not my dad. He isn’t my dad and I can do this!”

Miles blew out a breath and leaned back on the stairs behind him, legs spread as he crosses his arms. “Dude, look at me. Dad’s not gonna be weird this time, okay? We talked to him and he’s cool about everything and he is not gonna be weird. Everyone understands if you need some time to yourself, like in my room or up on the roof, just in case. This isn’t mandatory, you know. You don't have to push yourself.”

“I know this isn’t mandatory but I don’t wanna ruin your special day, alright? I’ve gone years with no birthdays, I’ll be fine. I’ll live,” Miles G bit out. It was much harsher than he intended it to come out, so he tried to save the conversation. “I uhm… sorry. I mean… it’s no biggie to me if I have to skip out or whatever. If it’s too weird, y’know? If you guys don’t want me here... I just don’t wanna, like, step all over your guys’… lives. The way you all do things. I know it’s different.” G gives a half-hearted shrug, hoping his twin will catch on to what he’s trying to convey.

Miles leans forward then, clapping a hand on G’s shoulder and shaking him a bit. “Man, you worry too much. Just like me,” he laughs, “I can’t believe I’m like this! Goddamn,” he shakes his head.

G groans. “Am I, though? Am I worrying too much? Ain’t this whole situation just… weird?”

Miles waves his hands around as he speaks. “Yeah, but… teen heroes in spandex costumes shooting webs out of their wrists is weird, too. I promise you’re not ruining anyone’s day by existing. My parents love you, dude, you’re fine. Either way, no one’s gonna think bad of you if you wanna stay or go.”

G sighs deeply, steeling himself. “Then I’ll stay. We’ll do… the birthday things. It’ll be fine,”

“If you insist!” Miles shrugs again and moves to stand up.

G snorts derisively and puffs himself up to his twin’s height once they’re both on their feet. “I hate when you do that shit, man!”

“Do what?” Miles holds his palms aloft, grinning crookedly.

“Don’t play dumb, Morales. Just…” G wedges the box he was holding in between the ornate railings of the stairs and pops back up, annoyed. “Look at me. I look fine, right? I’m not dressed down too much?” He holds his arms akimbo.

Miles laughs again, giving his twin a well-meaning once-over.

“Hair good, kicks good?” Miles G presses, sending Miles a look all the while.

“Yes, yeah, dude. You look fine. Everything’s gonna be fine! Stop freakin’ out!”

“You’re pulling your stupid nonchalant cool guy shtick and I hate it. You know that makes me even more nervous, right? It does not help, not even a little,”

Miles cackles as he pulls the door open once more, motioning for G to hand him the wrapped present. “You are unbelievable, man. Completamente insoportable!”

They bicker once again all the way up three flights of stairs, as naturally as if they had done it for years until they reach Miles’ family apartment and push their way through the doorframe.

They don’t even get to set one Jordan into the living room before Earth-1610’s Rio is leaping out from right around the corner and shouting SURPRISE!!! right into their faces.

Behind her, Jeff wears a party hat and blows on a dinky little party horn.

Both Mileses stood frozen staring into the face of their excited mother before Miles opens his mouth to speak.

“Mamí, I already told you this wasn’t a surprise party!”

“No, pero yo quería, como… hacer un algito para el niño, sabes?" Rio answers innocently, cheesy grin plastered on her face as she reaches for a balloon floating nearby and hands it to G.

“Anyways,” Miles gives his twin a sidelong glance and holds his present aloft, picking his way past the balloons on the floor to deposit it next to a pile of boxes and bags. "Sorry about them, they're... y'know. They mean well, but--"

"Of course we do! What's with this attitude all of a sudden?" Jeff complains, taking off his comically small party hat and setting it aside.

“Last night, we had my party with the fam on the rooftop, and today it’s just us here. We’re gonna watch a movie and eat together if you don’t mind,” Miles begins again, by way of explaining the massive pile of gifts in the living room corner. “I figured your first party in a while should be more... lowkey. Just a totally casual and definitely not weird birthday celebration, right guys?” He shoots looks at both of his parents, who both nod.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Totally casual. We cool, we cool,” Jeff assures his son, punching at his shoulder playfully. “When have we ever not been cool? About, y’know… this whole inter-dimensional universe stuff?”

“Dad!” Miles groans.

G smiles a bit, shoving his hands in his pockets and hiking his shoulders up to his ears. “Yeah this sounds cool, actually. Real good, better than…”

“Than what you thought it’d be?” Miles grins, “you really think I’d just throw you into a massive block party with the whole family out of nowhere?”

“No, but,” G kicks off his sneakers as their parents go into the kitchen and start laying pots and bowls out onto the dining room table. “I dunno… I thought it’d be more than just us. But this is nice, yeah. I don’t mind this at all.”

“As I knew you wouldn’t!” Then, a little louder, “what’d I say, dad?”

“I still got some of the crew on speed dial with gifts if you want!” Jeff calls out from the kitchen.

G laughs aloud and shakes his head, finally relaxing for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Together, the four set up dinner on the table to laugh and eat, celebrating two birthdays with two versions of the same Miles. They toast to another happy birthday, tacking on a little “here’s hoping G survives until the next one” for good measure.

Miles elbowed his father for that, but G was more than grateful that he had some more people in his corner, even if they were from different dimensions. Knowing that he had another set of parents praying for his health and his safety in a world that seemed so far away and distant as to be from a completely different galaxy made his heart clench in a way he didn’t know how to articulate yet.

He raised his own glass and prayed for their health and safety as well.

Then they settled into the living room together to watch a goofy horror-comedy movie that Jeff insisted on picking out himself.

“So Miles let me know the other day that he doesn't really actually like horror movies much, which was-- y’know definitely not feeling betrayed or anything ‘cause of that, but.” He shot his son a look.

“Oh my god, this again,” Miles groans, rolling his eyes and smiling exasperatedly.

“Anyways, dunno what your horror tolerance is, is all. Don’t know if you love it or hate it, but my wife hates horror and I love it. I figure this one’s a good middle ground.”

G sat forward, clasping his hands together in front of him. “You hate horror movies?” He asks his twin.

Miles throws his hands up in the air. “Do not tell me you’re gonna say that you’re shocked ‘cause you love it,”

G bobs his head and laughs. “I’m gonna say that I’m shocked ‘cause I absolutely love horror. Huh! That’s… that’s kinda funny we’re different like that,” he hummed in thought.

Miles sighs. “Oh right, of course. My twin who is absolutely better than me at everything ever happens to love the same stuff my dad does. Man, y’know what, I’m wavin’ the white flag. You can have him if you want!”

“Huh?” Jeff looks back and forth between his two sons as they laugh.

"Pero así tampoco!" Rio laughs along with them. “No one is stealing anyone’s father tonight, boys. Come on now,”

“I’m saying!” Miles offers anyways.

“I’m good,” G replies good-naturedly.

“Hold on, you two are not saying what I think you’re saying,” Jeff finally catches up to speed.

The whole room laughs at that, joy and comfort palpable in the air as the family settles down after bantering some more. They pass the bowls of popcorn and watch their movie, commenting on terrible acting and cackling at bad jokes.

G settles down, really relaxing this time, as he sinks deeper into the comfortable couch cushions and basks in the normalcy of this life. He was grateful the family didn’t make him feel like he was a guest, or an intruder into their seemingly perfect lives of familial affection. This was a million times better than awkward happy birthday songs and loud music,. It was much more… intimate. Intimate in ways that G himself hadn’t been allowed to feel since his own father’s passing.

He was grateful that his own dimensional variant understood what it was that he could handle, and what he couldn’t, completely judgement-free. It left a warm feeling deep in his chest he hadn’t ever known he was even capable of feeling. Maybe that was Miles’ real gift to G, the perfect environment for anyone to be able to let their walls down, even just a little.

It made the homemade sketchbook as his gift to his twin seem so silly in comparison, in the end. Oh well.

The night ended wonderfully, with each parent getting G his own gifts on top of the one Miles dumped unceremoniously in his lap towards the end of his visit.

But it was getting late, and the night was getting progressively darker.

The nighttime wasn’t nearly as suffocating and all-encompassing as Earth-42’s nights, especially considering it was a clear and crisp night on 1610, the total opposite of the angry weather back home… but the hour was getting longer nonetheless and G’s tranquil visit to this dimension was drawing to a close.

“I wish you could sleep over this time, y’know. Kind of a bummer that you can’t”, Miles bumped shoulders with G as they sat side-by-side on the couch.

“Mmmn, yeah” G sighed.

“Hold on, what am I missing here? I thought he was going to stay tonight!” Rio pipes up from her end of the couch, brow raised.

G looks up at her. “Uhh, no. I have, uh, I have a thing… in the morning, with uncle Aaron. So,”

Jeff grunts disapprovingly, earning him a glare from Miles.

Miles then turns back to his twin. “It’s fine, we get it. Let’s try to make some more time in the future to hang soon, though, right? This was fun!”

They both smile at each other and then start to get up, gathering discarded wrapping paper from Miles opening his gift from G.

G himself tries tucking his unopened presents into his light sweater, zipping it up and holding the boxes against him with crossed arms.

“If I don’t hold ‘em like this, they’ll go flying everywhere in the portal back home,” he explains to Miles’ parents.

Miles shoves his hands in his pockets and agrees that that's a great idea before suggesting they not open a portal in the middle of the living room where all of his birthday balloons and gifts were still in neat piles.

G finally bids everyone a good night before climbing up the final set of stairs up to the rooftop, with Miles right on his heels.

They dap each other up again and Miles eventually pulls G into a hug.

“Man, what you doin’ that soft shit for?” G ribs Miles playfully, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“I dunno, you look like you could use some soft shit after tonight. You looked like you didn’t even wanna leave my apartment,”

G rolls his eyes but concedes anyways. “Uh huh, yeah… shit was nice there, for a second… things were real nice.” He trails off, then gathers himself back up again. “Your dad was great back there, by the way. So… looks like your talk with him was good, it was effective.” He sniffed.

Miles purses his lips. “Hmmm, was he, though? He coulda been a little better, honestly.”

G shakes his head, laughing. “You need to stop being so hard on your parents, kid. They’re great. They are.”

“Yeah, I know. Your fam’s great, too, by the way. Let Aaron know that I really love his gift he left me the other day, when you get back,”

G does a double take. “That he-- that he left you? How? He’s got a watch now?”

“I think…? I think he stole yours, honestly, bro. Or… I dunno, knowing him, he might’ve already reverse engineered his own by now,” Miles offers a wincing shrug, chuckling a bit at the shocked expression on his own face standing a little ways away from him.

“Wh--! Goddamn. Well.” G sniffed again and fixed the hoodie of his sweater casually, adjusting the gifts inside. “Well, damn. Thanks for letting me know about that, I guess.”

Miles throws G a salute and steps back, right by the rooftop door and then G's suddenly reminded of his own mother most likely already asleep back home.

He loves 1610, sure, but in that very moment, his heart ached for his own-- definitely not perfect but-- comforting home.

He opens his portal behind him, purple neon rings and hazy blue light emitting from it, an occasional green static flickering in and out, and the smell of wet pavement and rain hits them both almost instantaneously. Potted plants, chairs and crates sat nearby start floating in the air.

Miles whistles low. “It’s raining back where you’re at, man. I’m jealous. You get to fall asleep to rain!”

G only shrugs, not wanting to let his twin know anything about his fear of storms. That was a topic that would have to brought up later. “You have a good night, too, man. You can look up rain sounds on Youtube if you need to,”

Miles huffs out a laugh. “You got jokes! Nice!”

“Always, genius. I always do. Take it easy, man.”

G steps backwards, his last sight of 1610 being his twin standing by the half-open door to the roof, warm hallway light illuminating him from behind, small pinpricks of little sparkles in the deep blue night sky high above them…

And lands right onto his own bed.

G gasps, not possibly believing his own luck this time!

He scrambles around in the dark as quietly as he can, reaching for his lamp by his drafting table and flicking it on. His eyes bounce around the room, taking in every single little familiar detail of his posters, hats lined above the window frame, record player on top of stacked crates in the corner…

It’s home. Thank goodness. No need to traverse the dangerous roads at night past the state-mandated curfew.

Tonight was really shaping up to be an amazing night. What a relief…

Miles G laid back after eventually finishing his night routine and making sure his mother was asleep in her room, hopefully breathing. He had his arms behind his head and a big smile on his face as he thought back to the presents he received from the 1610 Morales family, now stacked neatly on his drafting table to be opened in the morning.

He thought back to the fond gazes he received at the dinner table as they had all chatted over pastelitos and refried beans. He thought back to the warm glow that the city took on during the sunset, how his train rides over to Brooklyn were always much less stress-inducing than the rides on Earth-42 were, no matter how late G was getting to be. He was unbelievably grateful that he got to experience it at all, and that it wasn’t all a fever dream his half-baked brain cooked up on little to no sleep.

No matter what his presents from the Morales family turned out to be, he was already grateful for the best gift that Earth-1610 could ever give him: peace.

[starry-eyes-love]

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, mentions of past abuse, angst.

How she wants her mind to be free

She stood at the cliff's edge and looked down at the rocks below.  She didn’t want to jump, or at least she didn’t say it out loud.  But she felt trapped in this life, in the things she couldn’t escape anymore, and the fate laid out before her.

“What the hell are ya doing?” He yelled from behind her as he approached.  He moved with purpose, yet she could see it in his eyes, the fear of the next step, of whether or not she’d take the leap of faith and jump off the cliff.  She had a 50/50 chance of hitting the water below or the rocks.  And it was at this moment that she didn’t care which one she landed on; she just knew that she couldn’t live life in two worlds anymore. 

“What?” she snapped hard at the man who stood before her.  “What are ya yelling at me for?”

“Darlin’, what the hell are you doing out here?” She knew he was afraid of heights, of the edge of things in life.  And she was, too, for the longest time.  She was comfortable in being comfortable, but somehow, she died more each day inside as that happened.  It wasn’t anyone else’s fault; it was her own.  She allowed the world to silence her, for her to feel the pain of a life that was no longer lived.

She lived in two worlds right now: one where she made a loving home with her husband and the other where she felt alive. But both worlds had their demons.

“Which demon do you choose in this Life?” she remembered hearing her therapist ask her a long time ago when she went to try to fix her marriage the first ten times that it was broken.

This was never about choosing which Life she would be unhappy with. It was always about choosing and learning how to live the Life that she wanted to, to be free and alive in the way that she needed to be.  

She couldn’t hold back when she needed to let go and step into who she wanted to be.  

“Run and jump,” was what the voice told her. “Jump for yourself to be free.”  That was the thing; she wanted freedom of her mind.  It wasn’t which demon she could be comfortable living with.  It was about freedom within her mind.

“I can’t fucking breathe anymore.  I feel like I am dying on the inside and can’t do this anymore,” she screamed as the tears flew down her cheeks.  “I am in this big huge room, and no one is fucking hearing me scream to the top of my lungs anymore that I just want to be free from all of this in my life; I just want to be free from my mind and be happy.”

In the moment of honesty, of vocalizing the one thing that she needed, freedom of herself, he came to a sudden stop. After a moment, he calmly said, “I see,” and looked around like he was just noticing life for the first time as she fell to pieces in front of the man who she had called home for the longest time.  

When she felt like she had cried all of her tears dry, she looked up at the man who had been her safety net for almost twenty years and said, “Run, and jump, and be free.”  He then turned around and walked back towards the house they shared, the one he had spent his entire life building for her.

And that’s what she did—she jumped off the cliff and landed in the icy, frigid water to be free. But in doing so, she knew it cost her everything she had ever known: a family, a place to call home. As soon as she found comfort and peace in her decision, she heard her alarm go off.

A dream.  That was all she had; it was a dream.  Looking at the empty bed she lay in every night, she noticed the perfect wedding band her husband had still left in the box by the side of the bed.  He took it off after their first year of marriage and hasn’t worn it for 15 years. 

As she heard the cupboards slamming in the house, she knew she needed to face the day again.

“I only give you affection when I see fit.”

“You cannot demand anything in this life.”

“I take what is mine without your consent, and you remember that.”

As she stands on shaky legs, she swallows once again.

“Morning,” he says as she walks into the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee, pulling the robe tight to hide the bruise he gave her.  The one no one will ever see.

“Morning,” she says calmly.  As she sips her coffee, she wishes someone to see the pain she hides away today.  The one she can’t ever vocalize.  The one that no one can see.

All she wants is for her mind to be free.

She travels to the cliff’s edge, this time in person. She sits down and closes her eyes for a moment. She breathes in and lets everything flow. She just lets everything just be.

[king0fcrows]

Screaming over all the challenges to the narrative in the newest IWTV episode

I love that Lestat walks onto the stage with the intent to remain stone cold as he condemns Louis and Claudia--and instead leaves psychologically wrecked and guilty (he's literally swaying back and forth in the background as Louis and Claudia are sentenced)

Love that Louis' memory is reinforced as less and less reliable with every episode (that shot of him dragging pre-transformed Claudia's body like a rag doll, like a toy? goddamn.)

Love that Daniel is trying to call Armand (my poor wet meow meow, who has never done anything wrong in his life) on his lying bullshit in front of Louis

[coquelicoq]

wretched. there it is. that's the word. i am feeling wretched. wretched is the word that describes how i am feeling today. wretched. what an interesting word. like the past participle of a verb, "to wretch", but the suffix is syllabic. wretchèd. [ˈɹɛtʃˌəd]. like beloved, but only if you pronounce beloved as three syllables, which as we know not everyone does, and not under all circumstances. is there such a verb, to wretch? was the participle ever pronounced as a single syllable? was the simple past pronounced as one? wretch'd. to speak it is an awkwardness. affricate then plosive. and would the plosive be devoiced? i suppose it would have to be. wretcht. [ˈɹɛtʃt]. i am wretcht. the day has wretcht me. my body, my wretch'd body. am i then a wretch? a wretch that has been wretch'd, a wretch that is wretchèd. how clumsy it feels in the mouth. the double recoil of the tongue, the jaw, the lips. the ricochet. not the rolling, like marbles, of "miserable". wretch'd is an implosion; miserable, a controlled fall down a flight of stairs. and wretchèd, two syllables, is a word that is spit, but only in despair. wretchèd, the sharp sting of my body describing its own misery.

[journey-to-the-attic]

Not sure how far into Nightbringer s2 you are so feel free to ignore, but how do you think IK would handle all the Sin Stuff? Esp curious considering Asmo's solution and Mammon's symptoms were quite romance-rooted, so would love to hear your thoughts on the platonic edition1

i'm up to the asmo pact-making, but i'm not yet caught up on everything after that - but i can still talk about your particular area of interest!

for mammon, i think his greed symptoms would manifest in a sort of "i don't want you to grow up" way - you know, similar to how some parents over-coddle their children because they're afraid of them flying the nest? in this case, mammon is 'greedy' for his role as big brother - for being relied on and trusted - so he'd essentially start being a helicopter brother, not letting ik do anything on her own, and get annoyed when the others try to play the role as well

mammon's solution would largely play out the same if i were to keep it faithful to nb - his greed for that reliance and trust would also be rooted in his belief that he's only been burdening/harming his brothers through his own determination to get what he wants; he sees his role to ik as repenting, and that's why he gets so intense about it

(also gives it a sort of religious theme that ties back nicely to the celestial realm being his inner world. mammon'd probably also have a hang-up in that "oh, you're going to hate me now that you've seen what a rotten being i am" - which ik would counter with "i've always known who you are and i love you anyway")

as for asmo.... i think we can keep the initial fairy-tale setting his inner world takes up; i'd say, rather than the whole deal he has with mc, he starts treating ik like a trophy pet - essentially, upon taking over, his sin counters the fact that he holds ik in high importance by placing her on a sub-human level in his mind

his lust in this case isn't carnal, but rather just a want for more - more attention, more of the spotlight, more beauty, despite already having it; lucifer's apple gives him what he wants by cutting him off before these things inevitably peter out again, because what asmo's ignoring is the fact that such things come with an ebb and flow - he wants to always be the most beautiful, because otherwise he won't always be worth something

so the whole snow-white-situation does stay, but it's resolved differently - you know how, in the original fairy tale, the apple just gets jostled out of snow's throat? ik just busts the glass coffin open and shoves asmo out of it, which does the same for him, and so he wakes up

this is more than just a brute force thing, though - she forcibly shatters the stasis asmo is in, even though this is arguably where he's at his 'most beautiful' - because she doesn't care about that part; asmo's importance is constant, so there's no need to freeze it to make it stay that way - it's infinitely more important that he's just there

[the-random-phan]

wandering through the Lonely

[spurious]

mcshep, 50 or 39, or both!

We’re kissing again!

THANK YOU

this is 39 (because time’s run out) but it’s also a little bit of 50 (out of love) cause I’m a big sap :3 (also I’m on my iPad so sorry if the formatting is crap)

John’s used to living on borrowed time, but with Rodney, he really had thought he had more of it.

He thought he’d have time to ease Rodney into it, to let him understand John’s feelings at his own pace—at both of their own pace. He thought they could keep going the way they were for a while, friends, teammates, mostly; with the nights where Rodney’s a little lonely, a little tipsy, a little worn-down becoming more and more frequent until John’s wormed his way into Rodney’s bed, his feelings, one no-strings-attached blowjob at a time.

Instead, John finds himself face-to-face with a ring—a ring that awakens some horrifying part of John’s psyche that sounds like his paternal grandmother and wants to make a snide remark about knowing what kind of diamond three months of Rodney’s salary should be able to buy—and Rodney’s hopeful expression, like this hasn’t derailed John’s carefully-planned months and years of slow seduction.

“I know you and I have—“ Rodney starts, then falters, because they don’t talk about it, but trust Rodney not to know or care about the rules, anyway. “But, um, you obviously aren’t, um. You know.” He gestures vaguely, and John’s not sure at all what he obviously isn’t, but he’s now wondering what Rodney thought this was. “So…”

It occurs to John that he’s never kissed Rodney, that he’s manhandled him against a lot of supply closet shelves but he’s never taken his face in his hands, swallowed down his come but never kissed his cheeks, felt the soft flutter of his eyelashes.

It occurs to John that maybe he wasn’t orchestrating a slow seduction so much as making Rodney think that what they were doing was all John wanted.

It occurs to John, with all the sharp clarity of a gunshot, that he’s run out of time.

“Rodney,” John says, closing the ring box and setting it gently aside. He takes a deep breath, marshaling the words that flutter, butterfly-like, in his chest. “I…don’t want you to get married.”

Rodney blinks, looks like he’s going to open his mouth and talk, fill the space between them with meaningless, confusing words, so John stands up, puts his hands on either side of Rodney’s face, and kisses him, soft and slow and careful. John tries his hardest to say everything he can with the kiss, everything he’s held back all this time, and he’s trembling when he pulls back, the terror of vulnerability making his stomach churn.

“O-Oh,” Rodney says, studying John’s face like he’s memorizing a new crystal configuration. “Oh, okay.” He nods, lips curling up at the corners, and John’s throat burns, his eyes sting, his lungs expand with air, sweet and pure. “I…yes, okay.”