#Mediation and Compromise

[lawtoppers]

Punjab and Haryana High Court Quashes FIR Against YouTuber Elvish Yadav

[hsmagazine254]

Resolving Workplace Conflicts: Strategies for Effective Resolution

Resolving Workplace Conflicts: Strategies for Effective Resolution In any workplace, conflicts among employees can arise, leading to tension and decreased productivity. Here are some strategies to effectively resolve disputes:   Strategies for Effective Resolution: Open Communication: Encourage open and honest communication between conflicting parties to understand each other’s perspectives and…

[em1i2a3]

Got You (Where I Want You)

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader!

Summary: You walk in on Bob staring at himself in the mirror.

Warnings: Fluff, with some intimacy thrown in there for good measure, because why the hell not, right? The sweetness is cavity inducing lol

Author’s Note: Had this idea yesterday and had to put pen to paper y’all, I don’t know what the hell got into me that made me push aside my other stuff for this idea, but I liked it too much to not go absolutely bonkers on my keyboard lol…Anyways, enjoy <3

Word Count: 4,785

Subject: FINAL HR WARNING - CONDUCT REVIEW (Walker/Starr Conflict)

From: HR Officer Marshall Greene

“Agents Walker and Starr are now under internal review for insubordination, hostile communication, and repeated disregard of team mediation protocols. One more infraction and we’ll initiate temporary removal from field rotation. Val has been informed. There will be no further email warnings.”

Walker (Reply All):

“Good to know HR thinks performance under pressure is ‘hostile communication.’ No wonder no one trusts leadership anymore.”

Ava (Reply All):

“Glad we agree that nobody trusts you.”

Yelena (Reply To: Ava and Walker):

“I swear if you get us all sent to HR group therapy again we are going to leave you both at the next extraction site.”

You choked on your own laugh, face half-buried in your pillow as your tablet buzzed again. Notification after notification trickled in like popcorn kernels catching heat–erratic, chaotic, and loud as hell. The entire thread was spiralling quickly, and all you could do was watch the digital tornado unfold before your very eyes. You sat up quickly, nearly dropping the tablet in your lap as you scrolled through the influx of new messages. One leg was tucked under you, while the other bounced with that familiar blend of amusement and secondhand dread.

Ava’s spelling had deteriorated into pure adrenaline–half her words missing vowels, full of heat and fury and thinly veiled threats. Walker had officially gone full defensive, slinging phrases like “operational leadership failure” and “compromised team integrity” like he was writing a dissertation for Val.

You snorted as Yelena replied again but to everyone this time with a simple:

“You guys are literally down the hall from each other, there’s no need to continue to document the arguing, just kill each other now.”

It was definitely a full-blown HR meltdown, and it was definitely going to warrant group therapy again, but the thread was just too good to keep to yourself.

Your thumb hovered over the screen for one more second, then you grinned, tossing the tablet to the side of the bed, because you knew exactly who would enjoy this as much as you.

Bob.

He was never in these threads–more because he didn’t even think to check them anyways. He was never mentioned, never cc’d. He just floated above the chaos like a gentle cloud of soft-voiced concern. He was never involved enough to be a direct problem, but he was always tuned in enough to notice when issues were brewing. He never participated in the drama, but he loved hearing about it. Only from you, though. Only when you read it out loud with your overly expressive hand gestures and dramatic reenactments–like you were performing Shakespeare in the park…But only for him.

It was a tradition. A rhythm that only belonged to you and Bob alone, because every time a thread decided to spiral into a tailspin of arguing, you sought him out immediately.

Sometimes it was in the kitchen over cereal. Sometimes it was on the roof, sitting hip to hip with your legs dangling in the wind. Sometimes it was huddled on opposite ends of the couch with your legs draped over his lap…And sometimes–like right now–it meant running to his room like you were delivering urgent news straight from the battlefield.

You glanced down at yourself–sports bra, and underwear–and let out a low huff. Bob had seen you like this before, technically. That’s what came with the territory of shared safehouses, mission recovery stations, and walking around the compound late at night when you thought nobody else was awake. Those were different situations though.

You padded across the room and yanked open your dresser drawer, rifling through your exercise shirts until you settled on a worn black t-shirt–oversized and thinning with age. You tugged it over your head in one swift movement, letting the hem fall just past your hips, then you grabbed a pair of navy basketball shorts off the back of your desk chair and shimmied into them with a quick hop-step, tightening the strings as much as possible so they wouldn’t fall as you rushed down the hall.

You scooped the tablet back up in your arms, the screen still glowing with the madness you’d left behind.

HR Officer Marshall Greene (Reply All):

“This is a formal thread, please refrain from using inappropriate language and making unfounded comments on others performances.”

The excitement only grew, as you slapped the tablet against your thigh, and bolted into the hallway.

The compound was quiet except for the distant clack of someone’s boots echoing down from the other wing–probably Ava pacing while she types another scorched-earth reply to the recent email. Regardless, you padded forward, barefoot but quick. The hum of the overhead lights casted your shadow along the wall as you rounded the corner toward the kitchen for a quick pit stop.

The fridge gave a quiet suction-pop as you pulled it open and reached for one of the bottled iced teas Bob always hoarded–hibiscus and lemon honey, the kind he insisted was the best. You grabbed one–already cool against your palm even though you had restocked them an hour ago–and tucked it into the crook of your arm as you shut the fridge with your hip.

”What’re you? A professional basketball player?” A voice from behind you asked.

You didn’t need to turn to know it was Bucky–leaning against the wall just outside the kitchen like he’d been planted there to deliver commentary on your outfit. His arms were crossed, dog tags peeking beneath the neckline of his exercise shirt. The glint in his eyes showed unmistakable amusement as he raised a brow at what you were wearing. You didn’t slow your pace though, you just tossed him a look over your shoulder.

”Careful Barnes, comments like that are how group therapy gets scheduled.” That earned a bark of laughter from him–rough and low.

”I’ll tell HR you threatened me with that iced tea bottle,” He called out as you walked off. You raised it above your head in mock-warning without looking over at him.

”Weaponized refreshments fall under Walker and Ava’s jurisdiction. Not mine.” You heard his chuckle echo faintly behind you, but your attention was already zeroed in on the familiar stretch of hallway that led to Bob’s room.

It was quiet here. Soft, almost. The air always felt a little warmer around his end of the corridor–in heat and in emotion in general, there was less tension, less noise, it was very…Bob. use him, his stacks of books, and the faint sound of whatever playlist he decided to put on.

You didn’t knock, you never knocked.

Your fingers wrapped around the handle and turned it without ceremony, pushing the door open like it was your own room, like it was a shared space you were both too sentimental to label.

“Bob! You are not gonna believe this thread..” You said as you were stepping into the room, clicking the door shut softly behind you before turning around.

And that’s when you saw him…And he nearly jumped out of his skin.

”D-Don’t you knock?!” He stammered, jolting like you’d fired a dart into his shoulder. His hands scrambled for the shirt slung half-off his desk chair, eyes wide, and cheeks flushing crimson, “I-I could’ve been–!”

”Naked?” You offered helpfully, lifting a brow as you stepped more into the room, “I think I’ve survived worse than accidentally walking in on someone mid-change.” Your voice had trailed off a little by the time you got to the middle of the room, because it hit you then–just how good he actually looked.

He wasn’t even trying, and that was probably the worst part–because you didn’t want to see him when he was…

The golden hour light poured through the west-facing window like warm syrup, catching the faint dampness along his skin and the light brown locks that his head sported. The light turned the droplets of water that still trailed down his back into halos of shimmer. His chest was broad and high with clean muscle, sharp and thick, and a bit swollen. There were red marks stretched faintly across his collarbones and the tops of his biceps, fresh from a too-hot shower–evidence of his notoriously sensitive skin. A small pink scar marked the space just under one of his ribs, thinned out from more than a decade of bearing it.

You had always known he was strong–he had to be because of the serum–but this was not what you were expecting.

Bob was built like a cathedral. Sturdy like he’d been carved from something permanent, and yet somehow he still stood like he was embarrassed of that.

”Bob.” You started, but he was already trying to pull his shirt over his head and failing–his arms were moving like they had forgotten how sleeves worked. Then after a second of struggling, he gave up with a frustrated sigh and just pressed the cotton against his bare upper torso like a towel.

“I-It’s really nothing…” He insisted, voice strained and high with shyness, “I-I was just…Looking at something.” Your brows raised as you padded even further into the room, placing the iced tea gently on the nearest stack of books.

“Got a rash or something? I know that Sentry suit probably isn’t a pleasant experience. It’s basically painted on…Probably got chafing in all the wrong places.”

“W-What? No! I–I don’t have a rash,” He sputtered, a nervous laugh catching on the tail end of his words. You could see his ears turning red, then watched as the flush crept down his neck and beneath the top he was holding against him. You grinned, leaning against the footboard of his bed, crossing your arms over your chest.

”So what were you looking at then?”

“I-It’s nothing…I swear…” His gaze couldn’t even meet yours, it just darted everywhere but your face: the floor, the ceiling, the bottle of iced tea, his desk lamp. His throat worked as he swallowed, and he shook his head, “It was n-nothing.” You sighed and, without another word, turned and sat on the edge of his mattress, tablet still in hand as you looked around the room–deliberately taking your time, giving him space to breathe. To maybe cool down a little before you asked him the same question again.

His room was neat, but not in a sterile fashion. He had bookshelves stacked high with paperbacks and limited edition copies of stories–science fiction, poetry, philosophy, he even had a few battered field manuals, but they looked like they hadn’t even been opened. A few of the books had some sticky notes jutting out in soft yellows, greens and blues, all in varying shades. There was a well-kept ficus in the corner by the window, catching sunlight in its leaves. One of his walls held a corkboard filled with photographs of places he had been with the team, with little notes he had kept from you–handwriting scrawled on torn napkins or on the backs of receipts. His Sentry suit hung off a hook like a molded second skin, and a flannel blanket was folded with precision at the foot of the bed.

“W-What are you doing?” Bob’s voice cracked with a soft, almost wounded hesitation. You didn’t look up from the bed right away, instead dragging your thumb along the edge of the tablet as you let the silence sit. Then you finally lifted your gaze, brow raised with soft mischief.

“Waiting for you to move,” You said simply. “So I can see what you could’ve possibly been looking at so intently before I barged in.” He shifted on his feet, his toes curling against the floorboards like he was trying to plant himself there and disappear.

”Y-Y/N, I wasn’t looking at anything…” You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes dropping from his for just a second–slowly taking his body in again from the reflection of the mirror behind him, the long, broad line of his back, the way the light caught in every indentation of muscle like it was sculpted for this hour of the day and no other. Then you looked back at him.

”So why’re you hiding from me then?” You asked softly, “You’ve seen me topless before…Thought you might’ve been comfortable returning the favour.” You joked. His eyes flickered to yours, then away again, lashes fluttering like a startled heartbeat. His grip tightened on the cotton he still held over his chest, the fabric slightly damp now from where it met his skin. You set the tablet down with a quiet tap on his nightstand, fingers curling loosely at your sides as you pushed off the bed and stepped toward him. The floor creaked softly beneath your bare feet. His breath hitched–just barely audible–but you caught it. His whole body tensed, like prey too stunned to run, and yet… He didn’t back away.

“Let’s look together, hmm?” You said, voice soft, it wasn’t a command…It was more of an invitation, “Turn and look in the mirror.” Bob’s eyes darted down to yours, nervous and questioning, the light in them flickering gold just for the briefest moment.

“W-What…?”

”Just…Trust me,” You whispered, inching close enough for your hand to find the edge of the shirt he was still holding to his front. You pinched the soft cotton between your fingers, “Turn and look in the mirror…And move this.” He stared at you, searching your face as if trying to find the trap. But there wasn’t one–not with you. So, with hesitantancy, he turned back toward the full-length mirror beside his bookshelf. His broad shoulders squared, his spine straightening instinctively like he expected to be judged, and slowly, he shifted the cotton away from his chest. He didn’t let it drop–he held it against his side like a safety net–but it no longer blocked his reflection.

You stepped behind him carefully, and rose up on your toes, putting your chin on his heated shoulder, eyes flickering over both his reflection and the way his skin flushed beneath you. The heat coming off his body was tangible, like the golden hour sun had been sucked up by his skin and refused to leave. His damp hair curled at the end where it had dried, and the slope of his shoulder tensed beneath your chin.

Up close like this, with nothing but the mirror before you both, it was impossible not to take him in fully–not just the parts you’d glimpsed, not just what the suit hinted at beneath all that gold-threaded armor and pressure. But this. Him.

The soft curve of his clavicle, just beginning to dry, still slightly pink from the heat of his shower. The small cluster of faded stretch marks that swept just beneath his chest, curling slightly toward the soft ridges of his ribs. They looked like pale lightning, half-silver in the light–evidence of how fast he’d grown into himself, into this body he never asked for. Another quiet mutation to accommodate the weight of what lived inside him. There were more across his lower stomach, ghosting down either side of his abdomen where the muscle swelled thicker. They branched just beside his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his joggers, pale and delicate, like silk run beneath sharp fingers. You wanted to trace them. God, you wanted to press your mouth to every single one.

His skin was smooth in some places, textured in others, but all of it was flushed with heat. And that light trail of hair that you’d never seen before–white blonde, so soft it nearly vanished unless you were this close–drew a path down the center of him that had you unconsciously tightening your arms just slightly where they curled behind his back.

“You definitely don’t have any rashes,” You said softly, voice light with teasing but thick with something warmer. “You’re just a handsome guy…That’s built like a house.” You gave a small shrug against him, trying to diffuse the sincerity with humor, but it still rang true. Bob’s shoulders stiffened immediately, and his reflection turned red so quickly you thought it might spread across the mirror itself.

“S-Stop it,” He muttered, ducking his head just slightly, like that might shield him from your words.

“Why?” You murmured, brows lifting gently. “It’s not like I’m lying to you.” He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched for a second too long, and then his voice came–rougher, smaller.

“I-I don’t see it… I just see this…This person who’s not themselves anymore.” His jaw clenched a little, eyes glued to his reflection like it betrayed him. “Not like I u-used to be. Everything’s just…D-Different.” Your frown came slowly, spreading across your face with a heaviness that tugged the corners of your mouth down and softened your eyes into something deeply pained. You finally connected the dots.

He hadn’t been admiring himself in the mirror. He wasn’t checking for a rash or even trying to catch a glimpse of some half-healed wound. He was judging himself–tearing himself apart with every second he stared. Comparing himself to the man he used to be. The one he probably thought he lost the day he became more myth than man. Your heart twisted with it. That quiet kind of ache that came from loving someone too much to let them stay hurt.

“…Can I touch you?” you asked gently, voice barely above a whisper.

Bob’s eyes met yours in the mirror, startled like you’d touched a raw nerve instead of just offering kindness. His lips parted slightly, breath catching in his throat.

“O-Okay,” He said, like it was foreign–like no one had ever asked that before. You moved even closer to him, your chest now pressing against his back. You lifted your hand and just…Touched him.

Your fingertips met the warm skin of his stomach, just above the waistband of his joggers, feather-light. He inhaled sharply. Not in fear–just surprise. His stomach tensed for a second, then loosened, like his body didn’t quite know how to receive affection that came without demand. You smoothed your hand upward, tracing the soft rise and fall of his abdomen, the slope of strength beneath the surface. His skin was warm and velvety under your touch—damp in places from the shower, and soft in others from where his skin had healed from stress and strain and godhood.

“You’re so…” You breathed, thumb sweeping just beneath his ribs, “Unbelievably beautiful, Bob.” He blinked like he hadn’t heard you right. Like that word had never belonged to him.

“I mean it,” You said softly, your hand traveling up his chest now, resting briefly over his heart–feeling the beat pounding steady and strong beneath your palm. “You have no idea what you look like, do you?”

His breath shuddered. “N-Not like this…”

“Then let me tell you.”

Your voice dropped, low and tender, like a vow.

“This body,” You whispered, your fingers tracing the faint stretch marks just below his pecs, “This is a testament. To everything you’ve carried. To how hard you fought to stay here. How strong you’ve had to be. You didn’t just survive…You built this. And you built it with love. With the way you protect people. With how gently you hold things, even when you could crush them.” You leaned in, lips brushing the curve of his bare shoulder, kissing him once. Then again, higher, where the tension lived tight beneath his neck.

He shivered.

Not out of discomfort–but because he knew you meant it. Because your mouth on his skin felt more like an affirmation than anything anyone had ever said to him. His skin jumped beneath each press of your lips. Your other hand slipped around his waist, palm resting over his stomach again–feeling the subtle flex as he tried and failed to keep still.

“You’re real, Bob,” You murmured between kisses. “You’re good. You’re so good. And every inch of you–every mark, every muscle, every breath–is deserving of love.”

He made a sound then–a quiet, choked breath like he was holding something in his throat. His chest hitched slightly under your hand, and when you peeked up at his reflection, his eyes were glossed, gold flickering around the rims like he was lit from within. You tightened your arms gently, holding him from behind like a tether, your forehead pressing into the curve of his shoulder. Your lips grazed the top of his spine.

“Even if you can’t see it… I do.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full. Of breath. Of tension. Of emotion so thick it filled the space between your ribs and his.

After a few long seconds, his hand moved. Trembling at first, like he didn’t know what to do without being awkward, before lowering it to cover yours.

His palm was big, warm, and dampened with sweat, but you didn’t mind the way it felt. He held your touch in place like he didn’t want you to stop. His thumb swept softly along the edge of your hand, nervous but desperate to keep you there.

When he turned to face you, his breath hitched again. His eyes didn’t look away this time. He just stared at you like he was memorizing the moment.

You were still holding his waist. Still close enough that the warmth of him surrounded you like a sun. His hand lifted–slow, hesitant, like the moment might shatter if he moved too quickly. You didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. Not when his fingers brushed your jaw and then curled so gently against your cheek it made your eyes sting.

He held your face like it belonged in a museum among the works of art. His thumb grazed the space just beneath your eye, sweeping along your cheekbone with the softest pressure–as if he was trying to memorize the way you felt beneath his touch. Like if he just held you long enough, maybe he could believe this was real. That you were real. That someone had truly looked at him–all of him–and still wanted to stay.

Neither of you blinked.

The air shifted–thick with something golden and unspeakable, heavy in your lungs but light in your chest. Like standing on the edge of something vast and beautiful and knowing, this is the moment it all changes.

And then he leaned in.

Not in a rush. Not in some burst of passion where your teeth could possibly clash together. But slowly–like the sun melting into the sea. Like a secret unfolding, tender and certain, inevitable as gravity.

His lips met yours with gentleness you didn’t know you were starving for.

It was so soft it almost didn’t feel like a kiss at first. Just a breath of warmth, and a quiet hum of surrender blooming behind your ribs. His mouth moved against yours with cautious wonder, wanting more but keeping his thoughts under control just for this one moment–just so he could display his secret devotion to you.

The world narrowed to the press of his lips, the curl of his fingers that were still on your cheek, the faint tremble in his shoulders, and the heat of his bare skin where your hands moved now–trailing up his sides and over his back. You traced the soft slope of muscles with your palms, admiring, until your fingertips danced along the small of his back.

And that’s when he gasped.

The kiss broke as his body flinched against yours with a startled breath, a laugh hiccuping through the sound.

”I…Sorry,” He stammered, half-flushed, half-laughing, his hand falling from your cheek like he had ruined it. You grinned, still feeling your heartbeat throughout your entire body, your eyes shining.

”Don’t you dare apologize for a kiss like that,” You whispered, and before he could respond back to you–before he could shrink away or stumble over a hundred more nervous syllables–you leaned in and kissed him again.

It was just a quick one. A seal on the moment, something that could contain it. His breath hitched like he hadn’t expected it–like he still couldn’t quite believe you were touching him so freely, so warmly.

You pulled back just enough to smile against his lips and murmur, “Only you would apologize for something that sweet by the way.” Another blush lit his face instantly, rising to the tips of his ears like fire spreading across his skin. You laughed softly and pressed one last kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a proper hug, letting your cheek press to his chest as he melted into your touch.

His arms folded around you slowly, his forearms curling tightly around your waist, his palms flattening against your spine, pressing your body flush to his like he wanted to make sure there was no space between you at all. You melted into the hold instinctively, sighing against his chest as the tension slid out of you like sand between fingers. Your cheek rested against the warm pillow of muscle just over his heart, and there it was–the steady galloping rhythm, thumping firm and fast beneath your ear. You closed your eyes for a moment, just breathing him in.

The scent of his shower was clinging to him and invading your senses now, there was sage, and a hint of pine, he smelled like a forest, or the wilderness–he smelled like the safest place you would ever come to know.

For a long beat, neither of you moved.

His chin dipped until it came to rest lightly on the crown of your head, a sigh escaping him–low, content, full of something that bordered on reverent. When he hummed, it was quiet and barely even a sound–just a vibration in his chest that pulsed through your cheek and down your spine like a tuning fork finding your frequency so he could slip in and be one with you. You smiled against him.

“So…” You started, voice muffled slightly by his skin, “Is there any chance you’ll start walking around shirtless more often now that I’ve thoroughly showered you with compliments?” He let out a soft, incredulous laugh–half embarrassed, half endeared–and you felt it echo all the way through your ribs. His hands tightened slightly at your back as he ducked his head a little further, his voice feathering warmly against your scalp.

“I-It’ll be u-under heavy consideration now, I think…” He mumbled, voice playful but still laced with that soft-spoken sincerity that was so uniquely his. You smirked.

“Hmm,” You hummed back, fingers curling gently against the thick muscle of his upper back before giving him a teasing squeeze. It made him jolt, just slightly–a tiny gasp of a flinch, like you’d shocked him. He barked out another laugh, and you pulled back just enough to look up at him.

“I’ll take that as a very soft yes,” You said, grinning up at him, your fingers still resting against the planes of his back. His eyes met yours–wide and dilated, but glowing now with something unguarded and bright.

“Y-Yeah,” He said shyly, a smile tugging at his lips, “I guess…I-If it’s for you, it might be okay.” He scratched nervously at the back of his neck with one hand as he looked down at you, then added sheepishly, “B-But you have to promise not to look at me like I’m a sculpture again…I-I almost combusted.” You laughed, arms still around his waist, resting your chin on his chest now so you could meet his eyes directly.

“No promises,” You whispered. “You are a sculpture. Just one that happens to blush when I compliment him.”

His face turned a glorious shade of red, and you watched the smile spread helplessly across his lips even as he tried to hide it. His hands came up again, this time cradling your jaw like it was something precious. His thumbs brushed softly against your cheeks, and he leaned in again–this time a little more sure of himself.

And when he kissed you again, it was with a quiet hunger. Still gentle, still sweet, but layered now with the quiet thrill of knowing that you saw him–really saw him–and loved every part you found.

[etz-ashashiyot]

Compassion check: Do you

Want an end to the violence that both sides find to be acceptable (or at least they can live with the compromise), even if it isn't your ideal perfect solution?

Want as few people to die as possible, even the people on the "wrong side"?

Accept that you may need to put aside your own views and biases and prioritize what the people you're advocating for are actually asking?

Understand that your thoughts, feelings, emotions, and your self-understanding of your motives are less important than other people's actual lives?

Accept that you will need to take the time to empathize with the "enemy" in order to understand what they actually want, need, think, and feel in order to situate your responses in relationship to that reality?

Accept that if there is a solution that lifts up both peoples and allows everyone to move forward in a mutually beneficial way, you should throw your whole weight behind it because it'll help the people you're advocating for, even if it helps the "enemy" side too?

Understand and accept that you cannot rewrite or undo history, but you can help people move forward and make an active choice to prioritize forward thinking?

Know and have sat with the facts on the ground, have verified them from friendly and unfriendly sources, and are willing to acknowledge the truth of inconvenient facts and other people's truths in addition to your own?

Understand and accept that you not only should, but must call out poor behavior and bad actors in your movement in order to preserve its integrity?

If so, then maybe you're ready to be an activist on behalf of another group. If not, you are neither mature enough nor compassionate enough to act as an effective advocate and/or mediator.

[yourstardarling]

Libra: Through The Houses

Birth of Venus, by Sandro Botticelli (1480s)

Libra season this year, has made me realize how unbalanced and tethered Libras can be. Particularly focusing on the weather, it feels like Autumn is in this constant battle between whether it wants to be hot or cold. There isn’t a sense of choosing a side and constant inconsistency. This reminded me of the nature of Libra since it begins the fall season. The nature of not wanting to choose and trying to do both things at once. It fits the complex personality this sign embodies. Constantly tethering between decisions and trying to decide upon a single solution, while trying to maintain a sense of equilibrium. In relation to the weather, they are constantly balancing between being hot(confident, warm and loving) and cold(distant, detached and not caring). Essentially, Libras want the best of both worlds that’s all it is. They want to do both have both options, but life unfortunately pushes them to make a single decision.

Libra in our charts symbolize the area in our lives where we are constantly striving for some sort of temporary balance or stability. This often does not last long, remaining a constant balancing act between two extremes. We can either be doing really good and positive in this area of our lives, or feel disconnected and unable to form attachments. With Venusian ruling here, Libra symbolizes the compromises we make in our relationships with other people. This sign let’s go of the focus on the self (Aries) to be willing to focus on others. That is why the Sun is in fall in Libra it cannot focus on the core ego-based needs because it is worried about the needs of others. This could look like Libras worrying about the impact taking action will have on their relationships, instead of just doing it.

So overall, Libra depicts the compromises you have to make in order to maintain equilibrium. The scales symbolize fairness, but it can also lead to a bit of indecision, as they’re always weighing both options. This need for balance isn’t just about fairness. It’s about creating environments that feel beautiful and harmonious. Libra doesn’t thrive in chaotic settings; they crave a sense of peace and unity, even if they have to play the role of mediator to achieve it. If you want to find out how to create harmony within your chart looking at the house Libra sits in is a good place to start. They lowkey represent the caring for others needs (Virgo) and focusing on self preservation( Scorpio).

Libra 1st house: These individuals are the walking scales embodying harmony and the balance nature of their sign. Their identity is strongly influenced by their relationships, often making them empathetic towards the needs of those around them. So lot of compromises are made between their needs and what other people need. Very willing to make sacrifices for the ones they love, sometimes prioritizing others instead of their own. The selfless and caring sides of these individuals often goes unnoticed. While they work hard to maintain harmony, others might misinterpret their efforts as being superficial or insecure. This is largely due to the Libra persons focus on aesthetic and beauty. They can become a magnet for gossip and conflict with the Aries opposite influence. People may have conflicting point of views about who they are. On one hand, their charm and grace makes them approachable and well liked. On the other, their push for balance is misunderstood as them being indecisive and lacking authority. Nevertheless, they still manage to thrive socially, with their natural ability to navigate social situations with poise. People often gravitate towards them for their likeable presence. There is a sense of class and elegance with Libra risings, they just exude a sense of timelessness and grace. Romantically, they find themselves in complex relationships. They may experience numerous talking stages and fleeting romantic connections. These encounters are rather quick and come with their own set of challenges. Libra Risings often try to get past these challenges by trying to find solutions with their partner. The Saturnian influence on Libra often causes their relationships to be karmic lessons that they must learn to move past. Once lessons learned, they move forward to new connections, searching for someone who matches there ideals of love and partnership. The shadow side of this placement lies in over-compromise. They must learn to assert their own needs and recognize that creating harmony doesn’t always mean sacrificing their identity. By embracing both the caring and assertive aspects of their nature, Libra Rising individuals can achieve the balance they so deeply seek.

Libra 2nd house: These individuals often face a balancing act when it comes to their finances. Compromise seems to follow them as they navigate between generosity and self-preservation. These are highly giving individuals who believe that monetary success is best shared, often using their resources to uplift and support others. They want everyone to be able to partake and share in the success. There is great value in their partnerships with other people. For these individuals, the relationships they cultivate often bring opportunities for wealth or financial growth. This makes them incredibly discerning about who they surround themselves with. Their connections are not just about emotional fulfillment. Instead, they see social wealth as a form of currency, one that enriches their lives and opens doors to abundance. These individuals are drawn to the finer things in life. There is an innate craving for beauty and quality. They often choose simplistic luxury that has a timeless essence. They deeply value elegance and refinement, but this can sometimes lead to overindulgence. A lesson for them lies in understanding that true value doesn’t always lie in material possessions, and that their worth isn’t tied to what they own. Financial ups and downs can characterize their journey. With their tendency to give generously or invest in quality over quantity, their financial situation may tether between the scales. They must learn to cultivate discipline in their spending habits, by creating boundaries with their relationships and ensuring they focus on what truly matters rather than fleeting desires. Overall, their financial life reflects their inner sense of balance. When they are aligned and intentional, their resources flow smoothly. By focusing on building a foundation of sustainable wealth they can achieve a sense of harmony.

Libra 3rd house: Mental stimulation is focused on creating peace and harmony. Their headspace remains a world focused on beauty, refinement and enjoying the pleasures of life.Communication is seen as bridge towards peace for them. They enjoy making conversation and letting their voices be heard. This makes them very charming people to be communicate with. Sometimes it might come across as them being flirtatious when they are just being kind. People they get romantically involved with need to be good conversationalist and know how to stimulate their minds. Words of affirmation is the key to these individuals hearts, they live for people telling them how lovely they are. Libra here can indicate having a harmonious relationship with your siblings if Venus is not afflicted. May have sisters or feminine siblings. When they were younger these individuals may have been seen as little diplomats who tried to find compromise between their peers at school, family members and even their parents. A big part of their mental focus is maintaining some sort of order.

Libra 4th house: These individuals are deeply focused on the structure and harmony of their home life. While they might receive princess treatment from family members, it doesn’t mean their experience is without challenges. Beneath the surface, they face complex family challenges that require them to find ways to seek fairness and harmony. Growing up, they may have faced situations where their needs or boundaries weren’t fully respected. Often lead to them to make unfair decisions that devalued their self autonomy. This origin shapes their approach to relationships, instilling in them a deep value for commitment and balance. Romantically, they are serious and traditional. They view relationships through the lens of long-term commitment, often prioritizing marriage and deep emotional bonds. They seek a partner who shares their appreciation for loyalty and stability, someone who values love as much as they do. They find comfort in the simple pleasures of life. These are people who know how to romanticize the little things, turning everyday moments into something meaningful. Their home is often a reflection of this, as they seek to make it a true work of art. You might find their living space adorned with paintings, vintage furniture, and carefully chosen designs that exude creativity. They remind me of Charlotte from SATC. Their presence is both nurturing and aesthetically uplifting. They have a natural talent for creating environments that feel comforting and beautiful, making others feel cared for. These individuals ensure that the people they love not only look good but also experience the finer things in life.

Libra 5th house: Libra here creates for an individual who has a natural flair for charm and connection. Easily, they might become the life of the party, drawing others in with their magnetic and sociable nature. Their ability to form connections feels effortless, as people are quickly captivated by their grace, wit, and charisma. However, their charm often operates on a surface level. While they excel at making people feel seen and appreciated, their interactions can sometimes lack depth, especially when it comes to casual or fleeting relationships. This tendency can lead to misunderstandings, with others mistaking their friendly and flirtatious nature for something more intentional. A flirtatious energy seems to follow them, even when unintended. They have an air of playfulness in their romantic and social interactions, often enjoying the thrill of connection more than the commitment it might require. Early in life, they may not take romantic relationships too seriously, preferring to explore and experience the joys of love and flirtation without diving into deeper emotional waters.They can also be prone to gossip. Their love for socializing and interacting with others may occasionally lead to them engaging in or being the center of rumors. This stems from their desire to stay connected and in the loop, but it’s something they must navigate carefully to maintain harmonious relationships.Ultimately, they thrive on the joy and thrill of creativity, romance, and fun. The 5th house represents self-expression, and with Libra here, these individuals bring beauty, balance, and charm to everything they do. Their artistic nature make them stand out, whether at the club, networking events, or in their creative pursuits.

Libra 6th house: You need to fall in love with your routines. Libra in the sixth house is interesting because it brings Venusian qualities to an area of life that’s typically more about the mundane day to day routines, health, and work. Libra here needs some kind of enjoyment or beauty in their daily life in order to feel motivated. Without that, they’re likely to feel sluggish or uninspired. They crave a little pleasure in everything they do, which, if unchecked, could lead to overindulgence or imbalance in their health habits. For their physical health to be maintained, they need to find equilibrium between pleasure and practicality. They’re not likely to go overboard with extreme diets or rigorous exercise. Healthy food is fine, as long as it has flavor and tastes good. In their work environments, they tend to get along with most of their colleagues with their social charm. They seek for their environments to be a place of peace and beauty. Tend to work best in environments that are visually pleasing or involve collaboration. They may go out of their way to keep harmony in their workplace, even if it means compromising their own needs to avoid conflict. Might spend a lot of time weighing options or avoiding confrontation at work, wanting to keep the peace at all costs. This can also make it hard for them to enforce boundaries or say no, especially if they feel obligated to please and help others. This placement can also lead to perfectionism in how things look or are organized in their daily routine. They might feel uncomfortable with disorder and prefer to create an aesthetic, well-balanced space.

Libra 7th house: Libra in the 7th house shines in the realm of relationships, where partnership and harmony take center stage. These individuals are natural peacemakers who thrive in environments that require balance and diplomacy. Whether in romantic, platonic, or business relationships, they have an innate charm that draws others to them. Romantic connections often come easily to those with this placement, as their warm and approachable demeanor makes them highly attractive. They seek relationships that are not just loving but also balanced, valuing equality and mutual respect above all. They have a deep desire to share their life with someone who complements their strengths and supports their growth. These unions can feel like a mirror, reflecting back their strengths and areas for personal development.However, their focus on partnerships can sometimes lead to challenges in maintaining their individuality. Libra in the 7th house must learn to balance their need for connection with a strong sense of self. They are naturally inclined to prioritize their partner’s needs, but they must also recognize their own worth and avoid becoming overly dependent or self-sacrificing in relationships. When they find this balance, their unions become a space of mutual empowerment. Libra here teaches the importance of collaboration and compromise. These individuals are tasked with mastering the art of giving and receiving in relationships, allowing them to grow through love and connection. Their ability to foster harmony while maintaining their individuality, creates partnerships that are fulfilling. Through these experiences, they discover the beauty of a true union built on balance and reciprocity.

Libra 8th house: In the house of death, the relationships of these individuals are put to the extremes. Often dealing with the shadow sides of love and partnership, they seek to find some senses of balance within that. They’re drawn to deep, transformative connections, and there’s an attraction to the hidden, mysterious, and even taboo aspects of life. It’s like they’re fascinated by what lies beneath the surface of relationships, wanting to uncover truths and explore the deeper bonds that aren’t just surface-level. With Venus here, there’s also a seductive charm in how they approach intimacy and shared resources. They can be very charismatic in drawing people in, but at the same time, they might struggle with boundaries in these intense connections. It can sometimes feel like they’re losing themselves in other people. This placement can also indicate an interest in financial partnerships or inheritances, based on shared resources, Libra here might feel a pull towards situations where resources are merged with others, but they’ll want fairness and balance, potentially feeling uneasy if things seem unequal or too controlling. They might even seek to find beauty in the darker, transformative experiences of life. These people are able to make things that are extreme and destructive into something beautiful. They turn darkness, into art, finding beauty in the chaos. Transformative phases in their lives is marked by seeking ways to bring back harmony in the world around them. Oftentimes, change brings an inevitable end to connections they have formed.

Libra 9th house: Love & Beauty might be something theese individuals look up as a higher power. A deep relationship with the divine may be formed through art, fashion and visual aesthetic. Libra here makes people gravitate toward beauty and balance in their worldview. They seek harmony in beliefs, often embracing diverse perspectives and aiming for a philosophy that unites rather than divides. They might be drawn to learning about cultures and belief systems that celebrate peace, art, and justice. Often taking a more diplomatic stance on global issues. These people could also be super charismatic in educational or travel settings. They have a natural charm that allows them to connect with people from all walks of life, making them great at bridging cultural gaps. They often find beauty in learning and might see philosophy as a lovely thing to learn about. The Venusian influence, can make them seek pleasurable experiences in their travels and studies, gravitating towards places or subjects that feel aesthetically pleasing. However, sometimes they can struggle with indecision when it comes to forming their own beliefs. They may find themselves trying to balance conflicting ideas, which can make them feel a bit lost or unfocused in their philosophical pursuits. Relationships to them are very important, often placed on a higher pedestal for them. It’s like they see love, beauty, and partnership as concepts that transcend the mundane and become something sacred. For them, relationships aren’t just connection, they’re profound experiences that add depth and meaning to their understanding of life. They learn a lot in their partnerships about the bigger world around them.They might find love in foreign lands. .Meeting people from diverse backgrounds and travel can feel especially thrilling and transformative for them. It’s as though they find beauty in the unfamiliar, and their charm really blossoms when they step outside their comfort zone. It’s like they embody the archetype of a cultural ambassador of love and beauty.

Libra 10th house: Libra in the house of legacy, brings a diplomatic charm towards their public career and image. They’re very focused on maintaining a harmonious and fair reputation. Often striving to be seen as balanced, graceful, and composed in their professional life. People with this placement are likely to be natural mediators or peacemakers in the workplace. They may have a talent for smoothing over conflicts or creating a cooperative environment. Instinctively they want things to run smoothly and peacefully. In their career, they might gravitate toward roles where they can bring people together, like in law, diplomacy, design, or any field that involves aesthetics and relationships. Their public image is often that of someone who values justice, beauty, and fairness. It makes them likely to be well-liked and respected in their field. However, they might sometimes struggle with making decisive moves, especially if they fear that their choices might disrupt the balance or alienate people. They really do think about who their decisions may affect, but often boils down to what is the most fare path to take. Libra here can also lead to a strong desire to be admired for their sense of style and grace. They might put a lot of effort into presenting themselves beautifully or maintaining a refined image. Simplicity within their image is their best friend, making sure that they look very simple, but also elegant and classy. A focus on the timelessness of their appearance. Their career success often relies on how well they can navigate relationships with grace and tact.

Libra 11th house: Libra in the eleventh house brings that Venusian charm into friendships, social circles, and their ideals. People with this placement often have a real talent for making connections and harmonizing group dynamics. They can bring people together effortlessly, often acting as the glue in their friend groups because they’re naturally attuned to everyone’s needs and know how to create an inclusive, friendly vibe.In terms of friendships, they tend to seek relationships that feel balanced and fair, often avoiding groups where there’s too much conflict or imbalance. They may also be drawn to friendships that are supportive of their values around beauty, justice, and harmony. There’s often a refined quality to the way they choose friends, like they’re curating a circle that reflects their ideal of elegance & grace. They want their friendships to have a sense of mutual admiration and respect. Libra in the eleventh can also mean that they’re visionaries in terms of their hopes and dreams. They are strong advocates for social justice, making them highly aware of the social issues of the world around them. It can even lead to joining causes that fight for social change. The downside to this placement is that sometimes they might get caught up in wanting everyone to like them, which can make it hard for them to stand firm on their opinions if they feel it might disrupt the group harmony.

Libra 12th house: In the house of the subconscious, romance and beauty become something tied to the individuals soul. Libra in the 12th house creates a deeply private and introspective romantic nature. These individuals view love and relationships as sacred, preferring to keep their connections away from public scrutiny. It’s not unusual for them to reveal their romantic life only when they feel confident it aligns with their inner peace and harmony. Despite their desire for privacy, they possess a natural magnetism that draws people to them effortlessly. This charm stems from their intuitive understanding of people, allowing them to see beyond the exterior and connect to others on soulful level. However, this placement can also bring feelings of loneliness, even in committed relationships. These individuals must learn to harmonize their internal world with their external relationships. The key lies in understanding that their need for seclusion isn’t a flaw but a strength that can deepen their connections. By openly communicating their boundaries and emotional needs, they can create relationships that honor both their private nature and their longing for companionship. Learning to integrate their need for solitude with their relationships is key to finding balance and fulfillment.

- yourStardarling

[crapeaucrapeau]

Something I've really come to appreciate in ME1 is how all three Council members are consistently and coherently characterized during what little interactions we have with them, and especially how they are different shades of pragmatism.

Now this is interesting because when you delineate characters through foil dynamics, you usually give them contrasting traits : a pragmatic character would be contrasted with an idealistic one. Yet since we're talking politicians, idealism is unlikely. What do we get instead ?

Valern's pragmatism is very much all about short-term efficiency : getting the mission done is the only thing that counts. Results are the only things that counts. He's a textbook example of what a cynical pragmatist might be depicted as ; which is perhaps why Esheel, in a Renegade!Timeline ME3, seems to have nothing but contempt for him.

Sparatus' pragmatism, on the other hand, always manifests itself as caution. Did you take this in consideration ? Do you have proof to back up what you claim ? Can you stop being a maverick for two seconds ? Can you conclusively demonstrate to me that you took every other possibility into account and that you did, in fact, make the best available decision ? It's pragmatism but focused on the long term, on not jeopardizing the future for the sake of the present. Strategy instead of tactics.

And as for Tevos, she usually has the last word, always mediating the reactions of her co-Councilors and the Council's responses as a whole. The feeling you get is that her pragmatism is all about flexibility and compromise : what's done is done, what's most important is that we agree on a mutually beneficial course of action. She juggles egos, unruffles feathers and calms everyone down so that they can move forward.

This is very nice because, in a sense, each of them is a perfect vanilla representation of their respective governments, in keeping with ME1's heavy worldbuilding duties : Tevos is very much the compromising centrist asari are supposed to be, favoring people working together (at practically any cost) over what they're working for ; Valern is all about the short-term mentality of the salarians, and the certainty any problem they cause can be fixed no matter what, in a never-ending parade of problems whose resolution cause other problems ; and Sparatus is risk-averse and perhaps the most conservative of the three, in that he is very afraid of any significant change upsetting the status quo, always calculating how this or that decision might change the grand strategic stage of the galaxy.

[theastrohub]

mars and relationship conflicts ♂

mars represents your drive, the way you assert yourself, your ambition and primal energy. mars in relationship analysis' indicate how you assert yourself interpersonally, how you navigate emotional conflicts and your level of emotional intelligence.

here's a breakdown of my opinion on how each mars sign handles conflicts in interpersonal relationships, jerk reactions to problems, and how they resolve interpersonal issues.

一

♂ mars in libra 一

emotional intelligence rating: 7/10

the mediator. compromise is your best friend and worst enemy in relationships. you avoid making firm stances initially. when your partner makes a one-sided decision, you mitigate tension by calmly explaining your frustration and proposing a more balanced decision-making taking into consideration both parties needs and wants. diplomatic and assertive at your best, passive aggressive and conflict-avoidant at your worst.

一

♂ mars in scorpio 一

emotional intelligence rating: 8/10

you handle conflict with calculated precision, often seeking control and capitalizing on any power dynamics or heirarchies, sometimes creating them as you see fit. your knee-jerk reaction to feeling slighted in conflict is to internalize anger or retaliate underhandedly or even at a later date. you resolve issues through deep emotional transformation and eventual confrontation when you are ready and in control of yourself. intuitive and methodical at your best, vengeful and controlling at your worst.

一

♂ mars in sagittarius 一

emotional intelligence rating: 3/10

you approach conflict with a blunt honesty and a desire for independence (especially from the truth). you are more reactive and impulsive than other signs but it's because direct conflict is restrictive to how you assert yourself. you resolve your issues through gaining understanding of complex situations by sitting down with your partner or friend and exchanging perspectives. you have an adaptable mind and your pursuit for freedom in turn makes for someone who easily escapes any mental prisons or lingering resentment from conflicts. understanding and philosophical at your best, flighty and rude at your worst.

一

♂ mars in capricorn 一

emotional intelligence rating: 7/10

the master strategist. much like mars in scorpio, you prefer to stay in control and on top of situations and conflicts in your relationship. you are extremely level-headed and it takes a lot to get you out of character. when faced with conflict you are composed, as you understand that it is important to still approach situations with others with respect and order. you resolve issues in relationships by applying practical solutions and playing the long-game, like doubling down on your values and outworking your partners and friends. collected and strategic at your best, calculated and cunning at your worst.

一

♂ mars in aquarius 一

emotional intelligence rating : 7/10

in conflict, your initial reaction is to distance yourself emotionally and do your own thing. while you do not outwardly display your emotions, the logical solution for any conflict you face with people is to not show your sensitive side, thus rebelling from the norm. when you regain mental clarity, you come back with solid solutions in your ideas and focus on the big picture and positive changes in your interpersonal goals. much like mars in libra, you are an advocate for the needs of everyone you care about as a whole. innovative and pragmatic at your best, detached and unreachable at your worst.

一

♂ mars in pisces 一

emotional intelligence rating: 9/10

notoriously escapist, you retreat into your own world at the first sign of conflict as a means of preservation of your inner homeostasis. outwardly emotional and sensitive, you can have strong outbursts when angry or completely stamp out your needs. you resolve your interpersonal conflicts through using your strong intuition to read the room and find a solution that puts everyone at ease. much like libra, you value peace and being non-confrontational, often to your own detriment. emotionally intelligent and compassionate at your best, escapist and erratic at your worst.

一

♂ mars in aries:

emotional intelligence rating: 4/10

much like mars in sagittarius, your jerk reaction is to take charge in conflictual situations, and sometimes by brute force. you are not scared to exercise any power or authority you have in interpersonal relationships with the intent of neutralizing any inefficiencies. this can mean getting into fights, verbal and even physical. you can be hot headed but move on just as fast. you navigate conflicts through being direct about matters and not shying away from hard truths. assertive and forgiving at your best, hot-headed and combative at your worst.

一

♂ mars in taurus

emotional intelligence rating: 2/10

much like mars in capricorn, you are not easily upset by others as you are stubborn in nature. your initial reaction in conflict is to grit your teeth and stay put in your stance on matters at hand. you make for someone who is actually grounded in your approach to issues but at times difficult to talk to as you are rigid to the influence of others. conflict resolution for you looks like being firm about structure and adherence to rules and order for the benefit of all parties involved. reliable and calm at your best, stubborn and intolerant at your worst.

一

♂ mars in gemini

emotional intelligence rating: 3/10

sharp-shooter with your words, your jerk reaction to conflict is to debate, argue, slander and criticize, much like mars in virgo. on the other hand, you resolve interpersonal conflicts through encouraging conversations and mental adaptability of logical problem solving (what are we doing that isn't working?). conversational and flexible at your best, argumentative and slanderous at your worst.

一

♂ mars in cancer

emotional intelligence rating: 8/10

the nurturer, you are extremely emotionally intelligent, to the benefit of yourself and your friends and partners. while you are not afraid to show your pincers in conflict and can actually be quite mean, you know exactly how to appease the people around you. whether it be having a heart-to-heart or comforting others, you always seek to understand how people feel thus becoming a safe space in conflicts. people feel safe voicing concerns to you as your end goal is equilibrium of everyone's feelings. comforting and emotionally intelligent at your best, mean and abrasive at your worst.

一

♂ mars in leo

emotional intelligence rating: 6/10

notoriously proud, you are not conflict-avoidant but you do not appreciate any public interactions that are dishonorable to how you treat others. your jerk reaction in conflict is to fight back, especially when you feel disrespected, overlooked, or slighted. much like mars in aries, you need to time to cool off but unlike mars in aries, you do not forget how you were treated. you observe and listen as to not exacerbate issues while planning a mutually respectful conversation later to restore dignity of both parties. compromising and validating at your best, dramatic and prideful at your worst.

一

♂mars in virgo:

emotional intelligence rating: 4/10

the problem-solver in relationships. you approach conflict by finding practical solutions that meet the needs of all parties involved. you might be quick to criticize or nitpick, but you resolve issues through careful planning, attention to detail, logic, and precise communication of feelings. when you notice your partner is always late, you might suggest setting dates at more convenient times for both of you. adaptable and thoughtful at your best, critical and mean at your worst.

一

thank you for reading 💋

@astrobaeza

(signed - a pisces mars)

for more: [ paidservices ₊ masterlist ₊ tips ] // gif by @meshikiari9gifted

[iamgonnagetyouback]

The new theme is as gorgeous as you Love!!

And happy celebration to you! I don't have any requests for it right now but if you feel like it, what about 🧸 Jamie with your favourite prompt??

I hope you've had a beautiful Valentine's my Darling 😘

WHAT ARE WE DOING WITH THE SPARE ROOM?.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ J. POTTER

SUMMARY ৎ୭ when you and james moved in together, the spare room became a heated topic. you want a guest room, james wants a game room, and neither of you are willing to back down. just when things get chaotic, sirius shows up with his own agenda—one that has nothing to do with helping you and everything to do with making sure remus moves in with him

WARNINGS ಇ. domestic chaos, james being dramatic™, minor manipulation (sirius’ brand of strategic encouragement), no actual resolution, just mild compromise A/N ಇ. oh, mum, you’re the sweetest!! ♡ thank you, love!! i went with the prompt "a spare room" from the domestic prompts. hope your valentine’s was as lovely as you ୨ৎ mwah!! ‹𝟹 p.s. i got a bit inspired by mondler's spare room fight nav. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀2k celebration. ⠀

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 995

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The problem began with a simple question.

“So, what are we doing with the spare room?”

It was an innocent inquiry, asked while you stirred sugar into your tea, dressed in mismatched socks and James’ Quidditch jumper. You hadn’t thought much of it. Just a casual question, a nice topic to discuss like responsible adults who had just moved in together. What you hadn’t expected was James to come crashing into the kitchen like he’d been preparing for this moment his entire life.

“I’m so glad you asked.” He beamed, dropping a roll of parchment onto the counter dramatically. It unraveled to the floor, revealing an intricately drawn-out floor plan labeled ‘JAMES’ GAME ROOM OF GLORY.’

Your tea almost sloshed over the rim of your mug. “I—what?”

James, unbothered, began his presentation. “Picture this, angel—dart board, a pool table, a giant Wizard’s Chess set, a Quidditch simulator—oh! And a mini fridge for butterbeer.”

“James.” You blinked at him. “That’s ridiculous.”

James gasped, clutching his chest like you’d physically wounded him. “Ridiculous?”

“We should make it a guest room.”

He looked personally betrayed. “For who?”

“For guests?” You gestured vaguely. “You know, people who visit?”

James scoffed. “Name one guest.”

“Remus?”

“He rarely gets out of his room.”

“Sirius? Peter?”

“They practically live on our couch already.”

“Lily.”

“She wouldn’t stay here if it were the last habitable place on Earth.”

You crossed your arms. “What if one of our parents visit?”

James paled. “…I’m listening.”

You smirked. “A nice, cozy guest room, James. Soft bedding, warm lighting, maybe a bookshelf—”

“Or a Quidditch decor shelf.”

You sighed. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it.”

“Debatable.”

The argument escalated into a full-on debate, voices rising, exaggerated hand gestures flying, James dramatically reenacting how utterly tragic his life would be without a dedicated game room. You were halfway through an impassioned monologue about practicality when the front door slammed open, and Sirius Black sauntered in, pausing in the doorway, probably hearing you from across the hall.

“Alright, what in Merlin’s name is going on here?”

You and James turned to him mid-argument.

“James is being ridiculous!” You pointed at him accusingly.

“She is a dream-crusher!” James shot back, clutching his chest like you’d wounded him.

"Children, children!" Sirius rubbed his forehead with a deep sigh like a father forced to mediate his very dumb children while the mother (Remus) was away. "What is all this about?"

"I simply asked James what he thought we should do with the spare roo—" You started but was very rudely interrupted by your 'boyfriend'.

"—future game room." James grinned as if saying just that would get Sirius to side with him.

Sirius shook his head. “You two are a nightmare. Right, listen up, lovebirds.”

You frowned. “We’re not lovebirds, we’re having a very serious debate.”

Sirius ignored you. “As a neutral third party—”

“You’re not neutral.”

“As a neutral third party,” Sirius continued, louder this time, “I think you should consider the bigger picture.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Which is?”

Sirius clapped his hands together. “Compromise.”

James perked up. “You mean a game room?”

Sirius shot him a look. “No, what I mean is, if you two don’t move in together peacefully, Remus won’t move in with me.”

"Cause I'll not move and stay with Remus again?" You questioned with a raised brow although you still couldn't figure out how this affected Sirius in any way.

"Exactly! And we don't want to do that to happen to poor, old me now do we, doll?" Sirius cooed.

"We wouldn't have to if you just tell James that having a guest room is better." You snarked back as you cast a glance at James who was already daydreaming about all the games he could bring. As if you would let that happen.

Sirius groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “Merlin! It’s like talking to two particularly stubborn hippogriffs!”

You rolled your eyes. “Then maybe try agreeing with me.”

Sirius gasped, clutching his chest like you’d physically wounded him. “Me? Picking sides? I am a man of neutrality, of fairness, of—”

“—pure drama,” you finished flatly.

“—wisdom,” he corrected, ignoring you. “And my wisdom says that if you two don’t stop bickering like a pair of first-years fighting over a Chocolate Frog card, I will be left alone in a flat, miserable, forced to talk to my plants for companionship.”

James blinked. “...You don’t even have plants.”

Sirius scowled. “I’ll buy plants, James. Is that what you want?”

James, completely unaffected, turned to you with a smug grin. “You know, love, if we had a game room, we could get a PlayStation.”

Your eye twitched. “We are not getting a PlayStation.”

“We could get a PlayStation,” James whispered, nudging Sirius.

Sirius rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You know, a PlayStation does sound fun.”

“SIRIUS.”

Sirius held up his hands. “I’m just saying! It’s modern, it’s interactive, it’s—”

“You are supposed to be on my side,” you snapped.

“I’m supposed to be on Remus’ side, actually,” Sirius corrected with a smirk. “Which means I just need you two to shut up and move in peacefully.”

You folded your arms. “So you’re manipulating us into agreeing so that Remus will move in and you can make him fall in love with you?”

Sirius grinned. “It’s not manipulation, it’s strategic encouragement.”

James grinned. "Brilliant, mate."

You groaned. "Fine. A compromise."

James nodded thoughtfully. “I’m listening.”

“Half game room, half guest room.”

“…Go on.”

“Bed for guests, but also a dartboard.”

You considered. “Mini fridge?”

“For butterbeer only.”

“Fine.”

“A small, tasteful Quidditch poster?”

You sighed. “One.”

James grinned. “And a tiny Quidditch decor shelf?”

“James.”

“…I had to try.”

And so, the spare room became a bizarre hybrid of comfort and games—a soft, welcoming guest bed next to a dartboard, a bookshelf lined with novels and a single, oversized Quidditch poster. James called it a victory. You called it a disaster. Sirius called dibs.

And together, you called it a home.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[lee-the-yeen]

Yeen's Blitzwing Headcanons!

Been going nuts about analyzing this big silly bot so here's some HC's

So, to start, I don’t think Blitzwing was one bot split in three, but two smashed together.

Blitz’s Icy face was a seeker, the off-color spaces on his cheeks even being the perfect place for where his theoretical vents would have been.

Hothead was a tanker, and while we get only one example of a “pure” tank cybertronian in TFA in the form of Warpath…

…you can see my vision here, right?

If you go with the ”split” method, no matter which face was the “original”, the other elemental power and alt mode had to come from somewhere.

But if Icy was the jet, and Hothead was the tank, where does Random come in? To answer that, I wanna get into the process of becoming a triple-changer.

The procedure could have been a way to try to make a super soldier, master of the land as well as the sky. Adding on Icy and Hothead’s elemental powers, the resulting individual would, in theory, be an unstoppable force.

If this sounds somewhat familiar, it should. A possibility for how Safeguard exists could be because the Autobots caught intel about the Triple Changer experiments. However, they would have had to make some serious adjustments since canonically, every single attempt to create a Triple Changer has either failed or ended up wildly unstable mentally. Blitzwing might even be in Megatron's inner circle purely because he’s the only “functional” Triple Changer to exist.

My thoughts for how the process goes is that not only are the frames and abilities combined into one, but their minds are combined as well.

Two consciousnesses being forced together, with all their memories and experiences preferably intact (that way your perfect soldier doesn’t have to re-learn to walk and talk), it causes an existential dissonance. Imagine being bombarded with the memories of someone else, and expected by everyone around you that they are yours now.

The resulting existential crisis burns out the processors, offlining the lucky, and maddens whoever manages to survive.

You have to be the cybertronian equivalent of drift compatible in order for it to go even decently well. Blitzy’s components were close, but not there yet.

What spared them the fate of other failed Triple Changers is a few precautions from Blackarachnia. She had the foresight to stick a third, empty processor in Blitzwing’s head to act as a buffer for the huge influx of data, as well as EMP-ing him as soon as the Existential Dissonance was occurring. This wiped the majority of his memories of his life before the procedure, but even all that wasn’t enough.

The trauma of the procedure, being torn apart and put back together again, as well as the Dissonance (whether they remember it or not), it was too much...leading Random to manifest within that empty processor.

Now, what brought me to this conclusion? Time for my amateur psychoanalysis under the cut!

To start, the expected disclaimers.

I am not a psychologist, and I do not claim to be. This whole thing is just for fun, and over-analysis of media I like is a big pastime for me. I also do not have DID, and anyone who does that has objections and/or critiques of my analysis, I fully encourage you to voice your thoughts.

Also, keep in mind that cybertronian brains likely don’t work one-to-one with how humans do, and that there’s no true equivalent to what Blitzwing is in terms of human psychology.

With that out of the way, with these headcanons in mind, Icy and Hothead are not alternate personalities in the psychological sense, seeing as they were once completely separate bots.

But Random is.

Random acts as something of a mediator or moderator for Icy and Hothead, in order to keep them somewhat balanced and working as a team. See the Jet-Tank argument, with him popping up to propose a compromise.

While all three faces can and do hold their own, to me Random especially acts as a protector. Examples being him headbutting Lugnut in ‘Lost and Found’ and his sudden change of trajectory in ‘Velocity’ (Never give up, never surrender, nevermind!). Bringing up the Jet-Tank argument again, he notably pops up while the sirens of the “autobot reinforcements” are getting closer and louder.

As for why Random pops in just to make jokes, humor is often used as a coping mechanism [he just like me fr], and not only did Blitzwing’s components go through the Triple Changer procedure, but millions of years of war. It’s no wonder, really.

And while a lot of Random’s jokes are very much “haha I’m so craaazy”, that feels like it’s more of a cry for help. Blitzwing is hyper-aware of his condition, and self depreciates as a way to cope [he just like me for realllllll :,)].

In conclusion, someone get this mech in Rung’s office, he desperately needs a psychotherapist (cyber-therapist?).

As a side note, something I really like is that, despite the nicknames for his faces in the Almanacs (that I used here mostly for clarity), Blitzwing is just referred to as Blitzwing, no matter what face is up front.

[sleepymarimo]

A TAMA...WHAT? - TOJI FUSHIGURO

"toji. if anything happens to my tamagotchi while i'm gone, i'm actually never talking to you again."

"...huh?"

: ̗̀➛ 1.2k cw: none! silly goofy fun, tamagotchi death :'(

the sorcerer killer isn't sure what to do with the small device in his hand, which looks a little too colorful for his liking. too flashy. when you'd called him a few hours ago to tell him you needed a favor, he didn't expect to be a damn babysitter to a pixelated pet for a whole week.

he would've declined, maybe suggest a "compromise", but you seemed a little too serious about your threat of not speaking to him ever again.

and, despite his best effort to maintain a nonchalant front, he knew that he wasn't going to take that risk.

you'd let him stay at your place, a nice perk, so now he lays back on your couch and fiddles with the buttons while watching the small pet eat or play or even work. how does this thing have more of a stable life than he does?

lips set into a focued pout, those big digits of his nearly crush the poor buttons into dust. "the hell do you want now?" he growls, having just set down the device to watch a boat race on t.v.

toji's never been intimidated by new jobs, by thinking outside the box, but at this moment he'd rather be taking on a horde of curses.

yet... he kind of gets the hang of it. maybe a little too much.

by day three of his tamagotchi journey, he feels pretty confident about taking care of the pet. pride surges through his veins when he checks all the stats and sees no issue, the tamagotchi thriving under his care.

he becomes a little too obsessed with the toy sometimes.

shiu, on a call with the assassin, finds himself having to pause when he swears he hears this constant beeping in the background.

"fushiguro-"

"just hold on," toji interrupts, the phone resting on the table while he works on the tamagotchi. "this thing is sick as shit. i gotta give it medicine."

the mediator isn't even sure what to say at that, a part of him wondering if his mind is playing tricks on him. "i thought you were just going to get her a new one. you're still keeping up with that thing?" shiu asks into the receiver, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear as he reaches for a cigarette and lighter.

another few beeps can be heard through the phone, then a relieved sigh. "fuck no. and m'not 'keeping up'," toji specifies, almost offended. "m'owning this piece of crap. it's easy work."

on the other end of the phone, shiu finds solace in a deep inhale of cigarette smoke. luckily, he's able to get toji on a pretty good gig with the promise of outstanding pay.

even during the meeting a couple days later, the sorcerer killer is brushing off high end clients as soon as he hears that damn beeping. "gimme a minute," he gruffly says, before mumbling in a more hushed tone. "s'fucking needy..."

raising one hand as if he's putting a simple pause on the conversation, he uses the other to click click click until he deems the virtual pet satisfied.

meanwhile, shiu is embarrassed as hell and makes an effort not to look the client in the eyes.

content enough, toji places the tamagotchi back in his pocket with a gentleness that he doesn't usually, if ever, displays. "a'right. so how much are ya paying again?"

...

by the time you arrive home a day later, exhausted from a flight and too many train rides, you're ready to be reunited with your virtual companion.

"okay toji," you call out, the door shutting behind you with a click. "where's mimitchi?"

you hear his heavy steps before you see him, his frame rather... rigid. "well hey to you too," he greets, stopping just before you and giving your form a quick once over. "and who the hell is mimitchi?"

sighing, you give him a proper hello before looking at him a little suspiciously. "that's the tamagotchi. mimitchi is her name," you explain, starting to tap your foot. where was it? "so...?"

his eyes momentarily widen, like he's genuinely surprised. "huh? it's a girl? and that's her name? what the hell..."

while it's a funny sight, you don't stop giving him that pointed look. your arms even cross, indicating that you really weren't in the mood.

toji scoffs at your little display, shrugging his shoulders. "i lost it," he replies. "must've fell out of my pocket or something..."

your heart drops. "you what? seriously? toji!" a pout settles on your lips, sincere disappointment written all over your features.

does he feel bad? yes, he does. with a sigh, he steps closer and wraps his arm around you, placing it on your lower back. he's shitty with words, but he knows how to ground you.

"look, sweetheart, i'll get you another one," he starts, his words making your heart feel a little more light. "tomorrow we can-"

breep! beep beep beep!

breep! beep beep beep!

while you freeze, toji's hand goes straight to his pocket. "shit, i thought it fucking silenced it."

jaw dropping, you look up at him as if he's just stabbed you in the back. hell, he might as well have!

"are you serious?" you chuff, not believing his audacity. your hand reaches for his pocket, but he's quick to pull out the tamagotchi and hold it out of your reach. "oh, you asshole! i can't believe you."

caught in the act, he allows himself to scowl just the smallest bit. "y'the one who left her," he points out, as if he has a say in how to be a present parent. "i'm just stepping up."

your offended gasp triggers a chuckle from him. reaching for the tamagotchi again, you whine when he moves it even further from you.

the back and forth lasts for a while, until a truce is made.

sitting on the couch, you hold the device and check up on mimitchi, who seems to actually be in pretty good condition. you're thoroughly impressed, even letting him know so.

"you're still a jerk for lying," you point out, sure that you weren't going to drop that anytime soon. he just shrugs, acknowledging his wrongs but not really apologizing, as per his usual style.

however, seeing that your beloved mimitchi is already retired and aging... you decide to let him have her. if he wanted the full tamagotchi experience, he was going to get it.

so, while he smugly pockets the toy once more, you just wait.

that moment comes a whole two days later, the day starting off just like any other. in your room, the morning light barely shining through your window, you wake in time to hear those dreaded sounds that no tamagotchi owner wants to hear.

beep...beep...beep...

then, you hear toji abruptly sitting up on the couch, pushing buttons left and right. "not a fucking chance..." he mumbles, surely not expecting a cute toy to have such an abrupt end.

you can only muffle your laughs as he stands, those heavy steps of his coming straight for your door to demand an explanation.

an: lol this idea came into my mind and i just had to get it out. hope you enjoyed bc i kinda laughed writing it:')

[mya-valentine]

Headcanon: Working Closely with Dottore and Pantalone

Working with both Dottore and Pantalone is a constant balancing act. Dottore thrives in the realm of chaos, with his twisted experiments and disregard for ethical boundaries, while Pantalone is the epitome of control and calculated precision. Your role often involves navigating between these two extremes, ensuring that Dottore’s reckless endeavors don’t entirely destroy Pantalone’s well-constructed plans—or his profits.

When working with Dottore, you can never fully predict what kind of experiment or scheme he’ll drag you into. His workspace is full of dangerous contraptions and ominous, mysterious equipment. He treats everything like a puzzle he’s determined to solve, even if it means crossing lines others wouldn’t dare. He might request your assistance in something seemingly innocent, only for it to evolve into a disturbing and twisted experiment.

On the other hand, Pantalone runs things with the precision of a businessman. Every decision is meticulously calculated, and he expects nothing less from those who work closely with him. He’s always thinking several steps ahead, and his projects often revolve around securing wealth and influence for the Fatui. When working with him, you are exposed to high-stakes negotiations, economic manipulation, and subtle power plays.

You often find yourself playing the mediator between Dottore and Pantalone. Dottore’s mad scientist antics sometimes clash with Pantalone’s structured business endeavors. It’s not uncommon for Pantalone to become exasperated by Dottore’s unpredictable actions, and you’re the one who has to smooth things over, explaining Dottore’s reasoning—or lack thereof—while ensuring Pantalone’s operations aren’t compromised.

Joint meetings between the three of you can be tense. Dottore often speaks in vague, almost mocking tones about his experiments, while Pantalone raises a brow, always concerned about how much these ventures will cost the Fatui. You’ll feel the palpable tension as Pantalone tries to rein in Dottore’s more outlandish ideas, but Dottore never gives in easily.

While Dottore can be incredibly intimidating, there’s a certain thrill in working alongside someone as brilliant—and dangerous—as him. He occasionally lets you in on his more technical ideas, expecting you to keep up with his genius. He enjoys showing off his creations and theories, and if you’re able to contribute meaningfully, he’ll regard you with a mix of interest and amusement.

Pantalone, on the other hand, values your ability to manage things with poise. He expects you to understand the broader picture, the economy, and how to influence people subtly. He enjoys teaching you about the intricacies of wealth management and expects you to adopt his same level of attention to detail. If you manage to impress him, he might even offer you a more strategic role in the Fatui’s financial dealings.

Dottore has a twisted sense of humor, and you’ll often find yourself on the receiving end of it. He’ll make cryptic or morbid jokes about his experiments or the people involved, and you’ll need to keep your composure to avoid becoming another one of his “test subjects.” There’s a fine line between working with him and becoming part of his next experiment.

Pantalone, being a man of wealth, spoils those who earn his favor. If you manage to keep things running smoothly between him and Dottore, he will reward you handsomely—whether that’s through financial compensation, gifts, or special privileges. He values competence and loyalty, and he’s more than willing to show his appreciation through luxurious means.

Both Dottore and Pantalone hold significant power within the Fatui, but their power manifests in different ways. Dottore’s influence comes from fear and intellect, while Pantalone’s stems from wealth and control. You’ll need to navigate their distinct power dynamics carefully, knowing that they both have the ability to make or break you in the organization.

Earning trust from either Dottore or Pantalone isn’t easy. Dottore respects intellect and curiosity, while Pantalone values loyalty and efficiency. Over time, you may find yourself in a unique position where you’ve gained the trust of both men, becoming someone they rely on—Dottore for assistance with his experiments and Pantalone for managing the financial and strategic aspects of the Fatui.

Working with them can feel like being part of a dangerously effective machine. Pantalone’s resources fund Dottore’s more elaborate projects, and in return, Dottore’s inventions or discoveries can increase the Fatui’s power.

Working closely with Dottore and Pantalone is a challenging yet intriguing experience, requiring adaptability, wit, and a keen understanding of both chaos and order. It’s a delicate dance between madness and strategy, and if you manage to thrive in such an environment, you’ll earn the respect—and maybe even the protection—of two of the most powerful Harbingers in Teyvat.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[konpeitonom]

Hiii!! I've been loving all your MW hcs and I was wondering if I could get some SFW/NSFW hcs for a throuple relationship between a fem reader, Curly, and Jimmy? Thank you!!

throuple with jimmy and grant curly.

sfw/nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader — cw for jimmy overall lol, he’s kinda gay here and so is curly. jim curly my beloved. they are not dating, just you dating them. minors do not read nsfw section thank you..

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; this was a bittt difficult to write for i won’t lie. jimmy is just too jealous/selfish of a character to make anything like that work! but i tried my best.. i really like the smut here!!

SFW

— i’m not going to question how this came to be. i can only guess curly and jimmy had some sort of compromise. whatever happened it’s all in the past and you’re all together like this!

— i think if you cracked any sort of joke that curly and jimmy are dating as well, jimmy would genuinely be so hurt. this is my post so i can proudly say that man is so deep into the closet. but whatever! this is an x reader.. curly would just laugh and be like ‘haha yeah’

— i think they are the perfect balance! curly can sometimes be overbearing in his love. he’s just so sweet. and jimmy. uhm. you know. you’d be lucky to get a genuine hug from this guy.

— if you guys are all hanging out together, jimmys jealousy is really evident. but for your sake and his ‘best friends’ sake, he tries to only subtly show it. even if all three of you know..

— jimmy would just stare as you two show your sickly sweet affection for one another. he’d step in, hands suddenly on your waist as he attempts a pleasant conversation with curly..

— i can only imagine the conversations they’d have about you, when you’re not in the room.. curly is the type of absolutely gush over his partner, and with jimmy dating you also it makes for a perfect situation!

— jimmy says he’s sick of it, but he doesn’t mind.

— dating the same girl would change their dynamic just a little, but at the end of the day they are still best friends. jimmy is still a very important person in curlys life, so he’ll try to keep the peace.

NSFW

minors do not read

— with sex, you usually have them one on one. because jimmy can sometimes just be so mean to curly, and you deserve to have a special moment with curly too! with both of them, actually.

— jimmy likes to go all out when it’s just you two. no stupid curly to try and mediate. leaves him bruises to look at, like between your thighs. a reminder than you’re his too.

— curly would gently kiss the bruises jimmy had given you. he’d ask if he was gentle enough, that if he had hurt you. because he knows jimmy is capable of that.

— on the rare occasion that you do fuck together, it really is like having the best of both worlds! jimmys more harsh nature goes well with curly who’s all about just pleasing you.

— jimmy bosses the fuck out of curly. like, ‘you do this, go do that’ ..

— jimmys personal favorite position is you in his lap, his dick shoved up your ass, as curly is stuffed into your cunt.. curly doesn’t mind it, as long as he can see your face clearly. jimmy is usually biting at your shoulders and neck..

— curly is also right by your ears, so he’d ask several times if this was all okay. if jimmy was too much, and if he should step in or call for a break/to slow down.

— jimmy would also like having his dick sucked as curly fucks you. it’s a sight to see, really. he feels most in control, because curlys movements choke you out a bit.

— he’d yell at curly to pick up his pace. how could he expect to please a woman when he’s going so fucking slow?

— once, he had came all over your pretty face, his cum leaking a bit out your lips. curly then reached over and placed his hand on your chin, kissing you. seeing his cum on you and curlys lips made him so unbelievably horny. dear god

— that’s kind of his go to thought when jerking off. he’s hoping you’ll recommend the two fuck as you watch one day. his cum on curly, in curly? yeah. yeah. he’s not gay though he’s just doing it for his girlfriend.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Imagine if the SOLDIER floor had a boxing ring

*Angeal is mediating a fight between Zack and Cloud in the boxing ring*

Angeal: Alright, since we have to prove to Lazard that this boxing ring was a good investment, let's do well on this training exercise.

Cloud: Okay!

Zack: Got it!

Angeal: Alright, the rules are simple—keep your gloves up, no hitting below the belt, and remember to stay balanced. Focus on technique, not brute force. Got it?

*Cloud punches Zack in the face*

Zack: Buddy, did you not hear what he said?!?

Angeal: Cloud, your form is excellent, 5 points.

Cloud: Cool!

Zack:

Angeal: Continuing. Now, remember—no wild swings. Control your movements. Keep it clean.

*Cloud punches Zack in the face again*

Zack: Cloud!! Did I miss a rule where it's allowed to punch the other guy like that?!

Angeal: That was a beautiful jab! Another 5 points to Cloud!

Cloud: Thank you, sir!

Zack: How the hell is that fair?!? He's just decking me in the jaw and you're praising him for it? What's next, he gets praised for attempting murder?

*Cloud kicks Zack between his legs*

Zack: MY CHILDREN!

Angeal: Cloud, you are an example to be followed. 5 more points.

Zack: SERIOUSLY?? OKAY, I'M NOT PLAYING ANYMORE!

*Zack swings at Cloud, Angeal grabs his hand before it can hit, twists his wrist and flips Zack onto his back*

Angeal: Disappointing, Zack. I said clean. That was messy, emotional, and deeply unbalanced. You let your feelings compromise the sanctity of the sport.

Zack: ASDFGHJKJHGFDSA

[okasuka]

Damian wayne x Y/N - fractured lines.

The Batcave hummed softly with the echoes of computers whirring and the occasional clinking of tools. Damian stood near the weapon rack, methodically checking his batarangs. He cast a glance over his shoulder as you tightened your gloves and adjusted your utility belt.

“Are you ready yet, Y/N? You’re slower than Grayson,” he teased, his usual gruffness softening at the sight of you.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look up. “Give me a second, Damian. Not everyone wakes up and chooses perfection every day like you.”

His lips twitched into a smirk, but his sharp eyes caught something that made him pause. A thin crack ran along the side of your suit, near the ribcage. He frowned.

“Y/N,” he called, his tone suddenly serious.

You froze, instantly recognizing that tone. Turning to him, you saw his gaze fixed on your torso.

“What?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

He walked toward you, his emerald eyes narrowing. “Your suit. It’s damaged.”

“Oh, that?” You waved him off. “Just a scratch from last night’s mission. No big deal.”

His frown deepened. “A scratch? That’s not a scratch, Y/N. That’s structural damage. It could compromise your protection during patrol.”

You shrugged, ignoring the sharp sting that radiated from your side as you moved. “I’ll be fine, Damian. It’s not that bad.”

But Damian wasn’t convinced. He crossed his arms, blocking your path to the Batmobile. “You’ve been wincing since last night. I’ve noticed.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was cold, cutting through your attempted deflection.

You sighed, the weight of his stare making you squirm. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, okay? Let’s just go.”

He didn’t budge. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes scanning you with a mix of concern and irritation. Before you could stop him, he reached out and gently prodded the area near the crack in your suit.

You hissed in pain, jerking away.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but laced with anger. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s just a cut, Damian!” you snapped, finally losing your patience. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. I’ve dealt with worse.”

His jaw clenched. “A cut? How bad?”

You didn’t answer, and that was enough for him to pull you toward the medical bay.

“Hey! I’m fine!” you protested, but his grip was firm.

“Alfred,” Damian called as the elderly butler appeared, his expression calm but curious. “She’s injured. Check her.”

“I don’t need to be checked!” you argued, trying to pull away.

“You’re being reckless,” Damian shot back, glaring at you.

“And you’re being a control freak!”

Alfred, ever the mediator, stepped between the two of you. “Now, now, let’s not argue. Miss Y/N, please sit.”

Grumbling, you obeyed, wincing as Alfred carefully peeled back the damaged section of your suit. The sight made Damian’s eyes widen. A deep, jagged cut ran along your torso, red and angry.

“Good heavens, child,” Alfred muttered, immediately gathering supplies. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You looked away, embarrassed. “It wasn’t that bad…”

“Not that bad?” Damian’s voice was sharp, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’ve been walking around with that and didn’t think to tell anyone?”

“I didn’t want to bother anyone,” you muttered, feeling small under his gaze.

“Bother—Y/N, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” His voice rose slightly, frustration bubbling over. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? What if it got infected? What if you made it worse during patrol?”

“I can take care of myself!” you shot back, tears of frustration pricking your eyes.

“Clearly not!” he snapped. “You’re impulsive and reckless, and one day it’s going to get you killed!”

His words stung, and your chest tightened. “Why do you even care, Damian?”

The room fell silent. Even Alfred paused, his gaze flicking between the two of you.

Damian’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His face softened for a brief moment before he turned away, his fists still clenched.

“I care because I can’t… I can’t lose you,” he finally muttered, his voice quieter now, laced with vulnerability that caught you off guard.

You blinked, the sting of tears forgotten as you processed his words. “What?”

Damian still didn’t look at you, his jaw tight as if he regretted speaking. “You’re reckless, Y/N. And it terrifies me because I…” He exhaled sharply, struggling to find the right words. “You matter to me, okay? More than I’d like to admit.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Damian Wayne, of all people, just confessed—albeit indirectly—that he cared about you.

Alfred, sensing the emotional weight in the air, cleared his throat gently. “If I may interject, Master Damian, perhaps we should focus on treating Miss Y/N before delving into… other matters.”

Damian nodded stiffly, stepping aside but still glowering. “Fix her up, Alfred. And she’s not going on patrol tonight.”

“Excuse me?” you said, snapping out of your daze.

“You heard me,” Damian said, crossing his arms again. “You’re injured. You’re staying here to recover.”

“I don’t need to stay back!” you argued, wincing as Alfred dabbed antiseptic onto the cut.

“Clearly, you do,” Damian shot back. “If you can’t take care of yourself, someone has to.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Damian!”

“Then stop acting like a child!” he retorted, his voice rising.

You glared at him, hurt and anger swirling in your chest. “You don’t get to call me stupid and then act like you’re doing me a favor by caring, Damian!”

He flinched at your words but quickly masked it with a scowl. “I wouldn’t have to call you stupid if you weren’t being so stubborn!”

“That’s rich coming from you!” you shot back, leaning forward despite Alfred’s protests. “You’re the king of stubborn!”

Alfred sighed deeply. “If you two are going to quarrel like this, I’ll fetch earplugs. Miss Y/N, hold still. This will sting.”

You hissed as Alfred carefully stitched the wound, but you didn’t break eye contact with Damian. His glare softened just slightly, but his frustration remained.

Once Alfred finished patching you up, he stood back with a look of mild exasperation. “Now, I suggest you both take a moment to cool off. I’ll bring some tea.” He left, leaving you and Damian alone in the medical bay.

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken emotions.

“I didn’t mean it,” Damian said finally, his voice quieter now.

You blinked at him. “What?”

“When I called you stupid.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I was angry. You scared me, Y/N.”

The vulnerability in his tone made your anger waver. “Why didn’t you just say that instead of yelling at me?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t know how else to say it.”

You bit your lip, your frustration giving way to a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry too,” you admitted softly. “I should’ve told someone about the cut. I just… I didn’t want to seem weak.”

Damian looked up sharply. “Weak? Y/N, you’re one of the strongest people I know. But strength isn’t ignoring your limits—it’s knowing when to ask for help.”

You stared at him, surprised by the wisdom in his words.

“And for the record,” he continued, stepping closer, “I don’t think you’re weak. I think you’re incredible. Infuriating, but incredible.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Infuriating, huh?”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

For a moment, the tension melted away, replaced by the quiet warmth that always seemed to linger between you.

“So… I’m benched for the night?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only because Alfred patched me up, and I’m tired. Not because you said so.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

As you turned to leave, he reached out and caught your wrist. You looked back at him, startled.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his gaze locking with yours. “Promise me you won’t hide something like this again. Please.”

The raw sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You nodded. “I promise.”

He released your wrist but didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in just slightly, his expression unreadable. Your breath hitched as you wondered if he was about to close the distance between you.

But then he pulled back, his cheeks faintly pink. “Good. Now rest.”

You smiled, your chest feeling lighter than it had all night. “Goodnight, Damian.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

As you left the medical bay, you couldn’t stop the small grin from spreading across your face. Maybe Damian wasn’t so infuriating after all.

The manor was silent, save for the faint creaks of the old house settling into the night. Damian lay in his room, staring at the ceiling. He’d tried to focus on his routine—reading, sharpening his weapons—but his thoughts were stuck on you. The look in your eyes when you’d snapped at him earlier, the tension in your voice when you’d fought back tears.

Something felt off.

Without a second thought, he slipped out of bed, grabbed a small first-aid kit as an excuse, and made his way to your room. The door was slightly ajar, and the faint glow of a lamp spilled into the hallway.

“Y/N?” he called softly as he pushed the door open.

You were curled up on your bed, knees hugged to your chest, staring blankly at the wall. Your eyes were red and puffy, and your cheeks glistened faintly with tear tracks. At the sound of his voice, you quickly wiped at your face, sitting up.

“Damian?” you croaked, your voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” you muttered, trying to mask your vulnerability with sarcasm.

He ignored the jab, his sharp eyes scanning you. “You’ve been crying.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He crossed his arms, his expression softening despite his usual sharp tone. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine,” you said, avoiding his gaze.

“Y/N,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “Stop deflecting.”

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “Why do you even care, Damian? Don’t you have better things to do than babysit me?”

He set the first-aid kit on your desk and sat down in the chair next to your bed. “No. Right now, you’re what matters.”

His words made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. Finally, you whispered, “I already felt stupid enough for getting hurt. Then you called me stupid, and it just… made it worse.”

Damian’s expression softened further, guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I was angry because I was scared. You scared me.”

“Scared you?” you echoed, your voice cracking.

“Yes,” he admitted, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’re reckless, and you always push yourself too hard. One day, you’re going to get seriously hurt, and I won’t be able to stop it.”

You looked at him, his usually stoic expression now open and vulnerable. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” you murmured, tears welling up again.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But you need to stop carrying everything on your own. You’re not alone, Y/N.”

The tears spilled over, and you quickly wiped at your eyes, but Damian reached out, his hand brushing yours gently. “Don’t,” he said softly. “It’s okay to cry.”

His touch, usually firm and deliberate, was uncharacteristically tender. Something about his quiet reassurance broke the last of your defenses. You let out a shaky sob, burying your face in your hands.

Damian hesitated for only a moment before moving to sit on the bed beside you. He placed a tentative hand on your back, rubbing small, awkward circles. “It’s okay,” he said again, his voice softer now. “I’m here.”

“I just…” you started between sobs. “I hate feeling like I’m not strong enough.”

“You’re the strongest person I know,” Damian said firmly. “But strength doesn’t mean ignoring your limits. It means knowing when to ask for help.”

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face making his chest ache. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Y/N,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Not to me.”

The raw sincerity in his words made your breath catch. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled only with the quiet sound of your breathing as you calmed down.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Damian asked after a while.

You shook your head. “Not right now. Just… stay?”

His gaze softened even further, and he nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, his hand still resting on your back. Gradually, your breathing steadied, and the tension in your shoulders eased.

“Thank you,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Damian looked at you, his green eyes meeting yours. “Anytime.”

You hesitated, then leaned your head against his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed, letting you rest against him.

As the night wore on, neither of you moved. Damian stayed by your side, his presence a quiet but steady reminder that you weren’t alone. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe it.

You stayed leaning against Damian’s shoulder, the silence wrapping around the two of you like a cocoon. But the thoughts swirling in your head wouldn’t quiet. You sighed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“I just wish I wasn’t so stupid,” you muttered, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness. “If I were smarter, like you, I wouldn’t make so many mistakes.”

Damian stiffened at your words, then gently pulled back so he could look at you. His brows knitted together, his piercing green eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you freeze.

“Don’t say that,” he said firmly, his tone sharp but not unkind.

You frowned. “But it’s true. I—”

“It’s not,” he interrupted, cutting you off before you could finish. “You’re not stupid, Y/N. Far from it.”

You looked away, fiddling with the hem of your blanket. “Then why do I keep messing up? Why do I keep getting hurt? I’m impulsive, I don’t think things through, and—”

“And you’re brave,” Damian said, his voice quieter now but no less insistent. “You’re courageous, resourceful, and quick on your feet. Those are strengths, Y/N, not weaknesses.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the passion in his voice.

“Do you know how many times I’ve overthought something and hesitated at the wrong moment?” he continued. “How many times my so-called ‘smarts’ have slowed me down? Your instincts, your ability to act in the moment—that’s something I admire about you.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but the doubt lingered. “But I still make mistakes.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” he said, his tone softening further. “Even me.”

You gave him a look, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “You? Make mistakes? You’re Damian Wayne. You’re basically perfect.”

He snorted, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m far from perfect. I make mistakes all the time—more than you probably realize. The difference is, I’ve learned to accept that it’s part of being human.”

You studied his face, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was honesty.

“You’re not stupid, Y/N,” he said again, his voice almost a whisper now. “You’re incredible. You push yourself harder than anyone I know, and you never back down, no matter how tough things get. That’s not stupidity. That’s strength.”

Your eyes burned again, but this time it wasn’t from sadness. It was from the overwhelming warmth spreading through your chest at his words.

“Damian…” you started, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll stop comparing yourself to me,” he said, his smirk returning slightly. “Because for all my so-called intelligence, I’d give anything to have your heart and your instinct.”

Your lips quirked into a small, watery smile. “You really mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

For a moment, you just looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, impulsively—true to form—you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” you murmured into his shoulder.

Damian stiffened at first, clearly caught off guard, but after a moment, he relaxed and returned the embrace. His arms wrapped around you, steady and comforting.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “I’ll always tell you the truth, Y/N.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. His face was so close, his green eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“Damian,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Y/N,” he replied, his tone matching yours.

The air between you grew charged, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had fallen away. Your heart raced as you realized how close his face was to yours.

But before either of you could move, Damian cleared his throat and looked away, his cheeks faintly pink. “You should rest,” he said quickly, standing up and smoothing his shirt. “We both should.”

You blinked, your own face heating up. “Uh, yeah. Rest. Good idea.”

He lingered by the door for a moment, his hand resting on the frame. “Goodnight, Y/N. And remember what I said.”

“I will,” you promised, your heart still fluttering. “Goodnight, Damian.”

As he left, closing the door softly behind him, you couldn’t stop the small smile from spreading across your face. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel stupid or weak.

You felt seen. And that was everything.

The morning sunlight streamed into the manor, illuminating the long corridors as you shuffled out of your room. Despite Alfred’s careful bandaging and Damian’s insistence that you rest, your injuries still throbbed with every movement. You gritted your teeth, determined to push through. You didn’t want anyone worrying about you—not after last night.

But as you took another step, a sharp pain shot through your side, and you faltered, gripping the wall for support.

“You’re terrible at hiding pain, you know,” came a familiar voice from behind you.

You turned to see Damian, his arms crossed and his sharp green eyes studying you. His hair was slightly messy from sleep, but his stance was as composed as ever.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, attempting to straighten up.

“Sure you are,” Damian said dryly, walking up to you. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“I’m not—” Your protest was cut off by another wince as you shifted your weight.

Damian sighed and stepped closer. “Stop being stubborn, Y/N.” Without waiting for your permission, he slipped an arm around your waist, his other hand gripping your forearm to steady you.

“Damian!” you hissed, your face heating up at the sudden closeness. “I can walk on my own.”

“And fall flat on your face?” he retorted, his grip firm but gentle. “I don’t think so.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look he gave you—the same mix of concern and determination you’d seen last night—silenced you.

“Fine,” you muttered begrudgingly, leaning into his support.

“Good,” he said simply, adjusting his hold to make sure you were stable. “Let’s go.”

As the two of you made your way to the dining room, you couldn’t help but notice how careful he was. His hand on your waist was steady, never wavering, and he matched his pace to yours without complaint.

When you finally entered the dining room, Bruce, Dick, and Tim were already seated at the table, discussing something over breakfast. The moment they noticed you and Damian, the conversation stopped.

“Well, good morning,” Dick said, a sly grin spreading across his face as he took in the sight of Damian practically holding you up. “Don’t you two look cozy.”

“Don’t start,” Damian warned, his voice cold as ever, but the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him.

“Aw, come on, Damian,” Dick teased, leaning back in his chair. “You’re practically sweeping her off her feet. Literally.”

You groaned, your face burning. “It’s not like that. I just—”

“She’s injured,” Damian cut in sharply, glaring at Dick. “I’m helping her. That’s all.”

“Sure, sure,” Dick said, winking at you. “Helping her. Got it.”

Tim, sitting beside Dick, smirked but kept his comments to himself, clearly enjoying the show. Even Bruce raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t say anything.

“Enough,” Damian snapped, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as he guided you to a chair. “Sit,” he instructed, his tone softening as he spoke to you.

You obeyed, grateful to finally be off your feet. Damian grabbed a plate and began fixing you some food, ignoring the amused looks from the rest of the family.

“Look at him, being so attentive,” Dick said, nudging Tim. “It’s almost cute.”

Damian shot him a glare that could’ve frozen Gotham’s harbor. “I said, enough.”

“You’re really bad at denying things, Damian,” Tim said, finally chiming in.

Bruce cleared his throat, his deep voice cutting through the banter. “That’s enough, boys.”

Dick held up his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t fade. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop. For now.”

Damian returned to your side with a plate of food, setting it in front of you before sitting down beside you. His usual scowl was firmly in place, but you could see the faintest hint of a blush lingering on his cheeks.

“Thank you,” you said softly, glancing at him.

He met your eyes briefly, his expression softening. “You’re welcome.”

The teasing continued throughout breakfast, but Damian stayed close to you, brushing off every jab with a cold remark or a well-timed glare. And though you would never admit it out loud, having him by your side made the morning a little easier to bear.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of quiet moments and lingering pain. Despite your insistence that you could manage on your own, Damian shadowed you like a hawk. Every time you tried to move too quickly or push yourself, he was there—steadying you, scolding you, and ensuring you didn’t do something reckless.

You were in the manor’s library now, insisting on fetching a book you’d been wanting to read. Damian walked beside you, his arm hovering near your waist in case you stumbled.

“I told you I can do this,” you said for what felt like the hundredth time, though your voice lacked any real heat.

“And I told you I don’t care,” he replied, his tone cool but firm. “You’re not risking making your injuries worse just to prove a point.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue further. You were secretly grateful for his help, though you’d never admit it.

As you reached for a book on a lower shelf, a sudden sharp pain flared in your side. You gasped, your knees buckling slightly as you lost your balance.

Before you could hit the ground, Damian’s arm shot out, wrapping securely around your waist. His other hand gripped your forearm, steadying you with ease.

“Careful,” he said, his voice soft but laced with concern. “I told you not to push yourself.”

You looked up at him, your face inches from his. His green eyes bore into yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite place—something warmer than his usual stern demeanor.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing.

He didn’t let go right away, his hold firm but gentle, as if he was making sure you wouldn’t fall again. “You need to stop being so stubborn,” he said quietly, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

You chuckled softly, a warm smile spreading across your face. “And you need to stop being so overprotective.”

“Not happening,” he replied without hesitation.

You shook your head, still smiling. Without thinking, you leaned up and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, just above the line of his jaw.

Damian froze, his eyes widening slightly as a faint blush crept up his neck. His grip on your waist didn’t falter, but you could feel the tension in his body.

“Thanks for catching me,” you said, your voice light but sincere.

He blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to respond, but no words came out. Finally, he cleared his throat, his usual composure snapping back into place.

“Don’t do that again,” he said, though the pink on his cheeks betrayed his flustered state.

“Do what?” you teased, grinning up at him.

“Kiss me,” he said, his voice stiff, though he still didn’t let go of your waist.

You laughed softly, leaning into his support as you steadied yourself. “No promises, Damian.”

His lips twitched, as if he was fighting a smile, but he only shook his head and muttered under his breath, “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” you quipped, giving him a playful look.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, his arm remaining firmly around your waist as he helped you back to the couch. As you settled in with your book, you couldn’t help but notice the faint smile tugging at his lips.

Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as impossible as he claimed.

Damian stood nearby as you settled on the couch, your book open in your lap but your eyes wandering to him more often than the page. His quiet attentiveness had been relentless all day, and while you’d normally find it suffocating, something about Damian’s care made it feel… different.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, his arms crossed but his voice soft.

You pretended to think, tapping your chin. “Maybe some water?”

He sighed, though you could see the corner of his mouth twitch. “Fine. Don’t move.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied sweetly, watching him leave the room.

When he returned with a glass of water, you set your book aside and reached for it, but Damian handed it to you with a pointed look. “You better drink this. If you don’t stay hydrated, Alfred will make me brew tea for you, and I’d rather not.”

You chuckled as you took a sip, watching him sit down beside you. His usual cool demeanor was still there, but something softer lingered beneath the surface.

“You know,” you started, setting the glass on the table, “I never expected you to be such a good nurse.”

He gave you a flat look. “Don’t push it.”

You grinned and leaned back against the couch, turning to face him. “Still, you’ve been really sweet today, Damian. Even for you.”

He scoffed, though his ears turned faintly pink. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Why not?” you teased, leaning closer. “You’re good at this whole caring thing.”

He avoided your gaze, his arms crossing defensively. “It’s not… terrible,” he admitted quietly. Then, after a brief pause, he added, “And I didn’t mind when you… kissed me.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his admission. “What?”

He turned his head slightly to look at you, his cheeks tinged pink. “The kiss. Earlier. It wasn’t… unpleasant.”

A slow, mischievous smile spread across your face. “Did you just say you liked it?”

Damian rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Don’t make me regret telling you.”

“Oh, you are never living this down,” you said, grinning. Then, tilting your head playfully, you asked, “So… can I do it again?”

He stiffened slightly, his green eyes narrowing as he studied your expression. But instead of brushing you off, he surprised you.

“Yes,” he said simply, his voice steady.

Your smile faltered for a moment, his answer catching you off guard. “Wait, really?”

“Yes,” he repeated, his gaze unwavering.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you leaned closer, the playful banter giving way to something quieter, more intimate. Slowly, you pressed another soft kiss to his cheek, lingering just a second longer this time.

When you pulled back, you noticed the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Happy now?” he asked, his tone softer than usual.

“Very,” you replied, your voice light but sincere.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the comfortable silence stretching between you. Damian didn’t move away, and you didn’t press him further. But as you settled back into your spot, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you, warmer and softer than they’d been before.

Maybe Damian Wayne wasn’t as untouchable as he seemed. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind being touched by you.

The warmth of the moment lingered as you shifted closer to Damian on the couch, your shoulder brushing against his. His usual tense posture seemed to relax as you leaned into him, resting your head lightly against his shoulder.

“You know,” you murmured, glancing at the book you’d set aside earlier, “I don’t think I’m up for reading right now. But… you could read it to me?”

Damian raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into the smallest of smirks. “You want me to read to you?”

“You’re always correcting me about things anyway,” you teased, nudging him gently. “Might as well use that big brain of yours for something nice.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for the book. “Fine,” he said, his tone feigning reluctance, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed his true feelings. “But don’t interrupt me with your nonsense.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, smiling as you settled against him more comfortably.

Damian opened the book, his steady voice filling the room as he began to read. His tone was calm and deliberate, with just enough inflection to keep the story engaging. You closed your eyes, listening to the rhythm of his words and feeling the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

It was a side of Damian you rarely got to see—soft, patient, and completely unguarded.

As he read, you noticed the faintest pause when he realized you were still leaning against him, but he didn’t move away or tell you to stop. Instead, he adjusted his position slightly, making it easier for you to stay close.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Bruce stood at the entrance to the room, quietly observing the scene. He’d come to check on Damian and found him sitting with you instead, his usually aloof son reading with a rare look of contentment on his face.

Bruce’s lips curved into a small, proud smile as he watched the two of you. It wasn’t often that Damian let anyone in, but it was clear you’d managed to break through his walls.

Damian must have sensed someone’s presence because his eyes flicked up to meet Bruce’s for a brief moment. Bruce gave him a subtle nod, his approval evident, before stepping away silently, leaving the two of you in peace.

“What was that?” you asked, noticing Damian’s brief pause.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly, returning his focus to the book.

You didn’t press him, instead letting your eyes flutter shut as his voice continued to wash over you. In that quiet moment, everything felt right.

And though Damian would never admit it out loud, having you so close, trusting him so completely, made him feel something he hadn’t in a long time: happiness.

As Damian finished reading the passage, he noticed your breathing had slowed, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder. He paused, glancing down at you, and saw that you had drifted into a light sleep. His fingers hesitated on the pages, but he didn’t move, unsure if he should wake you or let you rest.

Damian had never been one to offer comfort to others, let alone seek it himself. But this felt different. You felt different. His heart thudded a little harder in his chest, and despite his usual control, he couldn’t help but feel a certain tenderness in the way you leaned into him, trusting him without question.

He continued to read, his voice softer now, as if to not disturb the peaceful silence between you. The warmth of the room and your gentle presence had a way of soothing him too. Damian found himself reading, not just for you, but for the sense of peace it brought him—peace he hadn’t realized he needed until now.

Some time passed before the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. Damian immediately stiffened, but he didn’t pull away from you. He was used to Bruce’s occasional check-ins, but this time, Bruce walked in quietly, almost as if he’d been deliberately avoiding detection.

Bruce leaned against the doorframe, taking in the scene before him. The sight of his son, the one who never let anyone in, reading to you—of all people—was something Bruce had never expected. And yet, he couldn’t help but smile at the picture you two made.

He kept his voice low, a rare softness in his tone. “I’m glad you two are getting along.”

Damian looked up briefly, his eyes flicking to his father before he quickly returned to the book, his voice more clipped than before. “It’s nothing. She needed help.”

Bruce smiled, not fooled by Damian’s attempt to downplay the situation. “Of course.” He took a step closer, his smile widening as he looked at you, still asleep on Damian’s shoulder. “I’m happy to see you like this, Damian. It’s good to know you have someone you trust.”

Damian stiffened but didn’t protest. Instead, he continued reading, though now his eyes were focused more on you than the words on the page.

“Just… don’t wake her up,” Damian muttered, almost as if it were an order.

Bruce chuckled quietly, his eyes softening as he studied the two of you. “I’ll leave you two alone. Take your time.”

Damian didn’t respond, but his shoulders seemed to relax as his father left the room. He glanced down at you, noticing the small, contented smile on your face, the way your hand had unconsciously reached up to rest against his side.

He paused, feeling his own heart skip a beat at the sight. Damian had always kept a certain distance from others—fearing vulnerability, fearing weakness—but right now, as you rested against him, that distance felt irrelevant.

He didn’t want to wake you. Instead, he closed the book gently and set it aside. The soft hum of the manor filled the silence, and for the first time in a long while, Damian let himself just… be.

A few moments passed, and he found himself watching you, studying the way you breathed, the way you trusted him so completely. Despite all the ways he’d pushed people away in his life, you had a way of breaking through those walls without even trying.

Damian shifted, still careful not to wake you, and allowed his arm to drape loosely around your shoulders. He wasn’t sure what it was about you—whether it was your unwavering strength, your impulsiveness, or the way you saw him, but something about your presence made him feel more grounded, more human.

As the minutes turned into hours, Damian remained by your side, keeping watch over you as you slept. He could feel the quiet rhythm of your breathing against him, and he found it oddly comforting.

It wasn’t something Damian usually allowed himself to experience—this kind of closeness, this sense of intimacy—but with you, it felt right. And for once, Damian wasn’t afraid of it.

Later that Evening

You woke to find the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the windows. For a brief moment, you didn’t remember where you were, until the familiar weight of Damian’s arm around you reminded you. You lifted your head from his shoulder, feeling slightly embarrassed to realize you had fallen asleep so easily, but you didn’t move away.

Damian had stayed by your side the entire time, his own head resting back against the couch. He hadn’t shifted an inch, his focus solely on you.

You smiled softly, watching him sleep for a few moments, taking in how different he looked—so much younger, less guarded.

Damian stirred slightly, his eyes flickering open. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your voice still laced with sleep. “How long did I sleep?”

“About two hours,” he muttered, his eyes still half-closed as he shifted to a more comfortable position. “You looked… peaceful.”

“Thanks for sticking around,” you said, your tone sincere. You hadn’t expected him to stay with you, much less comfort you.

Damian’s lips quirked into a small smile. “It wasn’t entirely for you,” he said with his usual dry humor. “I… didn’t mind the company.”

You chuckled, the warmth between you palpable. “I’m glad you didn’t mind.”

He shifted slightly, the faintest hint of his usual stoic self returning, but the warmth in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Don’t think you’ve won me over entirely,” Damian said, though his words were soft, almost playful.

You grinned, nudging him gently with your shoulder. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Damian’s gaze flicked to you, his smirk ever so slightly more genuine than usual. “You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now.”

You leaned back against him, feeling the tension between you both melt into something more comfortable. In that quiet, shared moment, you realized that you’d grown closer to Damian in ways you hadn’t expected, and maybe—just maybe—he’d become someone you could truly count on.

And that realization left you with a quiet, hopeful feeling, one that you weren’t sure would ever fade.

The next few days passed quietly, the atmosphere in the manor more relaxed than it had been in a long time. You were still recovering, but Damian continued to be by your side, guiding you through even the simplest tasks. You had no doubt that he’d keep that same watchful eye on you until you were fully healed—though, if you were honest, you didn’t mind it.

On the third morning after the mission, you found yourself in the kitchen, sipping on some tea. Your injuries still ached, but you were beginning to feel like yourself again. You had made it a point to move around more today, but you weren’t foolish enough to push yourself too hard. Damian had warned you not to, though his way of doing so was less about concern and more about his usual stoic insistence.

You glanced up from your tea to find him standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable.

“Shouldn’t you still be resting?” he asked, his voice devoid of accusation but full of a quiet, underlying concern.

“I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Besides, I can’t spend all day on the couch. Alfred’s made it clear that I need to start moving again.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Alfred’s advice aside, I don’t think that means you should overexert yourself.”

You shrugged, not wanting to argue. “I’m just tired of sitting around.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on you. There was something about the way he looked at you—almost like he was studying you, reading you in a way no one else could. It was unsettling in the best way possible.

“Come on,” you said, standing up slowly, careful not to jar your injuries. “Help me get through the day. You’ve been so overbearing lately, I’m starting to think I’m not allowed to move without you there to supervise.”

Damian’s lips quirked, and for a second, you saw a rare flash of something warmer in his eyes—something that wasn’t masked by his usual arrogance or stoicism.

“I’m not ‘supervising,’” he said with a mock-offended tone. “I’m making sure you don’t end up in worse shape than before.”

You grinned, the teasing between the two of you as comfortable as always. You slowly walked toward him, making sure to keep your movements slow and deliberate.

Damian’s eyes followed you, and without thinking, he stepped closer, his hand catching your arm just as you swayed slightly, a subtle wince on your face.

“You’re pushing yourself too much again,” he said quietly, his voice firm but gentle as he steadied you.

You looked up at him, a little embarrassed to have been caught. “I’m fine,” you insisted, though the slight hitch in your voice made it sound less convincing.

He gave you a look, the same look that made it clear he wasn’t buying any of your bravado. “You’re not fine. You’ve been walking around like this for hours, and you’re still not telling anyone how much pain you’re in.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not a big deal.”

Damian didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched you. He placed his hand lightly on your shoulder, the touch almost too gentle, as though he was afraid that touching you too roughly would break something.

“You’re not stupid,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “I just… don’t want to see you get hurt more than you already have. You mean something to me, Y/N.”

You blinked up at him, his words hitting you harder than you expected. It was rare for Damian to show such vulnerability, to express his emotions so openly. And yet, here he was, standing in front of you, his touch tender, his eyes earnest.

“I… didn’t know you cared so much,” you whispered.

Damian’s gaze softened, but he quickly masked it with a slight roll of his eyes. “I don’t make it a habit of expressing emotions, but that doesn’t mean I’m indifferent to you.” He paused, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. “You don’t have to be so reckless all the time. Let me help you. You don’t always have to do everything on your own.”

The sincerity in his words made something stir in your chest. You had always prided yourself on being independent—on being strong—but hearing Damian’s quiet plea, seeing the unspoken care in his eyes, made you realize how much you’d been pushing yourself. Maybe, for once, it was okay to lean on someone else.

Without thinking, you placed your hand on his, a silent thank-you that carried more weight than words ever could.

“I’ll try,” you said softly, meeting his gaze.

Damian nodded, his grip tightening ever so slightly, as if reaffirming his unspoken promise. “Good,” he said, his voice steady again, though there was a softness to it that made your heart beat a little faster.

The two of you stood in silence for a few moments, the weight of the unspoken conversation hanging between you. It was clear that things had shifted, that a deeper understanding had developed between you.

Later that Day

That afternoon, Bruce and Alfred had gone out for some errands, leaving you and Damian to yourselves. It was one of those rare moments where the two of you had the entire manor to yourselves, and it felt like a chance to just… be together without the usual distractions of Gotham’s chaos.

Damian was sitting on the couch, his eyes scanning through a set of documents, his usual intense focus in place. But every once in a while, his eyes flicked over to you as you sat across from him, content in your own thoughts.

The quiet was comforting, a stark contrast to the storm that usually surrounded both of you when you were out on patrol.

You noticed the way Damian looked at you every so often, his gaze flicking from his papers to you, his expression unreadable but his eyes revealing more than he probably wanted. It was as if, for once, he didn’t feel the need to hide.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, you stood up and walked over to where Damian sat. You leaned down and placed a kiss on his cheek once again, this time lingering just a little longer.

He froze, his head snapping up to meet your gaze, his cheeks tinged pink. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the air thick with the weight of the simple act.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” you murmured, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

Damian opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He blinked, seemingly caught off guard. “For… what?”

“For being here,” you said quietly, your voice steady but full of sincerity. “For caring about me.”

Damian’s expression softened, but only for a brief second before his usual guarded mask returned. “I told you, it’s not about that.” His voice was lower now, more vulnerable than usual. “It’s just… it’s you, Y/N.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at the unspoken meaning behind his words. “Well, I appreciate it. More than you’ll ever know.”

Damian’s gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer, his hand reaching out to rest on yours, just a brief touch—yet it spoke volumes. He didn’t need to say more. You already understood.

The quiet intimacy between you two only deepened over the next few days. The distance that had once defined your relationship began to shrink, replaced by a mutual understanding that spoke louder than words. Neither of you had to put up a front anymore. You were both starting to let down your walls, even if just a little.

And in those moments—quiet, simple, and shared between the two of you—you began to realize that maybe you’d always been meant to be here. Together.

A Few Days Later

Gotham had been unusually quiet. The usual chaos of the city seemed to have taken a brief respite, allowing you and Damian a few rare moments of peace. The two of you had spent the past few days just being around each other—something that had slowly become a comfort neither of you expected. There was a sense of understanding between you, one that transcended words, and that’s what made it so special.

This morning, the silence of the manor was only interrupted by the sound of the coffee machine humming in the background as you and Damian sat in the living room. The sun filtered in through the large windows, casting a warm glow across the room. You were sipping your coffee, leaning back against the couch, while Damian was… well, being Damian.

He was sitting at the far end of the couch, his eyes scanning through a pile of documents as if the weight of Gotham’s problems rested entirely on his shoulders. But despite his usual focus, you could tell his attention wasn’t fully on the papers in front of him. He had a habit of glancing at you, his gaze lingering just a bit longer than necessary.

You caught him doing it again—his eyes flicking up to meet yours for a brief moment before he returned his focus to his work, as though trying to convince himself he wasn’t watching you.

“Damian,” you called softly, setting your coffee down and turning to face him. “You know, if you keep staring at me like that, I might start thinking you actually like me or something.”

His lips quirked into a small, almost imperceptible smile, though his usual sharp edge remained. “I don’t have time for distractions,” he said, though the way he said it was more teasing than dismissive.

You raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at your lips. “Distractions? You’re not even looking at your papers half the time. Admit it, you’re interested in me.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was something softer in his gaze now—an unspoken acknowledgment of the truth. “I’m simply concerned for your well-being. You’re reckless, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Your smile softened at the honesty in his words. There it was again—the careful way he shielded his true feelings. His words were as guarded as ever, but the way he said them, the subtle shift in his tone, told you everything you needed to know.

“I’m not that reckless,” you teased, though there was a flicker of warmth in your eyes as you leaned closer to him. “You just don’t like seeing me get hurt. Which, by the way, I’m fine now.”

“You’re lucky I’m not your doctor,” he replied, his tone half-serious, half-amused. “Otherwise, I’d tell you to stay off your feet for at least another week.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ve never been good at listening to orders, especially when they come from you.”

His eyes softened at your words, and he leaned back slightly, letting his focus drift away from the papers. “You should listen to me more often. You wouldn’t be in this position if you did.”

“I know,” you said quietly, feeling the weight of his concern settle between the two of you. You hadn’t expected him to care this much, but you were slowly starting to realize that he did.

Damian opened his mouth to say something more, but before he could, a voice interrupted from the hallway.

“Are you two just going to sit there all day?” Dick’s teasing voice echoed from the doorframe, breaking the comfortable bubble you and Damian had created.

Damian’s expression immediately hardened, his posture straightening as he turned his gaze toward his older brother. “What do you want, Grayson?” he asked, his usual tone of annoyance returning.

Dick smirked as he leaned against the doorframe. “Nothing. Just thought I’d pop in and see if you two are still glued to the couch. I mean, it’s been hours.”

You shot Dick a playful glare but couldn’t help but laugh a little. “We’re allowed to take it easy once in a while, right?”

Dick’s smirk widened. “Oh, of course. Just didn’t know you were both this cozy.” He raised an eyebrow, looking from you to Damian and back again, his grin widening at the sight of the two of you so relaxed together.

Damian immediately bristled, his hand instinctively moving to his side, as if preparing to defend the space between him and you. “This is none of your business, Grayson.”

But you could see the faint blush creeping up Damian’s neck, and it made you smile. You leaned back against the couch, smirking at Dick. “You know, maybe I don’t mind hanging out here for a while. You should try it sometime.”

Dick chuckled, clearly enjoying the subtle discomfort he was causing. “Oh, I’ll leave you two alone. But I just had to see if Damian was actually relaxing for once.” He paused for a moment, and his expression softened. “It’s nice, though. You two… you’re good together.”

Damian rolled his eyes at his brother’s words, but you could see a hint of appreciation behind his usual guarded demeanor. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, but his tone lacked its usual edge.

Dick smiled, his eyes softening as he gave you both one last look. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.” He winked at you, giving Damian one last teasing glance before walking out of the room.

You couldn’t help but smile as Damian’s face flushed slightly, his jaw tightening in frustration.

“I hate it when they do that,” Damian grumbled, but there was no real heat in his words.

You chuckled, nudging him playfully. “Come on, you know he’s just teasing.”

“I know,” Damian muttered, still trying to regain his composure. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

You smiled, letting the quiet warmth of the moment settle between you two. “Well, I don’t mind it. Maybe it’s nice to know someone else sees it too.”

Damian shot you a sideways glance. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

You grinned, leaning back against the couch again. “It’s one of my best qualities.”

And for the first time, you saw Damian’s lips twitch in something that almost looked like a smile. The barrier between you two was slowly crumbling, one small moment at a time.

Later That Evening

That evening, after another quiet day spent mostly inside, you and Damian were once again on the couch together. Alfred had made dinner, and the two of you had enjoyed a peaceful meal, a rarity in the chaos of Gotham. Now, with the evening wrapping up, the two of you sat together in silence once again, each lost in your own thoughts.

This time, it was Damian who broke the silence. His voice was quiet but certain. “You’ve made a habit of getting under my skin, you know that?”

You smirked, glancing at him. “I thought that was your job—getting under everyone else’s skin.”

“Touché,” he muttered, looking away slightly. But then he added, “Just don’t make a habit of it. I’m not always the best at handling… affection.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the vulnerability in his voice. “I didn’t think you had a problem with it.”

Damian looked at you then, his gaze intense and yet… softer than usual. “I don’t,” he admitted. “I just—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening for a moment before he continued, his voice quieter now. “It’s just… you make it hard for me to stay closed off.”

You let his words hang in the air, your heart thudding a little faster. This was the closest he had ever come to saying something like that to you, and it was both terrifying and comforting.

“I’ll try not to make it too hard for you,” you teased, but your smile was soft, gentle—just like the way you felt in this moment.

Damian gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile in return, his hand moving to rest beside yours on the couch. The touch wasn’t anything overt, but it was enough.

And for once, neither of you felt the need to hide what had quietly, subtly, been building between the two of you.

A Few Days Later

The atmosphere in the manor was tense, something between you and Damian had shifted again, but this time, not in a good way. You were growing frustrated—frustrated with being treated like you couldn’t take care of yourself, frustrated with the constant overprotectiveness, and frustrated with the way Damian kept trying to control everything.

You had made it clear that you didn’t need constant supervision, but Damian wasn’t getting the message. It wasn’t like he was trying to make you feel weak, but it certainly felt like that.

It all started when you’d decided to go out for a run. It had been a few days since you’d gotten out of the house, and you were feeling better—stronger. But as you laced up your shoes, Damian had appeared in the doorway.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he had said firmly.

You had stopped, glaring at him. “What do you mean, I’m not going anywhere?”

“You’re still recovering. You need to rest,” he insisted, his arms crossed.

“I’m fine, Damian,” you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. “I’m not an invalid. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect!”

Damian’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not fine. If you were, you wouldn’t be acting like this. You should be listening to me and resting, not going off on some ridiculous run.”

Your heart started to race, anger building in your chest. “I’m not listening to you anymore. I know my own body. You can’t control me, Damian. I’m not one of your soldiers, and I’m not some object you need to protect all the time!”

The words stung, and you immediately regretted them, but your emotions were running too high to take them back. Damian’s face twisted with something close to hurt, but it was quickly replaced with a simmering frustration.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said sharply. “I’m not trying to control you, Y/N. I’m trying to help you. But it seems like you’d rather get yourself killed than admit you need help!”

You stood there for a moment, staring at him, but the words that came out of your mouth were sharp and bitter. “Maybe I don’t need your help. Maybe I don’t need anyone’s help. Especially not from someone who thinks they know everything!”

Damian’s jaw clenched at your words. He had never been one to back down from a challenge, and right now, he was too angry to let it go.

“You think you’re so strong, don’t you?” His voice was laced with frustration. “You think you’re invincible. But you’re not. You’re human. And I can’t just stand by and watch you destroy yourself!”

The words hit harder than you wanted to admit. He had a point. You did think you were invincible at times. You did push yourself past your limits. But that didn’t mean you needed him reminding you of it every time.

“I never asked you to stand by,” you bit back. “I can take care of myself.”

Damian’s face hardened, his eyes flashing with anger. “You keep saying that, but you’re still here, injured and ignoring everyone who’s trying to help you.” His voice dropped to a more intense tone. “You’re stupid for not listening, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched at the harshness of his words. “Stupid? You think I’m stupid?”

Damian’s posture was tense, his fists clenched at his sides. “Yes, Y/N. I think you’re stupid for thinking you can handle everything on your own. You’re stubborn and reckless.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could say anything, the distance between the two of you closed in an instant. Damian stepped forward, his hand grabbing your chin, lifting your face up to meet his eyes.

For a moment, you both stood there, chest heaving, breaths shallow with the intensity of the argument. But then, without warning, Damian’s lips were on yours—hard, urgent, almost desperate. It was a kiss that caught you completely off guard, one that silenced every word in your head, every angry retort.

The kiss was intense, and for a second, you forgot why you were even arguing. His lips were warm, firm against yours, and the frustration that had built up between the two of you melted into something else entirely.

It was only when Damian pulled back, breathing heavily, that you finally managed to process what had just happened. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

“Shut up,” he said, his voice hoarse, though there was a trace of something softer in it. “Just… shut up and listen for once.”

You were left standing there, heart racing, breath still heavy from the kiss. You blinked up at him, utterly speechless for a moment.

“You—” You tried to speak, but no words came. What could you possibly say to that?

Damian let out a frustrated breath, rubbing his forehead, as if trying to collect his thoughts. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was no anger left in his voice, just exhaustion. “You push me to the limit, Y/N.”

You were still reeling from the kiss, trying to gather your thoughts. But despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you, you found a small part of you that wanted to admit the truth—admit how much you’d wanted that kiss.

“You can be a real pain in the ass, you know that?” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Damian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you’re just as infuriating.” He took a step back, finally releasing his grip on you.

You both stood there for a moment, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. It was clear that neither of you knew exactly what to do next. But for the first time, you didn’t feel as angry anymore. You felt… understood. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

“You’re still stupid,” Damian muttered under his breath, though there was no heat in his words now. Just a resigned, exhausted tone.

You smiled softly, the weight of the argument lifting slightly. “Yeah. But I think I’m starting to see where you’re coming from.”

Damian’s expression softened, just a little. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

Instead, he walked toward the couch, muttering something about how you’d probably try to run off again soon. You followed him, a small, content smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

It wasn’t over yet—not by a long shot. But as you sat next to him on the couch, a quiet understanding hung in the air between you two.

!

[cyberclouddream]

How to Spot: Fire Signs Edition

Aries Rising

- they walk into the room like they own it—or should

- often physically active or fast (talking, moving, etc.)

- they’re prone to taking things personally or holding onto grievances

- expect them to indulge in something today and regret it tomorrow

- they have a short-attention span in communication

- grew up with loving or potentially overbearing caretakers

- flirtation is a performance that they expect to be celebrated for

- hate routines but are obsessed with doing things right; either they’re all in or completely neglectful

- they can love hard and fast, and be domineering in relationships

- they want passive or accommodating partners who let them take control

- they don’t stick with the same philosophy for long, and may seek meaning through extreme experiences

- complain about what it takes to succeed

- naturally drawn to positions of authority and management

- crave admiration for their individuality

- escape looking weak by distractions like work, arguments, or impulsive actions

- refuse to acknowledge their sensitivity, don’t like to admit when they’re struggling emotionally

Leo Rising

- walk around like they expect others to notice or admire them

- their sense of value is tied to how perfect or put-together they seem

- they always try to be the peacemaker but often steer conversations towards themselves

- they’re possessive and deeply emotional behind closed doors, often getting into power struggles at home

- had a childhood or family life with power struggles or deeply emotional experiences

- they love showing off their wild side and being seen as the “fun one”

- type to boast about how busy or disciplined they are

- relationships can be seen as unstable because they want to feel special but struggle with compromise

- tend to pretend they’re fine when they’re not because they don’t like dealing with the messiness of emotions

- natural talent for managing resources or strong interest in exploring the mysteries of life and death

- constantly planning the next adventure or proudly proclaiming their beliefs or views

- throw themselves recklessly into new cultures or ideologies

- seen as a inspirational figure who encourages others to expand their perspectives

- they like to pursue careers that let them indulge in luxury or at least appear wealthy

- often brag about their achievements

- they’re the social butterfly of the group, constantly jumping from one friend to the other

- constantly networking, making friends, or keeping things light

- deep down they fear rejection or not being loved for who they truly are, but deflect signs of weakness with arrogance

Sagittarius Rising

- often rambles about some new philosophy, trip, or project they’re working on

- practical and careful about how they handle money, even if they seem reckless in everything else

- they can be condescending towards those who think traditionally

- they can romanticize family dynamics or avoid facing emotional issues

- emotional needs weren’t fully validated, often feeling neglected or being over-sensitive

- they need to be fun, best, and most daring in everything they do fun, like dating or hobbies

- thrive on a solid routine for work and health, and prefer sticking to their habits than deviating

- they have commitment issues because they get easily bored or distracted, jumping when things get too predictable

- they can be secretively possessive and clingy underneath their free-spirited persona, when it comes to trust and intimacy

- they see themselves as worldy or enlightened, whether they’ve done the work to earn that title or not

- they put a lot of pressure on themselves to succeed, even if they don’t admit it

- they’re often seen smoothing over conflicts or playing mediator, even if they don’t have strong convictions of their own

- they don’t like people probing into their inner world, so you’ll notice them deflecting or withdrawing when things get too personal

[ghostlyferrettarot]

˚⟡⊰⋆:💎:⋆⊱⟡˚ Our Sun and How We Shine ˚⟡⊰⋆:💎:⋆⊱⟡˚

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

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˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗The Sun represents our deepest essence, our identity, and the way we express ourselves to the world. It is our source of energy, the way we shine and leave our mark on everything we do˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Aries: If your Sun is in Aries, you shine with dynamic and fiery energy. You are a natural leader, and your light is seen when you take the initiative and are not afraid to go after what you want. The Sun in Aries drives us to be bold, to start new projects, and to be pioneers. The key to your brilliance is in action and in the courage to follow your instincts without hesitation. Your light inspires others to take the first step into the unknown.

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Taurus : The Sun in Taurus shines when we are surrounded by beautiful and harmonious things. Taurus light is in their ability to find peace in stability and comfort. You have a natural talent for creating comfortable and luxurious surroundings, and your glow radiates through your ability to appreciate the simple pleasures in life, such as nature, music, or good taste. Your light is seen in your ability to persist and achieve lasting results with patience.

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Gemini : If your Sun is in Gemini, shines with lively mental energy and insatiable curiosity. Gemini's light is reflected in their ability to communicate effectively and their skill at quickly learning about a variety of topics. Your glow is found in your ability to keep things fresh and exciting, through stimulating conversations and explorations of new ideas. Your adaptable nature inspires others to stay curious and keep exploring.

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Cancer : The Sun in Cancer shines when we are connected to our emotions and our family. Cancer's light is seen in their ability to care for others, offer emotional support, and create a home filled with unconditional love. You shine when you act as the refuge for those around you, creating security and comfort. Your ability to nurture and your deep intuition make you a constant source of light in times of need.

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Leo : The Sun in Leo shines with a radiant and charismaticenergy. The Sun feels at home in Leo, and it is here that our energy is most magnetic and full of creativity. Leos shine when they express themselves authentically, showing their pride and personal worth. Your light is seen when you shine on stage, either literally or figuratively, and allow yourself to be the center of attention. Leo teaches us to love our own light and project it with confidence.

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Virgo: The Sun in Virgo shines when we are in service to others, helping to organize and perfect everything around us. Virgo's light is seen when we dive into the details, seeking constant improvement and offering practical solutions to problems. Virgo's brilliance also lies in their ability to see the potential in everything and everyone, and their perfectionist approach that inspires others to give their best.

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Libra: The Sun in Libra shines when we are in balance, surrounded by beauty and peace. Libra is the sign of relationships and fairness, and its light is seen when acting as a mediator or fostering harmony in relationships. Libras shine when they seek justice and compromise between different points of view. Their brilliance is reflected in their ability to diploma and be the bridges that unite people with elegance and tact.

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Scorpio: The Sun in Scorpio shines with a powerful intensity and a deep connection to the hidden. People with the Sun in Scorpio have a light that emanates from their ability to transform and be reborn. Scorpio shines in situations that require emotional courage and a deep understanding of power dynamics. Your brilliance lies in your ability to explore the hidden and transform the negative into the positive, making you a wise person.

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Sagittarius : The Sun in Sagittarius shines with expansive energy and a passion for adventure. You shine when you follow your true freedom, seeking new experiences and expanding your horizons. Your light is reflected in your love of wisdom and philosophy, always in search of a greater purpose. Sagittarians inspire others to break boundaries and seek truth through exploration and expansion of the mind.

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Capricorn: The Sun in Capricorn shines when we are on track toward our goals. Capricorn's light is practical, ambitious, and dedicated to building a solid foundation for the future. Capricorn shines when they work tirelessly to achieve success, often with relentless discipline and a long-term vision. Your light is seen when you take your responsibilities seriously and, with effort and perseverance, achieve your goals, becoming a model of leadership and ambition.

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Aquarius: The Sun in Aquarius shines with a visionary energy and a desire for change. Aquarians love to break conventions and think outside the box. Their brilliance lies in their ability to see the future, to think of innovative ways to improve the world, and to challenge the status quo. They are often noted for their originality and desire for freedom to be themselves without restrictions, inspiring others to follow their own unique paths.

˗ˋˏ 𖢻 ˎˊ˗Pisces: The Sun in Pisces shines with a dreamy and compassionate energy. The light of Pisces is seen in their ability to connect with others on a deeply emotional and spiritual level. You shine when you give of yourself wholeheartedly to help others or when you let your imagination run wild to create new worlds. Your brilliance lies in your ability to see the good in people and to offer emotional healing to those around you.