#but it's been...solidly months oops

[the-blind-assassin-12]

What Can Still Be Known

A/N: This is my submission for @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble Challenge... which I meant to have finished weeks ago, but since it's May the 4th, today seems like a good time to post it even if it is later than I originally planned. Thank you so much to Gin for putting this together! I love music prompts, so this was right up my alley. I can't wait to catch up on the other stories written for this event! Make sure you all go check them out, too! You can find them here.

Prompt: My song was Butchered Tongue from the album Unreal, Unearth, and my character was Din. I was delighted to get this prompt, because that song speaks to my soul. It's melancholic and beautiful, and I think it fits Din so damn well, so I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: angst, mentions of canon typical violence, mention of death of parents/family, you know, Mandalorian stuff.

Word Count: 3,545 (oops.)

Summary: Din doesn't remember much about his parents or his life with them... but that doesn't stop him from wishing it were different.

Nevarro’s sun burned bright and hot as Din crossed the scrubby stretch of flatlands that separated the town from the Mandalorian encampment. Shifting the crate he carried under one arm, he tilted his head down to where Grogu hopped along beside him, using the Force to propel himself every few steps to accommodate for his father’s much longer stride. The sight, along with the string of happy gurgles and babbles spilling from the kid’s mouth, made a smile sprout beneath the man’s helmet. 

“It’s good to be back, isn’t it buddy?” 

Grogu looked up at him and squealed happily, nodding and pointing one clawed finger at the semi-permanent settlement growing closer with every step they took. 

Though the efforts to reclaim their homeworld had been successful, a small group of Mandalorians remained on Nevarro during the rebuilding process on Mandalore - mainly those responsible for teaching and raising the foundlings and other young children that were not yet ready to start their trials. There were two combat instructors, two teachers whose focus was on the tenants of the Resol’nare, one additional teacher who was responsible for teaching Mando’a, as well as a dozen or so students and their guardians. Eventually they’d all join the rest of their people on Mandalore, but until things were more solidly settled there, Nevarro was as safe an option for an outpost as could be found in the Outer Rim. 

Din chuckled. “I’m sure your friends will be happy to see you again, too.” 

That response sent the kid bouncing with excitement, hopping high enough so that he could fit in a flip before touching down again, the rondel and small pauldron he wore clinging together like chimes with his motion. 

“Go ahead,” Din urged him, jutting his chin out in front of him. “You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll be right behind -” But the child was gone before the last word left his lips. He sighed and shook his head in amusement. “-You.” He watched through the tinted screen of his visor as Grogu darted towards the sparring grounds, no doubt in search of Ragnar.  

It had been a few months since they’d been back on Nevarro, Din busy taking Grogu through his apprenticeship, teaching him skills that he would need in order to move on in his training. Tracking, hunting, navigation, survival, negotiation, just to name a few. Every lesson took them to a different planet, some of them coming with the added bonus of coinciding with a bounty or paid favor. The most recent one, a lesson in tracking on Rodia, had resulted in uncovering a stash of beskar ingots that had been defaced with an Imperial stamp. 

Immediately after finishing up on Rodia - Din showing Grogu how to incapacitate an enemy without killing them - they’d taken the recovered beskar back to the Armorer on Mandalore, so that she could fashion it into new pieces for the foundlings. It was strange, but good, to see the glass encrusted planet so teeming with life. It was a relief to know that what his people had fought for for so long, what so many had given their lives for, was finally secure. Finally theirs. 

But despite the fact that the Mandalorian people finally had a safe place to call home, Din had yet to feel that sort of connection with the planet. Unlike Bo-Katan, he hadn’t been born there, nor had he spent any time there as a child. He’d heard stories about what the Great Forge had been like in its glory, how lush the gardens of Sundari had been long ago. But to him, a foundling Child of the Watch who had never set foot on Mandalore until he was a grown man, they’d always felt like stories about some fictional, far off place. He wondered if that would change, if he would ever feel at home in a place that brought him no nostalgia or warmth. 

A part of him hoped that it would. Because it wasn’t just Mandalore that he felt that absence of connection to. It was everywhere he went. A side-effect of losing every home he’d ever had, it turned out, was not knowing where your roots would grow if they could grow anywhere they chose. 

He knew he had a home once. A true home, one where he could have collected a whole life’s worth of memories, enough of them so that when he returned there they’d all come rushing to fill his heart with warmth and welcome. He knew he had a family before the Tribe had become that for him, too. A mother and father who loved him so fiercely that they sacrificed their own lives to save his. When he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, he could still find their faces. His father’s was easier to recall because he himself wore so many of the same features. Every time he saw his own reflection he was reminded of the man who carried him through the battlefield that their village had become. 

His mother’s face was more difficult to recall in detail, but that didn’t mean he had forgotten her. He remembered her thick, dark hair and the way it curled at her shoulders. He remembered the texture of the red robes she wore, remembered tracing the intricate pattern of woven stitching on the cuffs of her sleeves with the tips of his fingers. He couldn’t be sure, but he had the thought that he must have remembered these things because she was the one who comforted him when he was hurt, sad or scared. That what he really recalled when he thought of his mother was the feeling of safety and warmth that her embrace provided. 

He remembered the tone of her voice, soothing but strong. His father’s was full and confident and always sounded like a smile was about to appear. He remembered that the two of them sang often. Sometimes he’d be hit with a snippet of a melody, the lyrics lost, turned to dust and ash like the rest of his homeworld, but he’d find himself humming and realize that it was one of the songs his parents used to sing. 

The forgotten lyrics were only a small part of a larger loss, though. They were written in a language that had died when the population of Aq Vetina had been snuffed out. So he could remember his parents’ voices. He could remember the melodies they sang. But the things they said, the words they used, the meaning behind them? All of that was gone. For all the languages and means of communication he did know, the first one he’d ever heard and learned escaped him. And in all of his travels since leaving his homeworld in the arms of an armored stranger that had become his Buir, Din had never met anyone who spoke his native tongue. 

It made him wonder if anyone else had survived the attack on his home that day, or if he was the last living member of a completely slain culture. 

Before he could ruminate on that thought for too long, though, Azil, one of the combat instructors, saw him walking towards the sparring grounds and waved him over. “Olarom, Djarin!” He pointed at the crate Din carried, tilting his helmeted-head in question. “Gifts from home?” 

The contents of the box shifted as Din handed it over, newly cast cuiresses ringing together in answer to Azil’s inquiry. “New beskar,” Din responded with a nod. “Freshly forged on Mandalore,” he added in answer to Azil’s question about where it came from. “I was told to deliver them to you for distribution to your students.” 

Azil set the crate down and clapped one gloved hand to Din’s shoulder. “Vor entye, vod.” 

Returning the gesture, Din did the same. “This is the Way.” 

“This is the Way,” Azil echoed, and then immediately set about unpacking the box of armor, sorting it by size, leaving Din to see where Grogu had gone. 

It didn’t take long for him to find his son. The long, green ears were a giveaway, sure. But so was the small crowd of other children gathered around to watch him levitate a black chunk of volcanic rock while Ragnar Vizsla practiced blasting it with training darts. With each successful hit, the other kids would cheer, a collective sound of amazement coming from them each time Grogu managed to evade the blast by redirecting the rock. 

Din stood watching for a few moments, silently appreciative that these children had this opportunity to laugh and learn and grow together somewhere open and safe and free. He could remember playing similar training games and showing off new skills with the few other children in his covert, though then it was all done underground, in hiding. But he couldn’t recall the kinds of games he might have played with friends in his village. If there were any nursery rhymes or tall tales he might have known once, they’d long since faded from his memory. 

It made him wonder if he’d eventually forget what little he could remember about his native culture. Would he lose it piece by piece? Until not even a familiar tune or the color red or his own reflection sparked any feeling? He hoped not, but it seemed inevitable. 

At least, it had. 

Suddenly - from a different group of children than the one gathered around Grogu, much to Din’s relief - a small child went darting by his boots, arms outstretched in front of her, the distinct sound of sniffles and cries trailing after her. Turning away from the training grounds, he watched as the child was scooped up by a woman who had just stepped out of one of the tents. He assumed that whatever sent the girl running was just the result of one of the other kids being a little too rough. Or perhaps one of Nevarro’s reptilian species had frightened the child. Either way, it was clear that there was no real danger and that the woman had things under control, so he started to turn back towards Grogu and Ragnar’s shenanigans. 

But then he overheard the woman begin to soothe the young girl in her arms. 

“Ny mo yariin, necta.” 

It stopped him in his tracks and sent his head swiveling back in the direction it came from. His heart pounded beneath the elongated diamond stamped into the center of his chestplate as he felt something unlock in his memory. 

He’d heard those same words before. So long ago that he was stunned when he recognized the phrase. So long ago that the meaning behind them was lost. But he knew they were spoken to him as comfort. He knew that they were words steeped in love. He watched the way the woman cradled the child to her armored chest, his eyes catching on the piece of red fabric that was pinned to the cowl of her flight suit. 

No matter how impossible it seemed that the words he’d just heard had survived what a whole settlement of people hadn’t, no matter how unlikely it was that it was there of all places that he’d heard it, no matter how slim the odds were that the tattered scarlet linen was the same fabric that he remembered from his home, Din found himself drawn to her. 

To you. 

—  —  — 

You were rewiring the com device in your helmet when you heard Tira’s cry. 

Though you knew that she was probably fine - there were dozens of other Mandalorian adults present in the settlement, and you knew that none of them would allow any real harm to come to the children - you immediately set your work down and stepped outside, senses heightened. But as soon as you saw her running towards you, you relaxed. She wasn’t hurt or being chased. She’d likely just been knocked over by one of the bigger kids while they played one of their games. Tira was small, but didn’t like to be told that. And since her older brother had begun his trials and wasn’t there as often to make sure she didn’t get pushed around by the others, she’d been having trouble adjusting. 

It didn’t help that less than a year ago, she and Maj had lost both of their parents in the battle to retake Mandalore, which is how the children had come to be in your care. 

As a former foundling yourself, you were more than willing to step in and raise them as your own, just as the Mandalorian who rescued you the day your village was attacked and your parents were killed would have done had he not been able to reunite you with your kin. You’d been brought to Corellia, where your mother’s sister lived with her family, and they’d taken you in and raised you instead. It wasn’t until you became an adult that you rejoined the Mandalorians and took the Creed, choosing to commit your life to the very people who had saved it. 

But though you mainly spoke Galactic Basic and were muddling your way through learning Mando’a, it was still your first language that came to you when you scooped a sniffling Tira into your arms and cradled her to your armored chest. It was still the words your parents - and then your aunt - had spoken to you when you’d been hurt or scared that you used to comfort the girl. 

“Ny mo yariin, necta.” 

You’re safe with me, sweet one.

You knew Tira and Maj didn’t speak Aquitto. They only knew the meaning of that one phrase because you’d taught it to them. And since your aunt had passed away, you knew that you were possibly the only person left in the galaxy who would even recognize it let alone speak it. As far as you knew, there hadn’t been any other survivors from your village that day. It struck you that every time you spoke it could be the last time it was ever uttered. 

Pushing that thought from your mind, you focused on Tira, kissing her cheek and letting her clutch at the sculpted pin that held a piece of red fabric - a remnant of the hooded robe you’d been wearing the day you were rescued on Aq Vetina - in place on your cowl. The pin had belonged to your mother, the woman pressing it into your hand before disappearing to go try to fight off the monstrous machines with the rest of the village. As a child you would trace the design on it with your fingertip whenever she held you, whenever she made the same promise you were making Tira. 

“Ny mo yariin, necta.” 

By the time you’d said it a second time, the girl had stopped crying. The words themselves weren’t magic, but the sentiment in them was. Even if they were the last scraps of the Aquitto language to live on, you hoped that one day Tira or Maj would pass them along to a child who needed to hear them, too.

Whatever had brought on the sudden storm of tears had passed, and Tira wriggled in your hold as she caught sight of some of the other children watching as the Jedi foundling levitated chunky rocks for Ragnar to blast with darts. You chuckled at her eagerness to get back out there with the big kids. “Okay, necta. But watch out for yourself, got it?” You set her back on the ground, stooping down to her level and ruffling her hair. “I know you’re a tough one, but you still have to be careful.” 

She nodded enthusiastically, telling you that she would be, and then she was gone, scurrying back across the crusty flatland towards the other kids. When you stood back up, you were met with the dark visor of Din Djarin - a man you’d never personally met, but who you’d heard a great deal about from the others in the settlement on Nevarro. You knew he was the Jedi foundling’s adoptive father. You knew he had previously wielded the Darksaber and that he was instrumental in helping Bo-Katan Kryze and the others take back Mandalore. You knew that he was responsible for reclaiming the beskar that your armor had been forged from. 

– – – 

“Oh, hello,” you greeted him, a small laugh in your voice that he figured was a result of the way he’d caught you off guard. You lifted a hand and reflexively tucked the piece of red fabric at your collar into place. “It’s Din, right?”

“Yes. Din Djarin. I’m sorry I don’t know your name, I-” 

You waved him off and introduced yourself. Smiling, you pointed in the direction that the little one you’d just set down had run off in. “That’s your son over there, isn’t it? Tira was excited to see him.” 

Din turned his head to follow your finger, though he didn’t need to look to know that you were indicating Grogu. “It is,” he confirmed, facing you again with a small shrug. “He likes to show off.” 

You laughed at that. “I would too, if I could do what he can.” 

“He’s a special kid,” Din replied, and you smiled again. 

“He is.” You nodded, and it was clear to him that you were still unsure of why he had approached you. “Is there-”

“Can I ask you something?” He tilted his head, hidden eyes fixed on the fabric at your neck - and on the sculpted pin that held it in place, the designs so familiar to him he could feel them on his fingers. 

You furrowed your brow, expression turning serious. “Of course. Not sure if I’ll be able to help you with it, but-” You held your hands up, palms to the sky. “Ask away.” 

“The words you just spoke to that little girl… Tira?” You nodded so he went on. “How do you know that language?” 

He watched your eyes widen with your blink. “You… You’re familiar with Aquitto?” 

Din sighed, giving a slight shake of his head. “I didn’t even remember what it was called, but… Yes. Or, that phrase, anyway. How do you know it?”

You let out a breath. “I… I was born on Aq Vetina. It was the language my parents spoke. It…” Again your fingers came up to the pin and the fabric that it secured. “It was my first language. I was lucky that my aunt knew it, too, or else I would have forgotten it completely after our village was destroyed and-” Something dawned on you and your eyes widened again. “You said you were familiar with it?” He nodded. “How?” 

You asked the question in a way that made him think you already knew the answer, but you needed - or wanted - to hear him say it. So he did. “Same as you. I was born there. It was my parents’ language. But I haven’t heard it spoken since the day droids raided our home.” He blinked, somewhat stunned that only moments before he had been mourning the loss of his native language and culture only to find a source of it right in front of him. “I didn’t know there were other survivors.” 

Your mouth fell open slightly as you stared up into the visor that hid his eyes from view. When you spoke again it was quiet, your words equally full of disbelief. “Neither did I.” Your lips twitched into a small smile despite the way your eyes had started to water. “I’m glad we were both wrong, Din.” 

“I am, too.” He felt a tightening in his chest, but it was unlike anything he felt before. It wasn’t from sorrow or anxiety, it wasn’t to alert him to a threat or caused by regret. It felt more like a connection forming - like meeting you had brought him closer to his own heart somehow. Instantly, a thousand questions popped into his mind for you, and he imagined you might have had some for him as well. But there was one thing he needed to know first. “Can you tell me what it means? What you said to Tira? My… I think my parents used to say it to me, and…” He trailed off, waiting for your response. 

“It means, ‘You’re safe with me, sweet one.’” You smiled again. “It literally translates to ‘You’re in my heart’ though. It’s… It’s what you say to the people you love most.” 

Just then, Grogu and Tira came tearing over, Din bending down to pick up his son and you settling your hand on the little girl’s head as she clung to your side. “Hey, Buddy. Remember when I told you about my parents and what I remembered about where I came from?” 

“Patu.” His head moved up and down, ears flapping with his nod. 

“Well, this lady comes from the same place that I do, and she just taught me how to say something in my old language. You wanna hear it?” 

“Patu!” He spread his clawed fingers over Din’s chestplate. 

Din looked over at you - at the warm smile on your face as you smoothed the little girl’s play-ruffled hair and gave him an encouraging nod - and then back down at Grogu. “Ny mo yariin, necta.” 

.

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[gingervitus]

OH HELLO FRIENDS. I'VE UPDATED BEFORE I TUMBLE INTO THE OBLIVION OF AUs COMPLETELY

Chapter 3 entitled Future I: Acceptance is up, and oops there are going to be four more sub-phases in the third phase of grief SORRY.

Here's a little taste, but the rest is on AO3:

Silvia rarely returns to Treviso or Antiva at all in the years that follow. After the final battle had ended and the Veil had been restored, change was welcomed in with the dawn of each day. A second chance had been hard-fought and won that day for all who would receive it, and she is not one to squander an opportunity. Especially one that is so neatly presented with a tidy little bow tied on top like her second chance was. She'd have been a fool to not snatch up the chance for happiness dangled right before her very eyes.

So when the time came that they could quietly slip through an Eluvian unnoticed, it was taken without question.

The dust had settled on the stories of the elven gods, leaving so much clarity in its wake.

Viago, of course, was and still is not pleased with her choices, but he's stopped sending his Crows to Arlathan in an attempt to retrieve her. They are never returned in any permanently disabled capacity. All simply maimed in a way that displays very clearly her repeated declination to return to House de Riva. A broken arm. A very sprained ankle. A fractured clavicle. Each one finds their way home to presumably resume their duties as soon as they've been healed. And each one has a scathing letter which arrives addressed to Rook a month or so after their initial arrival, critiquing their incompetence. Despite everything, she laughs as she reads them.

Trudging through the forest after a rain with the extra weight of her Antivan spoils, though, is almost as bothersome as the rare trip to Treviso she is returning from. With the disappearance and presumed death of the First Talon, the other houses have been in a state of turmoil for nearly two years. Her boots sink into a pile of mud, and she grumbles to herself about how impractical Crow armor and Antivan fashion is, wondering why she didn't simply plan accordingly and wear what she normally would. She knows very well that would never have been the case, not if the proprietor of her old haunt would have anything say in the matter. 

Teia insisted on showering her with gifts upon her return. Upon the return of an ally. An old friend. A confidant. “I am happy for you, Via… and Lucanis.” Luckily, they managed to work their way through most of the expensive wines and cheeses during her three week stint in the city. She is well aware that it would have been even more difficult to make it through Arlathan hauling all that food. Sharing them with a friend had also been gratifying. One of the few people she genuinely misses being away from the city she knew as home for so long, and her whole trip home, she cannot recall Teia ever looking quite so… defeated. “These last two years have been… illuminating.”  

Lucanis was meant to bring about change. Be the innovative progressive the Crows desperately need with a well established name to back him up, but it was a short lived title, all three Dellamortes up and vanishing without so much as a word. “House Nero is… well, Cesare snatched First Talon, and we all knew how that would go.” Slaves being plucked from Tevinter, half of them not making it through training. Infighting from every which angle. Black market dealings with every seedy operation imaginable. House Nero has been accumulating a massive wealth and set out to destroy the old Villa at the edge of the city as soon as they had been able. They all knew what would happen should the Sixth Talon ever take the reins. Suddenly, the Butcher was a benevolent and kind ruler if for nothing else than his true unyielding love for the city of Treviso itself.

Silvia grasps at a root, buried solidly in the side of a steep hill, and hoists herself up over the ledge. Muddy water sloshes against her feet. If there was any divine spirit she could curse, she would, but she knows of the gods. Of the potential for their ties to the Maker himself. There will be not even a curse made in their direction. No acknowledgement to be made toward villains. Instead, she shakes her foot out to no avail, the water remaining trapped. “If my foot rots off because of this, House Cantori owes me an entire vineyard,” she mutters as her foot slaps back against muddy ground. 

If you're vibing the rest is linked above.

If not that's okay too!

[deadmegumi]

Crawls out of notesapp carrying nell lore. If you guys even care

Was difficult for me to reconcile durge canonically being raised by a normal family before joining the bhaalists bc nell has such an obvious lack of socialization but I've figured it out

- she was adopted and raised by a zariel tiefling couple in the lower city. because she was born directly of bhaal's flesh w no non-godly parents she didn't really have like… a firm physical form or appearance? As a small child she was very malleable and was kind of like a changeling that wasn't in control of her transformations. Constantly shifting form and appearance etc. as she grew up she began to solely model herself off of her adoptive family and by age ~4 she looked solidly like a zariel tiefling except slightly wrong. She still kind of has an uncanny valley type deal but for the most part she passes as a normal tiefling even though she definitely is not.

- family! Mother and father were kind ordinary folk. Owned an apothecary in the lower city and loved her very much even though they could tell she was hmmmm absolutely fucking deranged. She would bite another kid's arm off at the playground and they'd go oh isn't our baby so spirited :). Like ok first of all that is a dog and she has rabies. Her adoptive parents also already had a son called laurence, who was about four years older than nell and an apprentice wizard. He and nell were extremely close even though he could tell something was wrong with her.

- when nell was ten the temple of bhaal decided it was time to collect her; they offered her the choice of letting them kill her family, or doing it herself. She burned down their home and returned to the temple as bhaal's chosen. Worst preteen ever. Laurence was at his apprenticeship when the fire happened and survived, but though nell had died with his parents for several years after.

- nell had a different name when she with her adoptive parents but after years back with the cult + her general lack of attachment to the name she's forgotten it. “Nell” is actually a name gortash gave her (cringe). They took the name from one of the flaming fists nell murdered during their first meeting; her name was donella and when gortash decided he wanted to call nell something that was not "dearest bhaalspawn" was what he chose. When nell woke up on the nautiloid she had nooooo clue gortash chose it for her and thought it was her birth name :)

- back to her brother. about six months before the game starts he's now a fully-fledged wizard with a family of his own. Orin, by then already plotting durge’s downfall, discovers laurence survived the fire, and disguises herself as a flaming fist to tell him that nell also survived, but has been held captive the last ~25 years. He obviously rushes to rescue her. Bad idea. Instead of finding his baby sister a prisoner to the people who killed their parents he finds a deranged bhaalspawn who kills first and asks questions later. Oops. Nell recognizes him only after he's dead. He's the only person in the world she'd ever felt guilt over killing! Oops!!!!!

- still debating over whether it's meaner to have nell then find his family and kill them OR gave her return to baldur's gate post lobotomy, find them grieving, have some inexplicable recognition/connection with his children, and then have orin reveal exactly what happened to laurence after they've already formed these bonds. Also nell's dream guardian is laurence and that's the primary reason she decides the emperor has to die bc how dare he dress up as the sole physical manifestation of my guilt…

[riley-coyotl]

Sixth Monthly Puppy Report Card for Kelpie!

Kelpie’s progress from 7 – 8 months old (posting late again, oops.) Be prepared for these to contain Too Many Notes because that's just how I am. Categories subject to be added to or change as she matures and things become more or less relevant.

Food (drive, appetite, sensitivity): 🟢 - Doing well here across the board, I feel like her food drive has even gone up which I appreciate!

Toys: 🟢/🟡 - Toy drive is great, she’s so playful and fun! Toy skills have deteriorated a bit though, teen brain is setting in and she’s slower to drop toys when asked, and having trouble regulating her arousal to stay on her own toy and not grab the other dogs’ toys while I’m playing with multiple dogs at once. Gotta practice more I guess, and make things a bit easier for her to succeed.

Sleeping: 🟢/🟡 - For the most part she’s doing well, once we got our groove back she was back to being able to sleep for 6-8 hours before wanting to go out… But then as this month has gone on, off and on she’s sometimes had some trouble sleeping for more than ~5 hours at a time before she’s waking us wanting to go out. In the mornings she’s sometimes been pretty insistent on getting up as soon as my partner’s alarm goes off, and sometimes she’s not very forgiving if he decides to sleep in a bit. Not entirely sure why she’s backslid here again, but I honestly think she just needs time and things will get better.

Crating/separation: 🟢 - No complaints here, she’s easy to settle in her crate and chills/naps while we’re gone, and if she needs to be crated for a bit while we’re home to get her to calm down/reset, she does well with that too.

Potty training: 🟢 - She’s doing really well, there have been a few accidents (all poop, no pee) but these are completely our fault, only occurring when we missed her ringing bells, or when we’ve been impatient and brought her inside too soon even though she’s telling us she isn’t ready to come in yet (sometimes, she will do this/dilly dally just because she wants to find and chew sticks, but usually it’s actually because she still needs to go. We need to listen to her!) But overall she’s pretty reliable at this point, she always lets us know when she needs to go, and as long as we’re listening to her, she does great!

General training: 🟢/🟡 - She’s a good girl, her interest in training sessions has increased even more, and her attention span and focus in training is improving more too...but alas, as she’s solidly entering the teen phase, she has started using her selective listening ears in day to day life. We’re workin on it!

Recall/Off-leash skills: 🟡 - She’s usually good but, see above, sometimes she has her selective listening ears on. The other evening she lost her off leash privileges for now (outside of contained spaces) when she was blowing off some of her recall at the park. I went through the same thing with Maple’s recall when she was around this age, and it’s so so frustrating, but having been through it once already, I at least know that we’ll get through it. Just need to be smart about management and reduce off-leash privileges as needed, and practice and heavily reward recalls when I know she can succeed.

Leash walking: 🟢/🟡 - About the same as last month. Still needs work, she can pull hard when excited, but I don’t expect too much from a teenage puppy here, and when her brain is on she does ok.

Biting: 🟢/🟡 - Puppy biting had all but virtually disappeared over the first part of this month, but then over the next few weeks we saw a resurgence of it…which I recently discovered is likely the result of her teething again—I was sure she’d lost all her puppy teeth and gotten all her adult teeth in by now (she hasn’t lost any puppy teeth in months, and has been a lot less bitey) but apparently not, so it seems we’ve entered Teething, Round 2!

Manners: 🟢/🟡 - When her brain is properly on, she’s been doing very good!! Earlier this month my partner had shoulder surgery and she seemed to be somewhat sensitive to that, she was acting downright responsible honestly, but then over the past couple weeks, crazy teen puppy behavior has emerged in force… She will just sometimes turn into a little menace, with selective listening ears, frustration/demand barking, cat chasing, harassing Maple, plenty of Mischief getting into things as much as she can...and a couple times I have seen her try to do some leg humping which I thought she had grown out of, ugh. Not to mention the gradual resurgence in biting, her difficulty settling to sleep through the night sometimes, etc. I attributed this all to her solidly entering her teen phase, but then after discovering that surprise, she’s not done teething!, I have realized that at least some of this crazy behavior has been due to pain/discomfort in her mouth. It’s hard being a teenage puppy, and even harder when your teefies start hurting again. As frustrating as she can be sometimes, I have empathy for her side of the experience and I’m trying my best to be patient. She’s a good puppy, really and truly, she’s just Going Through It. And like I said, when her brain is on and it’s not witching hour for her, she’s actually been quite pleasant.

Grooming/Handling: 🟢/🟡 - Great across the board except that, after she seemed to get over her gear shyness about her harness, it’s come back a bit. I wonder if her sensitivity has something to do with her teething pain/discomfort returning.

Car rides: 🟢 - She does well but has sometimes been less relaxed when we first get going, anxiously excited and sometimes insistent about riding in my lap. She likes car rides though and doesn’t get carsick, and settles nicely after a bit, so I really can’t complain.

Outings/socialization: 🟢 - Confident and curious, and (starting to!) be a bit better turning her brain on and focusing with me.

Dogs: 🟢/🟡 - Pretty much the same as last month. She’s dog social and friendly, and with Juniper she is respectful at not just bowling straight into her when she wants to play (Juni has been less patient with her about it than Maple)...but she is still doing that with Maple, just bulldozing her or nipping at her back legs to knock her over, either just oblivious or insensitive to the fact that Maple’s not enjoying this type of play. I remain hopeful that she’ll figure it out as she matures, as I keep playing referee and redirecting her etc...and again I remind myself that too excitable/playful is better than fearful or aggressive. Also of note, this month for the first time I have seen her a couple times give a little “hey back off this is mine” gesture/snap if Maple or Juni is thinking about taking a chew from her. I want to keep an eye on this (and of course continue to enforce “no stealing” between the dogs myself so they don’t have to,) but tbh her communication was reasonable and polite boundary-setting, so I don’t see any issue with it.

Humans: 🟢 - She’s a good, well-rounded dog here. She’s friendly and quite happy to meet friends new and old, but not excessively interested in meeting strangers; outside of the context of us intentionally actively socializing with/meeting someone, she will accept approach and even politely investigate herself but oftentimes excuses herself of being actually touched by the person, which is totally fair and I would say even ideal.

Cats: 🟡/🔴 - Sigh. Cat chasing/harassing has gone up over the past month, sometimes she’s not even been able to see a cat without at least being tempted to mess with her. Those selective listening ears are a problem here, and when she’s amped up she just has a hard time disengaging. I know she’s a teenager but ohhh my lort this is frustrating and stressful for me. We’ve finally just bought more gates that the cats can get through but she can’t, and have now installed them to create more/larger spaces of separation, so that the cats have an easier time leaving when they are uncomfortable and have more space in the house to be away from the puppy if they so choose. I’m hopeful that this extra management helps us with training to leave the cats alone and regulating arousal around them. At the very least, it’ll make for more peaceful living for all involved, and give me some peace of mind re:safety!

Small animals: 🟢 - Interested and likes to chase, but I’ve seen some lovely potential with calling off things like rabbits or staying in the “watch” phase of the predatory sequence (aided by use of a leash of course.) I know it might seem strange that the grade here seems in stark contrast to the poor grade she got re:chasing cats, but my expectations for her behaviors around rabbits/squirrels/whatever vs. our cats is of course different.

Bonding/affection: 🟢 - Despite the teen/teething crazies appearing, she’s also been really sweet this past month, giving more cuddles, showing attentiveness to our emotional states, seeks comfort in us when she needs it, etc. I really love her so much and even through the frustration of her punk-ass teenage behavior, I can feel our bond continuing to grow, and that makes me happy and gives me hope for the future.

Overall grade 🟢/🟡, Kelpie and I have both been struggling with her teen puppy brain this month, but she really is a good girl and is trying her best, and I know we’ll get through the teen phase even though sometimes I just feel like I’m failing. Like I’ve said, when her brain is on, she does quite well across the board, and this gives me a glimpse of what things will/could be like as she matures further. Same as last month, my only true complaints are her harassing/chasing the cats, and her bothering poor Maple, but we’re working on it. I need to keep reminding myself that even though she looks very grown now, she’s still just a baby. I’m trying hard to not get caught up with feelings of what I think her/our progress “should” look like at this point, or comparing it to others, and just focusing on letting her be a puppy, building our relationship and bond and trust, and having fun with her, and trusting the process—the other stuff will follow.

[alorssouris]

ooc ;; i’m....alive? i think? i might try to come back here because i miss a lot of these muses and my writing partners, but tbh i’m not sure who all is active anymore because i went mia for so long oops

[cuquitalocita]

...oops |rowaelin month- day 5|

rowaelin masterlist

an: i had a dream about this and i kind of hate the ending buttt enjoy! :)

word count: 3,988

~~

“You did what?” 

It wouldn’t take a genius to note that twenty one year- old Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was fuming. And it would have been to no one’s surprise if the princess herself brought the very palace down in flames herself in a matter of moments. 

The Queen of Terrasen sighed and with a small shake of her head, daintily placed her teacup on the table in front of her. With her hands crossed in her lap, she turned her blue gaze to her daughter’s twin one, this one holding a fire many would cower from despite the girl’s young age. But it seemed that Evalin Ashryver feared no one but the gods, and she faced her daughter’s seeth head-on. 

“Fireheart-” 

“An arranged marriage? I wasn’t aware I was a doll who’s life you can just play with. Is this top okay or would you like to change me into a new pretty dress?”

Evalin merely rolled her eyes at her only daughter, allowing her to rant and fume as she pleased for what seemed like hours before the princess finally collapsed into the chair beside her, blue in the face and a vein popping out of her forehead. 

“Fireheart,” she began again, this time gentler. “You have to understand, your father and I are simply doing what we believe is best for the country. For our people.”

“By selling me away? I’m not a child anymore mother, and I can make my own decisions just fine.” The anger had vanished, now replaced by a look of utter despair in the princess’ eyes as she gazed at her mother, an attempt to delay what she knew was inevitable.

“We know that Aelin, of course we do, and we would never do anything to purposefully hurt you. Terrasen is… is struggling right now, my love. You may be our only hope.” 

The look in her mother’s eyes settled something in her chest and she realized there would be no fighting this- although she most certainly would try. Her parents were set on an arranged marriage for the Princess of Terrasen. 

And as she stormed through the door of her chambers, Aelin’s thoughts settled on one in particular.

The Prince of Doranelle better be handsome.

~~

The Wild Princess of Terrasen, they called her.

Well- Aelin thought as she gunned the Corvette through the streets of the capital- if they wanted a wild princess, a wild princess is what they would get. 

She remembered a time where her mother had rolled her eyes when her daughter had told her she wanted a Corvette for her sixteenth birthday. She didn’t even have a license, and she would never be driving herself, so what good would it do?

Aelin smirked. Apparently they were perfect for fits of rage. 

She vaguely remembered a few lessons Brullo had given her when she had managed to bribe the grumpy body guard with cookies enough for him to teach her how to drive- unbeknownst to her mother, of course. Aelin bet that Evalin Ashryver would just about have a heart attack if she knew her daughter could drive.

Aelin swerved into the left lane without her turn signal, earning an angry honk and a few unkind words from the car behind her.

Well- sort of knew how to drive. 

Oops, she thought. From then on, she turned her speed down just a bit. 

As Aelin careened through the streets of Terrasen, she realized that as a princess, she truly had been deprived of her own country. Sure, she had been escorted through the streets during the annual parade, and her father used to take her to Malakai’s for her favorite cake every once in a while, but the streets she drove through now were unknown to her. 

She passed jogging college kids and mothers with strollers and toddlers, couples holding hands and homeless people that scattered some of the streets. The sight made her heart clench and her knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. 

Aelin was so focused on the people around her, she forgot to look forward as she drove through a glaring red light. Luckily there were barely any other cars around her, and the only indication that she had done something wrong came from a distinctly aggravated male voice screaming, “What the fu-”

“Shit!” 

Aelin slammed her foot down on the breaks as her gaze came into contact with a man in front of her- she was going full speed towards him as she tried crossing the cross walk. The car came to a screeching halt directly in front of him, but the momentum proved to be too much as the Corvette did in fact make contact with him.

She thought time slowed down as the man went shooting to the ground with a groan of pain. 

Yes, she had just hit a man with her car.

But her mother was going to absolute assassinate her. 

Another loud groan from outside the window had Aelin shoving the car into park and flying out to the man in front of her, heart in her throat. 

As she took in the man, she wondered what the odds were of hitting a person with your car and having them be one of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen. Pretty low, Aelin would think, but like everything else in her life, statistics did not seem to be on her side.

The man was clearly young, maybe a few years older than her, and even though he wore a thick winter jacket to protect him from the Terrasen winter, he was clearly built like a greek god. With silver hair almost matching the snow around him and tan skin that signaled to Aelin he clearly wasn’t from around here, the man could have been on the front page of any popular magazine. 

“Fuck!” 

Aelin kneeled down beside the man who was thankfully still conscious, face scrunched up in pain and clear anger. It made him look older, she thought as she finally looked at his eyes. They were a stunning green. She wanted to hit herself with her car. Of course they were. 

“A-are you okay?” She helped him up, placing a hand on his lower back and pushing him up until he sat forward enough until he could support himself.

The man glared at her, teeth clenched in pain as his gaze burned into her own.

“Are you crazy?” he growled, his voice even deeper than Aelin thought it would have been. “Am I okay? You just hit me with your fucking car!” 

Aelin jerked her hand away from him, suddenly defensive. “Look, I am so sorry. I- I wasn’t looking where I was driving and-”

The man scoffed. “Obviously.” 

Aelin saw red. 

“Well what the fuck were you doing on a crosswalk two seconds before the light turned red? You had plenty of time to move out of the way and you’re blaming me because you couldn’t look around?” 

It was moments like these where Aelin realized why Elide’s fiancee liked to call her ‘fire breathing bitch queen.’ Sure, she could acknowledge it. She had just hit the guy with her car, and Aelin had foung a way to blame him. 

“Maybe if you had been less careless about crashing Daddy’s car you would have been a bit more careful and we wouldn’t be here right now, Princess.” 

Aelin almost slapped him, if not for the derogatory way her title slipped through his tongue. And that was when she realized that he had no idea who she was. The man in front of her didn’t look like an idiot. He wouldn’t be insulting her if he knew who she was. And Aelin realized she didn’t want him to know. Not as the words that spilled through her lips could ruin her entire legacy.

“Watch it.” The words were low and dangerous, and something flashed in the man’s eyes that signaled to her than he had caught the anger lacing her tone. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“I don’t think I need to. Nor do I care enough to want to.”

“Well you’re clearly fine, if you can spew ridiculous insults out of your head at the drop of a dime,” Aelin deadpanned. “So, can we wrap this up?” 

“Gladly.” He made to get up, placing his weight on his arm as he pushed himself upward, cutting off with a loud gasp of pain before sinking back to the ground, his green eyes alight with agony. The sight made a pang shoot through Aelin’s chest and she grabbed his arm to steady him before his momentum his head careening toward the ground. 

“Shit, we need to take you to the hospital.” She rose, already on her way back to the car.

“No way am I going anywhere with you.” 

“That’s fine.” Aelin’s smile was purely saccharine. “You can stay here if you’d like. It’s supposed to drop to -10 in a few hours when the sun goes down but you look pretty toasty to me. Of course, your fingers will fall off before the ambulance gets here, so it’s really give or take.”

The man growled and rubbed a large hand through his hair.

“So what do you say, Superman?” Aelin gestured to the car behind her. “What’s the worst that can happen? I already hit you with my car today.” 

If the tone of his voice was any indication, the man was in enough pain to barely put up a fight.

“Fine. But get into another accident and I’m calling the police.”

Aelin almost laughed. Little did he know that she owned the police.

It was only during the awkwardly silent drive to the hospital that Aelin realized the workers at the hospital would recognize her, and then the man beside her would. The thought put a sour taste in Aelin’s mouth. She liked fighting with this man- liked the fact that he treated her with the same amount of respect he would anyone who hit him with their car. Even if he was an infuriating prick of a man. 

“Alright,” she pulled the car into park. “Here we are.” The man grunted in acknowledgment.

Surprisingly enough, the ER was close to empty on the Thursday evening and Aelin was grateful that it meant fewer people would recognize her. Who knew how the paparazzi would react if they saw their crown princess in the ER with an unknown man. 

As if her ‘issues’ weren’t plastered in the tabloids enough already. 

Aelin hadn’t realized how tall the man was until he was standing solidly behind her at the check-in desk. He was close enough that she could feel him at her back and she swore her shoulder had bumped below his own. Gods, he was strong.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and turned to the man at the desk. 

“Hi um, I’m here to check in a patient.” If the way the man swallowed was any indication, said patient was glaring daggers from beside her. He turned to the monitor in front of him and began typing something into the computer.

“And, what’s the reason for your visit today?”

Aelin cleared her throat. “Just- just a checkup. He had a bit of a fall, we just wanted to make sure everything is okay.” She felt what must have been a scoff from behind her but ignored it. The man nodded without looking at her or stopping his typing.

“Okay,” he finally said after a few moments of silence. He handed a clipboard to Aelin holding a few pieces of obvious paperwork. “Fill this out and give it back to me when you’re done. It’s a slow day so you should be able to meet with the doctor in just a second.” Aelin nodded, thanking the man and making her way to the empty seats across the desk, dragging her silver-haired friend with her until he collapsed into the seat beside her with a huff. 

She ignored him in favor of flicking through the paperwork as casually as she could, attempting to not draw attention to the fact that she clearly knew none of the personal information about the man beside her.

Aelin leaned close to him and almost rolled her eyes when he leaned significantly away.

“Hey,” she whispered. She watched as he rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“What’s your name?” he leveled her with a confused look and she held up the paperwork. But really, what kind of an idiot hit someone with their car and didn’t ask for their name. Aelin was such an idiot. Such an-

“Rowan.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Rowan.” She raised a brow,

“Rowan…?”

“Whitethorn.” Rowan Whitethorn. The name sent a pang of familiarity through her and Aelin struggled to ruffle through her mind to find where she had heard it before. 

“What do you do for work?” The question was out of her mouth before she could berate herself for how stupid it was. His eyebrows shot up to the top of his head.

“Is that on the form?” his voice was defensive but Aelin shrugged nonetheless and Rowan sighed before running a hand through his hair. “Let’s say I’m involved with politics.” 

Aelin grimaced. Maybe that was why her mind had blocked out his name. Anyone involved with any kind of politics was automatically dislikeable in Aelin’s eyes. She had been around enough politicians to recognize their slimy exterior. 

Rowan clearly noticed her face and scowled at her. “Well not all of us have a choice in our future just because we’re young and irresponsible.” Like you, was what he didn’t have to say. Aelin wanted to kick him. If only he knew. Instead, she rolled her eyes and looked back at the sheet in front of her.

“Date of birth?”

“December 8, 1995.” Aelin almost dropped her pencil but instead turned to Rowan, surprised to find him already looking at her.

“Seriously? You’re twenty- five?”

“What’s your point?”

“All of the high and mighty, ‘I’m your elder’ attitude and you’re only four years older than me.” She shook her head and turned back to the form, ignoring the glare she could feel burning into her skull and trying her best not to think about how good Rowan smelled from beside her. She never would have thought that the scent of pine could be so intoxicating. 

“Place of birth?”

“Doranelle.” Aelin wondered if he knew anything of the infamous prince she was to marry. She really should have done some more research before storming out of the palace. 

“Height?”

“6’ 4”.” 

“Any allergies?”

“Blondes.” Aelin ignored that one. 

“Any family history of fatal medical issues?”

“No.”

“Type and reason for pain?” 

“An irritation in my head from the woman beside me.” 

Aelin threw her pen at him and watched as he winced before looking at her with wide annoyed eyes. But she frankly didn’t give a fuck anymore. She could have let him freeze to death outside and here he was complaining about her.

“You know, this whole thing would be a lot easier if you weren’t such a prick.”

“Actually this whole thing would be a lot easier if you hadn’t-”

Rowan was cut off by the clearing of a throat in front of them, signaling someone had come through the door. The two had been too preoccupied with one another to even notice the doctor standing in front of them. 

She’s beautiful, with cinnamon skin and curly hair, and she wears an amused smile on her face as she looks between the two. Aelin and Rowan automatically calm themselves into an acceptable demeanor and Aelin stands to shake hands with the doctor in front of them, handing her the unfinished paperwork.

“Alright, Mr… Whitethorn. I’m Doctor Towers and I’ll be helping you out here today. Why don’t you come back here with me and we can check you out.” Rowan stood up to follow her out of the room before Doctor Towers turned back to look at Aelin. “You can come too, Mrs. Whitethorn. We’ll probably need you to clear a few things up.”

Aelin hated the blush that sprang to her cheeks at the implication that she could be married to Rowan, and she almost laughed. As if she could ever marry someone like him. Their protests are cut off by the creaking of the door and neither Aelin nor Rowan bothers to correct the doctor as she leads them to a section of the hospital filled with open hospital beds and shitty curtains for ‘privacy.’

Pulling one shut, Doctor Towers gestures for Rowan to sit on the bed. Once he does, she leans back on her heels and pulls out her own clipboard. 

“Okay, what seems to be the problem today?”

They’re silent for a moment, both looking at each other with wide eyes, not knowing what to say. Eventually, Aelin clears her throat. 

“Um, we had a bit of an accident-”

“I would hardly call it an ‘accident.’ She-”

“He decided to walk through a crosswalk during a green light and-”

“You hit me with your car!” 

It seemed the entire hospital went silent for a moment before sound resumed once more and Aelin allowed her head to fall into her hands.

“It wasn’t like that. I-”

“You slammed straight into me!”

“I barely knicked you!” 

Doctor Towers had been watching the sparring match between the two with wide eyes, clearly still hung up on the fact that he had been hit by a car and was still alive. It took a moment before she shook her head and scribbled a few things down on her piece of paper. 

“I hate to ask this,” she cleared her throat. “Was this- um, a crime of passion?”

Aelin and Rowan stared at her blankly before turning to each other, both confused. She tried again.

“I mean- when a wife hits her husband with a car-” Realizing what she was implying, Aelin and Rowan were quick with their rebuttals. 

“She’s not-”

“I’m not his wife!”

“Most definitely not-”

“As if I’d ever marry this prick-”

“I would rather hit myself with a car than voluntarily pledge myself to her.” 

Aelin rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her defensively. “Now that’s a little dramatic.” 

“Well, you did hit me with a car.” If Aelin didn’t know any better, she would say that it almost looked like amusement twisted his lips. 

“You’re never gonna get over that, are you?” 

“Not likely.” 

Doctor Towers cleared her throat from beside them, causing the two to snap their gazes back to her. Whatever they found there had them shut their mouths like scolded children.

“So…” she arched a brow. “It was an accident?”

Rowan nodded while Aelin muttered, “Unfortunately.” 

Doctor Towers ignored the comment in favor of looking at Aelin closely. She watched in despair as it clicked in her head who exactly was standing in front of her and Aelin found herself holding her breath. But surprisingly enough, the doctor said nothing, simply turning to Rowan with a knowing look.

“So Mr. Whitethorn, what hurts?”

“Besides everything?” Rowan grimaced as he circled his shoulder. “Mostly my shoulder. I don’t know if I pulled it today specifically, but it’s been bothering me for a while. I think today just aggravated it.” 

“It could be a stress fracture,” she mused. “Has anything happened recently in your life that could have caused your anxiety and stress levels to shoot up? It could be anything really from, an increase in work to a big change or big news…”

Rowan let out what Aelin assumed was some sort of laugh. She ignored the shiver it sent down her spine.

“You could say that.” 

Doctor Towers didn’t press for more information, merely nodded and wrote something down before looking at Rowan again.

“The only solution I can really offer you right now is to ice it as often as you can for about eight to ten weeks, and it should heal on its own. No cast necessary.”

“Really?” Aelin exclaimed, unable to hold back the relief in her voice. Maybe her mother wouldn’t kill her after all. “That’s great.” 

“It is,” Doctor Towers gazed at her through a knowing smile and narrowed eyes. “Just try not to hit people with your car anymore Pr-, ma’am.” Aelin almost laughed at the comment, even more at the mistake she had almost made, but instead nodded with a small smile.

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

Turning to Rowan, Aelin found him already watching her, a strange look on his face as he gazed between the two women. He opened his mouth to speak when the door to the ER burst open, and the Queen herself strutted through.

Aelin thought that if a look could set a flame, she would be ashes by now. 

She felt herself pale as her mother walked toward her on near-silent footsteps, leaving citizens bowing in her wake. But the Queen only had eyes for her daughter. Very angry eyes. 

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” she hissed, and Aelin tried not to cringe. “You are in so much trouble young lady.” Aelin opened her mouth to defend herself. “Sneaking out, close to Yulemas in fact, when crime rates are highest, stealing a car-”

“It’s not stealing if it’s mine-” Her mouth snapped shut at the look her mother gave her. 

“You’ll come to learn Aelin, that as future queen of this country, you have a status to uphold. You have an image- a reputation, one that should not include sneaking out of the palace unsupervised and ending up in the ER.” 

She felt the words like a stab to the heart. Aelin knew the last thing her mother wanted to do was hurt her, especially with her words. But Aelin felt the truth of them to the bottom of her toes, and she was swept into a tidal wave of disappointment in herself. No wonder her parents wanted to marry her off. Of course she couldn’t lead a country on her own.

“Mother, I’m sorry I snuck out. I was just so upset with you. And do you think I meant to end up in the ER? I hit him with my car for Gods sake! I couldn’t just-”

“You’re the princess?” 

The surprisingly choked voice came from Rowan, and the two pairs of Ashryver eyes snapped to him in a millisecond. Rowan was looking at Aelin like he had never seen her before, and she frowned at him in confusion. Maybe he hadn’t met a princess before, but this was hardly how she thought he would react. It was as if he was going to be sick.

From beside her, Evalin let out a strangled laugh and Aelin gazed at her mother incredulously. From beside her, Aelin’s mother burst into peals of laughter. 

“Well, this is quite the situation, isn’t it?” she laughed. It was a moment before she composed herself and turned to Rowan.  “Rowan Whitethorn. I suppose introductions aren’t necessary.” 

Rowan was bowing, green eyes hard as they met Aelin’s and stayed there, even as he addressed her mother. “Your majesty. Allow me to express my gratitude for welcoming me into your country.” 

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Evalin insisted, still smiling as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. “You’re practically family, after all.” 

And that was when it hit her.

Let’s just say I’m involved with politics.

Doranelle.

Recent stressful news.

His name. 

Rowan’s eyes were on hers as the realization struck that Aelin not only fell into the statistics of people who hit attractive strangers with their car but also happened to hit members of royalty.

No- Aelin thought as she gaped at her betrothed- she most definitely did not fall in favor of most statistics. But they had fallen with her on one account.

The Prince of Doranelle was handsome. 

~~

this prompt was: “i accidentally hit you with my car”

taglist:

@story-scribbler​

@rowaelinismyotp​

@live-the-fangirl-life​

@claralady​

@surielandiareendgame​

[blurglesmurfklaine]

If the World Was Ending

A/N: not to be that bicth who writes song lyrics as a summary but…

Summary: 

I know, you know, we know You weren’t down for forever and it’s fine…

But if the world was ending, you’d come over right?

“The human race on the edge of extinction, and all Kurt can think about is his ex-fiance.”

Based on If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe

1908 words, angst, reconciliation fic (seasin six AU ish)

A/N (edit): This started out rated G but now it’s rated E oops

Read On AO3

***

He’d called his dad.

“I’m coming home,” he’d blubbered. “It’s not too long of a drive.”

“You and I both know there’s no way you’re getting out of New York right now, kiddo. The roads are gonna be way too congested, no one’s going anywhere.”

“Then I’ll book a flight.”

“Airlines aren’t operating. Indefinitely.”

“I will walk if I have to then, I don’t care, dad. This can’t be—I have to see you. I don’t want—”

“Kurt,” his dad said, a brittle finality in his tone. 

And Kurt knew what it meant. He could waste his last breaths trying, but there was no way he was getting back to Lima before time was up.

So many things he’d wanted to say. I’m so scared. I don’t want to be alone. But with an invisible countdown hanging forebodingly over everyone’s head, all there was time for were the words that mattered. 

“I love you, Dad,” he’d whispered brokenly.

“I know,” Burt had replied. “I love you, too. So much.”

“Tell Carole and Finn I love them.”

“They know. I will, but they know.”

Silence taught between the lines, heavy with the not wanting to let go. 

“Kurt…”

“Yeah?”

“You should go see him.”

And the line went dead.

Kurt had cried, tried to redial, screamed pathetically at his phone until his vocal cords were raw with the fear and loneliness that have been aching in him ever since he broke things off with Blaine, amplified now by the blood-stained sunset and the steadily increasing heat.

Solar flares, they’d said on the news that morning. Just a rare, astronomical anomaly, something to mark on the calendar. By the time Kurt had gotten out of his last class, it seemed there would be no more calendar to mark. NASA’s top astrophysicist estimated they had until sunset before the planet was burnt to a crisp. 

The human race on the edge of extinction, and all Kurt can think about is his ex-fiance.

What a horrid way to find out that he does, in fact, want to spend the rest of his life with Blaine.

He’s passed Blaine’s new apartment now and then, feeling an undercurrent of regret every time he did, and now, his feet seem to follow his heart there. 

Fear makes his arm heavy when he finally reaches the front door to Blaine;s new apartment, but something deeper, stronger within him gives him no choice but to knock. 

There’s a little peephole on the front of the door. Kurt imagines Blaine taking one single glance through it, scoffing, and walking away. He’d probably be happier to see a takeout delivery boy than he would the ex-fiance that left him high and dry, broke the best thing that ever happened to him, then left Blaine anchorless. 

If Blaine hates him, Kurt could never blame him for turning him away, even as their demise creeps up behind them.

Click.

The door unlatches and groans open slowly, revealing a familiar face. 

Blaine doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t look confused, or surprised, or any of the reactions Kurt might’ve envisioned. He just looks relieved.

In an attempt to dry his quickly dying throat, not wanting his voice to crack when he speaks to Blaine for the first time in months, Kurt swallows. “Hi, Blaine,” he manages.

There’s only time to register a miniscule waver in Blaine’s lips before his arms are around Kurt and both of them have collapsed in the doorway, reduced to a heap of sobs.

God there are so many things that race through Kurt’s mind like missiles exploding into more sobs before they find their way out of his mouth, but he can’t find the strength to verbalize any of that right now.

Oh, and he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to be strong around Blaine, doesn’t have to hold himself twice as solidly as he does around him and Jesus how he’s missed it. He misses the freedom of not having to hold yourself together when you submit to someone your vulnerability.

Nuzzling his wet face into the familiar curve of where Blaine’s shoulder and neck meet, Kurt is reminded of the safety his relationship with Blaine offered him, that all-encompassing security Kurt once mistook as a suffocating confine because… well, a house can feel like a prison to someone who's never had a home before.

And Blaine is his home, he knows that now. Hell, he’s always known it, and was afraid of it. 

After the apparent shock of having Kurt in his arms again wears off, Blaine pulls away to get a better look at him. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I tried calling you, but I didn’t know if the lines were working after—” 

“I know, I know,” Kurt says frantically, a bit fearfully. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here, or if you’d even let me in.”

Blaine lets out a wet little laugh that’s halfway a sob. “Kurt, I will always let you in,” he says, and then surges forward to crash his lips onto Kurt’s.

In a flurry of motion, they pick themselves up off the floor and tumble inside the apartment, a mess of flesh and libs desperately trying to cling to each other. As if they are reading each other’s minds, as if they haven’t been separated for months, they each follow the other’s lead. 

The force of the kiss sends them staggering backwards, until Kurt’s back slams roughly against the living room wall. “Shit,” Blaine breathes, pulling away to check on Kurt. “You okay?”

Kurt just pulls him back in, not wanting to have him away for longer than absolutely necessary. “‘M okay,” Kurt mumbles messily against Blaine’s lips. “Just. Don’t stop. Need you.”

Kurt reaches out to unbutton Blaine’s jeans and Blaine returns the favor. A sense of urgency hangs thick in the air, and there’s no time to worry about getting the rest of their clothes off once Kurt’s kicked off his pants to the floor and Blaine has his pulled down enough to free his trapped cock.

Making sure they never break their kiss, Blaine reaches down to grab Kurt’s ass and hoists him up into his hips, using his weight to pin Kurt to the wall while Kurt wraps his legs around Blaine, hooking them together at the ankles.

And then Blaine presses in, and Kurt can feel himself start to fall apart.

Up until now, they’d felt the urgency, the need to rush and just finally be with each other again. But now that Blaine has finally slipped inside him, he rocks his hips forward slowly, fucking into Kurt as if they have eons left together, an eternity instead of mere hours.

With each thrust, Kurt lets out an involuntary cross between a whine and a moan, throwing his head back before eventually burying it into Blaine’s neck and gripping the back of his shirt tightly with his fists. Blaine doesn’t pick up the pace, though; he seems determined to make this last as long as he can, even if it means watching Kurt come utterly undone, still pinned between Blaine’s warmth and the wall.

Kurt feels dizzy and heady with Blaine’s body, and every motion his ex-fiance makes sends another pulse of electricity throughout Kurt’s entire body. Somehow, Kurt manages to gather up enough brain power to think to press his lips to Blaine’s shoulder, messy and wet and sloppy. One by one, he peppers a trail of kisses upwards. From Blaine’s shoulder, to the crook of his neck, to his chin, until finally their lips are together again and Kurt lets Blaine breathe in every broken noise from his mouth. 

It occurs to him, suddenly, how truly lucky he is. What a privilege it is to be able to experience, one last time, the forever he so cowardly tossed aside. This is what he gave up. The man holding him up against the apartment wall, loving him so tenderly, forgivingly, as if Kurt didn’t shatter him a few months ago. The man who could map out every inch of Kurt’s body and soul blindfolded, and using that knowledge to show Kurt exactly how much he still loves him. The kind of love that could hold on when one of them walked away, that could be so understanding, that could forgive when Kurt said some unloving things to the person he loves most in the world.

Kurt had all of this right in the palm of his hand, and he just… let it all go.

When Blaine bucks his hips up this time, Kurt is unable to keep his little moan from evolving into a sob as he once again drops his head into Blaine’s neck, trying to hide his face, red and wet with tears.

In an instant, Blaine is there, cradling Kurt in his hands and lifting his face. “Kurt, baby, what’s wrong? Do you need me to stop—”

Kurt shakes his head and reaches to hold Blaine’s face as well. “No, no, please, don’t stop. I just—” Getting the words out between sobs is proving much more difficult than Kurt could have ever imagined. “I’m so sorry, Blaine. God, I am so fucking sorry. I love you so, so much, and I don’t even know why I—I’m just so sorry.”

 Blaine smooths the sides of Kurt’s hair down, lips quavering before letting his entire face crumble. “It’s okay. None of that matters now.”

It’s then, that Blaine finally quickens his pace slightly, and it’s enough for Kurt to get close again. Blaine wraps a fist around Kurt’s cock trapped between them and starts pumping in time with his thrusts. He leans forward to kiss Kurt one more time, as if the fifty they’ve already shared weren’t enough, and mumbles, “I love you, too.”

And that’s all it takes—knowing that despite it all, Blaine can say those words and still mean them—to send Kurt over the edge, spilling out between their bodies. Blaine keeps fucking him through the height of his orgasm, each strong roll of his hips bringing Kurt to the brink of overstimulation, and after a few seconds, Kurt can feel him finally coming inside of him, little pulses sending aftershocks through Kurt. 

They stay there for a moment—only for a moment, as the ones they have left together are limited—doing nothing except remaining intertwined with each other, holding each other, breathing together.  

Hours later, when they both have cleaned up and come down from their post-orgasm highs, when Blaine has told Kurt about the phone call he got to have with his parents and Cooper, they just lie in Blaine’s bed, wrapped around one another, hands interlocked.

It’s nearly ten at night, but the sky is bright as noon outside. Kurt has always prided himself on his courage, but doesn’t want to lie to himself and say that he isn't afraid to die. He’s fucking terrified. 

But then he looks at Blaine and Everything’s going to be okay, doesn’t feel like the blatant lie it is.

It’s getting harder and harder for Kurt to imagine why he’d ever left him behind. At the time, he’d thought they were nothing more than someone once innocent, now broken.

Maybe they are. But just like Blaine said, none of that matters. 

Because in these final moments they’re sharing, in the sun’s fatal rays, even shattered glass will glitter like the gold they once were.

[radramblog]

Ultimate^2

Super Smash Brothers Ultimate has finally unveiled its final DLC character, with reactions ranging fully across the spectrum. Hot takes abound.

I mean, statistically, just about every possible opinion is going to be represented. There were at least 500,000 people watching the reveal stream, and that’s not including those viewing through restreams. That’s insane for a trailer of any kind, let alone for a console-exclusive video game DLC.

Now that it’s been like… a day and a bit, I think most of the spciest takes have probably been made, which is the perfect time for me to chip in with my own milder opinion. More of a butter chicken, really.

(no images in this one i’m lazy tonight)

I figure I’m this late already, might as well drop some notes on the other ones first.

Piranha Plant was kind of the definition of an unexpected pick. Not only was it from an already well-represented franchise, being fucking Mario, it’s also just…not a character. As such it makes an odd choice for a DLC fighter…except for the part where it was free. If you owned the game in its first month. And frankly, I don’t think people would have been happy if it wasn’t. As it is, though, it’s a perfectly fine character- surprisingly cute, actually.

I’m unsurprised about Joker’s inclusion. With how huge Persona 5 became in both Japan and the west, capitalizing on it to make a shitload of money makes perfect sense. The character plays well enough, though the meter gimmick was kind of a daunting sign of things to come. All that in mind, though, the most surprising thing about Joker being in the game is that they still haven’t put P5 on the Switch. Atlus please.

Hero and Banjo/Kazooie were announced on the same night, and I distinctly recall someone saying that this was one for the Japanese audience and one for the Americans. I mean, I’ve never played Dragon Quest, so I guess I fell into the latter? Both series have a long, well-regarded pedigree (Banjo’s lack of recent offerings notwithstanding), so both arguably deserve their respective positions. Hero is the much more notable character gameplaywise, though, with the incredibly complex mana and spellcasting mechanics. Complaints about RNG in Smash aren’t completely unfounded- though it has existed in the past in the form of, say, Luigi’s misfiring side-B- but I know a lot of people think Hero took it too far. If I’m honest, though, the weirdest thing is just having Akira Toriyama-ass 3D models in the game. Banjo’s gameplay is…awkward. The kit is kind of a mess, but at least the gimmicks weren’t going too hard, you know?

Next was Terry, perhaps the most obscure character on the entire list in 2021. I actually really like Terry in this game- while he’s still trying to emulate a similar feel to Ryu/Ken, the difference feels more natural, if that makes sense. Maybe it’s because I’ve never really devoted significant time to them, but Terry’s kit feels easier to work within than the Shotos when going between characters.

Finally for the first Pass, we had Byleth. I think it’s for the best that they announced the second Fighter’s Pass before this released, because if both 4 and Ultimate had ended their run on Fire Emblem DLCs then people would have been pissed. I mean, people were already pissed, but like…moreso. As someone who has played Three Houses, I do think the game is worth celebrating, but having yet another Fire Emblem Protagonist (read: basically a blank slate) in the game over all the substantially more interesting characters 3H has to offer is just really frustrating. Also the final smash looks like dogshit, like FE3H has overall worse animations than Smash for obvious reasons but I’m pretty sure this attack looked better the first time around.

FP2 opened with Min Min, which brings ARMS to the table. ARMS. The only first-party fighting game Nintendo has outside of Smash, so it looks a bit less weird next to everything else but…come on, man. I think this was the most confusing pick of all of them- the game came out in 2017, and having Min Min in Smash would serve as promotion for a sequel…which hasn’t been announced. There was a graphic novel in the works, but it was cancelled earlier this year. Oops? At least the stage was fun.

As much as playing them is awkward and complex, the Minecraft addition was fitting. Only the best-selling game around. I think people weren’t sure if Microsoft would go for it, but they let us have Banjo, so sure. I’m mostly just annoyed that they couldn’t get any of the songs from the actual game in there- like, you got one in from the fucking mobile game, but you couldn’t just get C418 on the phone?

Sephiroth is definitely one of the hype-ier releases from this pass. The character is iconic, as is his theme and his home game. I’ve never played any Final Fantasy game, but I can still respect the name. Once I remember how to spell it. The whole bossfight aspect to his release was also quite cool, while it lasted.

On the other hand, I have no love for Pyra nor Mythra. There’s so much wrong with these ones, frankly. They’re another swordy character, immediately following Sephiroth too, and they go back on Smash’s very deliberate decision to split characters like Zelda/Sheik and Samus/ZSS up (Yes I know Pokemon Trainer does the same thing but I have a lot more leniency for them). Add in their being from a JRPG much less well-known or remembered than the previous couple characters and the designs being…questionable, I have a big issue with the whole thing. This was also around when I kinda stopped playing the game in general, and they definitely didn’t help pull me back in.

Kazuya might have, though. With the exception of him and Sephiroth, all the characters from the Fighter’s Passes were pretty much protagonist-types, but this motherfucker pulses with the essence of bad guy. What I’m saying is that he’s fucking cool, and while he’s ludicrously complex, that makes perfect sense since…I mean just look at the combo lists from Tekken 7. His inclusion also kinda rounds out the list of biggest fighting game franchises out there being rep’d in the game, though I imagine now I’m going to have stans from Mortal Kombat or whatever on my back. They’re not going to put a fatality-capable character in Smash, guys!

Finally, this rounds us around to the original point of this article. Let’s talk about Sora. And by that I mean…I don’t really have a huge amount to say about him. Kingdom Hearts is a franchise that completely passed me by growing up, and I don’t think I have the time or energy to devote to it now. I’m sure it’s good, people seemed really excited for him to be in the game so they have to have gotten that love from somewhere, but I don’t share that feeling.

That’s not to say that I don’t think he deserves a slot. The idea of “deserving a slot” in Smash Bros is kind of an odd concept, even though it’s come up a lot so far this post. But a slot in this roster isn’t just a place in a popular fighting game, because at this point, Smash is kind of a museum of (mostly Nintendo) games- and so having representation is a forever acknowledgment that the franchise is, or has been, an icon to so many. Kingdom Hearts, to my knowledge, has 100% earned that position, and so Sora getting to be playable here makes perfect sense. He wasn’t my pick (Touhou representation never I guess), but I’m happy for those who wanted him.

As far as the actual gameplay looks, he reads like a character that kept in mind what people didn’t like about Hero when he released. It’s another sword-based character, which I think at this point speaks more about the demographic of video game characters than it does about Smash. But I appreciate that the Magic Bullshit is toned down, and that it’s also his only real gimmick (The 3-hit combo feature is A Thing, but other characters e.g. Bayonetta have already done that, so whatever). His recovery potential looks patently absurd- like he just gets Pikachu/Pichu’s Up-B as a Side-B that can also be chained with his actual Up-B? This guy better be light as hell or he’s going to be super hard to take out. I dunno, I think he looks solidly fun enough- more dynamic and aerial than the other swordfighters, at least- and that’s good enough for me.

And I guess that marks the end of Smash Ultimate. Not with a bang, but with a key…dude. It’s been a very solid run, the game managing to keep itself fresh across several years of development, even as other games have risen and fallen. Smash is kind of forever at this point, I think, though the finality of Ultimate’s ultimate character implies that this particular iteration may be coming to its end. And seeing as it is always one Smash per console, I wouldn’t be shocked if the Switch itself was nearing its endgame as well.

Okay but also it’s pretty funny how they heavily censored everything Disney out of Sora’s DLC except for that little Mickey charm on the trailer, like how much must that one shot have cost them, was it even remotely worth it, I don’t know but I kinda want to

[dxppercxdxver]

A Note on the Use of Distance, Or: The Evolution of Nines's and Gavin's Relationship as Seen Through Body Language and Physical Proximity, Or: Sparrow Writes 6k About DE That Is Literally Just a Narrative Analysis

Apologies in advance, this is gonna be a long one. If you stick to it and read the whole thing, I will love you forever. (Also, @domlerrys, I’m tagging you because we talk about meta a lot and I think you’ll like this.)

And Michelle, I’m sorry for the length, but there’s just so much to talk about, I had to. Also, “brevity” is not in my vocabulary. Oops. (I’m also sure you know most of this already, but I had a blast analyzing this.)

So, it’s been about a month, and I think it’s about time I typed up some of my thoughts about the use of distance in Detroit Evolution. (For those of you who haven’t seen it yet, 1) What are you doing? 2) Go check it out, it’s a beautiful feature fan film made by the lovely people at @octopunkmedia, and if you like good ace representation, I think you’ll like it.)

To give us the proper background, let’s establish our characters’ relationships with touch. (For those of you who’ve seen the movie, you know this. This is just for our friends who are unaware.)

RK900, or Nines, is very asexual. Not necessarily touch-repulsed, but touch-uninterested, unless it’ll make somebody else happy (namely, Gavin).

Gavin Reed is allosexual, but has a long, complicated history of abuse and psychological manipulation, most of it revolving around intimacy, and, as such, is extremely touch-repulsed. He does not allow people to get close to him.

Throughout the film, they’re very careful to keep physical distance between them, and if they’re forced to be close together, their body language is usually very closed off. Which lends this sense of relief to a pivotal moment in the film later. The very important exceptions are the moments in the Zen Garden, and moments of extreme duress.

Let’s break it down scene by scene.

We open on the Zen Garden. In this mindscape, we know Nines and Gavin behave as though they’re been married for several years. Their interactions are comfortable and familiar, though entirely imaginary, and this is where the use of touch and distance starts to show. Even though this Gavin does not have any of the same touch aversions as the real world Gavin, he keeps his distance from Nines, and Nines, in turn, does the same. When Gavin greets him, he’s standing ten or so feet away; when they walk together, Nines hangs back, and the both of them keep their hands in their pockets, avoiding direct eye contact. Obviously, any more romantic gestures are kept offscreen for audience suspense, but still, what’s shown is equally important. The two main exceptions to this rule are when Gavin reaches out to adjust Nines’s collar and when Nines reaches out to touch Gavin’s face. However, even when Gavin is unbuttoning Nines’s shirt, his arms are perfectly straight, leaving about two feet of space between them, and when Nines cups Gavin’s cheek, it’s not really a romantic gesture. It’s almost a reverential one, and he still leaves about a foot between them. This may not seem like a lot, but considering that this is Nines’s ideal world and even his deepest desires leave that space between them, it reveals how much relative distance matters with these two.

Onto the next scene. Protest. We start in the car, with Nines staring straight ahead, avoiding Gavin’s gaze. Gavin only touches Nines to shock him out of his trance with a gentle slap, then turns his body forward, effectively closing himself off. He maintains this distance, even straying almost twenty feet in front of Nines on their walk up. Here’s another major exception, a moment of extreme duress: Gavin takes Nines’s hand and guides him through the crowd, despite the fact that Nines could easily surpass any one of the protestors in a fight. Even here, however, Gavin keeps his back turned and does not make eye contact. For all he physically reaches out, emotionally, he’s incredibly closed off. Same deal inside Jericho; table between them, avoiding eye contact, careful distance. And even in a more lighthearted moment of banter (Nines mimicking Gavin’s delivery), Chris is standing between them as a physical mediator, and he remains between them the whole scene.

Onto the D.P.D. and the famous first instance of “I hate you.” “You love me.”!

When Nines brings Gavin his coffee, his body language is very open: arms spread, standing over Gavin. However, Nines is also intensely aware of his partner’s issues regarding physical proximity, and quickly draws away, clasping his hands behind his back and retreating ever so slightly to give Gavin his space. Once Nines has spun Gavin’s feet out of the way, they are closer, yes, but Gavin’s back is turned and Nines is careful not to lean in too close over his shoulder. They’re very closed off, and remain this way for much of the scene, never directly facing one another. Gavin stands up, spins counterclockwise to keep his back to Nines until he’s behind Nines, at which point he’s in control of the situation and flips Nines off. When they speak face to face, Gavin’s legs are kicked up on the table or he’s using the coffee mug as a sort of psychological shield. Nothing direct, nothing open.

STAKEOUT! This is a really good example of something Michelle does—that isn’t like other romance movies —that I really love. A common thing in a lot of romance movies is that “almost kiss,” but in a movie like this, where the main romance emphasizes a mental connection over a physical one, that sort of play would feel cheap and out of place. Which is why I love the stakeout scene so damn much. The stakeout is the perfect time for an “almost kiss” moment, BUT! What we get instead is so much better, with two people desperate to let their feelings out but too scared to fully voice them. So you get this awkward dance of them abstracting the concept and refusing to look at one another, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Both of them are faced forward and stay solidly in their seats, leaving as much space as they can allow, and the only times they look toward one another, the other is looking away. They can’t say what they feel unless there’s that protective bubble of space between them. So you get an “almost confessing I like you” scene, with beautiful moments of almost closing that physical distance, but instead staying firmly planted in their seats until Lazzo arrives. Even when Gavin and Nines are forced to be close together, they maintain a healthy distance between them, and their “almost kiss” is swapped out for an “almost admitting I have feelings” moment. (Plus, a bonus of great asexual dialogue, yay!)

Lazzo’s scene isn’t that notable, other than Nines’s and Gavin’s hands brushing on Lazzo’s shoulder, but again, Lazzo is between them and they’re focused on other things. Still got that distance.

The infamous jacket drape, one of the moments Nines breaks the pattern of distance. Gavin is still facing away from him, yes, but Nines deliberately reaches out to touch him in a non-invasive way, one of the only times he does so. Progress! Still a one-sided gesture, though, and even the height difference emphasizes the space between them, with Nines on his feet and Gavin slumped in a chair. Still not breaking that “arm’s length” amount they’ve set. (Tying this into the @high-on-otps‘s analysis about moments of vulnerability occurring when Gavin’s wearing fewer layers, Nines seeing Gavin in just a t-shirt and gifting him his jacket takes on a whole new meaning, with Nines almost stepping in to protect Gavin’s heart. Anyway, that’s a thought for another day.) On another note, this is also one of the two main instances where you see one of these two fools being open only because they think the other won’t notice: just a selfless gesture they don’t want to have to dwell on.

Now! Onto Gavin’s house, where the pattern starts to change. It’s a great way to track the progression of their relationship. They start out separated, with Nines pulled into himself, tablet held out, and Gavin hiding behind his computer, avoiding Nines’s eyes. However, I think this is when Gavin’s starting to realize that he might have feelings for Nines and the reverse might be true (hence his moment of contemplation in the car after he notes the parallel uses of the word “charming” as applying to him and Nines’s possible love interest), and being as tired as he is, his inhibitions are not necessarily gone, but at least hampered. So he allows himself to get close physically, and sort of mentally as well. He’s conflicted, and that’s written all over him, as he puts himself right up against Nines to steal his tablet, but also refuses to look him in the eye and quickly moves to stand up later. This conflict is also incredible to watch in general, but you can see his overwhelming desire to get closer and his defense mechanisms battling in his mind in how he sits: pressed up against Nines’s side, but none of his body overlaps with Nines’s at all, and he doesn’t look at him. Nines makes the first move, leaning his head almost onto Gavin’s shoulder, but not quite. They’re still not there yet. Of course, once Gavin leaves, he keeps his back turned, meeting Nines’s eyes once, for a split second, before entering his room and shutting the door. (And tosses him some gym shorts, of course, because nothing says “I love you” like “hey, you can borrow these sleep shorts.”)

Reentering Nines’s mindscape, we see a little more conflict from his end. (I love how we actually get visual representation of Nines’s internal conflict, while Gavin’s can only be gleaned from how he moves and holds himself. It’s a nice contrast. Frankly, I adore it. Good writing.) Once again, there’s still a fair amount of space between Nines and Zen Gavin, as Nines is burying his feelings in his work. The closest Zen Gavin comes is right behind Nines to talk about what Gavin might have been about to say before walking into his room, but he doesn’t make eye contact, and moves away quite quickly. When he is open and actually making direct eye contact, he’s standing over five feet away, and Nines deliberately turns away. You see? It’s a visual metaphor for the growing emotional tension! Yay!

Nightmare time! This is one of those moments of extreme duress I was talking about!! Also one of my favorite scenes! This is the first time, in the whole film, where all three of these criteria are present: physical proximity, open body language, and direct eye contact. Nines is holding Gavin’s arms, Gavin meets Nines’s eyes, and Gavin’s arms are spread out, not crossed over his chest or in front of his face. Obviously, this moment only lasts a second, as Gavin quickly moves Nines’s arms away, Nines backs up, and Gavin averts his eyes, but for an important beat, that distance was closed, only to be reopened again. Then, of course, they have their “should I stay” moment, where Gavin is sending mixed signals: body is turned toward Nines, but he looks away repeatedly, and Nines is standing a respectful distance away, waiting for permission to come closer or leave. Eventually, Gavin verbally and physically opens himself up: while he avoids looking directly at Nines, he keeps his arms at his sides and doesn’t turn away (huge steps for someone like Gavin), and as for Nines, he does the opposite, maintaining direct eye contact, but turning his body away to give Gavin the space he needs without pressuring him. When Gavin finally welcomes Nines into his bed, he’s making a huge step in his own personal growth. Similar to the couch setup from earlier, except reversed, with Gavin initiating the touch, and with two crucial differences: Nines and Gavin make the briefest of eye contact as they lean in (a silent agreement of “yes, this is a thing we’re doing”) and their bodies overlap. There is an intimate touch in the way they hold hands, fingers interlaced, instead of sitting ramrod straight side by side without making a conscious decision to reach out to the other. Add Nines retracting his skin on top of it, and you get an extremely psychologically open moment. A moment of duress, a moment of comfort (but they still aren’t facing each other yet, and the way it is now, it’s almost like Gavin’s afraid to acknowledge it, to believe it’s real).

NEXT MORNING. Hoo boy this one was a doozy, because it takes the openness of the night before and turns it on its head, twisting and distorting it. Gavin, before he’s awake, displays very physically open body language: spread out on his blankets, arms thrown out to the side up, stomach up. Nines is almost equally so, keeping his arms open as he hands Gavin his coffee and turning more towards him as he sits on Gavin’s bed. But Gavin, regretting the choices he made the previous night, avoids eye contact, curls into himself, and takes the earliest opportunity to put his back to Nines and retreat into the closet. His whole demeanor radiates “get away from me,” but of course, Nines hasn’t picked that up yet. So he presses a little closer, and Gavin makes his point by getting up in Nines’s space, but very deliberately avoiding looking at him and still keeping a couple feet of space. When Nines feels Gavin mentally retreating, he pushes his luck by abusing his commanding presence to intimidate Gavin into cooperation (drawing himself up to his whole height and putting his face right in Gavin’s eye-line). And what does Gavin do? When Nines gets in his space ("I'm not leaving just because you regret having acted like a person"), Gavin makes direct, meaningful eye contact (something he almost never does) and is facing Nines (another big thing), but every part of him screams "get away." In particular, the hands raised in front of his chest like a shield. The whole pose is supposed to look aggressive but every goddamn part of it belies him going into defensive mode. It's FASCINATING. He’s trying to intimidate Nines into leaving him alone because he is so scared of what Nines has seen and what he knows now. This conflict of wanting to accept Nines’s help and push him away is so clearly demonstrated in how part of his body language is geared toward Nines (the eye contact) and how part of is is blocking Nines from coming any closer (his raised hands). He holds this eye contact until Nines leaves.

The next time we see Gavin is back at Jericho, and anyone can sense the tension coming off these two (except, apparently, Chris Miller). They keep a table’s worth of distance between them. Nines, clearly still feeling snubbed from the night before, makes very pointed looks in Gavin’s direction; they’re barbed, full of accusation, very uncharacteristic of Nines, but Gavin did just tell him to wipe his memory, so he definitely believes it’s justified. Gavin avoids eye contact wherever possible, simply because he does not want to deal with this shit right now. I don’t know if he does this consciously, but after Nines’s reference to “last night,” he tucks his hand in his pocket, perhaps an unconscious recoil from Nines’s act of intimacy (holding hands), suppressing that. Cut to them standing in the hallway, Gavin is standing with his arms crossed, looking away, while Nines leans in closer with a much more open stance. He continues probing and Gavin shuts him out entirely, not even deigning to look at him properly before turning his back and walking away. This is one of the tensest moments of their relationship, where Nines is trying to build up the trust they had and Gavin is feeling hurt and betrayed and confused and is falling back on his coping mechanism of shutting people out. The physical distance and body language between them reflects that.

Onto Burn’s Alley! This whole setup is interesting; it’s a social situation in which Gavin and Nines are almost required to interact, as they have a shared obligation to make Chris’s promotion party a pleasant experience, but the tension from the previous night is definitely still bleeding into their conversation. Although they’re crowded around the same table, they put several people between them and focus intently on their drinks and their other friends, never directly addressing one another and avoiding eye contact (again, this movie might as well be subtitled “the one where Nines and Gavin can never actually look at each other for one goddamn second”). Once Ada arrives, Nines makes fast excuses and leaves the conversation, at which point they go back to their previous dance of throwing longing glances at one another when the other isn’t watching. Very good, much yearning. More internal conflict, Gavin can’t deal with his own warring desires of apologizing and running away, so he retreats outside, and Nines follows because now’s his chance to rebuild that trust he lost.

I’m classifying the alley argument as a whole new section because it’s honestly a caliber all its own and deserves a separate analysis. The use of distance here is so good. Nines, though eager to be allowed back into Gavin’s space, is respectful of his partner’s boundaries and situates himself across the alley, though his posture is more open, with his hands behind his back and a gentle lean forward (though this openness is quickly shut down once Gavin snaps at him, you can see Nines’s face fall, and it hurts). Gavin, on the other hand, is violently looking away, body turned in a completely different direction; every part of his posture is unapproachable. And as the argument progresses, we get more of that weaponized distance closing. When Gavin snaps at Nines (”Don’t bother.”), he finally makes eye contact, even keeping his posture more open (arms at his sides, face toward Nines, body mostly angled toward Nines), so Nines is, for the first time, able to properly see all the hurt Gavin’s been bottling up. And Nines steps closer. But, his hackles are raised, shoulders tensed, arms clenched tightly at his sides. They’re both spilling their hearts out, but it’s bitter and cruel and even at their closest, there’s still a foot and a half of space between their chests. When Gavin spits smoke in Nines’s face, the recoil is immediate, and Nines takes his leave of Gavin as Gavin turns away from Nines again. Once again, in a moment of emotional duress, they get closer and closer, but never quite close that gap, but this time, like that morning, the openness is weaponized and aggressive, with Gavin trying to force Nines away by saying “This is me, this is all you’re gonna get, so you might as well run” and Nines trying to get back in by saying “I don’t care, you will listen to me and you will let me care for you.” But because of the violent mannerisms, it backfires. And then the distance grows again.

Watching Nines walk Ada home from the bar, Gavin keeps a huge amount of distance between himself and Nines, both because he doesn’t want to be spotted and because he can’t bring himself to come any closer. With his hood up and hands in his pockets, he’s at his most closed off of the film, and because Nines’s back is to him, it’s obvious to see he’s being shut out, or at least feels like he is. At this moment in time, Ada is the literal and metaphorical wedge between them. Her presence is keeping them apart.

Alley ambush time. This scene. Oh man this scene. Aside from the blatantly romantic reunion scene and balcony scene, this scene has about the most touch and is a perfect narrative foil to Gavin’s nightmare. (I can’t believe I just realized that now, while I was typing this. Michelle, you are a goddamn genius, every major moment has a companion, mirrored moment; Nines giving Gavin his jacket, Gavin doing his speech to Nines and leaving his jacket there; Nines comforting Gavin after his nightmare of dying alone, Gavin comforting Nines and staying by his side to ensure he doesn’t die alone; parallel confessions in the car; of course, “I hate you” “You love me,” there’s the obvious parallel; Gavin initiating a kiss in the reunion, Nines being the one to move first on the balcony; they each get their own moment to shine in the same context and it is beautiful. Hats off to you, Michelle Iannantuono, really. Okay, back to the plot.) Gavin’s body language is at the most vulnerable it’s been all film, because Nines is in danger and he’s panicking. But even with his hands cupped around Nines’s face, Gavin keeps a little bit of distance, that same bare minimum “arm’s length” we see so many times. And the questions he asks are non-invasive, once he realizes that mentioning Ada just freaks Nines out, and then the questions just turn to pleas: “Don’t fall asleep.” Only after Nines falls unconscious does Gavin allow himself to get any closer, but even then he doesn’t let himself be face to face with Nines. The first thing Gavin does is turn Nines’s back to him, forcing that emotional distance, the exception being the arm slung across Nines’s chest to keep him upright. This is the closest they’ve been, other than after Gavin’s nightmare, and Gavin is still keeping that emotional distance by deliberately pushing Nines away from him.

Onto CyberLife. Here’s the other instance where they’re only open when they believe the other won’t know. This shit also hurt like a motherfucker because Gavin’s internal conflict is at its peak here. You can see he’s having a, for lack of a better word for it, “deathbed” moment; a sort of “now or never” feeling. He’s terrified of acknowledging how he feels, much less verbalizing those feelings to the man he loves, but at the same time, he’s worried that if he doesn’t do it now, he may never get a chance. And this is demonstrated wonderfully in how Gavin approaches Nines (and, once again, he’s down to one layer of clothing, just a simple t-shirt). At first, he hangs back from Nines’s hospital bed, looking anywhere but Nines’s face, and talking about how they need Nines for the case; vague, impersonal, dancing around the topic. Until Tina knocks on the window, basically giving him silent permission to switch tracks entirely. It’s at this point that Gavin closes some distance and parallels Nines’s earlier gesture after his nightmare, when Nines reached out to hold his hand; he reaches out and places his hand over Nines’s. (Also, another brilliant parallel? Nines reaching out to touch Gavin when he’s at his lowest point—after his nightmare—and holding his hand, basically saying “I accept you,” and Gavin reaching out to Nines when he’s at his most vulnerable—doubly powerful because Nines’s skin is deactivated and Gavin used to hate androids, so seeing him like this is his truest form—at the hospital, basically saying “I accept you.” God. Poetic cinema, my dudes.) Even moves the chair closer. And then he finally looks Nines in the face and spills his heart and soul out to him, piece by piece. And even when the heart monitor starts beeping, he doesn’t pull away. He keeps his hand firmly planted, only scoots back in the chair for a moment to check the machines, before immediately pulling back in and deliberately staying close, which, for somebody who has as toxic a relationship with touch as he does, is massive. (And, as we saw from the deleted scene, he felt safe enough to fall asleep on Nines’s bed. He looked at this shitty situation and said “I trust him” and put his goddamn head on Nines’s arm and fell asleep. Like. FUCK.)

And now, Nines’s corrupted Zen Garden. This is one of the most powerful moments of the film. In the past, Nines has almost never been the one to initiate contact with Zen Gavin, it’s always been the other way around (Gavin fixing Nines’s collar, Gavin approaching him while he’s analyzing the case), with the notable exception being Nines reaching out to cup Gavin’s cheek. But he’s internalized Gavin’s touch sensitivities so much that even his mind palace version displays the same behaviors, only initiating touch when he’s comfortable. Nines doesn’t violate Zen Gavin’s space either, lets Gavin decide what’s okay. And this is where he breaks that pattern. In his panic, Nines rushes forward without thought to envelope Gavin in a desperate hug— and is met with empty air. The minute Nines tries to reverse their dynamic is when he’s deprived of Gavin’s touch. Because of Ada’s meddling, Nines can no longer interact with this perfect world he’s constructed, and Gavin is, once again, just out of reach. Nine spends the rest of the conversation with his body language painfully open, pleading with Gavin to stay using everything but his words, and I think it speaks goddamn volumes that when he finally agrees to delete him, there is no grand gesture. Nines doesn’t swoop in and kiss Zen Gavin goodbye, nor does he hug him, or even say a proper farewell. He simply nods, turns his back, and walks away, and Gavin, after a moment’s lag, swivels his head to watch, with a soft smile on his face. Nines has realized that this Zen Gavin is a fool’s errand that he cannot hope to sustain, and his last act before wiping him entirely is to metaphorically say “I am done with you. I am walking away and I am not looking back and I am saying goodbye.” Which is so goddamn powerful, I cannot.

Okay. The moment we’ve all been waiting for.

The reunion scene.

This scene hits so much harder because all the previous scenes have kept so much distance between the two protagonists. If there had been more instances of close proximity earlier in the film, I don’t think this scene would carry the same weight it did, but as such, up until this point, there’s always been at least a foot or two of space between Gavin and Nines (and in the instances of them touching, they’re either side by side and not looking at each other or front to back and not looking at each other). But I digress, let’s get into it properly.

Setup time! Gavin’s still in just his t-shirt, Nines is in Gavin’s jacket (Narrative foil from earlier, baby!), and tensions are high. Brushing past all of Tina and Chris’s intervening dialogue, let’s talk physicality. Gavin fucking freezes the minute Nines is in the room, arms held at his sides, the most open his stance has ever been when Nines was awake to see it. Nines, in turn, also keeps his hands to the side. Gavin, disbelieving, takes a step forward, but because he’s also terrified as fuck that Nines heard him and will reject him, he holds out a halfway defensive arm, though there’s not much conviction in it, as its merely held halfway up and doesn’t cross in front of his torso at all. Nines continues to approach, although slowly, so as not to scare Gavin off, because Nines cares so much for Gavin and the last thing he needs is to make him panic, not when something this monumental is at stake. Gavin, with even more internal conflict, continues his approach, daring to hope that maybe this will turn out okay, until Nines says “I heard you.” The realization that Nines essentially saw the deepest darkest parts of him makes Gavin take a step back, but he also maintains the eye contact they’ve been holding; the subtle balance between “I want to run because holy fuck he saw too much, but also I want to stay because I think it might be it this time” is so gorgeous. Of course, once Nines makes it clear that he isn’t running, even though he heard Gavin’s entire confession, Gavin gets slightly more confident and moves forward again. Drawing from the BTS footage as well, you can see Gavin’s hands are clenched the entire time, until he makes it to Nines, when he can finally let go. And finally, with a cognizant mind, they close that distance, leaving mere inches from one another. Gavin reaches out to touch Nines’s hand, feeling his pulse, before gently turning over Nines’s hand so he can feel Gavin’s pulse. Nines, reflecting his earlier gesture, connects Zen Gavin to this Gavin by reaching out to cup Gavin’s face. And then they close that gap entirely and kiss. But it gets even better because, though Nines prods, it’s ultimately Gavin that makes the first move, and I think it always had to to be. Because Nines always lets Gavin move on his own time, even if he steers him in the right direction, occasionally. It would feel wrong if Nines moved first, because he doesn’t need to kiss for romance, but is willing to do so if Gavin wants, and the way this is done, it’s so clear that Gavin wants. This is just a testament to the amazing actors for portraying this so clearly (I know this scene’s been analyzed seven ways to Sunday, but like. The way Gavin’s eyebrows furrow up in the sheer desperation to be closer? The gentle sigh of relief from Nines? The single spin of the LED from yellow to blue the instant they connect? The way Gavin, someone who hates being touched, chases the fucking kiss as Nines pulls away? Like?? Incredible???). And even better, this whole scene is very much a give and take, as both characters let down the barriers they have built up.

Let me put it this way. Nines’s greatest treasure is his mind, and he protects it fiercely for fear of abuse. Gavin’s greatest treasure is his bodily autonomy, and as such, he protects himself from unwanted touch for fear of that autonomy being taken away. And this kiss is such a dialogue of back and forth, give and take. Nines exposes his mind (”I heard you. ‘A force you can’t live without’?” and of course, “You love me.”), opening up his most vulnerable part of himself. Gavin responds in kind by exposing his physicality, by taking Nines’s hand. Nines, once again, exposes his mind by copying his gesture from Zen Gavin, bringing to light one of his most closely guarded secrets and connecting his mind to his real world experiences. And Gavin exposes his touch, once more, by being the one to initiate the kiss.

If you’ll allow me to circle back to the parallel hand-holding from earlier, it ties into this idea of “mind vs. body.” When Nines takes Gavin’s hand after his nightmare, he is demonstrating that he accepts Gavin’s mind. Nines, who values intellect and personality above all else, demonstrates that he loves Gavin for his mind and not his body here, saying “I accept you and your mind, no matter how flawed you think it is.” Gavin, on the other hand, not only has a rough history with androids, but a rough history with physicality. When he takes Nines’s hand at CyberLife, Gavin is demonstrating that he accepts Nines’s body as it is—metal and plastic and synthskin, not flesh and bone—basically saying “I accept you and your body, no matter how flawed you think it is.” They are able to accept the closely guarded facets of one another in moments of heightened emotion and I think that’s incredible.

And after the reunion, the body language is so different. Nines willingly gets up in Gavin’s space without Gavin pushing him away (leaning over him to discuss how to track Ada down), and, of course, gives him his jacket back. Outside Ada’s warehouse, they stand much closer together, nearly touching on the hood of the car, and even make much more deliberate eye contact, shying away less. But what I really like about it is that they don’t do a total 180. That’s not how recovery works. Gavin’s still facing away from Nines during the briefing, Gavin and Nines are closer on the hood, yes, but neither Nines nor Gavin reach out a hand to touch. They’re making little baby steps and it’s wonderful.

Last but not least, the balcony. The culmination of all this.

Despite all they’ve been through, Gavin and Nines still hold distance between themselves on the balcony, though they’re a little freer with the direct eye contact and body language. Gavin’s arms are no longer crossed in front of him, he actually looks toward Nines a lot more. Nines is leaned up against the railing, facing Gavin and meeting his gaze, though you can tell Nines is bothered because his arms are crossed in front of him, preventing him from being totally open. And when he starts to say something that sounds like regret, Gavin also crosses his arms in a defensive position, until Nines reassures him that it’s not Gavin, it’s him. At which point, Gavin is the most vocal he’s ever been about his feelings (I think Michelle pointed out this is the one time in the film Gavin even slightly alludes to Nines being attractive, like the dork he is) and assures Nines that he doesn’t need anything sexual to make this relationship be one he wants to pursue. He keeps his body language remarkably open, turning to face Nines entirely and keeping his arms to the side. Nines, upon realizing Gavin means what he says, has his moment of initiating touch and reaches out to cup Gavin’s face again, uncrossing his arms to do so. There’s yet another beautiful genuine moment of connection where the opposite of the original kiss happens: Nines opens up physically (regarding his interfacing), Gavin opens up mentally (flirting with Nines as opposed to just awkwardly touching him), and Nines closes the distance once more, kissing Gavin as the sun sets just out of frame, turning Gavin’s face into the light. Yet another beautiful narrative foil. Stunning. Ideal. (Also, a note on the confession, the fact that this kiss cements the idea that “This won’t be easy, but it will be worth it, because being with you is just better” just kills me every goddamn time. They’re really willing to put in the work to make this relationship work! Which is amazing!) And then they linger, foreheads pressed together, in the most intimate display of affection in the entire movie. Soft smiles, hands on bodies, completely open and vulnerable and free. Just ... content.

All in all, hats off for really emphasizing each character’s troubled relationship with touch and how that carries over into how they behave around one another. From how Gavin uses his hands and other items as shields while making direct eye contact to how Nines lets Gavin come to him and respects his partner’s boundaries so much that even his brain version of him has these same boundaries, the use of distance and touch and their slow journey to getting physically closer in the spaces they occupy is a fantastic way of showing the progression of their relationship and I consider it an honor to get to see this story unfold. The fact that Nines’s journey would be meaningless without Gavin’s to mirror it and amplify it and vice versa is testimony to the incredible writing showcased here. Bravo to the cast and crew, really.

Tl;dr (and honestly, I wouldn’t blame you) The moments of intimacy only carry as much weight as they do because in every scene prior to them Gavin and Nines hold meaningful distance between them and the only times they break that subliminal pattern are in times of extreme stress or vulnerability.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Narrow Beds

Oh, it’s been awhile ... fingers creaked as I began to type ... brain hurt trying to remember words ... I have forgotten how much I love to write over the last few months but I think I will begin again ... 

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&

He really should have obeyed more traffic laws getting to the house but he didn’t: thought he saw a cop, began immediately planning alternate route hairpin turns and concocted stories of plunder and raze but in the end, it was just a car with two old ladies and a penchant for drinking their coffee in a parked vehicle as opposed to speeding precariously on the highway.

Regardless, he arrived without incident and knocking on Maggie Scully’s door, fiddled with the keys in his hand until the front door opened up, “Fox. That was quick.”

Desperate to grab her by the arms and ask, in that panicked tone he tried not to let anyone know he had, where Scully was, he instead held himself in check, jamming hands in pockets and rocking on his feet no more than two inches back and forth, “I didn’t catch any red lights.”

Mama Scully half-wondered if he’d driven on the sidewalks part of the way but keeping the traffic lecture to herself, she stepped aside, gesturing towards the steps, “she came in, said ‘I’m fine’ and disappeared upstairs.” Reaching for his elbow, she touched it lightly, “what happened?”

Normally she didn’t ask, knowing their history of diluting the horrors of their day for her benefit, but the look on her daughter’s face when she’d brushed past had her calling Mulder before she heard the bedroom door shut.

He’d been in the car on his way to Scully’s so a detour hadn’t been difficult: two lefts, one right at ‘Oops, I cut it again’ salon and minutes later, he was here.

Fourteen to be exact.

But who was really keeping track.

“We had a bad case. I asked about dinner but she said she just needed a bath and a nap.” Pointing up the stairs to move things along, “she in her old room?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Fox.” Watching his already retreating form, “let me know if you need anything.”

All she got was a wave over his shoulder.

It was enough.

&&&&&&&&&

Having been to her childhood room several times, he knew which door would lead him there instead of the bathroom and knocking lightly, he waited, listening for acceptance or denial of his request.

Instead he got, “I’m fine.”

Opening the door slowly, “you are a big, fat liar.”

She didn’t even flinch at the intrusion that wasn’t her mom, instead simply half-rolling towards him, hands crossed on her stomach, “mom wouldn’t have known that.”

“Your mom is the least dumb person we have ever met. It was your first, ‘I’m fine’ that made her call me and ask what the hell was wrong.”

Instead of denial and irritation at his implication that her world was not all peachy-keen, she stared at him for a long moment, looking from his rumpled t-shirt to his tired eyes, biting her bottom lip in debate and then in resignation at asking for the only thing in the world she wanted at the moment , “are you wearing your shoes?”

Taking the question in stride, “no. I left them downstairs by the door. Why?”

“Because mom doesn’t like shoes on the bed.” Scooting as close to the wall as she could, given she was an adult in a single bed, “would you mind shutting the door and laying down with me, please?”

Shutting as ordered, he maneuvered, with maximum confusion and minimal jostling, to lay behind her on the narrow mattress, “I have forgotten, in my adult years, how much I have grown in relation to my childhood.”

Practically smushed against the wall, she felt an almost-need to try to smile but the mood passed instantly, morose overtaking with lightning speed, “you know, the last person in this bed with me was Melissa; a few weeks before she left for college.”

Not sure where to put his arm, he held it awkwardly against his side, wondering with every passing moment if taking a deep breath would send himself crashing to the floor, “she was decidedly less …” wiggling slightly, his jeans twisted around his knees, “hulking than me.”

The only thing keeping her nose from pressing against the wall was her hand, “she was definitely smaller than you, I won’t argue.”

He’d shared a bed with her before, well, not so much a bed as a quiet corner in some snowed-in airport outside Fargo but whatever.

At least this time, he had the option of covers if necessary.

If only half his body wasn’t hanging off the side of the mattress.

He gave up.

“I’m coming closer.”

For one bless-ed moment, she forgot her churning black cloud in favor of wonderment, “Is that even possible?”

“Hopefully.” Sliding eight millimeters at best, he was now pressed solidly against her from upper chest to ankle, “much better.”

And for some reason, it was the extra warmth, the simultaneous heartbeats, the overwhelming air of another’s existence so close to hers, that made her crumble.

He heard the walls fall, crashing in voided silence and arm be damned, he moved it from himself to her, hand slipping beneath her elbow to rest on her belly, mouth moving as close to her neck as his nose would allow, “it wasn’t our fault.”

“It’s always our fault, Mulder. Every time we go out the door, it’s our fault.”

Moving enough so it was his forehead resting against the back of her head and not his nose, he found himself staring down at the minor flaw in her otherwise perfect neck, “we didn’t know. I didn’t know and you sure as hell didn’t know.”

“Nobody knows anything ahead of time, Mulder but if I had just waited a quarter of a second, a blink of a fucking eye, I would have noticed him. At the academy, the first thing they tell you about handling a gun is always know what’s behind your target. You look behind the damned target before you shoot.”

“No one, not even … shit, not even Superman and his super peepers … would have noticed Jamison under that table. It was pitch black down there. We were doing our job. We did our job and now it’s done and we’re home and jammed into this bed and it wasn’t your fault.” Emphasizing his point, he, for a brief moment, tightened his arm, sinking into cotton-covered stomach, “it wasn’t your fault.” He felt her muscles tighten, knowing full well she was trying to sit up, turn to him, argue his reasoning and he stopped her, quietly, his words drifting over her shoulder, “if you make me fall off this bed with all your arm flailing and point making, I am taking you with me which will just bring your mom up here and then you’ll get in trouble for having a boy in your bed.”

Tensed but debating, she settled back down, logic winning for the shortest possible moment, movement stilled but voice quavering, “I shot and killed a man. Somebody’s husband, Mulder, somebody’s son, somebody’s father. How do I justify that with a simply phrase of ‘it wasn’t my fault’?” Cracking words, her breath hitched violently, chest jumping, abdomen contracting with the effort of not wailing at the top of her lungs, “it was my fault, Mulder. He was hiding under a table. He’d managed to free himself and in trying to escape, heard the raid, crawled under a table and for all his efforts, he died anyway.”

Her last words trailed in a sob and Mulder, ignoring wedged-in bed etiquette, sat up as best he could, wiggled his arm under her neck and finally holding her from both sides, hugged her, kissing each bump of her spine from hairline to neckline, knowing it was time for him to be quiet, to listen, to ache for her.

And when it was time to hold the edge of the mattress as she tried to move closer. Needing any and all leverage he could get to stay on the bed, he simultaneously vee’d his knees, pushing hers forward as well, accidentally-on-purpose spooning to the best of his ability.

She didn’t argue, burrowing into her cocoon of Mulder-heat, vaguely wondering, as the tears flowed out of her and consequently onto him, if it would be, while not scientifically likely, metaphorically possible to crawl inside him, live there protected from the world, for the next few seconds to several hundred years of their combined life.

Choosing to focus on that rather than the harsh reality of now, it still took quite a while for her tears to taper off. Feeling her heart slow its rat-a-tat pace, she whispered into the crook of his elbow, “how do I get through this?”

“Just like we are now. You hold me, I hold you; tomorrow, we do it again.”

It was only now that she began to register how cramped they were, how un-professional they were, how perfect they were, at this very moment and doing a most un-Scully like thing, she let herself sink into the moment, “We should probably find a bigger bed then.”

Hearing just a little of the humor he loved, he chuckled once against her, repositioning his head, deciding both would benefit from a little nap, “I’m not worried about it right now.”

Finding his hand, she ran fingers over crooked knuckles, as close to a handhold as she could manage at the moment, “I wonder if I’ll get grounded if mom finds you here in the morning?”

Already headed to dreamland and taking her with him, “I think we should find out.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Myth: falling asleep.

Fact: waking up.

Confusion: setting in quickly.

Resolution: someone was mumbling beside him.

Follow-through: Once he’d realized he was indeed awake and for some reason in a bed that was seven to eight times too small for two people, he carefully rolled to his side, creating a precious hands-width of space between him and the mumbler.

About to ask if she was alright, he instead, being the terrible person that he was, eavesdropped.

Because … just … because.

And all he heard was a shopping list.

Sleeping next to him and she dreams of chocolate chips and bacon.

He couldn’t help his smile.

Then she hit ‘lube’ and ‘batteries’ and his interest sky-rocketed.

His smile widened.

Oil change and toilet paper should have bought him back to Earth but it didn’t and he listened to her talk another few moments before silence settled again in the time-locked room.

Continuing to stare at her and the dark grey wall behind her instead of going back to sleep, he began thinking in Mulder-type fits and spurts about time and space and awareness and his infinitesimally small space in the universe.

Did the universe still exist outside the room?

Had he been granted his desire to wake beside her only to have the rest of existence forget about them and consequently, forget about existence in the process?

What if Scully’s God had raptured the world and left them behind, alone but together?

Outside the door could be nothing, a vast void of blackness stretching out beyond infinity?

He wasn’t supposed to be here. This was just a rest stop between today and tomorrow. He ought to have been at home on his couch, comfortably hugged by warm leather and soft cotton.

Instead, he was in some weirdly light, hollow, empty, anticipating place.

He could feel the room around him. Everything in it, except him, resting their weary constructs: dust motes, drafts, deliciously warm partners. It unsettled him. This was the snowed in airport at 3am when he had to get up to go to the bathroom and fought it because the empty, dim hallways made his heart beat faster and put him on an edge he didn’t enjoy.

“Scully?”

Another mumble and what he would describe as a weirdly purring throat noise, later, she opened one eye in his direction, “trash bags.”

Another soul awake. Aware. He took a deep breath but continued his whispering, “I’ll add it to the list.”

Finally grasping some sort of faculties, she opened the other eye, brought him into focus as best she could, “why are you in bed with me?”

“You invited me here, remember?”

It took a second to recall but she got there and the smile desperate to cross her lips showed itself at the corners of her mouth but she didn’t let it win, “oh yeah.” Pausing for deep breath, she shut her eyes again, stretching as best she could and very narrowly using him as a full-body pillow in her quest for more sleep, “why did you wake me up?”

“Because I’m an adult freaking out about the dark and infinity and weird spaces where time doesn’t seem to exist and frankly, I’m worried that we are the only two people left in the universe and that we are floating in an utter blackness void even of stars and …”

He stopped because her hand was now covering his mouth, “Mulder … I swear to you. Outside is still outside.”

Talking through her hand, “Then why do I feel so strange? This never happens when I wake up at my own place in the middle of the night.”

Knowing sleep was now officially at least a few minutes away, she removed her hand but kept her eyes shut, thinking that if sleep accidently floated by, she could catch it, “you, my friend, are caught in a ‘liminal space’”

Liminal space. He felt he should remember that from somewhere but his 2am still spiralling mind couldn’t organize, “what?”

“I will be writing this down as the day I knew something you didn’t. Remind me to play the lottery later.”

Smart-ass-ness was starkly evident this later/early in the day but he liked her so he didn’t tell her about the ‘lube’ comment, “this isn’t helpful.”

“Sorry.” Finally looking at him, eyes dilating wide in the dark, “liminal spaces are kind of like waiting areas between one thing and the next. After one point in time and space and before the other.”

He was remembering now, “where magic happens and anything is possible.”

“Or where you begin to doubt universal existence and are afraid of the dark.”

“I am not afraid of the dark.”

She really hadn’t meant it to sound like it did and in apology, she rested a finger in the dimple on his chin, “I know. I just meant … when I was a kid, I’d wake up just like you and wonder if mom and dad were still in their beds. If Missy and Bill and Charlie were going to be at breakfast the next morning or had the darkness snatched them away?”

“But I’m an adult and I know better.”

“No one knows better at 3am or whatever the hell time it is.” Figuring the best way to fix this was to show him and she struggled to sit up, she accepted an assistance shove from her Mulder, “come on. We’re going downstairs.”

Now he was just starting to feel silly and for Mulder to feel silly required quite a bit of silliness, “it’s okay. We should probably just go back to sleep.”

“No.” Taking his hand and tugging until he was standing beside her, thankful for socks against the chilly floor, “I want to show you something.”

Giving in because she was her, he followed, inaudible sigh of relief he would never admit to once the bedroom door was open and he saw that, indeed, the rest of the house still stood. Shuffling across wood floor and creeping down the stairs, avoiding, under Scully’s direction, the creaky seventh step, she took him to the couch, pushing on his chest lightly to get him to sit. Once settled, several afghans piled over their legs, he waited as long as he could before asking, “what are we doing?”

“We are learning to love liminal spaces.”

“We are?”

“Yeah.” Quiet for another moment to gather her explanation, “we are witnessing timelessness. Enjoy it.”

So he sat, hand in hers, until he mused, half to himself, “liminal spaces should be an X-File.”

“No. I’m not letting you file these away. I have fallen in love with them and don’t want them categorized and easily referenced. They are meant to be discovered by accident and left alone when done.”

Sliding somewhat down the cushions to rest his head against the back of the couch, “do these spaces make you feel better?”

Knowing the question behind the question, “this space is making me feel better right now. It was still my fault but I think I’ll have to accept it and move on.” Matching his slide, she went one better and shifted her head to lean on his shoulder, “how are you feeling?”

“Better about the universe and about liminal magic.”

“Liminal magic?”

Turning his head, he first kissed her forehead, then shifted enough to brush his lips against hers, impulsive and unassuming, “that right there was liminal magic.”

With a smile, she let her hand drift to his knee, then his thigh, squeezing before coming to a rest slightly higher than strictly friends defined, “shush.”

“Shushing now.”

&&&&&&&&&

Maggie found them prone on the couch the next morning, smushed together on something even more narrow than the bed they’d occupied earlier. Scully, true to form, using him as a pillow while he held onto her dear life, fearful even in sleep of falling to the ground and leaving her behind.

It was then that she knew her daughter’s answer of ‘I’m fine’ later on would be a genuine one and moving to the kitchen, she decided chocolate chip waffles and bacon would be the order of the day. 

[isa-ghost]

Bro Average & Divorce Analysis

Y’all are right, don’t demonize Stacy. It’s unfair and stupid and some of the extents people go to to demonize her are straight fuckin gross. Don’t do it. But don’t criminalize Chase either. Don’t make out either of the two to be evil. Here’s why--

In Bro Average, the divorce was shown super spontaneously (a big reason why people demonize Stacy so much).

The only two reasons for the divorce that have solid evidence to support them are that the Brodys either had serious financial problems and Chase’s channel wasn’t doing enough, or that Stacy thought Chase’s dream job was childish and dumped him because of it (his trickshot names and reactions to scoring shots are arguably “immature” for a man Chase’s age, even if there’s nothing wrong with being a child at heart. Stacy might even think being a YouTuber/vlogger in general is immature, we don’t know).

More solidly supported is the financial trouble reason--

“No, baby, no. No, I know, yeah, I’m trying, okay? I’m working, I’m trying to get all the shots. Just look, just don’t take the kids.”

“Just don’t take the kids.” really makes it sound like she’s threatening him with taking them away from him if he doesn’t start making money. This right here is probably one of the biggest reasons why people demonize her so much.

“This one’s called I’m Staying At My Sister’s This Weekend.”

Stacy is separating from him. Chase is no saint here, it could be because he’s too stubborn to get a more financially helpful job. Or, he’s simply trying to hold out hope that his dream job will take off finally. (Speaking as someone who had a father who did that, and it ended up not taking off and royally fucking things up financially for the family). What we know of Chase so far from all of his video appearances shows he’s got that Soft Heart And Big Dreams personality, it’s very likely that’s what he tried to do. It’s a common movie/show trope that the father figure just can’t bring himself to let go of work-related dreams until it’s too late. But the stubbornness isn’t out-ruled here. We don’t know which was the case. Either way, Stacy separated from him.

“Well I don’t care what your sister says. Just please, at least let me see [the kids] on the weekends still.”

Okay 1) Stacy’s sister has no say in Chase’s visitation of HIS kids. She’s not the legal guardian, even if she’s a relative, regardless of why she says he can’t see them. 2) There is no reason Chase can’t see them on weekends or at all. Whether the separation (not yet divorce) was because of Chase’s “immaturity” or because of financial failure, there is no reason Chase can’t have any visitation with his kids whatsoever other than “you’re too immature, so you’re not mature enough to be a father” which is a little bit unreasonable, not to mention a huge assumption on Stacy’s part and definitely more opinion than fact. (Another big reason people demonize Stacy).

“This one’s called Fuck You Chase, I’m Leaving You And I’m Taking The Kids With Me.”

He could have said it that way out of frustration, she could have actually said that word for word. We don’t know. But Stacy moving to her sister’s to get away from Chase and refusing to let him see the kids was a very obvious sign she’s getting ready to divorce him. This is where people shouldn’t demonize Stacy. If she took the kids with her, she obviously cares enough about them and takes being a mother seriously enough that she wants them. Not to mention, if Chase is at fault for the financial troubles because his dream job of being a vlogger won’t take off and make enough money, then why would she leave the kids with him?

“H-H- Hey sweetie! Yeah, daddy loves y-” [Chase is hung up on.]

Here I personally think it was Stacy that hung up the phone (whether she pressed the button or if she made the kid do it, because it’s not far fetched to say that if his kids love him, they wouldn’t hang up so suddenly), BUT if Chase has little kids, like we’re pretty sure he does based on the sounds we hear in Dark Silence, then maybe the kid just hung up too soon on accident or something. If Stacy DID hang up on him or make the kid do it, then this is yet another reason people demonize her. The assumption alone that she might’ve been the one to do it is another reason people demonize her. It’s more evidence that she’s completely cutting Chase off from his kids.

“This one’s called Fuck You Chase, I Want A Divorce”

Again, we don’t know if that was said by Stacy word for word or said out of frustration. If it was, Chase is reasonably upset and kind of has every right to say it that way. It’s our fault if we take that as a reason to demonize Stacy.

[Chase breaks down crying]

THIS is the moment I think his depression truly started, or kicked into the severity we see later on in the storyline if he had depression this entire time and just never showed it on-screen in what we see. He’s lost his family, and Stacy is being difficult about visitation.

It was never mentioned that he drank, he never seemed drunk, and he was never shown drinking alcohol here, before the divorce or even right after. There is NO evidence that he drank heavily before Bro Average and the divorce. If anything, him using the teabags might imply he drank a lot of tea. He started drinking whiskey AFTER the divorce, out of grief because he lost his family to is drinking to to try and numb the pain. He didn’t even really show he has depression during BA/before the divorce. He’s actually extremely bubbly and happy in BA in the scenes he isn’t talking to Stacy/being upset about the divorce, which I know doesn’t mean he’s not depressed, but he certainly doesn’t show it here as strongly as he does in any video we see him in after BA.

**Also gonna just mention here about the idea that Anti might’ve had a hand in the divorce. We have 0 evidence for that so it’s possible but equally as unlikely. I personally feel like Sean would’ve included SOME kind of way to show he did. At this point in time (April 2017) he might not have even planned on having an entire ego storyline OR have egos interacting with each other. So again, its possible but also unlikely.**

“This one’s called The Drive-By.”

And THIS is where all the huge confusion on our end comes in. Did he really pull a drive-by? All the rest of his trickshots seem like they take place in that office building. And we see all of his struggling with Stacy going on there too, like they’re arguing while he’s at work trying to make money for them. 99% of BA takes place in that building, its just this scene we don’t know about.

There’s actual gunshot noises and screams like he actually committed a drive-by. It’s also not uncommon for people both in media and real life to do something stupid, rash or even violent when they’re under too much emotional/mental stress. It’s actually proven that men especially act out in violence because of fear of being perceived as weak if they show vulnerable emotions like sadness (*vibrates in psychology major, oops*), so they vent through physical, often violent means instead. (I doubt Sean knows that, and I doubt even more that he planned such an intricate real life detail in something that wasn’t even supposed to be an ego power hour in the first place, but I digress).

This face especially right here makes me think he might have actually done it. He looks dead inside, almost like he’s glaring. If Anti had a hand in the divorce, did he make Chase do this too, if he really did do it?

“This one’s called Stacy I Love You, Please Don’t Go.”

It’s not uncommon for a mass shooter to commit suicide after they commit their shooting. Not only that, but obviously of course, suicide is extremely common in depressed people, and the divorce (with or without the depression as an added factor) is a big motivator for someone to do something like this, especially since Chase likely doesn’t have much else to live for besides his kids, which are being kept from him completely by Stacy. Basically what I’m saying here is, there’s A LOT of good reasons why Chase would try to kill himself. Also want to mention really quick that Chase did not show violent behavior that we saw before this, so him being violent towards Stacy or the kids remains ruled out of the reasons with evidence why Stacy would divorce him.

There’s a real gunshot noise when he shoots himself. It has also been CONFIRMED by Henrik in KJSE that this suicide attempt was legit, because he said he saved Chase.

We should also keep this scene after the outro in mind. Is it just as canon as the rest of BA? Is it just Sean being a goof and this is a blooper? Did Chase not successfully kill himself? That’s a big possibility. We don’t know. But we DO know he definitely shot himself for real and Henrik saved him. I’m kinda leaning towards this being a blooper of Sean being a dork, personally.

ALSO-

*Galaxy-brains for a moment here* What if Chase’s dreams of being a YouTuber/vlogger DID end the divorce and now as some twisted ass irony, he’s actually achieved his dream because he has to pose as Jack on the channel? Now THAT I could see Sean doing, especially since he said he’s been plotting for months and definitely had a vague plan during Mayhem, which is when Chase posing as Jack while Jack is comatose was revealed.

Anyways, TLDR; Don’t demonize Stacy, it’s gross and we have no justified reason to, only assumptions. But don’t demonize Chase either, because from all we’ve seen of him so far from BA and afterwards, he was only trying to make a dream career happen and his refusal to let that dream die killed his marriage. Both he and Stacy have their flaws here, so don’t demonize one or the other.

[creepy-bi-day]

Can I get New York Cody based off of a quote by Dan Howell? It goes “I wonder how biology can explain the physical pain you feel in your chest when all you want to do is be with someone.”

YeS???

I didn’t actually use the quote, mostly just used it as inspiration, so I hope that’s okay!

I wanted to do a soulmate thing so like—- here!

Also, y’all get a detailed depiction of how I see Cody oop-

Cody cult supporters:

@fekst-fucker @the-acolytes-collection @despacitostuff @undercooked-ravioloni @freaky-farfalle

Warnings: mentions of abuse, fluff, slight angst?? Long story, slight depictions of violence, mentioned and slightly detailed panic attack, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Train Ride

You supposed it could’ve been worse.

You could’ve been beaten instead of berated.

A few months ago, you remember hoping that he was the One. You had been too shy to talk to him, and it thouroughly shocked you when he made the first move.

It had been a bittersweet day, hearing your crush speak to you, but knowing that he wasn’t your soulmate. He didn’t even have a Mark.

Granted, most people simply settled nowadays anyway, so you decided to try. He was, after all, your first love.

You forced a smile as he continued talking as you waited for the subway. It was your first time in New York, and he was your ‘tour guide’. Not a very good one, as he simply did whatever he wanted rather than listen to you, but at least you weren’t lost. You had zoned out instead of listening to his tangent, a habit of yours when someone droned in for as long as he had.

A sharp squeal of breaks attracted your gaze as a dark blue train pulled up beside you.

“Y/n,” the sharp tone caused a shiver to slide down your spine. He sounded mad. When he was mad, he became downright cruel. “Were you even listening? Or daydreaming about your nonexistent soulmate again?”

He had told you he was just insecure, that his words didn’t mean anything. Sadly, you believed him, even now. You knew he wasn’t the one and you were better off without him, but honestly?

You were afraid of being alone.

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, and you prepared to defend yourself. Your stuttering was cut off when he gripped your wrist tightly, dragging you onto the subway car that had shown up moments ago.

In his haste, you bumped into a stranger. You tugged you’re wrist from your boyfriends grip, glaring at him as he moved to pull you close again.

“Stop being such a bitch,” he muttered, taking your wrist again. Once more, you pulled away, instead turning to the man you had run into.

“I’m really sorry, I just- stop touching me!” You seethed, shoving the familiar male away. He stumbled back and stayed away from you for a second, seething from a few feet away.

You sighed, looking apologetically at the man in front of you. You felt your cheeks flush as you couldn’t help but take him in.

One hand held an earbud a few inches from his pierced ear, the other held his phone in front of him. He was leaned back against the wall of the car, one leg crossed over the other. His skin was a smooth caramel color, even if there were a few scars and freckles dotting his face.

His lip was pierced, as was his nose. Both were small, dark purple rings that glinted in the dingy lights of the train car.

Your eyes trailed down his torso, taking in the muscled arms and broad chest that his dark blue shirt clung to. You could make out a few bumps on his torso that might’ve been more piercings. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, the sight making your cheeks heat more.

A black and white plaid shirt was wrapped around his hips, almost concealing the dark, studded chain belt he wore to hold up his black jeans. They wrapped around his thighs almost like a second skin. It was his shoes that confused you though. Black work boots were laced with different colors: one yellow and one pink.

He cleared his throat, causing your gaze to meet his.

He smirked at you, that lip ring tugging at a scar that ran from his eye to the corner of his plump lips.

Stuffing his phone in his pocket, he ran a tan hand through his inky black hair, vibrant green eyes meeting yours. He tugged out his headphones and draped them over his shoulder.

As he opened his mouth to address you, you were both jolted out of your daze as you were tugged backwards by the collar.

“Stop being a whore and staring!” Your boyfriend hissed, glaring at the both of you. “And you, back the fuck off and go fucking eat a baby or some shit.”

The green eyed male scoffed, lip curling in an almost animalistic snarl as he stood to his full height and stepped so he was in front of the two of you. He crossed his arms and looked your boyfriend over.

“Least I know how to treat a fucking lady,” he said lowly, directed at the male behind you. He then gently took your arm and maneuvered you to stand behind him, shooting a dangerous look at your soon-to-be ex boyfriend. “Only a fucking bitch would treat a woman like that, fucking asshole.”

Before he could turn to you, your boyfriend had laid a punch to your saviors cheek, drawing a pained hiss from his lips. A dangerous flint shone in his green eyes before he turned and returned the favor, knocking your boyfriend to the ground.

You placed your hands over your mouth as a strangled noise of surprise left your lips.

The man chuckled darkly, using his boot to shove your boyfriend onto the ground completely. He kept the extremity planted on the smaller man’s shoulder as he leaned down. He muttered something that caused your boyfriend to pale before flushing with anger and trying to squirm his way up from the ground. The boot only pressed him further into the ground as he shot a murderous look at the man on the floor.

“Know when to fucking stop, twat,” he seethed as he pulled away. He tugged his earbuds out of his phone and shoved them into his back pocket as he faced you again. His gaze shot to the doors as they opened and a sly grin slid over his features as he took you by the hand and bolted out the door with you in tow.

Your eyes widened as you heard the doors slide shut behind you, closing you off from your boyfriend who was still on the train.

You were in slight shock before you started to giggle, still sprinting away from the landing.

Light flooded your vision as the mysterious stranger tugged you out of the subway back to the surface. He let go of your hand and panted softly after the run, looking over to see you panting and doubled over.

A short laugh left his lips as he took in your flushed form. You glared at him through (h/c) locks.

“What was that for?” You cried, standing up and realizing what had just happened. “Oh gods, he’s going to kill me!”

Your hands tangled in your hair as you felt your world crumble. Your vision darkened and you couldn’t seem to catch your breath.

Two large hands closed gently around your forearms as he leaned down to look you in the eyes. His gaze was soft and full of worry as he looked you over. He gently pried your hands from your hair, keeping you from tugging it out.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. You know how I know?” He said softly, causing you to freeze as the words on your hip burned softly, signaling they had been completed. “Because I don’t even know you, but for some reason, I feel in my chest that I need to know you. It kinda hurts, not gonna lie.”

He snorted at that, blushing slightly and chewing at the purple lip ring.

“I kinda wonder if there’s a biological reason for it but, I saw you and it just hurt,” he breathed the last word, shooting his gaze to the side as a car honked loudly. “I just- I needed to know who you were. Who you are.”

He met your gaze again, smiling this time.

“I knew I had to save you, I guess,” he finished. You blinked as you took in what he said. Did he not have a Mark? It wasn’t uncommon for only one of a Fated Pair to have it, but it still surprised you.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out the words you were thinking.

“You’re my soulmate,” you said, before wincing and looking away. He tensed, grip tightening on your arms slightly. You rushed to explain yourself. “You just- you said the words on my hip. You said the shh it’s okay, you know how I know?”

He blinked blankly, seemingly taking a minute to process your words before a blinding grin broke across his face.

“Fuckin’ sweet,” he said, releasing his grip on your arms to wrap his muscular arms around your smaller frame, bringing you close. “In that case, call me Cody, doll face~.”

You felt your face heat at the sudden flirtiness of his tone. Your hands were placed on his shoulders to brace yourself against him and your teeth worried your lip as you felt how solidly built he was.

“Y/n,” you responded, smiling genuinely for the first time in months.

This seemed like it was a wonderful turn of events.

You were glad you’d come to New York now.

[unseelie-bitch]

Season 1 Episode 1: To the Waters and the Wild [Part One]

[I recognise I've written season 1 but please god don't let there be a season 2]

Dem SHEEPS

Cannot believe for the opening two lines they really thought repeating "fecking sheep" was the way to go

Oop magical barrier time okay

And there's a murdered sheep. Such winx vibes

And the man's getting murdered. Well. That happened.

That better not be a fucking werewolf because that's the vibes I got

Also maybe don't go through the magic barrier. Just a thought

The most winx thing about it so far is the lil title bit. I acc liked that

Sorry does Bloom just know about magic?????? WHY IS SHE JUST ROCKING UP WTF

Oh look. It's Terra. Give me Flora

Aisha just mysteriously walking. Fair enough

Stella is immediately popular and has a very deliberate shot to give us "popular bitch" vibes. A joke

There's Not Musa

There's a man and Bloom is IMMEDIATELY staring at him

Also Bloom looks way too old I'm sorry she just does I hate it

I don't know who any of these men are but they are clearly important

I think this man is Sky and I'm so thrown off by his accent. He's english but like... if you want the prince to be english he shouldn't be like... ordinary english. Where's the RP

Also Bloom is supposed to be an extrovert why is she so not into the conversation

Okay time skip because Bloom found out 3 months ago. I'll accept it but I'm not happy about it

And Stella's watching them from afar

That is NOT what mansplaining is clearly this writer is trying to be """"feminist"""" and ENTIRELY missed the fucking point

Bloom was looking for Stella alright

So um how the fuck would Stella know about American stereotypes

Also you IMMEDIATELY made her a bitch excuse you my girl is a ray of sunshine. LITERALLY

Sorry did they say "Miss Darling"? "Dalling"?? Why not Faragonda or Griselda????

THEY REPLACED FARAGONDA???????

At least Stella still has her ring

I'm going to pretend she was offering Bloom help instead of the obvious "if you can't make it" challenge

Okay Stella's kind of a babe but she ISN'T STELLA

Why the FUCK is Alfea in Solaria

#NotMyFaragonda

YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE DISSAPPOINTED IN THE LACK OF WINGS BLOOM

Oh they had wings in the past and lost them? Bullshit I hate it

TINKERBELL IS FUCKING REAL WHAT THE FUCK

Also they just all know about Bloom's magic. Really feel we need some backstory lads

I'm really hung up on "Tink was an air fairy" like WHAT

What's the tea lads who did Bloom burn

She's facetiming her parents, fair enough

Please fuck off with the narrative that girls can't live together without fighting like wtf. "Five girls in an enclosed space" are not going to "decend into a lord of the flies situation" NO REAL WOMAN WOULD SAY THAT. ESPECIALLY NOT WHEN EVERYONE ELSE IS RIGHT THERE

Bloom is not fucking anti-social what the FUCK

So her parents solidly don't know where she is. Right

Okay Aisha is a BABE she saw Bloom floudering and was like COMING IN TO DEFEND YOUR LIE

Oh so Bloom is no longer adopted. She has dormant fairy blood. Right. Why.

Bloom is NOT a Ravenclaw OR Slytherin she should be the most Griffindor Griffindor to ever Griffindor what the FUCK

Now watch them not write her as a Ravenclaw OR Slytherin

Why must you write Stella as a bitch. She could have simply been Baby

You've just turned Flora into Aunt Hilda from Sabrina. But like, written as the joke. What the fuck

...but also Terra you shouldn't take over a shared space

Why the fuck are they writing Terra as the outcast

MUSA I LIKED YOU UNTIL YOU WERE MEAN WHY

Also can they please make Terra less annoying

Hope Musa's okay

That better not be Riven he looks like such a dweeb

OH A RIVEN'S A MASSIVE DICK SUPRISE SUPRISE

The real question is why would a "nice" person like Sky have a misogynistc friend like Riven

Loving the shot of the singular woman they said is a specialist

OH THERE'S A SECOND WOMAN. THE FEMINISTS ARE TAKING OVER (🎶I'm an adult virgin🎶)

Sorry is Sky's dad dead??? Surely Sky is now... king??

Sky is good bean. I like it

Sorry can people get CONSCRIPTED to be specialists??? That sounded like they were getting conscripted

Ah the not werewolf was a Burned One

Some moronic specialist just went through the barrier and he's gonna get attacked isn't he

Oh they're magic zombies. Of course

He gonna die

Oh they found the sheep guy's corpse. Yikes

Ah so imma say Bloom is supposed to be 16 and that was how long ago the last sighting was

Is Rosalind going to be fake Daphne

Does that mean sheep man was the Alfea Shepard?? Why does Alfea have sheep???

"Before gossip starts" bro a student found the body. Gossip has started

"That old age decapitation really sneaks up on you" Musa BABE

"Happened to my nan right in the middle of bingo" AISHA BAAAAABE

Also Musa clearly has a thing for Aisha. Take this somewhere.

Why are they making Terra the joke AGAIN. Stop it. Stop it. Stop. It.

Why are Terra's only personality traits "nice" and "awkward"

Has the writer ever met a human women. Serious question. Because this is NOT how women act

"Happens a lot around me" this is the FIRST DAY oh my god it happened ONCE. I'm trying so hard to find any of the redeemable qualities that any half decent writer could have written in for Terra but they just. Aren't. There.

Musa is doing her best and I don't blame her

Is her dad the replacement for Palladium because that's a joke

Oh look it's the one girl who actually looks like a child because her actor actually was!! And I know they sexualised her and I am NOT looking forward to it

Beatrix is doing her best and is also clearly putting it on. I like her

Also NotFaragonda is a fucking joke

Also wtf was the office I thought this was supposed to be high fantasy. You took out the sci-fi for THAT backstreet office??

Why do Bloom's notes look like a 12 year old's diary wtf

Oop flashback

Who did Bloom set on fire?? This is probs in between The Incident and Alfea so... did she burn someone alive

Why can this man not write ANY female interactions??? Even mother/daugher interactions are bullshit because Vanessa was a GOOD MOTHER and this woman is NOT

Whom the fuck talks like that?? 0/10 unrealistic dialogue

Oop Bloom's eyes are g l o w i n g

Aww Sky is doing His Best

That really isn't what mansplaining is. Is the writer actually trying to mansplain mansplaining??

Stella and Sky clearly have history and Sky made a backhanded comment while Stella was being a bitch

Prediction time: last year Stella and Sky dated, Stella had a magic emotion blowup resulting in her having to repeat first year, hence why everyone's so preoccupied with what she says, does and looks like

Aisha is seeing Bloom leave like "oh shit"

I like the weird lightsnake

I love Bloom's outfit but Bloom should not be wearing it

Oh she's going to practise her magic in the middle of the forest. Excellent

It's going about as well as you'd expect

Why does she have so many pictures of her on her own, clearly taken by another person on her own phone, if she has no friends??? Sus writing

Oh did she burn their house down?

You should not be trying this with long sleeved, flamable clothes on and no control. In the middle of a likely very flamable forest. Just saying

Maybe instead of making them bigger, focus on putting a small flame out?

Oh and she can't. Shocker.

YES AISHA

And I'm writing way too much so imma split this into two parts

[castycasty]

Facebook, Twitter, Whatsapp and Tiktok on hot sit, see latest apps racing to overtake them.

CastyCas

Tumblr

Tumblr, also spelt Tumbir and pronounced Tumbler is a microblogging social networking site founded in 2007 by an Americaan computer programmer David Karp.l

Bloggers in Tumbir can follow fellow bloggers, they can make posts, comment, reblog and start conversations, like other people's posts or comments, upload texts, images, videos, quotes and links as well as start a group chat. Art works, personal thoughts, original GIFs, edited remix of celebraties can also be shared on Tumbir.

A Tumbir user can link posts with twitter and facebook, they can also tag other tumbir users as well as privately chat with other Tumbir users one-on-one.You can just be an onlookers watching and reading what others are writing, saying and doing without qualms, if you are the shy type like me.

Tumbir says it is a place where users interests connect the user with and to his or her people, Tumbir touts itself as a place for freedom of expression,where users can say whatever and however using it's queuing tabs to say it whenever.

The beauty of Tumbir is that since December 17th 2018, Adult content is prohibited, although not completely as LGBTQ contents is known to be promoted and protected by the platform, just like Facebook.

Tumbir is available in Android and windows.It also allows you to chat secretly using inbox features. Group chats, story boards, Queuing and dashboard are some of the unique features of Tumbir with which it intend to outshine facebook.

Users interests are shared and respected in Tumbir hence serving as a foster home to many, as it allows them to express their individuality and to be who they really are and what they really want to be.

Tumbir allows it users to like and stay connected with stuff that matters to them, with Tumbir, you can express youraelf, be yourself, connect with your people and join millions of communities across millions of hashtags.

Currently, Tumbir has 167 million users worldwide, it has about 441 employees, it headquaters is located in New York City.

Tumbir has about 500 millions blogs, 500 million monthly visitors, 172 billion posts and about 21 million daily posts. Tumbir is 12Mb app, making it a non space consuming app.

Yahoo bought it in 2013, at 1.1 billion dollars, it was later sold to Automatic at about 300 million dollars due to decline in advertisements revenues.

Promoters of Tumbir hope that one day Tumbir and not Facebook will be the talk of the town.

 Parler

Parler is a U.S based news based, micro blogging social networking service app which was launched in August 2018 by its founder John Matze.

It is being ardently promoted by political conservatives in America who tout it as alternative to Twitter which they believe is strifling free speech.

Parler is multilingual just like it's arch rival Twitter, it has it's headquarters situated in Henderson, Nevada US.

Parler currently has about 5 million users world wide, and has been downloaded over 1 million times on the Google play store, it has been touted as the fasted growing microblogging site of 2020.

The promoters of Parler say parler is unique in the sense that it's a commenting platform that's not biased, promotes free speech and solidly focused on protecting users right.

They say that parler enables its users create their own community and enjoy contents and news in real time while applying moderation tools to filter contents, they say it empowers users to control their social media experience and be a verified member of the community.

Leon Rife, a parler user wrote this about parler on the internet;"Super easy to use, whipped right through registration page, so i can't understand how others seems to be having a problem with it. I've been using this app for about a month, as well as Twitter and really enjoy parler as the superior app for content and expression...great app and great platform.

Another parler user, Tom lane said the app is wonderful for open self expression, "if you're looking for a Twitter alternative, this is it..."

The oops about the app especially for Nigerian users is that unlike Twitter, Parler requires your valid means of identification for you to be verified, unverified users may have their experience limited as people who don't like what you posted or commented can label you as a robot which may earn you some unpalatable repercussions.

Can parler displace or even stand neck to neck with Twitter? Only time shall tell

Telegram

Telegram was the massaging app that forced WhatsApp to go into end to end encryption, because that's exactly what telegram say it is all about.

Telegram says it is fast, synconizable, unlimited in the amount of data users can upload, download or send. They say they are secure, powerful,reliable,fun filled, simple in use and accessibility, respects users privacy as well as enables secret chats which deletes itself immediately after sending and after reading by the reciever.

Telegram doesn't accept advert and doesn't advertise itself anywhere, despite that, it has 500 million downloads as against whatsapp's 5 billion downloads on the Google play store. it is a 22.92 Mb app as against whatsapp's 23.81 Mb, people prefer smaller apps to larger ones as they strive to conserve space, hence, telegram's increasing popularity.Critics say that telegram's strict encryption fuels and supports the spread of terrorism.

It was developed in 2013 by Russian brothers Nikolai Durov, Pavel Durov who is the chief executive officer CEO, and an entrepreneur Axel Neff.

Telegram has it's legal headquaters in London UK and its operational headquarters in United Arab Emirates.

Telegram has about 400 staff, about 400 million active users. It is presently in the top ten of the most downloaded app of apple and Google app stores.

This massaging app enables users to securely connect with family, classmates, co workers and others. It is a cloud based instant massaging, video telephony, Voice over internet service app which enables fast and secure usage.

Remember that Telegram has never advertised itself anywhere, all its users come after recommendations by users who are mesmerized by its strong principles and quality features.

It's available on Android, IOS, Windows phone, Windows computers, Mac Os, GNU/Linus platforms, in almost all the countries of the world and accessible in 15 different languages.

Telegram was Instrumental in the recent anti government uprising in Iran.

Triller

Triller is owned by the owner of Facebook Mark Zuckerberg, it was founded on December 5th,2015, but was retooled, reactivated, reinvigorated and updated on August 5th 2020, in what analysts see as an attempt to rival tiktok.

Triller is a video creation application where an Android phone owner who downloads the app can produce own music videos using the songs that are available in the music library. Triller is a video creation app which also works as a social media platform in various ways.

Thanks to the current situation of tiktok in the face of US president Trump's threat of banning it, Triller is blazing the trails in the hope of catching up with tiktok and even overtaking it.

Triller says it is not seeking to rival tiktok, afterall it is older than tiktok, as it was founded in 2015 while tiktok was founded in 2017, instead it sees itself as the "adult version of tiktok", matured tiktok so to say.

It is available on Android's Google play store, it is 43.93 Mb app as against 58.98Mb making it a darling of users with low end smartphone.

Triller has 120 million downloads as against tiktok's 1 billion downloads, but it's known to have a growth than tiktok.

Trump campaign, snoop Doggy, Lil Wayne, Alicia Keys, Eminem and other celebrators have opened triller accounts as triller continuous to cash in on tiktok's China connection backlash.

Promoters of Triller say that Triller enables users to show off their unique talents.

If you know tiktok and you know Triller, if you see Tiktok you see Triller because Trillion is a copycat with advanced modifications. It remain whether American's Triller can beat China's Tiktok in China's home field of copycating.

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Ideas: Power Transfer

Also on AO3!

TL;DR: 

One for all is a power that has been passed down for generations. Turns out the most recent generation can afford to be a whole lot more liberal with his sharing. Also turns out sharing quirks runs in the family.

An AU where Izuku can share OFA full cowling with multiple people at once.

shared power ofa,

izuku giving aizawa 5% of one for all durring the usj or izuku giving toshinori 99% of OFA durring the last fight

cause consider the world never finding out about small might, all might retires but izuku knows

the rescue team all having the max amount of ofa they can use, which is around 2% each, cause a lil sparking team of heroes

izuku using kirishima to give bakugo some too n them using it to get away

izuku having two quirks is my favourite goddamn thing bc him being able to share his quirk but not having anything to share is great

he gives bits to allmight, like a constant 1% so he can teach classes and do press stuff

some rando wants to do an "all might" where is he now segment and it spans a good few months so izuku is continuously in the background just

conspiracy theory starts that izuku is a villain or allmights son

a villain and all might's son

izuku has no double toe joint but the doc cant find any evidence of a quirk? so he tells them izuku is either quirkless or has an invisible quirk. something subtle, or specific enough to have not activated by now

bakugo kinda,, is chill with izuku. he was waiting for izuku to develop a quirk till he judged him, but he never did so he kinda withheld judgement long enough for them to become decent friends

anyway, izuku likes to ramble about different things his quirk could technically be, bakugo likes to join in. they can go at this for h o u r s cackling about stupid hypotheticals

they workout together, they both do boxing and try out random moves they see on the internet on each other. they have a pile of gym mats in the woods like the weirdos they are

bakugo is like,, convinced izuku's quirk is actually an intellect up but he just shrugs

izuku has to grab something before he heads home so he takes the underpass and we get basically episode 1 from there. all might says no, the villain gets away, attacks Bakugo. izuku runs in, throws dust in the villain's eyes and pulls at bakugo's hands. all might jumps in, saves the day yada yada

some background for u about all might bc his past is a touch different here. during the battle with afo, afo was distracted. all might sustained the same injures but won more easily.

night eye never looks into his future because "my purpose is done, nighteye. let's live like everyone else, no fate of the world on our shoulders" he never looks into all mights future again at his request

they stay together

so instead of the big argument they go get ramen and get drunk because they don't have to be superhuman anymore, they can relax now

back to the main timeline-

so izuku is already fit, cleans the beach in 8 months, nighteye supervises

all might gives izuku the quirk 2 months before the entrance exam, nighteye is there to "oversee" (he wants to see izuku choke on a hair and laugh at this kid hes become pretty fond of)

also mirio! is izuku's bro because i love he

izuku eats the hair and gets the quirk like, instantly which?? is confusing nighteye and all might. nighteye has like,,, hidden behind a car because hes the only person with self-preservation

allmight touches izuku and the lightning climbs up his arm and he just pOofs out into swolmight. hes ShooK, so is izuku

anyway, he manages to turn it off and izuku is just standing there like "oh my god what the fuck"

"izuku,, what,, happened there"

",,,, one for all??? leaked out??? into allmight????"

...

"nighteye come over here."

"izukU nO"

"STAND STILL NIGHTEYE I JUST NEED TO TRY SOMETHING"

nighteye is forcibly given a little of ofa and regrets a lot of stuff

anyway, izuku breaks an arm trying to use ofa and hes muttering trying to work out how to use it, nighteye basically says "well, think back to how ofa came about" and izuku is like ",,, what"

and nighteye screams because TOSHI YOU DIDNT TELL HIM?????? and allmight ",,, o o p s"

so izuku gets to hear the story of all for one while hes being driven to UA for recovery girl hes,,, really quiet for a second

"when did you fight him?"

"six years ago, april?"

",,, this has to be a coincidence"

hisashi went out on a "business trip" 6 years ago and they haven't seen him since. he calls, but hes never visited and izuku has this terrible feeling

because izuku cant calm down and because nighteye thinks this kid might be on to something they call tsukauchi and he agrees to meet them at UA

izuku gets treated, naomasa is in v quickly afterwards before he calls his dad he turns to nighteye, allmight and Naomasa

"i've never been able to lie to my dad. i thought he was just really good at reading me but,,"

"if hes afo he might have a quirk"

"yeah. so i'll just twist the truth. im good at that, but thats all i'll be able to do"

anyway, he calls up his dad and slaps this big grin on his face. the phone is on speaker

"hey dad!!!!" "izuku! is something wrong?"

"oi, cant i call my dad for no reason?"

"you, willingly calling someone? dont make me laugh"

izuku giggles despite himself

"anyway, you'll never guess!!"

"did youuuu,,,, hmmmm, meet all might?"

they freeze but izuku just laughs

"yeah,, but thats not the most exciting thing!!! my quirk came in finally"

"oh?"

"yeah! imagine the worlds most basic power enhancer, but i can share the energy! you have any idea where that could have come from?"

"no! i can't think of anyone in our family with a quirk like that! sounds crazy!"

naomasa looks grin, and mouths "liar"

izuku pales but keeps his smile

"do you think you could visit, id love to show you!! oh, maybe we could test it together! you always had the best ideas for my quirk notes"

"id love to izuku, but im stuck in america for the near future, you know it is. i'll see what i can do tho, ok champ?"

naomasa shakes his head again "lying" izuku looks like hes going to be sick. nighteye is pale, all might looks stunned. izuku grits his teeth but his voice is still light and happy

"i'm gonna make it into UA so you can watch me kick butt from america! you better cheer me on!"

"im looking forward to it. say hi to your mother from me."

naomasa nods. hes telling the truth. that makes nighteye feel the sickest

"love you izuku"

",,, love you too dad"

izuku hangs up the phone and retches into the bin. nighteye is shaking. all might storms out. naomasa punches the wall

izuku looks up with tears in his eyes

",,, does my mum know?"

nighteye wants to cry

"i dont know kid"

izuku tells katuski that his quirk finally came in! but,,, in the worlds biggest mess of a way

basically hes lying in bed, trying to work out why he can't use it without breaking bones but the people he shares it with can, he bolts upright

"POWER MODULATION OH MY GOD"

he runs out his door all the way to bakugos house and climbs in through his window, grabbing a sleeping bakugo by the shoulders

"KACCHAN ITS POWER MODULATION"

"IZuKU whAt tHE fuCK"

"my quirk!!! i was breaking bones because i wasnt modulating it!!!"

",,,,q QUiRK/???/?"

",,,, oh yeah oops"

mitsuki runs in with a frying pan ready to murder a villain but its just izuku

"carry on"

izuku doesnt tell him its ofa but he explains his quirk has finally showed up, bakugo asks him if hes registered it yet

",,,noooooo"

"wait what? you, breaking the law? mister "i cant kill an ant because all might himself will call me a villain""

izuku, w the most shit-eating grin, explains that you only legaly have to register your quirk when it shows up, or after you are tested when you are five, whichever happens first so, legally, he doesnt need to register because it would be seen as voluntary updating

cut to the enterance exam

aizawa is holding the papers for the kids hes observing right then

"quirkless? that kid doesn't look quirkless"

and yagi sighs

"of course he didnt,,,"

"all might? do you know him?"

"NO NO IDEA WHO MID- THAT YOUNG CHILD IS"

",,,, r i g h t"

“aizawa listen i have never seen young midoriya in my life ever”

basically, izuku is hiding the "transfer" part of his power from most people bc hes stubborn and thinks it could be useful

also,,, in this au shinso makes it in on hero points thanks

bakugo is about to rush the 0 pointer but shinso can see its going to fall on him shinsou yells

"HEY FUCK FACE"

"HA-"

"MOVE MOVE MOVE GET OVER HERE BEFORE YOU FUCKING DIE OH MY GOD MOVE I DONT WANT TO SEE SOMEONE DIE TODAY"

shinsou and bakugou are the type of friends that flat out have no love for each other but would punch anyone who says anything bad abt the other. like shinsou walks into school and bakugou s just

“dammit i thought u fucking died smh”

“i wish i did then i wouldn’t have to look at ur ugly ass”

in this au shinso and izuku bond when they are standing outside they door bc izuku looks like hes gonna fucking cry hes so scared and shinsou is like "wow big mood"

shinso is not shinson in this au! bc izuku is gonna do a soft

basically, quirk test? shinsou is s w e a t i n g bakugo looks a little worried for his new friend but no one would notice if they weren’t izuku

shinsou turns to him like "my quirk is mental im going to fa I L"

izuku grabs his hand and he feels this rush of energy, you can almost see it dancing along his skin. izuku grins

"i think you'll find you do just fine"

(izuku gave him like,, less than a full 1% but hes like doubled in strength and speed and hes??? shook?? bc whats happening)

aizawa is lost bc shinso has a mental quirk he shouldnt be doing this well, so he tries to cancel it

nothing happens and aizawa is so lost??? bc shinsou is kinda reedy and not super fit but hes placing solidly in the middle

and he noticing that shinso’s eyes seem to be glowing and so are they eyes of the kid coming in second and gives a big "hm,mmmm"

anyway, ball pitch, he cancels izukus quirk and turns to look at shinso, his eyes are dim. izuku looks sheepish but also like hes ready to throw down and its an interesting look

aizawa just sighs "you know what? just throw the ball."

izuku g r i n s and yeets it into next year using more of his quirk than he like,, really should have? to prove a point (his finger is bruised, not broken. he used 25%)

anyway aizawa shows the results, shinso is in the middle, izuku second, hagakure is last and sadly shes not getting expelled bc plot reasons – im sorry I have a thing against her shes perfectly valid probably im just still convinced shes the traitor even tho its totally a teacher

he calls izuku out on it but does admit he didnt say you couldnt help eachother, so its kind on him. shinso looks like hes going to pass out with relief

Hagekure is the traitor in this au though, 100%

during the camp she is at the pick up zone, hiding. izuku pulls bakugo out of the way, they all seem safe

but

she pushes izuku in through the portal as it closes

fyi afo takes her quirk and leaves her braindead in the nomu factory bc shes not useful anymore. also because now he needs to have a really awkward conversation with his son he was hoping to avoid

also usj? is really melodramatic

he gives aizawa 4% which is the max nighteye could hold without it hurting

aizawa takes a hit from the nomu and he reaches out his hand

izuku cries as he gives him an extra 4% and aizawa gets free but he can see bruises forming with every step his teacher takes

[pomegranate-belle]

“Please put me down it’s just a sprained ankle" feat. matt & foggy? :D

I couldn’t decide who should be carrying whom, here, so I kind of... Did both? And then it exploded into 1.5k words, hence the read more. Oops.

—

“Please put me down,” Matt says in what he thinks is a very dignified and reasonable tone considering he’s being cradled in Foggy’s arms like a bride and also that beneath their comforting, pillowy softness Foggy’s arms are a lot more firm than he was expecting. “It’s just a sprained ankle.”

“And those bruised ribs that are still healing, and the shiner on your cheek, and your split knuckles, and the stitches on your leg,” counters Foggy. “Face it, Murdock, you’re a mess.”

“I’m fine,” Matt insists, though he knows Foggy never believes him anymore when he says that. “This is embarrassing, Foggy.”

“Get injured less and maybe I won’t cart you around like a princess,” comes the immediate retort.

Matt’s suddenly grateful he’s the only one who can hear heartbeats, because when Foggy finishes climbing the stairs, he shifts Matt’s weight to just one arm without a hint of struggle while he uses the other to open the door to their office. And Matt’s whole body, racing heart included, decides to have a lot of Feelings about that. Though there’s no way to confirm without asking, Matt’s pretty sure he’s gone embarrassingly red.

“Karen, can you get the ice pack?” Foggy calls, settling Matt back into a bridal carry. “Matt tripped on the way in and hurt his ankle.”

“Yeah, sure thing, I—”

Matt knows the instant Karen’s caught sight of them because her sentence cuts off with a slightly strangled squeak that sends her into a coughing fit. She thumps herself on the chest a few times to pull out of it, then asks in a neutral tone that only barely covers up her amusement,

“Comfy, Matt?”

“Very,” he spits. “Tell him to put me down.”

She doesn’t, of course, the traitor. Just grabs the ice pack and helps get it situated on Matt’s ankle while Foggy sits them both down on the couch. To clarify, he sits them both down on the couch with Matt in his lap. Because of course he does.

It’s another fifteen mortifying minutes of icing his sprained ankle with one of Foggy’s hands curled gently around his hip to steady him before Matt’s allowed to hobble to his office and pray for the earth to swallow him up in peace.

—

Matt gets his revenge soon enough, however. It’s three weeks later that a real honest to God supervillain — tacky outfit included, according to Jess — attacks New York. He gets his clock cleaned, of course, but there is a decent amount of collateral damage, and a few civilians get caught up in the rumble.

Foggy included, when he rushes out to pull someone’s dog to safety and trips over a piece of rubble trying to get them both back out of harm’s way. Of course in the moment it’s terrifying to have Foggy so close to danger. Matt’s heart nearly stops. But afterwards? When everything’s gone still and peaceful again, and Matt can hear the hiss of pain as Foggy tries to put weight on his right foot? When Matt’s had a chance to peel off a glove and carefully feel Foggy’s ankle for himself, and discovers it’s not a serious injury but it is a sprain?

Nothing on Earth could have stopped Matt from sweeping Foggy into his arms like a blushing bride.

“What are you doing?” Foggy squawks. “You said yourself it’s just a sprain! Put me down!”

But Matt shakes his head and forces his mouth into a solemn expression.

“You’ve been injured, Mr. Nelson. I need to get you some medical care, and letting you walk on that ankle would only make it worse.”

“Ma—” Matt clears his throat pointedly and Foggy corrects himself. “Daredevil. You’re being ridiculous.”

Matt tries to hold on to the serious face as long as he can, but he finds his mouth quirking into a grin anyway.

“Get injured less and maybe I won’t cart you around like a princess, Mr. Nelson,” he replies loftily, cocking an ear towards where the others seem to be wrapping things up — it should be safe to take Foggy for some ice.

“Wh— You— I—!” stammers Foggy, and Matt congratulates himself on stunning his motormouth best friend into silence.

Not that it lasts long. After only a few seconds of quiet, Foggy’s back to complaining. He’s good at it, since it’s one of his hobbies, but it’s not a bother. After a decade, Matt finds the sound of Foggy’s idle grumbling as comforting as an old, worn sweatshirt.

“Where are you even taking me?” Foggy demands when he’s finally worn himself out with complaining.

A devil takes over Matt’s mouth then. Maybe it’s the freedom of being in the suit, the power of it, the comforting feeling of anonymity a mask gives him even when worn with someone who’s seen underneath it.

“I believe the general consensus for this sort of thing is ‘home’ but they don’t call me Daredevil for nothing — if you’d prefer I take you in public I’m perfectly happy to comply, counselor.”

Foggy’s pulse skyrockets, and it takes him a few seconds to catch his breath.

“That— That’s horrible,” he finally chokes out, voice strained as he tries to sound nonchalant — Matt hears through it in a second, though. “You are the worst. You’re the absolute— Ugh. You are the Devil.”

Still, Matt’s got Foggy in his arms, so he’s content to play along like this is just a joke between them. Content to let Foggy stay safely in the land of plausible deniability. But not for much longer.

“That’s what they call me,” he agrees cheerfully.

Matt might be a little socially inept, and he might not be great with his own feelings, but he knows Foggy up, down, sideways, and diagonal. Foggy might be touchy-feely, but he doesn’t just pull people into his lap. He might be the kind of person who flirts to cover up his own awkwardness, but he’d meant it all those years ago when he called Matt good-looking. Foggy’s always been at least a little attracted to him, Matt’s sure of it. But he’s beginning to realize there’s something deeper there — something that might be love. And Matt’s willing to take a chance on that.

Matt’s own apartment is the closer one, so it’s where he takes them — Foggy’s always got a spare key on him, which is good since Matt’s are zipped into a pocket somewhere and rummaging around for them would require putting Foggy down. Once they’re inside, Matt tromps over to the fridge and clears his throat.

“I’ve got a couple ice packs in the freezer. Grab one and we’ll get your ankle iced, ok?”

“If you just set me down, you could grab it yourself,” Foggy points out.

“Mm. But I don’t want to set you down,” admits Matt, and it’s— freeing, so freeing to just say something like that, to take the leap and just do it.

Especially when Foggy’s skin flushes hot under Matt’s hands.

“You’re a total rake,” Foggy mutters, pulling open the freezer door and grabbing an ice pack out. “There’s no other word for it.”

“If you say so, Fogs.”

Like Foggy did three weeks ago, Matt settles on the couch with his best friend in his lap. He goes a little farther than Foggy did then, though — not just steadying Foggy but wrapping arms around him in a loose hug and resting his chin on Foggy’s shoulder. It feels good, feels right, but Foggy’s heart beats faster and faster the longer it goes on.

“Ok, enough,” Foggy says suddenly, five minutes in to icing his ankle. “You’ve made your point, Matt, I get it. I embarrassed you last month.”

Matt nods.

“It was embarrassing. But... It’s also something most guy friends wouldn’t do,” he points out. “Even to tease each other.”

Foggy’s heart gives a startled thump.

“Um.”

“There’s a lot of things you do for me that are like that. And maybe on the outside someone would think it’s just you. Because you are friendly, and open, and kind. But these are things you only do with the people you’re dating. And me.”

“Matt, don’t—”

“Because you’re in love with me,” Matt finishes.

There’s silence. A heavy sigh.

“Matt...”

Foggy’s voice breaks. He sounds hurt. Heartbroken, humiliated. This isn’t what Matt wanted, this isn’t how he thought it would go. He pulls Foggy closer when he tries to stand, wraps his arms tighter around him.

“Foggy, don’t— Don’t go. Just. I didn’t mean— It’s. I wanted to tell you I’m in love with you too.”

“Matt, that’s not funny,” Foggy says sharply, covering his pain in a veneer of anger so thin even Matt can see through it.

“I’m not joking!” Matt snaps, then buries his face against the back of Foggy’s neck. “I’m not joking. I’m not. Foggy.”

He tightens his grip, just a little, just briefly — a light squeeze. There’s a quiet sigh, but the rigid tension drops out of Foggy’s frame and he settles more solidly in Matt’s lap. It’s perfect.

They’re going to have to talk about things in a minute. Matt’s going to have to explain himself. It’ll all be worth it in the end, if it gets him Foggy, if they can have each other without any more pretense. But just for a moment, holding Foggy close like this is all Matt needs.