#he apologized for making me feel like an afterthought but never told me that i wasn’t one to him which ig is nitpicky

[voulezloux]

.

[whateveriwant]

Choice

Summary: Simon forces you to choose. Him, your husband… or the other man he found in your bed.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: ANGST

A/N: Forgive me.

“Simon!” you gasp, bolting upright in bed.

There, darkening the doorway to your bedroom, stands your beloved husband. You thought you'd spotted something lurking in the shadows of your periphery, but rather than it being a mere figment of your imagination like you'd hoped, you've come to find out that's not at all the case.

Simon’s brows are knitted tightly together, the lines framing the sides of mouth deepening as he begins to scowl. “Fuckin’ knew it,” he grits out. “Knew you were a fuckin’ liar.” His eyes flit back and forth between you and the figure lying beside you in bed, and if looks could kill, you'd both be six feet under.

“Simon, no, wait–!” You're quick to shoo the other male from your bed even as your husband storms away. Jumping to your feet, you chase after him, tugging your shirt into place from where it had ridden up. Simon’s just reached the living room when you manage to catch up with him. “Simon, please just–”

“When will enough be enough?” he cuts you short as he whirls around to confront you. You've never seen such anger rippling from him before, and it makes you recoil, stopping dead in your tracks. “When's it gonna end, huh? You promised me you were gonna fuckin’ stop this.”

“I-I-I know I did, Simon,” your voice trembles under the weight of your shame.

He's right. After the last time, you’d told him that was it, that it would never happen again.

So much for keeping your promise.

“I'm– I'm so sorry,” you try to offer him, for whatever it may be worth.

Apparently, it's worth very little as he proceeds to scoff right in your face.

“You’re ‘sorry’?” His expression pinches to show how he takes offense to that apology. “That’s three times this month I've caught you. Three. Let alone how many other times I'm sure have been behind my back.”

Again, he’s right on the target. You’ve been dishonest with your husband, been deceiving him more times than you can even remember at this point. Though you're in no place to feel as if you're the one that's been hurt in this situation, you can't help how his biting words feel like daggers plunging right into your stomach.

Simon sighs and brings a hand up to rub his forehead, the self-soothing gesture doing nothing to soften the lines creasing his skin. After a while, he asks, “Why?” his voice much calmer than it was a moment ago. “Why d’you keep doin’ this? Lyin’? Sneakin’ around?”

When he drops his hand to look at you again, you can see how quickly his emotions have shifted from fury to sorrow. The sight of his grief almost wrenches your heart in two, and you swallow the lump in your throat, your own emotions threatening to spill forth and choke you.

“I… I don't know,” you tell him, yet another lie.

You know the truth behind your actions, the real reason you can't break this bad habit. It's because you're selfish; because you're spineless; because you're fucking weak.

Your answer, the unconvincing slop that is, isn't good enough for Simon, and his shoulders rise in a show of perplexity. “Am I not treatin’ you right? I've been withholdin’ from you? Is that it?”

You're shaking your head before he even finishes the inquiry. “No, Simon. It's nothing like that,” you say.

“Well then, explain it to me.” He tosses a hand into the air, the frustration in his tone palpable. “Because I'm tryin’ to understand what makes him so bloody special. What is it about him that makes you treat me like a fuckin’ afterthought?”

“I don't–!” you begin, the accusation immediately putting you on the defense. But then you pause and intake a deep breath, trying to rein yourself back in. The last thing you want is to strike a match against this highly combustible conversation. If ignited, this powder keg runs the risk of taking you both out with it.

You take another moment to collect yourself before releasing an audible exhale. “Yes, he means a lot to me–”

“Oh, well, I'm bloody well aware of that, thank you.”

You ignore the derisive comment as you continue, “–but you're my husband, Simon. At the end of the day, I always want you,” you emphasize. You can feel a stitch forming between your brows as they slowly pull together. “I know you're upset with me – and I understand, truly – but I… I-I just…” your voice trails off as you consider your next words.

You know what you want to say, what niggling thought you want to express. But you're not sure if voicing it aloud is the right move to take. You're trying to cool down the tension here, not potentially add fuel to the fire.

But as Simon prompts, “What?” you realize there's no backing out of it now.

You sigh. “I just think you're blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”

The way your husband's eyes immediately widen tell you it was probably better to have kept your mouth shut.

“Blowin’ thi–?!” Simon blinks wildly in disbelief, his anger from earlier surging back tenfold. His voice is venomous as he spits, “I catch you lyin’ to me, catch you continuously goin’ behind my back.” He points an accusatory finger in the direction of your bedroom. “I catch you with that filthy shite in our bed–”

“Hey, don't call–”

“–see him lyin’ there, sleepin’ on my fuckin’ pillow, and you think I'm ‘blowin’ this out of proportion’?!” he's fully shouting now, his volume having risen alongside his fury. Simon lets out a dry chuckle that's entirely devoid of humor. “Do you even hear yourself? Do my feelings mean nothin’ to you anymore? Do you– Do you even really love me?” his voice peaks as a wave of despair washes over him.

“Wha–?” Now it's your turn to blink wildly as you're caught off guard by that last sentence. “Of– Of course I do, Simon! Of course.” How can he even ask you such a thing?

“You just love him more, then, right?” The question stings like a punch to the gut.

You shake your head vehemently, asserting, “No. No, of course not!” even as you feel a twinge of guilt pricking the base of your skull.

Just as you're slightly skeptical of your own words, so too is Simon, and he brushes you off with a, “Pssh, right.”

The heightened emotions of the last several minutes persist even as you and your husband lapse into a tense silence.

As you stand there, you watch as Simon begins to harshly run both hands through his hair, not sure what you should say – if there's anything to say in this moment. Though you and he have had this same argument more times than you'd like to admit, something about this time felt different to you, felt like there were higher stakes in the mix. And as you reflect on the quarrel, you can't help how one line in particular sticks out in your mind. ‘You just love him more, then, right?’ he'd accused, bluntly, bitterly.

The idea is ridiculous to you, loving someone else more than your own husband. It sounds like something only a fool could believe.

But if that's the case, why did Simon say it so assuredly?

And why does the thought of it make your stomach clench like there could be some truth behind the claim?

After another few moments of him tugging at his roots, Simon releases a billowy breath. He briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head to himself, before dropping his hands back down by his sides.

“I don't know how much longer I can keep this up,” his voice sounds as exhausted as his body looks. As he peels his lids open to once more lock with your gaze, you feel your own eyes narrowing in your confusion.

“What do you mean?” you ask, voice quiet, timid.

“I mean you need to choose,” he tells you. “Me or him.”

That statement has you balking, the cords that hinge your jaw shut practically snapping. “Si, you– you're not serious.” This has to be some kind of sick joke, right?

“I am.” He nods resolutely. “I can't keep doin’ this – goin’ back and forth with you, wonderin’ if you're really all here with me or not,” he says, frowning. “So you need to choose. Right now. Me… or him.”

It's like you've just witnessed your worst fears materialize before you. Simon, your loving husband, has just asked you to do something that was once completely inconceivable to you. He's asked you to make a world-altering choice: pick between him and someone else.

The decision should be easy – should be obvious – and yet, you find yourself frozen, unable to speak the words you know you should say.

Simon is your husband, the first and greatest love of your life. But this other man he's making you choose between is… well, he's something else to you entirely.

When you're having a rough day and feel like the world is collapsing in around you, he's the first one you want to run to when you need a shoulder to cry on. And conversely, when you're feeling on top of the world, feeling so high up you could reach out and touch the clouds, he's the one you want to call so you can share your joy.

From the moment you met him, you knew he was one of a kind. He's got a smile that could rival a thousand suns, a kiss that could warm the coldest of nights, and the way he looks at you – like you hold the entirety of his universe in the palm of your hand – you think it could keep your heart beating long after it's chosen to stop.

He's your best friend, your other half of a whole, your personal ray of sunshine that cuts through all the gloomy rain. Simon is your husband, yes, that’s true. But this other man is your soulmate, and you know that however long you both shall live, you will love each other until you take your final breaths.

Tears start to bead in your eyes as the answer to your predicament reveals itself to you. And as Simon eventually pushes, “Well? Who's it gonna be?” you know there's only one thing you can tell him.

“Him,” you mutter, feeling the first tear spill over. “H-Him, Simon. Him. I choose… him.”

It's like the planet ceases to spin for a moment as your choice floats in the air like a ghost. At first, you think Simon must assume you're bluffing, what with the way he has no immediate reaction to your response. But as the silence stretches between you and you've yet to renounce your decision, you watch as the realization hits him like a slug to the chest.

Simon's face falls, the color zapping from his skin, and as his eyes start to shine with tears, you find your cheeks flooding with your own.

Simon blinks rapidly, his nostrils flaring as he tries to keep his emotions at bay. His brow furrows like he wants to say something – to argue something – but when he opens his mouth to speak, no words escape. He closes his mouth for a second but then opens it again soon after, once more nothing leaving him but the sound of his breath.

Open then shut, open then shut, he repeats the cycle over and over again, never once managing to get a word out. Finally, after several minutes of waging an internal battle with himself, Simon eventually lets out a low sigh of defeat.

“Then go,” he mutters, gaze falling to the floor. “Just… Just go.”

Your own heart shatters at seeing the pain you've caused your husband. But you can't take back what you've said now, and even if you could, you both know it'd be a lie.

Thus, all you can offer him is a whispered, “I'm sorry.” Any louder and your voice would break from the strain of your cries.

The room falls quiet again as you both let everything sink in. Simon, your husband, the man you'd promised forever to, just put his heart on the line, practically flayed himself open for you… and you didn't choose him.

“I'm sorry,” you say again because you don't know what else there is to do.

Simon waves your apology off with a dismissive hand, still refusing to meet your eye.

Over the next few moments, you continue to sob softly, the sounds of your sniffles puncturing the otherwise quiet house. After a while, you feel the faucet behind your eyes gradually slow to a trickle, and you wipe your face with the back of your shaky hands, swallowing down the last of your tears.

You take another minute or so to compose yourself, still standing before your forlorn husband. Once you feel somewhat well again, you clear your throat, then tip your head back to let out a short, high whistle.

Almost immediately, you hear the telltale noise of feet moving against the hardwood floor. Then, not a beat later, you see the man you'd just chosen rounding the corner to the living room.

“Come here, pup-pup. Come here,” you encourage Riley, your fourteen month old shepherd-mix, forward.

Like the good boy he is, Riley trots closer at your beckoning. But before he reaches you, he makes a pitstop by Simon, shoving his cold, wet nose into the man's empty palm.

Riley gives him a couple boops to the hand, politely asking him for pets. And Simon, for his part, despite still being obviously disgruntled, obliges and gives him a brief, dispassionate rub to the snout.

Having received his desired scritches, Riley then continues over to you, and you crouch down so you can meet him at his level.

“You wanna go cuddle with me some more? Yeah? Do you?” you pitch your voice up in that babyish way Simon pretends to hate.

Riley, however, absolutely loves it, and his tail wags back and forth in a way that says he's all too eager to agree.

“Okay, let's go!” You wave him after you as you take off down the hall.

As you both walk back to the bedroom you'd been occupying earlier, you hear Simon speaking behind you, muttering angrily to himself.

“Mangy fuckin’ mutt. Knew he was gonna be trouble,” he murmurs as he makes up a spot for himself on the couch. “First he steals my bed, then he steals my cuddles, next he'll be stealin’ my fuckin’ car…” his voice peters out the further away you walk.

“Don't mind your daddy. He's just being grumpy as usual,” you stage whisper to Riley as you approach the door to your bedroom.

Letting yourself inside, Riley quickly follows after. You shut the door and then waltz over to the bed, patting the empty space beside you as you settle in.

Swiftly, Riley jumps up to join you, taking the side normally reserved for your husband. He moseys all the way up the mattress until he reaches Simon's pillow, where he proceeds to lay down.

You roll onto your side and start to pet him, scratching that spot behind his ears you know he loves. As you do, you see that infectious smile of his slowly take shape, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as his eyes drift closed.

The sight of him so content makes your own lips upturn into a smile. He is so sweet, so perfectly innocent, that it makes your heart want to burst inside your chest.

And as you continue to cuddle Riley, making little kissy noises in his ear, you know you made the right choice as you grin and ask him, “Who's my favorite boy?”

__________

A/N: April Fools! Hope I didn't break your heart too much lmao!

As always, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[little-cereal-draws]

Details I noticed on my second and third rewatches of Werewolf By Night

Jack reached out to touch the bloodstone as soon as he got to the funeral. If he hadn't been interrupted, he would've blown his cover immediately and been killed, let alone doing anything to save Ted. He's such an idiot (affectionate)

When he's talking with that Scottish hunter in the beginning, he says, “I can almost smell the blood on your hands.” Foreshadowing much?

What happened to Elsa’s mom? They imply it's something 'terrible'/dishonorable but they never say

When they're all being introduced in the circle and listing how many kills they have, when it comes to Jack the line is “And over 100 deaths. Give it take.” I thought it was interesting how they suddenly used deaths vs kills (especially because Jack probably told them that. Let the angst begin lol)

It says "This end up on coffin" lol

Jack chews on his lip during Ulysses’ speech about the strongest hunters gathering and the crusade against monsters. It's so very subtle but you can see he's nervous

Jack looks scared and concerned when they get told the stone would be put on the monster. It's a split second but his eyes get wide and he goes :o

The set is actually amazing, especially the garden maze

In the tomb Jack gets the most brilliant smile when he says he's "not that kind of hunter" and Elsa says she’s not either. He probably thought she was secretly some kind of monster too for a second because his face literally looks like when a dog sees another dog or when a queer person sees another queer person in public. Like "Hello!! You're like me?? Like me??? Hello! Hi!!"

When talking with Elsa about families, Jack says, “My family was very different.” Why does he say "was???" What happened to his family??? (Another opportunity for angst lol)

In that same conversation, Jack also says, “We think that by doing something specific we cannot be like them.” Why does he want to be different than his family? What specific thing did he do? I need more backstory!!

All the bugs and spiders crawling out of Aunt Frances' tomb was a very nice touch lol

Laura Donnelly's (Elsa’s) acting. She's trembling. She genuinely looks terrified but like she’s making herself be brave anyway. The single tear that rolls down her cheek right before he turns and how she just nods at his apology because she can't trust herself to speak? The way she's made herself as small as possible and is partly covering her head in fear but can't look away as they shoot him? The way her breath keeps hitching because she has no idea if she's going to die or not as she reaches out to touch his face at the end? It's so much more genuine and realistic than other MCU acting I feel. Like ofc the other actors in other projects are talented but I don't feel like they get scared often or get scared in a realistic way. Like if I was trapped in a cage with an angry werewolf, I also would be curled up on the floor crying. 10000/10

Before he turns, Jack says he has “systems” in place to stop himself from turning or at least calm it down. Besides locking himself inside, what are his systems?? I want to know!!!

When Elsa asks if remembering people's scents have ever worked before, Jack immediately shakes his head. Almost as an afterthought, he says “Once.” Who was it??? Why is he still so sad if it worked?? Did they die immediately anyway for some other reason??? Did he not recognize their scent until it was too late??? I NEED BACKSTORY! (and more angst)

When Jack asks to be killed as he is "or there will be no mercy," the old lady, who's name I can't remember, says, “Our system is built on mercy for you.” She genuinely seems to believe it for a second before bursting out laughing and going back to being evil. The story is told from the perspective of those against the hunters, but I want to know what the thought process/justification of the hunters is! Ofc they're doing it to protect innocent people from dying (like they mention) and there is certainly an element of personal gain/ego in it but how do they believe they're having mercy on the monsters themselves? What's the ideology behind it all?

In werewolf form, Jack's eyes glow in the dark but when you get up close, they look like human eyes

The blood on the camera. Such a cool touch

A list of things Ted had at their camp: Two suitcases (one with clothes in it), a sunflower mug, a deck of cards, a cowbell (why is there a cowbell??? lol), a gramophone, a guitar, just the phone part of a phone booth (again, what???), a blanket, and a fire extinguisher

Jack uses both hands to hold the sunflower mug because he's so shaky and tired, he would drop it otherwise

The groans Jack makes as he stands up lol That is also how I sound when I stand up

Jack and Ted's banter on the log. It doesn't matter if you don't know what they're saying, you can instantly tell they're best friends. The way they're laughing and pushing each other and how quickly it switches into annoyance. ...Which only lasts a couple seconds before they're chummy again. True friend conversation

Ted's eyes are really cute in color. His pupils are little star/flower shapes

[irisintheafterglow]

hi!! so i just want to say your writing is so beautiful and fun, and i LOVED reading your rockstar!gojo imagine!!!! is there any possibility of you writing a part 2 to that anytime soon?

much love and thank you! xx

thank you for the ask!! HELL YEAH LETS GET THIS SHIT i love writing this imagine so much

"hi, pretty. you off work yet?" his blindingly beautiful face takes up your entire phone screen at a heinous angle. his forehead took up about 80% of the camera with unsettling blue eyes and an elegant nose added on as an afterthought. he looked stupid, but somehow it made you miss him even more.

you shake your head, rubbing your eyes in the dim lights of the break room. "not yet, no. i got asked to work overtime since one of the associates called out for a family emergency." disappointment pangs deep in your chest when his smile falters for a moment, but it's back in full force just as it disappeared.

"ah, that's alright. make that bank, baby." his encouragement has you smiling like an idiot and it only makes you feel worse. you wanted to skip the shift so badly it was making you hyperventilate; but, you couldn't, not if you didn't want your boss to deny you that raise.

"i'm sorry i'm not able to make it."

"don't be. i'll just be singing a little extra passionately tonight." he winks a twinkling eye at you and it makes you feel a little lighter. he wasn't angry. he never was. irritated and isolated sometimes, sure, but he never raised his voice with you. he never made you feel like a burden despite carrying the world on his shoulders, too. "when you see everyone go crazy on twitter, know i'm thinking of you."

you roll your eyes a little at his antics. tonight wouldn't be the first time satoru caused unrest on social media and it wouldn't be the last. it was only a few nights ago that he misjudged the timing of going out to dinner and had to throw his jacket over your face to conceal your identity while you ran hand-in-hand to the car. you thought it was a close-call, that no one would bat an eyelash.

the fans, to put it plainly, lost their shit.

within the hour, "WHO IS HE WITH" and "WHAT THEF CUK" were trending globally. many update accounts made matching profile pictures, one photo of your boyfriend with a dazzling smile and the other of you looking like you're getting held for ransom. you apologized profusely to ijichi, who spent the remainder of the night quieting the media firestorm trying to expose your identity. perks of dating the most adored musician of the time.

"i think a part of you relishes in the chaos you cause, satoru."

"what can i say? chaos is in my blood." you snort, only to check the time and grimace at your break soon ending. several miles across the city, his focus flicks to the side, offscreen, and he does a discreet little nod to who you could only assume was suguru. it was almost time for them to go on, but he was keeping the crowd waiting because he wanted to keep talking to you. sappy motherfucker.

"punctuality definitely isn't. you gotta go play." he huffs in protest and jumps slightly when shoko bangs on the door of the dressing room, telling him to get off his lovesick ass.

"fine, just because i wanna see you sooner. not because shoko told me to."

"you're hopeless."

"only for you," he grins, standing and looping the wire of his in-ear monitors around his ear. they were custom made, one side bright red and the other electric blue. you accompanied him to the appointment where they fit the foam into his ears, which entailed lots of oh, ew and what the fuck this is so gross. you let him hold your hand the entire time like he was a child in a doctor's office. now, you were cursing corporate for withholding your raise and preventing you from chilling backstage while your boyfriend flirted with thousands of people. none of it bothered you, though. his heart was yours from the moment he sat next to you.

"i love you!"

"i love you more."

"i love you most. see you at home, gorgeous."

yk that one part of miss americana where tay is running backstage and looking for joe and she says "i couldn't find you and i got sad?" yeah. that's what it's like at the end of satoru's shows.

likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated <3

[ailendolin]

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention

for Caphavers please :) I am a massive sucker for your caphavers drabbles

Thank you so much for your kind words about my Caphavers fics, anon! I hope you'll enjoy your ficlet as well!

Next up:

🤝🏽 Hand holding - Ian & Gabriel

🎶 Dancing - Dissectus & Voltari

💞 Post-nightmare cuddles - Thomas

⚡ Scared of thunderstorms - Vex & Irk

❤️‍🩹 Reunited after a long time apart - Dissectus & Voltari

🎮 Games - Mary, Annie and alive Kitty

🌧️ Rainy day activities - Humphrey & Sophie

Ask Games are here & here. Filled prompts are here & here on AO3.

Prompts for these two ask game are closed. I’m currently accepting prompts for this ask game as part of my 500 followers celebration.

————

Please

✿ feeling so out of it, they need constant attention

“Are you feeling all right?” When Havers didn’t reply, didn’t so much as blink to acknowledge he had heard him, the Captain cleared his throat and tried again. “I say Havers, are you feeling quite all right?”

Slowly, sluggishly, Havers’s eyes focused on him.

“Sir?” he asked, very nearly slurring the word.

The Captain’s brows furrowed in concern. Deciding a different approach might be in order and yield better results, he asked, “How long have you been feeling unwell?”

Havers slowly blinked up at him.

“Unwell? No, I … I merely have a headache, sir,” he said, and almost as an afterthought offered the Captain a smile that lacked its usual grace. “Nothing to worry about.”

The Captain was worried, though, and his worry only grew when Havers suddenly began to list to the side. Without thinking, he leapt up from his chair and reached across the desk to grab Havers’s arm to steady him and give himself time to round the desk. The moment he reached Havers’s side, Havers swayed into him, forcing the Captain to stagger backwards under his weight.

“Steady now,” he murmured as Havers regained his footing.

When he became aware of where he was and who was holding him, Havers’s face flushed with more than feverish heat and he hurriedly righted himself.

“Apologies, sir,” he mumbled without meeting the Captain’s eyes. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

Before Havers managed to extract himself fully from his arms, the Captain steered him towards a chair.

“You seem to be running a fever, Lieutenant,” he said and went to fill a glass with water that he pushed into Havers’s trembling hands. “This should help until I’ve gone and fetched the doctor.”

He should have known Havers would try to argue. He never liked having to inconvenience his captain, especially over things he deemed to be trivial. “But sir–“

“You’re in no shape to go anywhere right now, Lieutenant,” the Captain said as authoritatively as he could muster. “So please stay here while I get the doctor. Don’t make me order you.”

Havers slumped back in his chair, looking tired all of a sudden. “Yes, sir.”

The Captain nodded, relieved. “Good man.”

The doctor’s verdict was pneumonia, just as the Captain had feared. Havers was confined to his quarters for the foreseeable future and although the Captain knew he was in good hands and got the best possible care, he couldn’t help checking in on him whenever his scheduled allowed for it.

It allowed for it several times a day.

The Captain couldn’t quite tell how aware Havers was of these visits. Most of the time he was asleep when the Captain stopped by, and on those rare occasions when he wasn’t, he was so out of it he seemed to be lost in his memories – a worrying but not surprising sign of the fever. The Captain took it all in stride. When Havers called for his mother, he allowed himself to be gentle and loving as he reached out to brush the damp hair back from Havers’s forehead. When he called for his father, he let his hand rest firmly on Havers’s shoulder and told him, “You’re not a disappointment.” When Havers became agitated about his dog, he gently pushed him back against the pillows and told him that Barry was fine and no, he hadn’t swallowed any stones.

And when Havers, barely conscious, mumbled his name, the Captain sat on the edge of his bed and gave in to the temptation to hold his clammy hand between his own.

“I’m here, William,” he whispered. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The words seemed to have the desired effect. Havers settled back down and yet the Captain couldn’t quite bring himself to let go of his hand just yet.

“That’s it,” he said softly. Then, even quieter, “I don’t know what I’d do without you so please get better. Please.”

He couldn’t be sure but he thought there was a light squeeze to his hand, almost like a promise, before Havers’s breathing, at last, evened out in sleep. 

[hummingbird-of-light]

Against All Odds

Part 721

McCoy

McCoy sat in class trying to focus, but his mind kept replaying something Scotty had said the evening before.

…my future husband…

He looked around and hoped no one in class had heard the noise that had just tried to escape him. His face heated knowing how embarrassing that would be.

But he couldn’t help it. The words made his chest swell. McCoy had thought calling Scotty his fiancé was wonderful and he knew of course that would change to husband before too long, but the word had never really settled in his mind like it had the night before. Maybe it had taken Scotty saying it to really sink it in.

He really tried to keep a dopey smile off his face, but he knew he wasn’t being very successful.

A message blinked on his PADD just before lunch. A glance at the screen showed it was from the king. McCoy would read it as soon as class was done.

He sat as the other students gathered their things and left the room. Opening and reading the message quickly it was no more than he thought. A time to call that evening. McCoy grabbed his own things and hurried from the room to find Scotty. He fought back another grin.

He caught up with Scotty near the dining hall.

“Hey darlin’,” he called softly as he came up behind him.

“Hello Len,” Scotty said, looking over.

“What’s wrong?” McCoy asked, instantly worried. He stopped and reached for Scotty’s arm. Even if he was worried about Scotty agreeing to a video interview, he knew they were back on solid ground with each other. He maneuvered them both to a nearby alcove.

“What’s happened?” McCoy searched Scotty’s face for clues.

“Aaron found me before class.”

“Oh?”

“He apologized.” Scotty paused and looked at the ground before looking back at McCoy. “I told him I didn’t forgive him but I would accept it if he’d say the same to Robbie.”

McCoy nodded. “That’s good. I’m sure he will.”

“I still don’t like him,” Scotty said quietly.

“I know leannan, but he’s trying.” McCoy leaned in and pulled Scotty close. “Father has a time he wants to talk to us tonight.”

They began to move again for the dining hall.

“What do ye suppose he’ll say?”

“Hopefully when people are going to start apologizing,” McCoy bit out.

“Where- where do ye think we’ll have to give the interview?” Scotty’s words came out tight with worry.

“Oh,” McCoy said in surprise. “I don’t know. Here I would guess. They wouldn’t want to make us miss school.”

“Could be a weekend. At the palace,” Scotty said as they sat down.

“Where would be more comfortable?” McCoy asked, keeping his voice down for only Scotty to hear. “Where would you feel safer?”

“Scotty?”

Robbie sat down next to his brother before he could answer McCoy. Scotty rested his hand on McCoy's knee, and turned to face his brother. Robbie asked something in Gaelic, but McCoy was sure he knew what it was about considering he heard Aaron’s name.

“You’ve got some power,” Uhura said admiringly as she and Christine watched Jocelyn leave the lounge in a huff.

McCoy gave a brief smile as he sat down with Scotty.

“In a way,” he answered. “That was mostly Father’s doing. I’m sure her parents, too,” he added as an afterthought. He remembered David’s words about the Darnells understanding what the palace could do if necessary.

“Well it’s about time!” Christine agreed.

“Yes,” McCoy answered quietly, squeezing Scotty’s fingers next to him.

Part 722

Scotty

It was nice to see that it was now Jocelyn hiding away from Leonard. Scotty had always been taught not to be mischievous, but that girl didn't deserve it any other way. After everything she had done to Leonard... she had no place at this school.

Some girls followed her, so did Pete and his friends. But Scotty assumed that some people would never learn. It was a way of life. One he would never understand.

"You think she'll leave the school?" Uhura asked, but Leonard sighed and shook his head.

"I honestly doubt that. Jocelyn is not the person to give up just like that. She's taken a hit. She'll cry for a bit. But I'm quite sure that she'll get up and fight again."

Scotty could hear the slightest hint of despair in his fiancé's voice and he moved closer to him.

"Well, we won't let her win. Never."

A soft smile crossed Leonard's face and he leaned in for a kiss which Scotty gladly returned. He was so glad that they had talked everything out.

Once their lips parted, the prince got to his feet, pulling his fiancé along.

"Well then... I guess we gotta go now. See you tomorrow, ladies."

He gave both Christine and Uhura a princely nod and they chuckled.

"See ya, your highness," Christine said with a wink before the girls waved after the two of them.

"Good evening, boys," David greeted the two of them when his face appeared on the screen. He looked exhausted from his day, but quite friendly.

"Father."

"Sir."

A smile crossed the king's face when he heard Scotty address him with a title once again.

"Scotty, it is quite alright, if you call me by my name. After all, you'll soon enough be my son-in-law."

A blush crept onto Scotty's cheeks and he didn't dare to look at the king. It was too awkward to call someone with the man's status by his name.

"But-"

"Please, Scotty. I would appreciate it very much. And... I wouldn't feel so old," David said with a chuckle and eventually Scotty nodded.

"O-okay, si- David."

He didn't get the word out too easy, but he knew that he'd get used to it, sooner or later.

The king's smile brightened at hearing that. He gave Scotty a grateful nod.

"So, you wanted to talk about the upcoming interviews, right?"

Both boys nodded.

"Well, first of all, I talked to the Darnells and the other girl's family. Official apologies will go out this Friday. Both girls have been informed about it."

That would be yet another explanation for Jocelyn's reaction at the lounge.

"As for your interviews, I think they should follow shortly after."

"Yeah, we... thought maybe at a weekend? Then... we could come to the palace," Leonard carefully suggested and David seemed to think about it for a moment.

"Well, I'm sure we can arrange that."

"But-"

All eyes fell on Scotty as he interrupted the king. He instantly blushed again.

"But... we have to ask my mum if she has time, too."

At that, David raised an eyebrow.

"Francine?"

Scotty nodded slowly.

"A-aye. I... cannae do it alone. I'm not ready yet to talk to reporters on my own and since Leonard cannot be with me..."

For a moment Scotty just stared at David. What would the king say?

[captain-sassy-socks]

GABIT INSP 2022 Part II - Q&A session #1

Disclaimer: I am writing this summary from my memory and the notes I have taken. I make no claim to completeness or accuracy since it's a very personal view. If anyone would like to add anything, feel free to do so in the reblogs or replies. Pictures are from different sources.

After a night of little sleep, I couldn’t wait to see Amanda on stage and ask her my very important question. The one I’ve been holding onto for 2.5 years.

First, Becky greeted us, and they showed a short tribute video of Amanda as Sam, Helen, and several other characters throughout her career.

Finally, Amanda entered, and the crowd cheered.

Somehow, she couldn’t believe that so many people still wanted to see her. She thanked everyone for being here with her, said she missed her mum terribly and feels her spirit/ghost is with us for the weekend.

She admitted to having had a crappy year, has eaten her weight through the pandemic, and wants to use this convention to kick the past year in the ass and start a new, better chapter.

Next, she apologized for not being active on social media and vowed to mend her ways.

After that, she tolds us little bit about Olivia and her remarkable ability to use logic to talk her way out of a strife. "Mom, I've always been a good kid. Please let me have this moment." How can you argue against that?

The other night, she had chatted with Teryl who sends her love. And Suanne feels like sisterhood.

She tolds us a story about how she woke up and Julia next to her didn’t make a noise (usually a loud snorer). Since Amanda feared Julia was dead, she poked her but didn’t get an immediate reaction until, a few seconds later, Julia snored again. That was a huge scare!

(this picture was displayed later during the 2nd Q&A but fits best here)

And the night before, Amanda couldn’t sleep, so she watched Gogglebox. (side note: Gogglebox is a British reality television series which documents families and groups of friends around the United Kingdom who are filmed for their observations and reactions to the previous week's television from their own homes.) She landed on an episode of Naked Attraction. She felt simultaneously attracted and repelled by what was happening: a dating show with naked people. Only strategically placed cards prevented her from getting a full view of the contestants. However, she reacted with "Argh, penis!" when the camera panned up the legs of an excited guy and the comment was “Oh, he shaved his balls.”. Now, she couldn't get certain images out of her head. It caused a lot of laughter in the room and became the running gag of the event.

Next, the Q&A part started (I can’t remember the first question) and I asked, “What is Samantha Carter’s favorite color? Please don’t say blue.” Amanda admitted she had never thought about it and went like “If you look at her house, maybe green... or orange...*walks from one side of the stage to the other*... good question... blue...*laughter from the crowd*... do what you want with it.” As an afterthought, she added, “Indigo? Indiorange?” (Thank you, Amanda. And yes, I will do whatever I want with your answer. I just have to convince my muse to settle for one option.)

Someone asked if she could only one thing for the rest of her life, what would it be - acting or directing? - Directing because she would have a longer career.

We got to talking about her dog, Riley. He’s doing well and she likes to take long walks with him.

Someone asked what her thoughts were on the AI reading. She said that the first script felt stilted and had poor grammar. But the second one was better, and she was surprised how well the AI nailed Jack’s sarcasm. She didn’t understand where the AI got the impression that Daniel would come down the stairs in Jack’s cabin and not Sam, and that, unfortunately, the AI is unable to write for Teal’c because it needs a certain amount of words, and “Indeed” isn’t enough.

Just before the end, Suanne surprised Amanda and joined her on stage.

They talked a bit about life in general and how good it was to see each other again.

On the screen, the last minute was counting down, and Amanda, who is known for overrunning, received the following message when she wouldn't stop talking.

That’s it for the first Q&A session. Since it’s already a long post, I decide to split the sessions and write a post about each of them.

[wiretchings]

memory log #84

thursday, february 13th, 2025 -- 3:08 p.m.

i worked my first shift yesterday since everything that’s happened. i didn’t really sit and think about it ahead of time, i just woke up tuesday morning and felt ready to go back. i texted sherry, “what time do you need me there tonight?” and she responded, “oh? 8 p.m. is good, i’ll be there too ^^”

it went fine, things don’t have the same vibrancy they used to right now. i think that’s on account of the trauma i’ve experienced, or whatever. i said that to elli this morning and he told me that i should think about seeing a therapist. in that moment, it felt like my mind was splintering into a dozen pieces and i almost got out of bed and walked out the door. i don’t want to fight, because i’m scared that’s going to make him leave somehow. when i said this, elliot held my face in his hands and sighed. his eyes did that thing they do when they get big and glossy, glazed over with love and sadness. 

it’s difficult to talk about these things without making him feel like he has to apologize for it. because i know he blames himself for everything, and i don’t want him to. i could have walked away at any point in time, it was my own obsession and choices that lead us here. and although i’m struggling to find peace with the static in my head and the way my hands look when i stare at my lap, i feel a wave of calm when i look over at elliot, wiping down the coffee table. ironically, i wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“i’ll think about it,” i reassured him, and his eyes soften a bit. “only because i don’t want this to result in me doing something stupid,” even though doing something stupid feels like it’s just on the horizon. it’s at my eye-line, staring me down every morning at the corner of my vision and i try my best to ignore it. 

when i came home last night, elliot was in the shower. i entered the bathroom to brush my teeth, only for him to start humming. “what are you doing?” it came out muffled from the toothpaste taking residence in my mouth. 

“just... humming a tune..” he hesitated, then continued mimicking the unknown melody. 

“you weren’t doing that when i first came in,” i spat into the sink a few times, until the water ran clean. 

“can’t a man be struck by inspiration due to his muse finally coming home?” he said in an exaggerated tone. it was silent for a moment before he suddenly broke it. “can i ask you something, dean?”

“sure, shoot.” i cleaned my toothbrush and returned it to its’ spot, next to elliot’s neon pink atrocity he calls a toothbrush. 

“so the wings...” i felt them twitch at the acknowledgement of their existence, “they work? i mean, obviously they had to have worked for you to save me that night... but did you know that was going to happen.”

i leaned against the sink, staring through the steam that had fogged up the bathroom. “honestly, i didn’t really think. i know that somewhere in the back of my mind i had remembered that my wings saved me once before when i was in danger, but that was more of an afterthought.”

elliot paused, “...so we both could have died.”

i shrugged, never having really thought about it since that day. “it was a chance i was willing to take, i guess.” 

“you’re so nonchalant about it... how very badass of you,” he chuckled, the sound of the water coming to a stop. 

“more like reckless, i put both of our lives in danger going on that walk.” the steam was beginning to clear and i tensed, realizing that elliot was possibly going to exit the shower any moment now. not that i haven’t seen him naked before, but it hasn’t happened since the first time we slept together, back in november. hazy memories of our limbs tangled together and the sweetness of sweat flicked through my mind, but nothing concrete. we were both drunk, after all. 

he stuck his head out of the shower suddenly, arm reaching out towards me. i took a step back, feeling a blush creeping across my face. elliot smiled, then motioned behind me, “could you hand me that towel?” 

i nodded silently and gave it to him, focusing only on his face when our eyes met again. “you know, when i was falling to my presumed death, all i could think about was that i was happy i joined you on that walk. i don’t think i could have lived with myself if i had to find you, i wouldn’t be able to stop myself from thinking about what could have gone differently if i were there.” he looked down, his usual wide grin replaced with a shy smile. “and regardless of the outcome, i was comforted by the fact that we were able to share that view together.” 

i didn’t know what to say, tears didn’t even have the chance to swell in my eyes, they were already rolling down my face. i was gripping the sink with my left hand and trying to wipe at my eyes with my right. elliot quickly wrapped the towel around his waist and exited the shower, cupping my cheek and wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “oh, baby... i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

still unable to get a word out, i shook my head and rested my forehead on his bare shoulder. his wet hair was dripping onto my shirt, causing it to stick to my back. i began to sob, completely unable to control my body at this point. he took me in his arms and held me tightly, and i didn’t care how uncomfortable the wetness of his body felt pressed against mine. 

after i was done crying, i helped him dry his hair and applied the ointment his doctor prescribed him onto his left eye. as i was taping a fresh piece of gauze over the wound, he began stroking my hair. “sweet thing,” he whispered. 

we didn’t talk much after that, we were both tapped out emotionally and went straight to bed. i drifted from consciousness with my forehead pressed against his chest, swept away by the rhythm of his heartbeat. in the morning, i woke him by peppering kisses along his temple, down to his collarbone. when elliot’s eyes fluttered open, he looked at me with a confused look on his face, cheeks flushed. “good morning...?” 

“morning,” i leaned in to kiss him deeply and he reciprocated, pulling away gently with an arch in his eyebrow. 

“i thought you didn’t want... this..” he waited for a response.

“well, i’m not very interested in receiving... but i can be generous sometimes,” i grinned, hiding my face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. “how do you feel?” i murmured into his deep red curls. 

elliot grabbed my face, his eyes bright with excitement. “of course,” he kissed me briefly, “let’s make this a morning to remember!”

i shoved him and laughed, before lacing our fingers together and nodding against his forehead. i leaned in for another kiss, then another, then another. 

[dear-eli]

I hope you get a boyfriend someday

Sooner rather than later

Someone you really care about (more than you ever loved me)

And I hope she pulls the same manipulative controlling bullshit

I hope she tries to cut you off from him the way she succeeded in cutting you off from me

And whether or not he is able to set healthier boundaries and leave where I couldn't

I hope you are finally able to see it for what it is.

I hope he hangs a lampshade on her jealousy and insecurity and bitterness

On her possessiveness and hatefulness and spite

I hope he shines the spotlight for you to see that she's got you on her strings

And I hope for his sake that he walks away

And leaves you feeling the way I do right now

Lost and lonely and "not worth the fight."

And I hope you wake the fuck up

And realize that I WASN'T crazy

That I wasn't just making shit up or being jealous for no reason

That she really and truly did try to keep you from me

That if she couldn't have me, she wouldn't let you have me either

And I hope like hell you come crawling back

Tail between your legs and apology between your lips

Holding out the pieces of your broken heart

So that I can say, "I fucking told you so."

And decide whether or not to be benevolent with my forgiveness.

I hope it happens before I forget how to love you

But I know it never will.

Even if it did, it wouldn't matter.

You're not strong enough to leave her and you never will be.

It doesn't matter how many patients you have in similar shoes, whom you tell to leave their abusers.

It doesn't matter how many people you help to build exit plans - or how many you end up losing because they couldn't get away.

It won't even matter who else you love and lose.

You will still. Never. Leave her.

You know what? I changed my mind.

I hope she gets so fucking bored of you that she goes out and catches her a new supply and ditches you.

I hope you do find someone else.

I hope you love them very much.

And then? I hope she steals them from you.

I hope she worms her way in with them like she did with you and me

Piggybacking her relationship with them onto yours

Sneaking in like a Trojan horse

Forcing them into an unwanted throuple

Just like she did me.

And then I hope she cuts you off from them

Demands all of your time and attention

Only lets you spend time with them (or fuck them) while she's around too

And makes you feel guilty for asking for time with them on your own.

So you stop asking.

And then suddenly she's going on solo date nights with them

And staying over at their place (but probably telling you it's for work)

And leaving you home alone

A sad little afterthought - like I always was.

I hope they both string you along for a while

As the unicorn practically ghosts you to spend more and more time with her

I hope she sneaks around behind your back and you know she's fucking someone you just don't know who

Maybe the unicorn dumped both of you, on the surface, but was still with her on the downlow

Just so it will come as that much more of a shock when SHE finally leaves YOU

And you find out who she left you for.

I hope it's a sucker punch to the gut.

And I still hope you come to me for comfort and understanding (and maybe revenge)

Just so I can fucking say "I told you so."

If you ever actually admitted it - to yourself, and then to me

That it really was manipulation and abuse all along

And that on some level you knew that

But it was easier to blame me and force me out

Than to have to confront your wife and an entire decade of life choices

If you could even so much as acknowledge that, I think I could forgive you.

But it really would take another painful life lesson for it to sink in

And even then, I don't know if it would stick.

I don't want an apology badly enough to actively wish for your pain.

But I hope karma catches you one day.

And I hope that bitch breaks your heart like you broke mine.

Slowly. Painfully. Splinter by splinter.

And leaves you to pick up the pieces on your own

With an unsupportive family as the only net you have

Because in all her treachery, she took all your friends too.

She got to them first. Like she always does.

Made sure her perspective was the first one they heard.

Made sure to spin it just right so that they believe her and not you

That she left you BECAUSE you went back to me

Rather than you coming back to me because I'm the only friend you have left who gets it.

I doubt she ever will actually leave you, either.

Polyamory makes it entirely too convenient to keep one supply locked down and a revolving door of others at the same time.

Why would she give up her emotional meal ticket??

The one thing in her life that she has almost complete control over??

The sex would have to be really really good lmfaooo

Maybe someone who will actually submit to her? Idk.

All I know is, I hope one day you learn.

And I hope you are sorry.

And I hope I get to hear it.

[silence-ensues]

Pt.1

I feel so shitty, I just want to be loved and appreciated. I want to feel equal, I want him to genuinely treat me with kindness. I shouldn’t have to have cramps or be sick or be in person to get affection or proper attention. He sees me as an after thought. I don’t care that he fucks up I just care that he fixes it, I don’t care that he doesn’t have time for me I just want him to be honest, I don’t care that he cares more about other shit I just want him to be honest with me. All I want is honesty and respect. Have the respect for me to put in effort, realize how badly you’ve fucked me up in the last year or two and genuinely sit there and say you’re sorry, I hate when someone else plays victim, I hate when someone apologizes to themselves, I hate when they need comfort when I’ve been the one crying. I have been so fucking understanding and patience and he keeps asking me for more, more time more understanding more patience and I just can’t. I’ve been worn down, I don’t have a sense of self anymore it’s been taken away again and again and again. Why do I have to keep my guard up? Why can’t I just feel secure? Why promise someone that this will be the one stable thing in their life just to make it the most turbulent? I’ve been through hell and I don’t fucking know what to do. I just want to be heard. I just want to be sat down and told “I’m so fucking sorry I did these things to you” with a proper explanation other than “I don’t know” why do I have to sit here and beg to be treated right? Why do I have to let myself fall so he can feel like he isn’t alone? Why can’t we both just be at different stages of our lives and have that be okay? People don’t know what they have until it’s gone but the problem is that I’d never leave him, so of course it won’t change, why would it? It’s easier to put it off than to confront it if there’s no consequences to doing so. maybe he doesn’t care, maybe I shouldn’t care, maybe all of this is toxic and unhealthy, maybe it isn’t worth it, but why don’t I know for sure? I want to feel a 100% confident when he asks me “is it worth it” or “is it going to get better” but I can’t decide if it gets better, I’m not the one causing the rift, I’m not the one with power, I’m trying so fucking hard to stay stable, to keep myself happy, to hold onto me. But people take selflessness and use it to their advantage. Everytime there has ever been an issue in the one to change, im the one to drop everything, and now he can acknowledge the fact that it wasn’t me who was causing this but he can’t sit there and give me a genuine apology without saying “I hate myself, im such a shitty person, it hurts me just as much as it’s hurting you, I wish I could be like you” that isn’t apologizing, that isn’t taking blame, why do I have to pick you the pieces that you’ve shattered? Im so close to just giving up and not caring anymore, im so close to telling him to just forget about everything and do whatever he wants, im so tired of making everything okay when i feel like im shattering little by little every time. If he doesn’t want to put the work in why do i try and make him? If there’s no work then the whole relationship won’t work and I’ve tried so hard to make it work but maybe I can’t. Maybe I’m not the right person for him, maybe he needs someone who doesn’t care if it sinks or swims, maybe he needs someone who doesn’t need him, maybe he needs someone who’s okay being an afterthought, but why can’t it be me? Why have I put 2 1/2 years into this for that person to not be me, would someone finally love me right if I was that person? Why can’t I just be me? Why isn’t anything unconditional?

[lavandermin]

stay a while | thoma

pairing | thoma/reader

word count | 2.7k

genre | soft, smut, light angst, pwp

warnings | 18+ nsfw, minors pls dni, pregnancy, slight inazuma archon quest spoilers

synopsis | in which the vision hunt decree goes on for much longer than anticipated, and thoma is stuck in hiding at the teahouse for even longer with their beloved

The door clicks shut as silence falls over the tea house. Warm sunlight filters through the blinds, the gentle scent of freshly brewed chamomile tea lingering like an afterthought.

It would be a serene little escapade that it used to be if not for the current tensions with the Vision Hunt Decree. You hardly have a second to greet Taroumaru before you’re engulfed in a tight hug.

“T-Thoma, please,” you squeak out against his chest as he twirls you both around unable to contain his relief.

“Ah, sorry, sorry. I can’t help myself,” Thoma apologizes, setting you down but never once letting you go. His pleading eyes are difficult to stay upset with. “I feel like I’m going insane here.”

You sigh, unable to contain the grin on your lips at the dramatics your lover puts you through.

“Are you that bored here? I thought Taroumaru was great company,” you tease with a quick peck to his lips.

The curious dog in question barks at the mention of his name. Thoma can only pout with a lighthearted frown on his face.

“I feel like I’m the one that’s the house dog here,” he complains into the crook of your neck. You rub soothing circles on his back, sympathizing with his situation. “I’ve practically forgotten what grass looks like. Does grass still exist? Is the sky red now? What’s it like beyond those do—”

You kiss him fully on the lips to silence his little meltdown. The content sigh he lets out confirms this was exactly the result he wanted.

“My love,” you begin softly as you run a thumb across his cheekbones, and you giggle inwardly at how he practically melts at the endearment of it. If he had a tail it would be wagging a mile a minute, and you mentally note the cute puppy-like mannerisms he has. “It’s only the third day you’ve been hiding here. Just hold out a little longer, the traveler is doing their best to help the situation.”

“Three days has felt like an eternity. Seconds feel like hours while I wait for you to come visit again. Can’t you…” His voice trails off and the longing look in his eyes gives away his intention. “…stay the night here with me?”

“Keep you company?” you ask with a raised brow. Those puppy-like emerald eyes can’t fool you.

The shine in his eyes glimmers with hope. “It’ll make it all the more bearable with you here.”

One second, two seconds of thought and you relent with a defeated smile. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Thoma muffles your little shriek with a kiss as he picks you back up and twirls you around once more, unable to contain his joy.

And once you had said ‘yes’, there was no going back. What was supposed to be an arrangement for one day became an essential part of your schedule. Evenings and weekends you were his to keep. The first couple of days were lighthearted and warm as he thoroughly cuddled you until his heart was content. Lazy evenings in the empty teahouse were almost pleasant. In his arms you felt safe, and similarly with you there Thoma felt like everything would be okay.

After Thoma’s escape there was little else he could do but hide to avoid certain doom at the hands of the Raiden Shogun. This you knew all too well. Being a wanted man on the run for escaping divine punishment from an archon was no easy feat. For now, Komore Teahouse would be his safest bet.

Thankfully Thoma had you, and you had reassurance that he was alive. For the time being, that and the temporary lodging at the teahouse was enough.

Truth be told, there was only so much you two could do at such a small place. In all honesty, you could only last a few rounds of the hotpot game before you were tapping out. Thoma was like a bored puppy eager to be let out, and he often whined about it. It became a daily task to keep yourselves entertained.

Card games, cooking together, lazy evening naps— you name it, and you two did it to make the seconds tick by faster. You had hopes of the tensions being resolved within a week… two at the most.

After four weeks, the waiting game looked like it was in for a longer run. And with Thoma being the one affected by the circumstances, you made sure to be by his side as much as possible. By now, you practically lived there alongside him. After the scare of almost losing him before the shogun, you were just grateful to be next to him.

With the Komore Teahouse having the rooms upstairs furnished as emergency lodging as per the discreet request of the Kamisato Clan, Thoma was able to feel a bit more at home away from home. It was as comfortable as you two could make it and enough for the time being.

One month… two months of hiding went by within no time. You both took advantage of the circumstances and spent plenty of quality time together to distract from the current reality.

Quite frankly, you were at it like rabbits in heat most days if not every night. It was quite lucky that the teahouse was empty the majority of the time. All it took was his lips pressing soft kisses up your neck, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hip, and you were putty in his hands. And maybe you were both making up for lost time since you both were usually too busy when circumstances were more stable.

Soft cuddling on a lazy afternoon? Suddenly the room was hot and heavy, his arms caging you underneath him as he left a sweet trail of marks up your neck.

Setting the table for a meal? Next thing you knew a stolen kiss ended up with you bent over the table, bodies sticky and sweaty as a different hunger drove you both.

Reading a book to pass the time as he cleaned his polearm? You would quickly find yourself sitting on his lap with his cock subtly twitching deep within your throbbing walls for hours on end.

It was on the third month of hiding that your lover noticed subtle shifts in your behavior.

Thoma’s fingers sought to interlace with yours as his hips met yours at their steady rhythm. You’ve become a mess of mewls and moans as he quickly works you into another orgasm. The small room is filled with the squelching sound of his hips pistoning into your throbbing cunt and the whimpers that fall from your lips.

“A-Ah, haah, Thoma harder, h-harder there please,” you desperately beg as your free hand claws at the sheets beneath you. Thoma hoists your leg onto his shoulder, using a new angle that has you seeing stars behind closed eyes.

“Hang on for me just a little longer. You’re doing so well,” he praises between breathless, wet kisses to your neck. All you can do is whimper in response as his quickening thrusts move you a little further up the sheets each time your hips meet.

Your nails leave flourishing red streaks on his back where old ones were healing and faded. It never fails to drive him into a frenzy for those last desperate thrusts. His name comes out with a stream of incoherent words and praises. You easily come undone with him after a few more sloppy thrusts, feeling him fill you up nice and full as he swallows your cries in an eager kiss.

And when he pulls away—a thin string of saliva connecting you briefly—he can’t help but be helplessly enamored by your slightly swollen pink lips, hair splayed around you like a halo, your glassy eyes with crystalline tears shimmering at their corners from the overwhelming climax. You’re glowing and positively radiant.

His heart leaps at the look in your dazed eyes, the way the light they catch practically looks like small hearts adorning your love-sick gaze.

It’s a cotton-soft love you hold for him, and your hand gently cups his cheek as you tiredly gaze up at him.

“I love you.”

Those simple words are enough to melt him. There’s a delightful flutter in his chest that feels no different than the first time he fell head-over-heels for you. They’re also, quite frankly, enough to have him hard again within minutes.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and lets his body rest next to you.

“Are you… up for round three?” Thoma asks with a cheeky smile.

The laugh you let out is tired but amused nonetheless. “I’m exhausted, my love. Can’t we just sleep?”

He whines into your neck. “It’s only noon.”

But he can see it in the way tears shimmer at the corners of your eyes when you yawn. You’ve been feeling tired a lot more recently, he noted. “The sun through the blinds just feels really nice and it’s making me sleepy.”

“Having a hard time sleeping at night?” Thoma asks, concern scrunching his brows.

You shake your head. “Not at all. I sleep just fine as long as I’m with you.”

You curl up into him and nuzzle your face into his neck, ignoring the way your skin feels sticky at every point of contact. Thoma was hardly ever anyone to deny you, so he indulged your afternoon nap. While you were fast asleep in his arms, he remained lost in his thoughts as he stared blankly at the ceiling above him.

Maybe you caught a bug and weren’t feeling well? It was a nagging little worry that settled itself in the back of his mind. There was a small bit of hopelessness to be had since he couldn’t go out himself to find proper doctors or a shrine maiden to help assess you, if needed.

While your face is peaceful with restful sleep, Thoma gently presses his hand to your forehead. Observant emerald eyes scan your features for any shifts, any hints at sickness or discomfort.

No abnormality there. A fever was off the list of possibilities. Perhaps it was a little bit of cabin fever or the change of seasons that had you feeling a little under the weather.

The next few days you would wake up with nausea, napping on afternoons and clinging to him more than usual. He would intently watch you as you sat gazing dazedly out the window, eyebrows scrunched as he wondered what he should do. There were still various connections at his disposal, should anything happen, and he quickly ran through them in his mind to weigh out his options.

Thoma quietly makes his way over to you, arms gently encircling you in an embrace as he sighs against your shoulder.

“Everything alright, my love?” you gently ask, placing your hands over his that rest upon your abdomen.

He laughs breathily as he lifts his face to place a kiss on your temple. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m just a little daydreamy. Thinking a little too hard is all,” you confess, though your voice is a little quieter with uncertainty. You turn to search his eyes with quickly reddening cheeks, your hand giving his own a gentle squeeze. “Did… you want to…”

Despite the frequent intimacy you two shared, he never failed to be endeared by your shyness when bringing it up.

“Only if you’re in the mood. You look a little tired,” Thoma notes with a concerned frown. With a quiet sigh, you lean back against his broad chest.

“I don’t know, my love. I think… I have a vague idea of what this might be.” Again, his chest pounds with anxiety at your words and he pulls your hand up to kiss it's knuckles as a way to ground himself. “I’m going out with Lady Kamisato tomorrow. We’ve planned to stop by and meet Lady Yae for a few upcoming book festival details. I’ll quickly ask her for some opinions on my health.”

The relief is instant even if only a little. “Please take care and return safely. You’ll be safe with her.”

“I haven’t even left yet, you big dummy.” You laugh against his lips as you turn around in his hold to properly sit in his lap.

“Then let me give you a proper send-off,” he mutters against your lips, hands roaming under the fabric of your shirt. His touch never fails to ignite a fire in your belly and you smile against his lips at how easily he wins you over.

—

The following morning comes quickly and Thoma is inconsolable in his worries as minutes tick by ever so slowly in your absence. Though he tries not to, he ends up pacing back and forth quite a bit due to his nerves.

The clock on the wall of your shared little room reads half-past noon. You’ve been gone for about four hours, though if you were to ask Thoma he would swear it’s been at least ten.

It’s a couple hours later that he hears the door of the teahouse open quietly once more. Not knowing was eating away his patience with worry. Thoma all but runs down from the upstairs room to find you clutching a small book tightly to your chest.

It makes him falter, freeze in his tracks as he wills himself to approach you again—already fearing the worst.

“You… were crying,” Thoma notes as he brushes a thumb over your red cheeks, your eyes faintly red and puffy from recent tears. There’s a worry that punches him in the gut just from the fact that you cried alone. But your face doesn’t reflect the same distress as his, and so he searches your eyes with confusion and worry.

Your lip trembles when you try to speak and you have to bite it softly to prevent the next onslaught of tears. “Thoma, I…”

Before he can ask further, you drag him to the usual back room you two use. In his hands you place the book you were holding, eyes glossy with fresh tears and hopeful determination.

With a confused blink he turns over the book to glance at the cover. ‘Healthy Guide to Parenting and Maternity.’

The realization dawns on him just as you gingerly take his free hand and place it over your stomach. Though still too early to show, there was life being nurtured within you now.

“A baby…” Thoma slowly mumbles, his eyes wide as his hand absentmindedly caresses your stomach. His voice raises as the excitement catches up to him, “You’re pregnant!”

All you can manage is eager nodding as you sniffle through your wave of emotional tears. “Two months.”

“What did Lady Yae say?” Thoma asks curiously as he drops to one knee, lifting your shirt enough to reveal the tender skin of your belly. “How did she know?”

Her words flash briefly in your mind—that knowing, sly smirk burned into your memory. ‘Well, well… Someone’s been quite busy these past few months. A child conceived of pure love… How delightful that such a thing can still be achieved in such pressing times.’

Your cheeks burn brightly at the words. “It’s just— within her abilities, I suppose.”

There’s a newfound brightness that glints in those emerald eyes, a new reason for Thoma to get through another day of mundane routine while waiting for a war to end. He practically swells with pride and overwhelming joy as he kisses the tender skin of your stomach.

“A family… We’re starting a family,” Thoma muses to himself, enthralled and completely endeared by the hidden life within you.

And truthfully it isn’t something that you both hadn’t given thought to. It had been long since you had both discussed having children in the future, so this sudden news wasn’t one that was unwanted. You just both didn’t expect that future to be so near—and in the middle of a war, no less.

But this baby was an anchor to reality, and a reason to bear with the circumstances a little longer. Though this Vision Hunt Decree seemed to be ongoing for a few more months while the traveler tried to overturn it, both you and Thoma had a little seed of hope.

In the passing days you would wait for freedom from an oppressive decree, and anxiously await the arrival of your first child. Finally, it felt like there was a light at the end of the darkest tunnel.

[hussyknee]

I'd forgotten the extent of the Bat fandom's Bruce Wayne apologia. I like reading fic about Bruce being a good father, but I have nothing but blistering disdain for people who insist he's anything like it in canon. I've never forgotten how one of them told me that "even though Bruce had his faults", he must be a good father for the kids to love and admire him so much, because "these aren't stupid kids".

One of the first things I learned as a child was to dread being loved and cared for, because of how much I had to pay for it. My father loved us more than anything, and because he was an avoidant, egotistical, controlling man, nearly all iterations of that love were traumatic, suffocating and toxic. I would know he loved us in my bones while starving for his affection and praise, and being sliced open by his disapproval and lack of acknowledgement. When my siblings and I were visibly wounded and angry because of him, people would tell us sorrowfully that he didn't mean it, he was just worried for us, of course he felt bad for hurting us even though it wasn't in his nature to say it. We must always remember how much he really cares, despite his terrible words and silences and casual disregard of our own feelings.

And so I grew into an adult accepting that I didn't matter. My feelings and needs are always supposed to be afterthoughts to someone else's, my hurts and injustices my own to manage. I would never be the kind of person who gets apologies and gratitude. Any care, consideration or compliment I do receive is a debt I must repay by giving up my boundaries. And no matter what, compensating for someone else's flaws is my responsibility. I am responsible for everyone else's failures, for my parents' failures, for my failure to make do with what little I'm given. Because that is the least I can do to repay the grace of being loved.

I see so much of that in the Batkids. Dick kills himself trying to look after everyone in the world. Jason willingly gives up his soul to do what is necessary to protect lives. Tim makes a living sacrifice of himself, not knowing how to live except for others. Cassandra is driven by the need to atone for mistakes she made before she knew right from wrong. Damian is terrified of failure, of not deserving the love and acceptance of his father, every mistake a strike against his worth as a son and heir.

It's so gaslighting when people say that this is not love, this could never be love. Love is only worth as much as it's expression, a light filtered through the prism of the person doing the loving. A good love chooses to look beyond its own fears and ego, talks to you in gentle and honest words, treats you with trust and respect, and prioritizes your confidence and happiness. A bad love focuses on its own fears and anxieties, and becomes jealous and paranoid. You become a possession to keep safe according to its own wishes, even at the expense of your self-respect and happiness.

When you measure love's worth on the strength of the emotion, rather than the impact of its actions and words, you just make victims of the voiceless and vulnerable. When you measure love in the weight of things unsaid and undone, you make it cheap enough to barter with nothing.

[kentos-filmcamera]

new flesh: august (jean kirstein x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | BONUS

warnings: same as past chapters + brief make out session, mentions of alcohol, anxiety, bittersweet angst, nostalgia, jean being boyfriend material.

wc: 3.8k

ao3

fic playlist

A/N: this chapter was soo bittersweet to write but we still have the bonus part! thank you sm for all your sweet messages, i usually don't reply since this is a side blog but thank you for all the support!

Of all the things you imagined you were going to be doing at the end of the bonfire, making out with Jean Kirstein in the back of your Jeep was not one of them. It seemed like a moment out of the depths of your imagination, the way his hands roamed your body and how yours tugged on his hair in a teenage horny rage.

You pulled away “Wait, Jean, wait” You huffed as his lips lowered down to kiss your neck. “Ah fuck, that feels good…” You melted into his ministrations, letting small noises leave your lips. It wasn’t until you felt a poke on your thigh that made you realize the extent of the situation. “Jean!”

He ripped himself away from your body, shirtless and agitated “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk” You sat up, fixing your swimsuit. Jean tilted his head to the side, letting you know he was up for it, but wondering what you meant. “I— I don’t want this… well— me! to be an afterthought because you received the save the date today! I don’t want you to stop talking to me tomorrow before you tell me this was a mistake since you weren’t thinking straight and you regret everything!”

Jean stared at you, his breathing slowing down as he processed your words. Then, he sat next to you, head on your shoulder. “You’re the only thing here right now that wouldn’t be an afterthought.”

The rest of July went by in a blur, full of customers you and Jean had to charm into giving extra big tips, whereas he let you take on most of them, highlighting the importance of how you needed to go to your dream college, that Paradis Uni was more than enough for him and his dream was to see you happy, even if it was miles away.

Before Reiner left, you gave him a call and agreed to have breakfast together the morning before his afternoon flight. You showed up completely embarrassed and apologized for the incident and led him on. After hearing your story, he laughed. In fact, he laughed for minutes.

“God, you and Annie are idiots” He shook his head and patted you on the head. He explained that Annie couldn’t see the obvious tension between you and Jean, never mind you. You ate in bliss, feeling calmer, and Reiner only said that he hopes to see you in Marley for college, as his home country “could use a star like you”.

Now, you and Jean were seen together most of the time, instead of only heading home together on Friday, Jean went to your house on Thursday and Friday, while you went to his on Wednesdays and Saturdays. He even surprised you one day with a helmet of your own to ride his motorcycle with him. It was light blue, matching the color of your Jeep. August practically evaporated in a breeze, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t full of meaningful moments.

“Hey” Jean stirred you awake. The month was just barely beginning, he had slept over once more, with the close watch of your mother. “C’mon, let’s get moving”

“What?” You jolted up, scared. Your expression dropped when you realized it was just him. “Wha— what time is it? The sun isn’t even out yet!” You didn’t even get time to process the situation before he lifted you up from the bed, throwing you over his shoulder.

You didn’t even kick and scream, just sighing and letting yourself be carried in such an inhumane way. You’ve had a rough week, starting to sort out application processes and get all your documents and write a hundred essays, just to get ready. You had already started talking to your college counselor, and truth is told, she was only stressing you out more. Jean understood this perfectly, and sat you down on the couch and slipped in a pair of sneakers before carrying you bridal style to your car.

“Can you at least tell me where we are going?” You hummed, snuggling into the passenger seat. You checked your phone, it was around one in the morning. It was too late for you to be up.

“Nope,” Jean shrugged and started the car, turning off the emergency and moving forward, taking the main road to the beach.

He pulled over to your place of work, making you perk up. You rubbed your eyes and realized he was nicely dressed and freshly showered, while you were wrapped in Hello Kitty pajamas and a light cardigan. “After you…” He led you to hop out of the car with his hand, before lacing your fingers with his.

When you walked into the place, your heart started stomping against your ribcage. There was a soft vintage waltz playing from the jukebox you swore was only there to decorate the place. The dance floor was cleaned, only with one single table for two in the middle. “Is this your celebration for finally seeing the Hello Kitty pajamas?”

“I know you skipped dinner,” He said with severity “You’re too stressed lately. Let me pamper you, please”

You sank back on your shoulders, taken aback by his proposition. You hadn’t really seen how this whole early commitment and audition process was eating you up. Speechless, you only nodded and let yourself be guided towards the table. He served your favorite drinks, always had water available for you to drink, fetched out the heavenly vodka sauce pasta you absolutely adored coming from any chef, accompanying it with mouth-watering garlic bread. Jean couldn’t even help staring as you gushed over your food and sighed in delight as you ate.

“Hey” He called as you took a bite out of the fudgy brookie with ice cream.

“Yea?” You replied, mouth full. You blinked a couple of times, noticing the sweat rolling down his neck.

“So you know how you said you’ll get rid of me after I’ve seen you in those pajamas?” Jean sighed nervously, scratching his neck. You looked up at him and took another bite of the desert, nodding. “I don’t want you to get rid of me. I want to stay with you… for a while. Would you like to be my partner?”

The question caught you off guard mid-bite, making you choke. Jean panicked and went to pat your back with a bit of force to make you stop coughing. “Take that as a yes, please” You rasped, taking a big gulp of your glass.

Just after a few days officially with Jean, you realized why he didn’t spend his days truly single; he was extremely dateable. He was extremely attentive, kind, knew how to read your expressions, a bit overprotective, like when he would smother your face with sunscreen before you ran into the ocean with your surfboard in hand, or when he held your hand tightly when other men were staring at you, but you still appreciated all his chivalry and attempts to make you feel comfortable. He loved to spoil you, even if it was just your favorite ice cream sandwich or a ride in his motorcycle during a breezy day, taking you up to overlook the town and the infinite sea ahead of you. The best part of it all was that he completely understood you; he could tell when you were anxious, cranky or hungry, joined you in your happiness and lifted you at your lowest.

Unknown to your perspective, Jean was so in love with you, he would jump straight into the sea with a brick tied to his ankle if you ordered him to. He went the extra mile just for you; tucking you into bed, organizing your personal files for college applications, sitting there while you rambled for hours about different college campuses and their pros and cons, evaluating scholarship offers, helping you with town chores, learning to cook for you. His mom was astonished when he so nervously asked her to teach him a french recipe that would wow you so easily, as he wanted to enjoy that glimmer in your eyes and that content hum you had when you were filled with joy. But the truth was, behind all of that, he was only trying to relish the little time he has left with you. It was set out in stone, you were leaving that ratty but wholesome town for a place as big as your intelligence, talent, and dedication. There was no way you’ll stay in Paradis, and that feeling of sadness loomed over him like a gray cloud he was trying to ignore so he wouldn’t crumble down crying at any second now. Regardless if you were leaving or not, he just wanted to be by your side.

And he was. Jean was there when you mailed your applications and sighed in relief. He was there while you were named Employee of the summer two weeks before the place closed, his picture was even put next to yours in the “Senior wall of Fame” that had yearbook-like pictures of all the workers per summer. He had his senior parking spot right next to yours, trying to be painted so delicately but coated with big, uneven paint splotches. But you were also there; during his cooking failures, his tennis games, football season training, kilometer-long jogs you couldn’t really stand but you went there with him because you just wanted to be with him, unconditionally.

Jean walked hand in hand with you on your last first day and held you when you shed a few tears when the faculty gave the graduating class a surprise in the assembly that day. He looked around to see all his peers, but his heart was only beating for you, and he didn’t know what he was going to do when his lifeline went overseas.

“I’m scared to look…” You felt like retching and curling into a ball and dedicating your whole life to it. It was fall already, and early acceptances were pouring in. People had their eyes on you, waiting for results. However, you decided to wait until you got home. Now you were at your breakfast table, the camera pointed at you behind your computer, Jean on your left side, and your mom by your right.

“I’ll do it for you” Jean nodded as he noticed your mom was as nervous as you were. And in big bold letters was the name of your dream college, the intimidating email sat pretty on your inbox but it made you want to vomit and cry… that was until Jean clicked on it and virtual confetti flew into the screen.

“On behalf of the admissions committee, we’re more than pleased to let you know we’re offering you early commitment and thus, an eighty percent scholarship!” Your mom rushed to read, as the two cheered. But you sat there, still. Jean shook you and kissed your forehead, forcing you up from your seat as you started sobbing.

You had finally done it, but as you inhaled Jean’s scent you realized moments like this, where you felt and smelled him, were now limited. Every other thought that was crossing your mind seemed to overwhelm you. Your mom rushed to pop the champagne and give you both a taste, offering a toast to you; her golden child. Jean left after pizza and garlic knots were due, and even after hours and a melatonin gummy, you couldn’t sleep.

This was something you had dreamt about since you were little and understood the concept of college, and now that it was at your fingertips, the feeling was terrifying and nauseating. Who knew summer would change so much? Before this past summer, you were almost packed up and gone, not really wanting to familiarize yourself with the town anymore, but after meeting its people and giving a close eye to the sights and the daily life, everything felt so nostalgic. The first snow of the year you received with open arms, Jean, however, not so much, since you and your mom woke him at almost 3 AM to see the frozen drops cover the town.

Christmas was full of warm hugs and champagne, some problems, but a lot of champagne. Your mom helped you run the numbers and yes, you were able to afford to go to college. You sighed of relief at the news, but you knew you were going to find a job and be a broke student by all means, but it was worth it.

Seeing the town covered in white made you forget how you were freezing your ass off and how ridiculous your beanie looked on your head. The bodega with the fat orange cat, the diner that suddenly felt dull without Niccolo there, the seasonal restaurant that you were thrilled to eat at as soon as they changed cuisines, the park, the beach. Oh, the beach. When the water temperatures rose again in April, you were the first one there, diving in, strapped to your surfboard with a shiny smile. Jean was sitting by the shore, talking to your friends, but taking peaks and you, hearing you laugh and shout. And his heart squeezed in his chest a bit.

He sat there, realizing how it would just be a month before you graduated. That meant time was running short. Feeling his nose itch, he couldn’t let the tears out as you shook your head like a wet dog, running towards him with your surfboard tucked under your arm. It wasn’t like you weren’t returning, but his mind couldn’t cope with the feeling of not seeing you every day. But seeing you smile all throughout the process made him feel safer; he knew you were going to be okay, and most importantly, happy.

Leaning onto him, Jean was your biggest support in the last few months of senior year. He went everywhere you go, where he was allowed to. The night of the announcement of your valedictorian position, he seemed even more excited than you were, squeezing you tight and kissing your cheeks with joy.

“Man, I can’t believe I’m dating the valedictorian!” Jean commented before taking a long slurp to take his noodles in. “You’re going to look so amazing with your robe and your valedictorian ribbon! Do you think I’ll be able to walk you to the stage?”

You smiled warmly and just nodded, reaching in to take a dumpling from his plate. Then the realization hit you “Wait, what are we wearing for prom?!”

And there he was, going with you to every single formal dress shop, trying on matching ensembles for you and him, finally settling with the color royal blue, that settled on both of you well. You couldn’t stop staring at the outfit hanging from the hook in your doorframe. Your eyes usually guided themselves to the calendar on the cork by your desk, eyes watering as slowly more X’s started appearing, crossing over more and more days. Until one day, you were fitting on the formal clothes, slowly hard as you heard your mom chattering with your boyfriend outside.

Prom was a blast, some people even got hammered under the bleachers inside the gym, but you refrained from doing so; graduation day was the next morning. The night started out well and Jean was enjoying it more than you were, taking a couple of sips of the spiked punch that even the faculty seemed to be swallowing down, more than the students. As the night progressed, you tried to catch up to speed, but only took a gulp before your hands started to tingle, guiding you to your phone to open the Google Docs with your valedictorian speech. You sniffled and your eyes scouted for Jean, but he was nowhere to be found. You just stood up and left the gymnasium, making a run across the empty hall.

Jean finished the little number he was pulling with a group on the dance floor, and turned to the indoor gym bleachers to meet your gaze, only to not find you there. Or any of your belongings. All influence from the alcohol vanished as his mind started to work. As you stepped off the dance floor and sat down to drink some water, he should have noticed the signals from there; how your eyes wandered everywhere, the constant movement of your leg when you were sitting down, and the neutral but concerning the expression of your face. You were so anxious and he couldn’t tell.

He ran out of there, calling your name and checking every single room. And as he bolted out to the parking lot, he passed through the football field he knew so well and saw you laying down in the middle of it. He sprinted towards you, and he noticed the tears glistening on your face, but your expression was serene.

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” You sighed, your soul knowing it was him. He laid down next to you, and there, he could see it. It was bright and shining in all its stolen glory.

“Why would I look at her when I got the real stunner right next to me?” He said, flipping to his side “What’s wrong, honey?”

“I’m scared” You just sighed “But I know everything is going to be alright, you’re by my side, after all” Your hand moved towards caressing his cheek. In a flushed stupor, he went ahead and leaned into your touch. He felt so touched and loved, he started crying also.

“I’m going to miss you” He admitted for the first time, throwing himself in your arms. You nodded, joining in with even more tears to your eyes.

“Hey, loverboy?” You called out to him. “Just… remember that no matter what, just like we are looking at the moon together right now, we will be looking at the same moon when we’re apart. Okay?”

Your mom was more than shocked when you got home at three AM, didn’t say a word, took a piece of cake out of the refrigerator, and went into your room. You were murdered by Jean and his sudden need of dancing, and the after-party Eren hosted at his place, his fight with his stepbrother for trying to rat him out to their parents who were out in a medical convention was one of the funniest things you had seen. You never imagined you were going to see Mikasa smack a star-studded baseball player that was close to being drafted. You had to be physically dragged out of bed and pushed into the shower the next morning, but you made it in time. Everyone seemed thrilled, but the nerves were making you gag.

“You’ll do amazing, buttercup” Jean kissed your forehead, giving you a tight squeeze that flushed most of your anxiety away. Your mom gave you a thumbs up before you sat in the front, and he sat in the back due to his last name. You sighed as the ceremony started, and before you realized it, you were being called up to the stage.

“Hi” You sighed into the mike, receiving a few greetings back “My fellow graduates, we’ve made it! How does it feel to be in the good ol’ gown and cap?” By the question, you received cheers that only gained you more confidence “I am thankful to be here, standing in front of you. For my achievements, as in the end, they’re only mine to blame, only mine to celebrate, and only mine to lose. But going back to it, that’s an incredibly selfish statement to only let out there, so I would like to thank my mom. For raising against the adversities the world has given her and giving me the tools to stand here in front of you all together. I won’t give much of my personal life here, but to my best friend, thank you for the past summer and these many months by your side.”

As on queue, the graduating class turned to stare at Jean, who sunk in his seat, blushed. He groaned and laughed a bit. Was this why you didn’t want to show him your speech? You had got him good.

You smiled brightly and continued “To all my classmates, from this class, younger classes and graduated, thank you. For bringing laughter or something to talk about for the rest of the week. Without you, believe it or not, I wouldn’t be here. To the faculty—“

After graduation, you went to lunch with your mom and Jean’s family. You were extremely nervous, as they showered you with questions and praises for your looks and your speech, and your grades and everything. Even though this was out of your routine, they were all very sweet, and your mom was the best comedy relief.

With your last few months of summer, you realized the value of time. In no time, your room was organized as you took a few things, you were arguing with the man at the post office about your boxes not having enough “fragile” stickers on them, you traveled to your uni with Jean and your mom to set up your dorm and make any last arrangements. And then, the day came. You were so busy and stressed, reality hadn’t really dawned upon you until Jean was filling out his boarding information the night before.

“I’ll promise you I’ll be back” You sniffed into his chest. “For Winter, Spring and summer break”

“Hey, hey” He raised your chin with his fingers to meet his comprehensive eyes “No tears, m’kay? This isn’t goodbye” He looked away and sighed, trying to contain his own “Look, promise me one thing”

You nodded, seriousness dawning over your face “That you’ll come with me to Eren and Mikasa’s wedding next year. We could be enemies to death but we’ll fix it. I need you there with me, okay?”

“I promise you, Jean” And his name rolled off so sweetly off your tongue, he just wanted to drop all his luggage and stay there with you. And the way you looked at him just indicated that whatever happens, you’ll be there. And those eyes only stared at him in that way you did. “I’ll always find my way back to you.”

Jean Kirstein realized that you, without any issue, tore off that old skin of his, that dull shell that wasn’t him. But the loud, annoying kid wasn’t him either. Not anymore. You helped him embrace both sides of himself. For you to be yourself, so exemplary, youthful, fun, and mature, you needed no help. But the contrast in personalities made you be yourself in a mindless way. You gave him tranquility, and he gave you confidence. As you parted ways, each of you were born in the best version of yourselves; a new flesh.

Jean just gave you a tearful smile before cupping your face in his hands and kissing your forehead. And as the fall breeze blew, you watched as he took his suitcase and walked away, looking back once to give you a smirk and a wink.

taglist: @tacobellfreshavocado @usernamehere91

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

The Odd Rumble of Thunder - Thor x Reader

(A/N)

Hey guys! I wanted to personally thank you all for the kind comments and messages, they really inspire me to continue writing more and the support truly means a lot! Also, I just found out how to access post replies, I apologize I haven’t gotten to reading them since my first story, I’m still trying to figure out the gist of things here on Tumblr! Anyways, recently I’d only been posting more on Poseidon, so here’s a special one for our Norse god of thunder (aka the god I simp for the most). This idea came to me while out on a camping trip, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback would really be welcomed and appreciated!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Odd Rumble of Thunder

Thor x Reader

Even before the news spread like wildfire, Thor had become under the tyranny of a good habit to bringing his wife with him wherever he may go. It stood to reason that he would never be so careless to invite you over to danger, hence why, at a god’s ephemeral notice, he had stopped seeking direction for his combative side, but when, at last, he had to venture, he made much quicker work of it than when he would have otherwise.

Inarguably, if you’d wanted to lay down and rest instead, it was a surety you’d receive your meals in bed, unbothered. But for Thor there was no guarantee he’d ever have to worry about you, so the whole of Asgard knew by now he’d drop whatever he was doing to accompany you, uncaring about diplomacy in the first place.

Not that Odin nor Loki minded either; especially since the Allfather knew more about the concerns of a father expecting their first child. Moreover, Loki enjoyed shapeshifting into his cousin during days he was absent. It was much more fun to cause mischief legally, as he would say.

Today, Thor stood by his wife who sat comfortably in her rocking chair on the porch, allowing a full view of the hills that sloped gently down to the grand gardens. You were seven months along, approaching the eight month, the swell of your stomach now far more prominent.

At the very moment you had begun to show, you had a companion of whom would almost never leave your side, your husband’s absence in the kingdom gradually becoming more frequent, more lengthened, till at last his presence among his people became an exception. Despite your constant reassurances that you would be fine, Thor insisted on staying, casually sweeping aside your thoughts regarding his habitual sense of duty.

“I would only be gone for nine months to tend to my wife and child, they should fare well on their own lest they are more incompetent than I would’ve thought.” Thor had told you once before, and you’d decided not to question him further on that. You understood your husband’s concerns, to be truthful, you had a few of your own as well, so having Thor assist you alleviated some of the stress and worry concerning your child’s safety.

Especially now that you were nearing your due date. For instance, you were having the toughest time moving, suffering primarily from the weight in your belly and pains in your back and legs that made walking and even standing difficult. What made the physical strain worse too was your child’s eagerness to know you and Thor both, unable to stay long in one position, much like their father’s enthusiasm for battle.

“How are you feeling?” Thor’s question rested upon a rather precise calculation of the last time he had asked the same only a short moment before. It was quite visible in his actions that he did not want to cause any negative feelings if he could help it, though desiring you to avoid stress as much as possible.

You smiled. “Come close. You’ve been standing there for ages just ogling at me.” You opened your arms out wide. “Are you not tired?”

Truth be told, despite Thor’s constant need to remain close to his wife, he felt a real, undeniable fear of touching you, specifically, your abdomen. He closed the distance between until he was right in front of you, staring down at you with hard eyes. Longing leaped like a flame reaching out in his celestial yellow orbs.

“Love, I am always grateful for your concern for me. And I am feeling much better just knowing you’re beside me.” You raised yourself up, pushing against the chair to try to stand. Thor rushed forward, held you then put his hands under your arms to lift you up. Your child was growing fast. “But how about you? How are you feeling?”

You inched closer, your fingers playing with the locks of his hair that you could reach. “Aside from the stress of waiting, I’ve noticed that you have something else weighing on your mind.

“Tell me, what is it?”

At the sight of you through his warworn eyes, his mind was filled with bliss. For that loving glance of yours, he felt a divine presence and holy atmosphere that seemed to pervade everything around you. Having an inkling of what you were hinting at though, he broke your gaze, in an attempt to avert the guilt you conferred on him.

“Please. We’re in this together, I would want nothing more than to help you back as much as you’ve helped me.” Thor felt you shift in his arms, get more comfortable. He felt the bulk of your child across his legs, the weight no doubt pulling you down. Seeing you in pain like that, was sad and unbearable, and the gnawing feeling grew stronger. And since he knew you were always so full of strength and determination, always unrelenting in your attempts to make him feel better, he began,

“I am afraid.” Red eyebrows drew together.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I might accidentally hurt you and our child,” Thor took a deep breath in then let it out in a sigh while taking a step back. “I do not want that to happen, even if I want to be at your side at all times. And this frustrates me to no end.”

Thor did himself a favor by giving attention to anything other than his wife, refusing to be a witness on the sadness and any he may have caused. Dealing with his own disappointment was nothing new, but he had trouble dealing with the fact that he was the cause of yourpain. He wished he could take his troubles which escaped, hanging in the air, and all the bad feelings on himself and let things continue as they were, but he knew it didn’t work that way. You needed to know that he only wanted you and your child safe and protected, even from himself.

He could not understand how the cosmos could play such a cruel joke on the both of you: you, bore so much pain because of one of the greatest affairs of life, and him, the strongest deity in the Pantheon, was powerless against the natural laws of existence.

Strong shoulders slumped, head bowing as stray strands of red hair fell over Thor’s brow. Not again. He did not wish to be reminded of the cautious sympathy his father and cousin had approached him with. His stomach lurched whenever the subject of your frailty came up. Dread and a terrifying fear overwhelmed his soul for the first time, the thought of losing you−

“Hey,” Your voice which lingered on the gentle breeze brushed against Thor’s face, pulling him out of his stupor. He refocused, turning his gaze onto your sweet face.

How were you able to hold yourself up well despite your obvious pain and suffering? Did you not bear the same nervousness as he did? The answer was obvious, practically screaming in Thor’s ears but became deaf following his guilt and clouded instincts. For a long time since you’d first told him about the news, he bore these worries in silence; but when at length he’d been perplexed by your introspection−or seeming lack of it. Why, in fact, did you concern yourself with him at all? Compared to you, there was hardly any threat to his own life posed. Why had you always done more to make him feel better when you were the one who needed it most?

Cutting through the haze he found himself in was the shape of you, or maybe your hair billowing in the wind, a wisp of it across your face, and then suddenly the feel of your skin, the sense of your head on his chest. Even if it were fleeting, that alone brought him the possibilities of comfort that he’d so needed. Oh, how he missed this; you cupped his big callously marble hands around yours, caressing them so tenderly, as if he were fragile and might break, so short it could never be pulled back.

As he relished the warmth of the blaze you gave him for the winter of unease, he’d realized much sooner that the coldness that inched its icy fingers up his spine still threatened to battle your kind words, you, his very own wife, and he detested himself for being unsure whether or not it was of his own doing; was he pushing you away when you’d only wanted to offer your help?

Thor’s immediate impulse was to pull back from you, abruptly halted by your fingers which slipped between his now splayed hand. You wrinkled your nose in a delightfully unguarded manner that caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Do you remember the first time we said our vows?” If only you knew the way Thor perceived you: in his eyes, your radiant smile reflected the morning sunlight of Valhalla, for a split second picturing the moment you’d walked down the aisle, that headpiece on your head instantiating the paradox of mystery that once lifted revealed your beautiful face, marking it the best day of his long life. Something warm bloomed in his chest once again and spread its heat out through every vein in his body. He remembered the smooth feel of the veil against his cheek after sealing your promise with a kiss, his lips parting with a breathless sigh.

“Your hands caressed my fit of nerves with light, tender touches and then inspired me with hard, passionate embraces,” With effortless ease, you lifted your intertwined hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckle. Thor watched with great admiration your every move, the desire to distance himself was now but an afterthought. Nothing would ever separate him from you when all you’d ever done was pull him closer than ever.

Then, you sought out his hand, kissing his palm as he stroked your face. You clung onto his arms, gripped at his chest as if you were searching for warmth, as if you needed his touch, and much like him, couldn’t bear to be even an inch away. His mind was still slowing its racing to let him mutter something in response, so he allowed himself to be entranced by how smooth and sure of yourself you were, with nothing to mar the calm serenity of your features. Your smile seemed to be a natural adornment, the utter gentleness in your eyes, reminded him of every morning when he woke up, he would see you by his side, as well as your sleeping snoring face. Right at that moment, the silly scream finally made it to the deaf god’s ears:

He was your haven,

The place you called home and went to find peace.

As Thor immersed himself in your smell, your sparkling eyes, he felt the excruciating cold all melt away in your warmth. No more seeds of doubt with which to sow and seek his destiny. Slowly, he began to see his surroundings from a keener point of view, realizing, then appraising them: from the passing wind your hair messed which he pushed aside, tucking it behind your ear, to how his sash seemed to fit him better indeed, rather than cling onto his skin even tighter as brutally as it had done before. He noticed the minute changes since he’d last taken a good look at you months ago: a little flusher on your skin, lines around the eyes a little deeper, a little increase in body temperature.

He pulled you closer, his actions not arising from calculation instead led by instinct. You let him take more of your weight, your belly pressed against his stomach as you sighed, his fingers working wonders on massaging the muscles that had been much abused in carrying the baby’s weight. A sudden wrenching through his sash struck Thor’s heart and had him holding his breath.

The baby had moved, and he’d felt it.

Bending down, he buried his nose in your hair, closing his eyes as he drank in your scent. Your arms wrapped around his back as he connected in this loving embrace, feeling his heart beat in rhythm with your own.

“Our child would no doubt love to be enveloped in their father’s safe arms,” With a light, gentle touch, your fingers ran through Thor’s hair, making him shiver with delight.

On that day, only the beautiful gardens of Asgard became privy to nothing more than a moment in which husband and wife reached for the same comfort and their concerns met. These gardens were simultaneously the very same place where Thor had first avoided the problems that plagued his mind, but also became exactly the same place where he’d find solace in the arms of his lovely wife.

Resting his hand on where his child was, he recognized that familiar feeling turning up, but upon realizing the bittersweet irony of and within these gardens, the revelation came to him: happiness could also come from the very object of fear.

And as you had an unmovable trust in him, there was an unspoken mutual understanding that he too, should put his trust in you.

[ravenadottir]

I feel like a lot of people forget about her, but can we talk about how Fusebox made Sammi in s1 the pure and innocent Asian girl? Like, don't open your mouth about diversity if all you'll do with it is shove POC characters into damaging stereotypes society has painted of them.

Every black woman was literally made to be some kind of villain in the show, and Idk why, and she might be a white woman, but something about her character just gives me the vibe that they wrote Marisol with the intention of making her the 'SpIcY lAtInA'.

Like I have no faith in that shithole company anymore so it's just better for me to jump to the worst conclusions then believe for a minute than they've gained some kind of common sense😒

ok but you're abso-fucking-lutely right and you should say it!

about sammi. have you ever watched shang-chi?

spoiler alert, he has a sister, xialing. the actress, meng'er zhang, implored to the producers to not have the colorful hair streak on her, because that's a very common way to make it seem like the asian girl is rebellious. they had already picked the color and she begged them to not move in that direction. there are plenty of examples that range from movies to tv shows, cartoons and even soap-operas.

the moment i saw sammi's hair i was like "oh... yeah... that's not good!". and she was definitely an afterthought.

we had examples of erikah and hope as the villains and now i have a foot on the door for thabi.

what stuck with me with all those stereotypes they never expanded to true personalities is the fact that they're not only hurtful but also REALLY FUCKING OLD.

it was 2018 and they were still forcing us to give erikah shit instead of cherry! like- CHERRY IS THE ONE WHO WAS INVOLVED IN THE KISS. and levi/mason made the decision to cheat. whatever erikah said doesn't really matter!

blaming the cheating on erikah is THE STUPIDEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD!

don't get me started on how they purposefully filled hope's lines with possessive sentences and poor attitude. it was quite clear they had the intentions of making her look bad regardless. she's super intense about noah on day 1, and it was out-of-character! LOTTIE WAS BLATANTLY THE JEALOUS ONE, COME ON FUSEBOX!

nicky, camilo and genevieve, i've said this before and i'll say again, i'll never give them props for the treatment they had because everyone was a fucking saint and filled with cotton-candy and rainbows. you don't deserve a redemption if all characters were copied and pasted.

as for marisol, i apologize in advance because i get really mad about this.

i'm not only latinx but also hispanic on my father's side, he's spanish. the fact that they didn't make that differentiation told me everything i needed to know!

marisol is not latina nor is she spanish, she's HISPANIC! they never said "marisol was born in spain and then came to england. her hometown is portsmouth and they never gave us anything else, so the only right assumption is... SHE'S NOT SPANISH NOR LATINA, FFS"!! 📣

latinx - born in latin america.

spanish - born in spain

hispanic - hispanic heritage

PLEASE, I'M SO TIRED OF THESE MISTAKES THAT MAKE US REALIZE THEY DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THEIR WORK, OR LACK OF. I'M - SO - FUCKING - TIRED.

i'm tired of the racist stereotypes, i'm tired of seeing people shitting on the black characters, i'm tired of their ignorance and lack of common sense. i'm sick of it.

[attollogame]

um. um. if you’re still taking kiss prompts…could we mayhaps have some archivist x hierophant? 🥺 i don’t quite know which would be the most ✨them✨, but here are some ideas that make me sad:

1. small kisses littered across the other’s face

8. laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand

38. whispering ‘i love you’ before a chaste, delicate kiss

39. kissing tears from the other’s face (😔)

if a different prompt in particular inspires for them, tho, pls feel free to use that instead 😚

THANK YOU CAN’T WAIT TO REGRET THIS XOXO💔❣️

Put on Lark Ascending on repeat for this 😔

Age has worn away his memory like a portrait exposed to the sun; colours that were once so vibrant have become unsaturated, fragrances that were once so profound now are lingering afterthoughts, and sensations of touch are mere ghosts brushing across his skin. He can vaguely remember the taste of the sweetest of fruits on his tongue and the sounds of a hundred languages being spoken in his ears. He can imagine suns kiss and winters bite—things he once knew so well—and how beautiful the birds looked flying over the open sea.

So many moments, so many memories, lost to the passage of time.

But them. Ah, them. They are as clear as untouched waters, despite it all. Their touch on his skin is the most solid, their voice in his ear the loudest, their fragrance the strongest, and their smile. That smile is one he can never forget.

There was a time once—before the end—when it was just them and the world. Two voyagers—two fools, to be exact—following the stars and their own hearts to whatever location called to them next. For so many years he guarded his feelings close to his heart, too afraid of what he could lose to entertain what it is he could gain.

It was on a boat during a still-watered ocean night that they told him why they never left his side, and a thousand stars served as an audience to sound of a whispered 'I love you' before a kiss was robbed from his lips. He wasn't ashamed to admit he had wept; that he had dug his fingers into his hair and kissed them again. It was sloppy, it was unpracticed, it was definitely not as he planned, but it was so wonderfully them that he didn't care.

Many others followed afterwards. It was as though a barrier was broken, as though a new level of freedom was already added. They were lovers laughing at the world and throwing themselves at the sun. They snubbed reality, but it was this careless pride in themselves that allowed them to inevitably cross the wrong person. Black eyes glared and black liquid was spat in fury as a curse far worse than death was laid upon them both.

Their punishment was no end to their days. Years passed, friends died, homes were found and homes were left, and yet they never strayed from each others sides.

Even on that terrible, terrible night, when a factory leaked black and blue barriers cut through the dark; when he held his lovers face in his hands and kissed away every tear, every babbled apology for what they had done, he did not leave their side.

He sits alone now, a fading painting of a man, writing in a book to a readership of none. Looking out the window, he can see Carcosa in the distance; he can picture them there, alone in that white room, an elegy of a lover he once had.

His hand twitches, and he averts his gaze.

Two lovers, two fools, and the never ending sun.