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{lovesick - kuroo t.}
“I pictured you with other girls in love… then threw up on the street.”
gn!reader
warnings: fluff!!! minor angst but don’t worry it’s resolved very quick!!! also, despite the lyric I’m using, there’s no throwing up in this fic, just mentions of it/feeling nauseous. I think I debated scrapping this this like 3 times. tried a new writing style (intentional tense changes) lmk what you think!!
...I might actually write for this specific lyric for other characters too, I have a lot of pent up feelings about it clearly...
there comes a point in your relationship with kuroo tetsurou that makes you question everything.
that point, unfortunately, came in your last year of high school when he stared at you a little too intently while you were laughing at one of his stupid jokes. one he’s told many times over the years, but still always managed to get you.
he grinned at you as you calmed down and you hated the way your heart thumped at the lingering amusement and fondness in his eyes.
you hated the way you were both silent after, eyes locked and no words spoken.
you hated the way his expression turned soft as if he had just had come to a satisfying realization. you knew what that meant because you were sure yours was identical.
in that moment, you hated that you had both finally accepted that maybe, just maybe, there was more to your friendship.
because it meant you had even more to lose.
cut to your second year of university. your relationship hadn't really progressed any further than the in between of friends and more.
but that in itself was a step forward because it meant your interactions were had with the unspoken agreement that you would end up together.
you didn't go to the same school anymore- you stayed in tokyo for university and he moved away for his program.
you still saw each other often enough, though, when he would visit home either during free weekends or for holidays.
kenma also stayed in tokyo, at a different university, but he was closer than his best friend that’s for sure. most friday nights were spent with him, either on call with kuroo or physically with him when he visited as kenma played video games.
everything was the same but everything was different.
kenma commented on how gross kuroo’s obvious displays of affection for you were, something he never had to do over the years.
and you'd just ignore him, obviously, but get a little giddy inside that kuroo was being so open with his fond stares and hands that were always touching you somehow.
with that confirmation that maybe you wouldn't lose him, you grew to love how his expressions turned soft for you.
you loved how your heart would beat just a bit faster (often in time with his, as you found out when he would grab your hand and place it over his chest so you could feel his) when you saw each other after a while.
you loved that you were falling in love with him, and accepted the fact that maybe you always were.
along with your excitement that one day kuroo would be yours, there was an underlying fear that you were taking too long with this game you were playing. dancing around each other, teasing, flirting- only with each other, it never extended to other people. but still...
what if he gets bored and finds someone else? what if while he’s away for school, you drift apart? the higher you go with your education, the busier you’re bound to be… what if he stops coming to visit and the dynamic you have now falls apart?
all these thoughts bubble over and make themselves known on a night out a few weeks later.
kuroo’s home again, for a week this time, and you decide to get a group of people together at a club. included are bokuto and akaashi, kenma opting to pass for his games, and one of your friends from high school.
you’re slightly drunk, giggling with her about one thing or another when the topic of conversation turns to him. she looks over at him, dancing with bokuto, as akaashi watches them from the sidelines, exasperated.
“you’re pretty good friends with kuroo, right?” she asks.
a dopey grin makes its way onto your face at the mention of his name (against your will) and you nod.
“well get this- my friend goes to the same university as him, they have a class together, and she’s thinking of asking him out after the break.”
your face falls and you’re sucked into a state of panic.
realistically, you have nothing to worry about. if earlier that day was any indication of how kuroo still felt about you, he would turn this girl down. his warm hands on your cheeks as he pressed kisses to your forehead in greeting at the train station. his hand in yours when you walked from the car to your apartment where he’s staying for the week.
(the logical thing to do here would be to tell her that you and kuroo are unofficially a thing, so he's kind of off limits, but you're too tipsy for logic at this point.)
"do you think he's looking for anything right now?"
your friend tries to get your attention, but you can't hear her. you stare at him from across the room and pictures of him cuddled up with this stranger flash through your mind, kissing her how you've always wished he'd kiss you, being pushed to the sidelines in his life as he moves on-
before she can call out to you again, you’re already dashing to the washroom, nausea settling into your stomach at the thought of him possibly falling in love with someone else. you haven’t had enough alcohol to make you sick, which makes it all worse. this feeling is here because you're in love. and want him to be yours. and he might be ripped away from you.
some might call it a newly developed strain of lovesickness.
you’re unaware that he follows you after seeing you dash in between him and bokuto.
you lock yourself in the large stall and crouch to the ground, head in your hands. making an attempt to steady your breathing, you inhale deeply and exhale slowly.
a knock on your stall can be heard. "y/n? are you in here?"
"yeah." your voice is quiet, but thankfully the music has faded to a dull thumping so he's able to hear it.
"can I come in?"
you don't know how to answer that, but you ponder on it for a second too long, apparently, because now he's stepping onto the toilet seat of the next stall over and climbing over into yours.
you look up at him pitifully and he sighs. "what's up, buttercup?"
there's no use waiting any longer. you tug on his sleeve and he moves closer, wrapping an arm around you. "my friend's friend wants to ask you out after the break and I felt sick just thinking about it."
you don't look at him when you say it, but you can hear the barely contained joy in his voice at your confession. "yeah? you don't want me to date anyone else? you finally staking your claim on me?"
he pulls you closer to him when you nod. "good. I was getting worried I'd have to be the one to give in first."
you slap his arm and he laughs. "tetsurou," you say.
"hmm?"
"I'm not going to be the one to ask you officially, that's on you."
"that's fine, I was going to anyway. I've been waiting a long time for this, baby."
you finally look up at him. "yeah?"
he grins down at you and the look in his eyes has once again gone completely soft, just for you. "oh yeah."
he shifts a bit until you're both facing each other on the (probably dirty) bathroom floor of a tiny club in tokyo and asks the question you've been yearning to hear since that day in your last year of high school.
"y/n, will you do me the honour of officially being mine?"
"well obviously," you say and finally kiss him.
BONUS:
kuroo's last day at your apartment came far too quickly.
but the days after your confession were the best days you've ever spent with him. neither of you wanted to say goodbye, conversations were had about doing semi-long distance and you were both more than willing.
that didn't stop you from trying to get him to stay in your bed a bit longer.
"y/n, come on, I have to get ready to go to the train station," he laughed as you clung to him.
"no." was your only response, and you wrapped around him even tighter. he was sitting on the edge of your bed, trying to put a shirt on, but your arms were locked around his torso.
"baby, please, I promise if you let me get up and dressed at the very least I'll come back and we can cuddle a bit longer.
he felt you smile a bit into his skin at the use of the pet name. he had been experimenting with them throughout the week and he had concluded based on your reactions to them that baby always made you smile and look away, sweetheart made you nuzzle into him and whine, and the one time he called you gorgeous you shivered and almost dropped a glass of water out of excitement. of course there were others that had good reactions, so he had a full arsenal of names to call you now.
"hmmm, but tetsurou, we both know that you could have easily gotten me off of you by now if that's what you really wanted,"
however nothing compared to how he absolutely melted into you whenever you said his name like that, in that tone.
he turned and pounced on you, reveling in your giggly shrieks as he nibbled on your neck. your arms wrapped around his bare shoulders.
"if I'm late it's going to be your fault, sweetheart, and I will make you regret it."
"so menacing, I'm terrified- NO!" you were cut off by a new string of laughter and pleading for him to stop as his hands attacked your sides.
if being late meant more time to hear your laugh and feel your skin, maybe kuroo would just give in and catch the 5 o'clock train instead.
#kuroo x reader#kuroo x reader fluff#kuroo fluff#kuroo x reader angst#kuroo tetsuro x reader#haikyuu x reader fluff#hq fluff#hq x reader#kuroo angst
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Heya Factual! Congrats on the 23,000! Yet another well deserved milestone earned by your hard work and dedication! Really sorry about the cold- we always seem to get sick at the worst of times! Definitely don't do anything crazy till you're 100%, but thanks for making that really cute celebration piece- you can really tell how much the factual Fam cares about you from their worried expressions...and then there's Gerald, who refuses to let his happy demeanor waver for a second! Though then again, he is still quite young- he might not even understand the concept of getting sick yet!
And on that note, at least till you're better, I definitely won't send any unnecessarily exhausting Asks like last time ( thanks for answering that so thoroughly though- that was really cool! ) and just keep it simple- and my ask today is regarding the simplest Mario enemy, the goomba!
You've mentioned them in the past as beings created by Kamek- How does he do it? How long has he been doing it? Are the goombas sentient, or just savage constructs? How many are there, in ratio to the Koopas? Did the bros have to fight through a bunch of them on their way to the castle? And do any of their variants exist, such as the micro goombas, para goombas, or giant goombas? We require the Goomba Lore!
Thank you! :DD I'm doing my best to take it easy.. I've spent most of my days recently either sleeping, sitting, or playing Pokemon Scarlet XDD that's relaxing right? Yes, I believe so-
As for Gerald, he isn't ignorant to my condition- he's actually meant to be surprisingly emotionally aware. :0 He's smiling though all this because he wants the others to be happy. And if he's calm and smiling, maybe we'll smile too.. 🥺
I was intending to draw a comic that goes into Gerald's character a bit more... But I just haven't been well enough recently to take on a project like that.. :((
And don't worry about "exhausting asks", I encourage them! :D I could really use some lengthy asks as a form of distraction to be honest.. 🥹💔
Speaking of asks, about your Goomba questions..
Well, starting with Kamek actually- I have intentions to make him a few hundred years old. Being the most powerful magikoopa there ever was supposedly.. and he's been associated with the royal Koopa family for generations.. though this idea is in canon limbo, because I'm having trouble figuring how exactly he's managed to live so long. Considering how magic works in my au.. his lengthy life span shouldn't be possible..
None the less, even though I haven't gotten that idea to fit yet- I love it so much that most of the au kinda branches off from it- <XDDD so with that established, Kamek brings Goombas to "life" using magic of course!
I was thinking that the ability animate dead/inanimate things is a very complex magic that took Kamek years to learn. And he was only finally able to master it in the last 100 years or so.
Now for the Goombas, they are not sentient for sure. They are just these little.. zombie like.. machines. They start as poisonous mushrooms and when they are "brought to life", they gain this desire and need move and attack anything that doesn't appear to be a Koopa.
As for the Koopa to Goomba ratio.. I'd say they make up 1.5/10 of the kingdoms population. They are very disposable and "easy" to make.. but they are relatively fragile creatures and take a while to grow.. plus the Goombas don't live very long. Since they uproot themselves upon being "Goomba-fied", they eventually wilt and die.. :/ so that number doesn't ever go over 1.5.
I'm sure Mario and Luigi had to squash some on the way to save Peach the first time. But it was only after her rescue that one landed a bite on Luigi..
As for their variants, the micro and Giant Goombas surly exist! Though king Goomba might not because the original brown mushrooms probably don't grow that big-
As for para-goombas.. hmm.. I know there won't be any Goombas with wings going around. But perhaps there could be a Goomba that can release airborne spores.. or at the very least can attack from afar.. that could get them the title of para-goomba! :0
I think I covered everything, I hope at least-
Thank you for the ask and interest in my au! :DDD it was a nice read and took my mind off of all my ailments for a short time 🥹💖
#my response#super mario bros#i really gotta work on kameks plot holes#i want him to be super oldddd#being loyal to the koopa family for generations..#hes personally met them#all the family stories and secrets and grief this man knows...#OH OH ALSO#it would be so cool if he was 100s of years old and when you look closer at him you realize not much of his original body remains-#he would be so creepy and haunting#you'd wonder how much of this man is “kamek” and how much is a brainwashed drone meant to serve the king..#ooooo hes so fun i love kamek#i wanna draw him so baaadddd 😭😭💔
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Sometimes i think about Clexa being so soft just hugging, eyes closed and swaying slowly side to side 🥹
Ya know that's something I've thought a lot about and maybe it's a side note but I'm gonna rant on it.
I tend to find a lot of canon fics write Lexa as this standoffish person, not very affectionate or openly giving of acts of touch, but I say look at the facts here.
Lexa was an extremely expressive person in non-verbal ways. She was so very obviously a women of "actions speak louder than words." And when you take that into consideration, let's look at how she conducted herself around Clarke.
First of all, the girl was always putting herself in Clarke's space. And I'm not talking general vicinity, I'm talking
fuckin literally in her space. Like,,, if someone stood that close to me in line I'd have to drop a "bitch give me two feet. Damn 😒" on em. She liked to get close.
Second, where I think sometimes the crossed wires come from with Lexa's character and how she shows emotion is that they're taking how Lexa acts as the commander and applying it to how she is on a personal level. But in my opinion, I think that doesn't do her justice. Because you have to remember, the majority of her time on s2 was spent with her dealing with the fact that Clarke was angry with her. She was trying to be respectful of Clarke's wishes for distance, thus bottling up her emotions for Clarke's comfort. But even still, even with all that, it still bled through.
God bless her, but the girl
Was not very good
At holding back her desire
And more than that, Lexa very much welcomed Clarke's touch
(Nice move for the thigh there wanheda ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )
She never shied away from it or seemed to do anything other than soak it up.
And from the start!
Lexa!
Initiated!
Contact!
She pushed for kisses and she pushed to be closer. She was the one who tipped the tension between them into the romantic arena. She showed physical and emotional intimacy time and again with Clarke, from being willing to take a damn nap with Clarke in her tent to bowing at her feet when the commander bows before no one. She took Clarke's hand and held it and accepted that comfort that Clarke offered, freely. She even trusted Clarke with a damn blade pressed to her neck for God's sake. She was never ever wary of letting Clarke touch her, even when she herself was working to hold back her desire to touch. And when they finally made love it was Lexa who pulled Clarke to her bed and guided her down into a kiss. Clarke may have initiated the kiss because Lexa wouldn't have over stepped the boundary Clarke laid down, but I'll be damned if Lexa didn't immediately go for gold after 🤷♀️
My point through all of this is that yes, I believe without a doubt that if they'd been allowed to be together longer, they would've been such an intensely affectionate couple in their own ways. With Clarke, who is a demonstrative person at her core and whose love language is visibly touch, and Lexa, who shows her love in small, subtle ways because she's so used to having it smacked away or buried under obligation and tradition, you'd have this couple who in the safety of each other would allow themselves a chance to just be soft. To touch and comfort and soothe. To breathe each other in and just be Clarke and Lexa, not Commander snd Wanheda. I think they would've fallen asleep in each other's arms and hugged most mornings before going their separate ways. I think it would've been entirely normal for Clarke to hug Lexa from behind as Lexa looked out from her balcony over Polis. And I don't think Lexa would've been shy in her appreciation of Clarke's affection, nor in returning her own.
There's a reason why everyone knew of their feelings for each other and why not once did Lexa deny it even when confronted about it. In reality, she doubled down on it by kicking a clan member off the tower and inviting Clarke to stay despite the kill order. Both pretty brazen when you think about it.
If given the chance they both would've been all in and you'll never convince me otherwise.
Indra wouldn't have known a moment's peace 😔
#clexa#lexa kom trikru#clarke griffin#anon#anyway rant over sorry that went wild 🥴#i don't feel like I even need to explain Clarke because I mean she hugged everyone#the girl is naturally a hugger she would hug a tree under the right circumstances I'm convinced of it#but Lexa is the tricky spot in this fandom and idk I just feel she gets a raw deal when it comes to being affectionate#the girl was very affectionate /when she wasn't being just Heda/#and together I think they would've driven Indra even more fucking insane
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I don't know if you're still doing the ask game, but how about 1, 22, and 25? For Jason, and Steph too if you're up for it :D
--Cologona
Because I could still find it: yes! Still doing this ask game :3 Sorry it took so long to answer!
1) Why do you like or dislike this character?
I spent like seventy years attempting to find the post with this meme on it so I could give credit lmao, but I could not for the life of me, so uh, just know that I'm remaking this thing from memory I guess???
Jason is the bee in my bonnet, the rock in my shoe, and I am chewing on him forever and ever - meanwhile I will enjoy pretty much any comic about Steph simply because I love watching her do her thing :3
But to go into more detail I really enjoy Steph's narration style and the way she navigates the world. She feels very refreshingly street level and hopeful. Also as someone who grew up as the only "girl" (trans man but egg) in my martial arts class which was taught by a detective with a very drill sargent/tough-love approach to teaching and got an extra helping of PTSD as a result... watching her struggle, get dismissed bc of her gender, and go on to become a great hero despite Batman and his bullshit feels really fucking good. Def love Batgirl 2009
Jason on the other hand is just so deliciously messy. He's hurt a lot of people, but at the same time his anger is super justified! He's intimately familiar with violence in a way that I think makes him unable to conceptualize trust and gauge what an 'appropriate' response is. There's been several times where he's expressed the idea that serious violence by him against others is just normal and forgivable and not a big deal. There's something so compelling to me about that bc I think he really does see it that way, and it comes from a place of him being extremely used to receiving violence and being expected to forgive and not hold it against them. That wall of text in the meme picture is a tiny fraction of one of my essays on him. He's got so many fascinating layers and I love peeling him apart and putting him back together like a robot performing surgery on a grape.
Sometime after I finish Chained, I really want to write Four and Twenty Blackbirds, which is a fic concept I've had for ages now that puts them together in a lesbian/gay man queer relationship. The premise is that somehow or other Steph comes back to Gotham secretly/early and Jason is the first one to find her and they end up building a weird organized crime/community support organization called The Blackbirds.
Not sure on the timeline. Maybe it'll start before Under the Red Hood? Maybe after a modified Hush plotline?? In any case: Jason offers to preform High Vengeance against Black Mask either for or with her. She does not want him killed! She would feel like that went completely against everything she died for. However, she does want that fucker taken down, and is touched that Jason clearly genuinely cares. Also I'm going to have Jason assume without question that she is fully competent and his equal. Unlike every other vigilante in town, she will never have to prove herself to him. So anyways she tells him that yeah, she wants her revenge, but it's gonna happen her way, and the plot moves on from there, as together they destroy and co-opt Black Mask's organization and establish a territory for themselves :3
22) If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?
Unless given a reading suggestion by someone else, I exclusively read JayTim fanfiction, which heavily skews what I look for and see in fic. I'm also pretty damned picky lol I write much more fic than I read these days
Even the most basic, stripped down version of Stephanie's core concepts and background ought to be enough to conclude that she would have very complex feelings about both Jason and Tim and them dating each other. She had a supervillain father and a character arc about learning to value the lives of even her worst enemies. Now her ex is dating a guy who had a henchman father and the same character arc in reverse, a guy who specifically targeted her killer in order to get back at the mentor who bears some responsibility for both her death and his own. They are so uniquely poised to understand each other from across this fascinating chasm, both in terms of approaches to vigilantism and dating Tim. You could not ask for a more fertile storytelling ground, regardless of if you want her to be supportive or not.
So yeah, for Stephanie I like it when she has a personality outside of cheerleading Tim while being vaguely sweet and quirky.
The bar is in Hell here folks, and out of the hundreds of fanfics I've read I've only ever seen it cleared twice. And that's only if we include my own goddamned writing. This goes beyond normal fandom simplification, especially when you factor in that Cass, famously against all killing Cass, gets similarly denuded of all internal motives and qualities in favor of being (sometimes literally) wordlessly supportive for no apparent reason, while in those same fics the male characters get to have opinions and internal viewpoints. JayTim nation, I am praying for us to learn how to write women, truly.
Now on to Jason!
I think of Jason as someone who is intense in every facet of himself. He can be cruel and mistrustful or tender and romantic, but no matter what he is I want him to be a little unhinged with it, a little too deep, a little too incapable of not giving a fuck. I want this man lost in the sauce, whatever that sauce may be.
I dislike him being overly apologetic, which practically translates to me disliking most fics in which he is apologetic at all lol I do think he would come to regret some of his actions, but I tend to think those would be different actions than the ones he's usually depicted apologizing for. For instance, I can absolutely see him apologizing to a victim of the Joker for not killing him when he got the chance, but I don't really think he'd have the framework to consider his fights with Tim to have been all that far out of line.
25) What was your first impression of this character? How about now?
Ohhhhhhh boy that was fuckin ages ago??? I'm not honestly sure I remember, though I do know that I read JayTim fanfics before anything else that involved these characters, so it had to have been based on that.
...Gah, I don't even remember how I found this ship lol! I mean I started with Boostle?? Maybe JayTim was in the background somewhere of one of those fics? idk
I suppose my first impressions were that Jason was a Big Mood deeply traumatized and lashing out bc of that, and Stephanie was gir waffles XD random rawr means I love you in dinosaur.
Anyhow, thank you very much for the ask @cologona! As per usual with these things I hope it was a fun read and you have a good day and all that jazz :3
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Alright ! Then once they're open if it suits you to write about a Terano South (TR) and gn reader fruendship, reader is more into being the best encyclpedic scientist (google it i guess +prefers biology) unlike South who wants to be the srtongist. Like the knowledge and strenght dou
A/N: I apologize if this wasn’t entirely what you were hoping for. It’s just that I hade quite a hard time figuring if you were asking for head-canons or a one-shot. 😅 If I had misunderstood, feel free to send me another ask!
Synopsis: While trying to avoid a gang dispute, [Last name] [Name] finds themselves in the company of the notorious gang leader, Terano South. Despite his reputation, South surprises [Name] with his gentleness and vulnerability.
Fandom: Tokyo Revengers
Characters: Terano South X Reader
⚠️ WARNING: Gang violence and knife injury.
Word Count: 1.1K
As the gang dispute raged on, [Last name] [Name] tried to stay out of sight. They had stumbled upon the scene accidentally while on their way home from the library, and now they regretted not taking a different route. The air was thick with tension and the sound of broken glass and fists hitting flesh. [Name] knew they needed to get out of there fast.
But before they could even take a step, a figure appeared in front of them. It was a rather intimidating man that seemed to be somewhere in his early twenties. He was much taller and muscular than [Name], and his piercing yellow eyes seemed to glow with a dangerous energy.
"What are you doing here, little one?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.
"I... I didn't mean to intrude. I was just passing by," [Name] stuttered, trying to keep their composure.
South's wide grin turned into a scowl. "You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous."
"I know, I'm trying to leave. Please let me go," [Name] pleaded, taking a step back.
But South didn't move. Instead, he took a closer look at [Name]. Something about them caught his interest, maybe the way they stood their ground despite their fear or the determined look in their eyes.
"You're different from the others," he said, his voice softer this time. "What's your name?"
"[Last name] [Name]," [Name] replied, still wary of the gang member's intentions.
South nodded. "I'm Terano South. You can call me South."
They stood in silence for a few seconds, the chaos of the fight fading into the background. South seemed to be lost in thought, his expression unreadable.
Then, he made a sudden move. [Name] flinched, thinking he was about to attack them. But instead, he grabbed their wrist and pulled them along.
"Come on, I'll take you somewhere safe," he said, his grip surprisingly gentle.
[Name] didn't know what to make of the situation, but they had a feeling they didn't have much of a choice. They followed South through the back alleys and abandoned buildings, their heart pounding in their chest. They had heard stories about South, about how he would kill without mercy and how he was feared by everyone in the Rokuhara Tandai gang.
But as they walked, [Name] noticed something different about South. He seemed almost... lost. Like he didn't quite fit in with the other delinquents, like he was searching for something that he couldn't find.
"Stay here," he said, closing the door behind them. "I'll come back later." And with that, he was gone.
[Name] spent the next few hours waiting anxiously, unsure of what to do. They explored the small apartment, finding a few old books and a picture of a young boy with blond hair and a tribal tattoo on his chest. It must have been South when he was a child, before he became the violent gang member he was today.
As the sun began to set, [Name] heard a knock on the door. They hesitated for a moment, but then opened it.
South was standing there, looking just as imposing as before. But this time, his expression was different. He seemed almost... vulnerable.
"Thank you for keeping me safe," [Name] said, trying to break the silence.
"Whatever, let's go." South grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door, signaling for [Last name] to follow him.
The two walked down the dark streets of Tokyo, their footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night. South was quiet, lost in thought, while [Last name] struggled to keep up with his long strides.
As they walked, they heard the sound of loud voices and scuffling coming from a nearby alley. South quickly headed towards the commotion, with [Last name] following close behind.
When they arrived at the scene, they saw a group of men wearing black jackets, clearly members of a rival gang. South recognized them as the Mokuren gang, a group that he had a personal grudge against.
Without hesitation, South charged towards the group, throwing punches and kicks with incredible speed and strength. [Last name] watched in awe as South effortlessly took down each of the opponents one by one.
However, one of the members pulled out a knife and lunged towards South. [Last name] shouted a warning, but it was too late. South had already been stabbed in the chest.
Ignoring the pain, South managed to disarm the attacker and turn the knife on him, plunging it into his stomach. The rest of the Mokuren gang quickly retreated, leaving South and [Last name] alone in the alley.
South stumbled backwards, clutching his chest. [Last name] rushed to his side, trying to stem the bleeding.
"You alright?" [Last name] asked, their voice full of concern.
South chuckled weakly. "I've been through worse," he said, a small smile on his face.
Despite the pain, South couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration towards [Last name]. They had stood by his side without hesitation, even in the face of danger.
"You're not so bad, kid," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You got guts."
[Last name] smiled at the compliment, but their expression quickly turned serious as they realized the severity of South's injuries.
"We need to get you to a hospital," they said urgently.
South shook his head. "No hospitals. Just take me to my place."
[Last name] hesitated, unsure if it was safe to bring South to his home. But they knew that they couldn't leave him bleeding in the alley.
They helped South to his feet and supported him as they walked back to his apartment. Once there, [Last name] tended to his wounds as best as they could, cleaning and bandaging the stab wound.
For the first time in a long while, South felt a sense of gratitude towards someone else. He had always been used to relying on his own strength, but [Last name] had shown him that sometimes, it was okay to accept help from others.
As [Last name] prepared to leave, South spoke up. "Hey, [Last name]," he said, his voice soft. "Thanks for tonight. You saved my life."
[Last name] smiled. "No problem, South. Just don't go getting yourself stabbed again, okay?"
South chuckled. "I'll try not to," he said, watching as [Last name] made their way out of his apartment.
As he lay in bed, South couldn't help but think about [Last name]. They had shown him a kindness that he had never experienced before, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to them.
Maybe, just maybe, there was more to life than just strength and power. And maybe, just maybe, [Last name] could help him find it.
#request#answered <3#ask me anything#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#tokrev#tokrev x reader#south terano#terano x reader#terano minami#terano south#south x reader#south terano x reader#terano south x reader#one shot#platonic#friendship#friends#unlikely friends#x gn reader#x gender neutral reader#gender neutral reader#x reader#x female reader#x male reader#tokyo rev fluff#rokuhara tandai#fluff#fluffy ending#minor violence
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find the word!
tagged by the illustrious @roguenancy <3 thank you friend this was a fun one!
my words are: soft, bright, time, reach, and burn
most of these are from yet-to-be-posted febuwhump fics because that's what my time has been going to preparing the past few weeks, but there are some old standards too!
i. soft (from a Kali-centric febuwhump fic)
Hunting down One and helping Eleven and her friends to take him down once and for all? That was an arena in which Kali was comfortable, an arena in which she got to be the victor, even in her sharing of the title. But it hadn’t gone to plan. Of course not. It hadn’t been a one-off and had instead turned into months trapped within the confines of this town, haunted by more than just those initial days Kali spent small and scared and broken as she ran from the lab and tried to find a way out. She had been so young then. She feels it around every corner, amidst every patch of trees; she feels the younger version of herself everywhere and at some point during these past few months of battle it went and made her soft.
ii. bright (from a future installment of the bear au)
“You staying here tonight?” Nancy says on a tired exhale as she drops her bag and kicks off her shoes. “Maybe,” Holly says at length, hands still on her keyboard but no longer typing. The way her fair hair glows in the bright white light is almost unsettling. She’s such a beautiful girl. “Couch is yours,” Nancy tells her, “I’m going to bed.” “Mike said you flipped this afternoon.”
iii. time (from the METAMORPHOSES sequel one-shot I'm working on :) kicks feet twirls hair etc)
They decided to move to Chicago on this porch, decided to officially move into the same bedroom on this porch, decided to kiss for the first time on this porch. It’s a near-sacred place, these panels of wood and screws, the spot that once held a beaten-down couch and now sports the beautiful handcrafted swing that Steve had made for them completely of his own volition. It’s sacred because it’s theirs, their home, but it’s only that because they decided it would be. They made it this bubble of earnest communication and so when Eddie asks do you ever think about it with a heavy sort of sincerity lingering on his tongue, the only context Steve needs is— “About what?”
iv. reach (another febuwhump fic, nancy character study style)
There’s a hand around her forearm just before she reaches the edge of the pool, a hand large and strong but a hand, still, which releases his grip with a half-hearted shove from Nancy. “Don’t,” she snaps, whirling around to look at him, avoiding the confused and concerned and baffled expressions of Robin and Eddie hovering feet away at the edge of the forest like they truly don’t know what to do with themselves. “Don’t.” Her voice is ragged, she knows. She can see the sound of it in the harsh shine of Steve’s eyes, but she can see something else there, too. She can see something like understanding, like the crossing of a great divide between them, where they’ve both changed irreparably in the journey, but changed into the kinds of people who can trust each other above all else.
v. burn (febuwhump again, stobin edition)
There's so much to grieve, even after they win. There's so much to grieve that Robin doesn't think it feels much like winning at all. They keep going, she keeps moving forward, because that's what's supposed to happen and that's what they've always done, but no matter how much time passes between them and watching that place, that monster, burn, she still feels it. Tastes it. Can't swallow around it some days and wakes up needing to rush to the toilet to puke it up on others. It burns her from inside and as she gets her diploma, as they help rebuild the town into something still broken but at least standing, as people make plans and leave and get away, away, away from the mass grave that is Hawkins, Indiana, she keeps it there. Inside.
tagging with zero pressure but one million love: @kkpwnall @judasofsuburbia @cheatghost @fragilecapric0rnn @thefreakandthehair @yxlenas @snowangeldotmp3 + anyone who wants to join because this is simply fun!
your words are: new, try, still, part, and home
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i'm cry laughing some people on twitter are now saying "izzy bashing" needs to be tagged in fics. how did these people ever survive watching this show where izzy is the CANON ANTAGONIST i'll never know
benefit of the doubt but i think most of them have gotten to this point gradually. when they first watched the show they were not attached to izzy the way they are now. i know for a lot of people it was blorbo at first sight with izzy but i've also seen izzy enjoyers say they didn't like him at first, and then fandom made them care about him.
like i'm pretty sure for a lot of ppl it started off with isolating themselves from ppl who made posts that they didnt like, like ppl who criticized ofmd for being based on two real people with direct connections to actual real-world slave trade (which is an incredibly valid thing to criticize abt ofmd).
another one that i think funneled a lot of fans towards being so delusionally attached to izzy was people pointing out or complaining about the disproportionate amount of fan content for izzy compared to prominent characters of color—which is a consistent issue in fandom no matter what the media, and is also a very easy one for people to be uncomfortable with whenever they see it get pointed out. people venting that "fans care too much abt this white man" often make fans who care abt that white man very defensive right off the bat, and then rather than engage with why they feel defensive or question if maybe their enjoyment of this character is fueled by implicit bias (which it might not be, to be clear! im not saying—and i have never said—that everyone who enjoyes izzy likes him for racist reasons), they stop listening to the conversation abt white favoritism and continue blorboposting as much as they want. it's incredibly easy for fans to brush off this convo as "just starting drama" and avoid the topic altogether because "fandom is for fun!" and they dont want to think abt difficult topics like racism and implicit bias, they just want to enjoy their blorbos in peace.
so they kept narrowing the takes they were seeing until they were in an echo chamber that kept moving more and more towards complete woobification of izzy hands. these people are now looking at the show entirely through izzy's pov, making posts abt how sad it is that none of the other characters are ever nice to him, how frustrating the show is from his perspective, how it feels to be deeply in love with someone who doesn't love you back. they've stared at gifs of con's micro-expressions and read angsty fanfiction and looked at endless izzy fanart and their entire ofmd fandom experience revolves around empathizing with this one character even tho the show itself continually makes him the butt of the joke.
at this point, telling these people to rewatch the show doesn't even matter. they've spent so much time over-analyzing every single one of izzy's scenes to the point where the emotional responses they get from these scenes are not the emotional responses anyone would have watching the show for the first time. they've warped the entire first season to fit their version of the show and are forgetting how often the show itself bashes izzy.
and the icing on the cake is the trolling. there's like, one or two people on here who go around sending anon hate and leaving nasty comments on instagram posts and harassing people on twitter for... like, i would say "for liking izzy" or even "for saying positive things about izzy" but like. i've gotten these messages, and the most sympathetic i've ever been to izzy was the post i made like "maybe he's mean bc he has chronic IBS. i'd actually understand him more if that were the case." so when i get these messages it's easier for me to just laugh them off bc it's so obviously just someone trying to make me upset, but people who do care about izzy (a lot of them being the same people who avoided engaging with the "why does fandom care so much abt white characters" convo) get these absolutely horrible messages about how they deserve to get hate crimed and they should kill themselves. and these fans who didn't want to even see vaguely negative posts abt izzy bc they just want to enjoy fandom in peace are now like "im targeted for just liking a character!"
so that's how we get to people saying that "izzy bashing" needs to be tagged. never mind that their definition of "bashing" almost certainly includes things that are not bashing but are just things that contradict the way they headcannnon him.
#ask#anon#mine#txt#og#izzy critical#izzy hands#ofmd fandom crit#if this post is in the izcourse tag no it isnt u just dont know how to use tumblr#obligatory Not All Izzy Fans disclaimer#also btw in case anyone tries to come at me with “it's stupid to tell people to pay attention to different characters”:#noticing the disappointing trend of fandom to fixate on white side characters ≠ telling people to stop making izzy content#im not telling individual izzy hands enjoyers to stop paying attention to izzy. there are a lot of reasons why ppl might like izzy#if i interact w someone whose ofmd contribution is primarily pro-izzy my thought is “oh they like antagonists”#not “oh they don't care about characters of color bc they're racist” ok im not gonna jump there without a reason#but on a fandom-wide scale this is a Trend that has happened over and over again in fandom after fandom after fandom#like We Live In A Society bro we can't just pretend white men are always the faves in fandoms just by coincidence#but also tbh if you think im saying that You Personally need to make content for characters of color? and you're getting MAD at me for it??#then ur probs not someone i want making content for those characters lmao. u keep izzyposting to ur heart's content <3 have fun bestie
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i do try my hand at writing but i feel like everything is too skewed to the reader’s perspective in the story. how do you balance out making sure the character’s voice comes through even when it’s not written from their pov? i’m sure it’s a matter of characterization? but also how can you include the details of how they move and think without it being confusing for the person reading :((( (i hope i make sense and i’m so sorry if i don’t)
ur okay!!! it's okay!!!
it sounds like you've decided to write the story from the readers perspective which means that you are going to be naturally limited in the other characters viewpoint. so i assume ur question is how do i potray the other character if the story is not from their point of view.
you are right in that it's a matter of characterization! when you're writing from a limited p.o.v (most povs unless you're writing in omniscent third p.o.v) then you have to filter the story and actions through the lens of the p.o.v you are writing from.
i think it might be easier to demonstrate w examples so ill try my best.
ill set up a scenario and write both perspectives. the scenario: two people getting icecream together.
ill use you (as in reader) as character one and megumi as character two)
READERS PERSPECTIVE:
You feel Megumi wait behind you while you think on your order. You decide on a cone with two scoops of rocky road then shuffle towards the other end of the line. The employee hands it to you over the display with a smile. While Megumi's pre-occupied choosing, you offer up your card and tell the cashier to keep it and pay for his order too. You feel guilty since you know he wants to pay, but you're always inclined to spoiling him.
MEGUMIS PERSPECTIVE:
Megumi waits behind you while you order, peering over your shoulder to see whats in front of you. He doesn't quite hear what you get, and by the time he's paying attention - it's already his turn to order. He glances at you at the cash register than back at the display. He doesn't know what he wants, but he figures he should hurry up and decide. He's supposed to treat you to something since he owes you, but knowing you - he might not get the chance if he's too slow.
in the above - these two are in the exact same scenario. you can surmise based on the paragraph that they've spent time together more than once.
but the perspectives are different. reader is able to order comfortably and takes advantage of megumi being lost in thought.
and megumi is somewhat self-aware but still indecisive of his ice cream order.
you can determine that reader is something of a clever character from their paragraph. maybe warm or empathetic because they notice the employees smile above other things.
you can interpret megumis spacing out as being nervous or being comfortable depending on what type of scenario you wish to write. despite hanging out he feels like he owes you, which means he has a hard time accepting things from you - another bit of characterization.
what's happening in both paragraphs however is that both parties are interpreting the other character from their own perspectives with the knowledge they have of each other. megumi is able to correctly guess reader will pay and vice versa - despite no verbal communication between them.
thats the point i want to highlight. you, as the author, know the intentions of both characters but you're writing from one perspective. you have to filter actions through what character you are writing and this can vary pretty heavily but that's completely normal and fine.
if you're writing this from readers perspective - it's inevitable that a lot of the work is about their internal dialogue. to show your other character - you'll have to do it through actions / dialogue and write it filtered through your characters mind.
characterization comes in there. what actions does your other character take to express themselves and in what way can those actions be taken? are they cut and dry? or frivolous and vague? and in turn how does your reader see those actions and how do they feel about them? do they confront your character if they dislike them or seethe silently? this part is up to you and it's hard!!!!!! it takes a while to get right.
i would recommend reading if its something you really can't get past! (and in general, reading will help u improve) but not for enjoyment. with intention to like study. try to read a story critically and notice how a character talks to the other and how they interact. its a bit complicated to explain but i hope the side by side makes it less hard dskjdslk
#return to sender#also have some faith in ur readers comprehension#i know u are worried about actions being read correctly but the human brain very naturally puts details together / fills them in#idk if this is helpful lmao but i thought maybe just showing u two diff perspectives of the same scenario#would be best to help you get a clear idea#writing advice
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How do Pokemon Breed?
I’m something of an originalist in Pokemon. I think that the games are the core of what the narrative flows from and everything else is flexible story that builds on that. What’s more, in Pokemon, people can say things, but there’s nothing saying that they’re right. People are wrong all the time in Pokemon, and sometimes people even lie to the player characters, to themselves, or to one another. What’s more, the player character is a kid, somewhat, but also a kid who is experimenting with and learning about Pokemon training and breeding, so chances are good, people would explain the useful things to them.
But they don’t.
There’s a mechanical answer to the question of course. After the first two years of the game and then for twenty-ish years of the game, what you did was you dropped the Pokemon off at a daycare centre, and if the pair of them were compatible in some way, they’d produce an egg if you spent enough time waiting around. This version of the system was pretty elaborate, too – whether or not the Pokemon bred and the results of how it bred was a bit like a complex flowchart where you had to check details all the way down. For example, two Pokemon of the same species could breed, obviously, but two Pokemon of the same type could check each other’s genes, which was how the game did its best to keep Pokemon that were related from creating offspring. That system isn’t checked any more, which I think means that you can hypothetically get two sibling Pokemon to reproduce nowawadays. Or maybe they’re just more complex now and the game tracks that some other way.
This egg hatches based not on time but the number of steps you take while holding it, which I guess is either a compromise of the way the games express time, or it’s an actual mechanical need where the Pokemon eggs require constant agitation. There are Pokemon who supply warmth to eggs that speed this part of the process up, which kinda suggests the latter, especially in the newer real-time games where you can see Pokemon wandering around and doing their own thing.
Nowadays, instead of a daycare centre, where Pokemon get up to the thing they get up to off-screen where you don’t see it and don’t have to work out what a Cradily’s donger is like, Pokemon instead reproduce by going to a picnic and having a sandwich. Doing this, they leave an egg in your basket and they can leave a lot if the sandwich is really good. The thing is, they do this without you necessarily losing attention on the Pokemon. There’s some interface fades, which I guess can be treated as a lapse of attention, but also, do you think of the time and experience of Pokemon as being a wholly in-camera real-time experience? It doesn’t seem to be, at least based on the way that the game cross-fades to combat scenarios.
But that’s the mechanics of the game and the camera. These mechanisms are there to let you, the player, engage with the game system of Pokemon, which is mostly about transferring information between Pokemon of stats, moves, and sometimes natures or even species. That’s not really answering the question I’m asking, which is instead:
How do Pokemon breed?
There’s a lot of routes to take this kind of analysis. Pokemon is a game world with a lot of supplementary material, and some of that material was generated en masse to feed a demand for media in a wide variety of markets and audiences. If I wanted to I could find any number of sources that explain how Pokemon Breed in a variety of different G-rated nonsense ways. Plus there’s the Pokedex, full of unreliable information (as far as we know). If you want to, you can construct an entirely realistic, meat-based way to consider Pokemon Breeding. I understand if you go to furaffinity you can find an extensive documentary process considering all sorts of material opportunities here.
I don’t want to, because there are infinite texts of dubious relationship to the core material. There’s a genuine chance some local magazine to your home town made its own Pokemon Guide and writing from an unguided expert trying to pump out a booklet for a kid to buy got made and was licensed enough to have a Pikachu on the cover, but none of that implies they know anything about what they were writing about.
This is of course, a game for four year olds, but I think the thing that deserves attention in all this is that the Pokemon aren’t animals. We know they’re not. The whole nature of Pokemon is that their world is so wildly different to our own and we keep on defaulting to think about Pokemon in a way that treats them as animals. Pokemon breeding, as best we know, doesn’t even require physical contact. They need to like one another – compatibility is an issue – but it’s not like the Pokemon even need to materially interact as far as we know.
We know that Pokemon can change their mass and scale freely; they shrink down to get into the Pokeballs, rather than the Pokeball coercing them into it. When you throw the ball, it’s not that the ball captures them and does something weird and wonky to them, it’s that the ball is something the Pokemon investigates. What this means is that the entire vision of agency you see in the Pokemon universe, with trainers capturing things, is actually kinda backwards. Pokemon trainers aren’t capturing things, they’re presenting an opportunity to the Pokemon and seeing if the Pokemon wants to do it. The battles between Pokemon and trainer are also consensual – the Pokemon can refuse to do things – and if you want to see it, check out what happens when you transfer a high-level Pokemon to a starting character. Pokemon are sentient and sapient. Pokemon are also capable of regeneration and production of food that humans can consume and give it up consensually. A bunch of them are in some way, plants, at least they’re considered grass types and have some kind of self-sustaining relationship to sunlight.
Okay, then, so they’re not animals, not proper animals.
What does that mean for their breeding?
Well, I mean, whatever you want it to.
Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!
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Unlike a lot of people here (because I'm ancient) I watched Gilmore Girls when it was airing on TV and rage quit twice, only to come crawling back eventually.
The first time was the S3 baby shower episode, at which point I just could not put up with Lorelai and her petty, childish behavior because Christopher didn't choose her over his pregnant girlfriend and was upset he was actually supportive of her. Well, big whoop, Lorelai that's probably why you shouldn't sleep with other people's boyfriends. I'm sure the example that you're modeling for your daughter here (mostly that it's okay to get entangled with men who are already attached because they were yours first) isn't going to be something she takes to heart a year and a half from now or anything.
Anyway, moving on. I rage quit the second time in episode 5 of season 6, "We've Got Magic To Do." This is the episode where Rory organizes a USO/big band themed party for the DAR, Richard is horribly disappointed that she has learned a new skill, and in the B plot Luke is upset when Lorelai encourages him to go camping.
It's not the worst episode of the season by a long, long shot. But I was bored by Luke and Lorelai's stuff, I have never really liked the upper class plot threads of the show so I was even more bored by Rory, and there were rumors about Christopher coming back and Luke's new secret daughter. I could tell it wasn't going to end well.
What got me to quit was Richard and Emily confronting the Huntzbergers, a plotline that made absolutely no sense
Emily and Richard were excited about Rory dating Logan not only because he is basically their ideal future grandson-in-law or because he possessed connections that might prevent Rory from becoming a penniless failed journalist like most of the people in her job field (funny how that turned out) but because they wanted to move up in their social circle.
However, Rory steals a boat, drops out of school, and seeks the refuge of her grandparents because Lorelai says she can't come home. She intends to party and slack off with Logan, but her grandparents insist that she work at the job they give her at the DAR and finish her community service hours if they're going to support her. (I will note that no one forces Rory to do this in AYITL and that's likely why she keeps spiraling: she can live off of the generosity of others and doesn't have to work, so she doesn't). You would think that Richard and Emily would have figured out that maybe Logan isn't the great influence on Rory that they hoped he would be, but alas....no.
The party is a huge success and you would think that Richard and Emily would be thrilled that Rory has pulled off this accomplishment, but no. Emily goes and rips into Shira, tells her that she's basically white trash and a scheming gold digger, and that she will never stand in the way of Rory and Logan's epic love story. Richard confronts Mitchum in the bathroom and accused him of crushing Rory's spirit and forcing her to seek an alternate career path that she is good at. The episode ends with him devastated that Rory is an adept party planner.
It still is ridiculous to me that two people who pride themselves on behaving according to social norms and maintaining the respect of those in their social circle would behave this way. It's deeply moronic and out of character. Why would they risk everything they've worked so hard for and jeopardize their social standing and Rory's to get back at two people they WANTED on their side? Pissing off Mitchum and Shira doesn't help Rory, it won't help her career if she does go back to school, and it's certainly not going to improve Logan and Rory's relationship. It's just putting words in their mouths that the writers want to express regarding their moral worth even though they've also spent the last season and a half focusing on how glamorous the rich kids sandbox can be. A month later, Jess comes back, encourages Rory to return to her life goals, and Rory breaks up with Logan and ends this plot thread. Hallelujah. No thanks to Richard and Emily, though, who probably could have made things worse for her in the long run career wise but didn't.
The whole thing was just dumb and dishonest and I hated it and still do. Plus, ASP was going to screw up Luke and Lorelai anyway, so why stick around for that? So I rage quit until the second half of the season 6 finale at which point I didn't watch again for another decade.
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Personal gender and relationship shit under the cut.
My spouse and I both have our gender... stuff. They've been coming to terms with theirs lately, after many years of trying to keep it all bottled up.
I realized that my NBness is more in the agender realm, and I'm mostly comfortable with it, most days. I'm frustrated and sad because anytime I express discomfort or dysphoria about my body, or feel like I need to adjust my self-perception, my partner almost immediately feels like this means they've been fetishizing me and that they're a creep for being attracted to me.
Recently, they showed me some character art which was very hourglass, which is how my body is built, with vague association with me, and I asked that they maybe not send me those anymore, as it just sort of pushed an uncomfortable button for reasons I couldn't fully define. I tried to make it very clear that I was not blaming my partner in the slightest.
They told me to take what time I needed to figure out how to talk about it, but then started to push the conversation the very next day. I understand that it's something that is causing them anxiety, but they are a highly sensitive person, and I started my response with "One of the reasons I want time to get my words straight is that I don't want you to spiral."
I tried to explain that my entire childhood was spent in a state of depersonalization, and it was so hard to phrase it, to come up with the words in the moment.
It was a delayed spiral, but they spiralled nonetheless, declaring that they considered themselves a creep for being attracted to their own partner, and that their whole worldview needed to be reset, sand that they were going to bottle their own gender exploration back up as a result, but that they're not blaming me.
I tried to express that they didn't get to decide for me that being attracted to me makes them a creep. Like many sensitive, traumatized people do, they latched onto the things I said which they felt supported their terrible view of themselves, and didn't hear the rest.
They say that they don't have anyone else to talk about this stuff to, since I'm their best friend. It's hard not to feel like I don't even have that, because I feel like I can't express anything about myself other than a perpetual homeostasis of being "fine, this is fine, I'm fine" without them using it to hurt themselves.
In musical terms, they're caught up in "I/Me/Myself", and I feel like I'm in "Marsha, Thankk You for the Dialectics" etc.
I don't complain about much of anything anymore. I generally don't get angry, maybe mildly annoyed. I try to let everything go, because I got so tired of causing other people pain, and these days, nothing seems worth pushing back on, even if it's hurting me.
Every time this happens, every time they spiral because of something I've said, I feel another little bit of myself get scraped away, and I tell myself it's inconsequential. I keep hoping things will get better, try to make the environment as comfortable as I can, make them feel safe to heal and find themselves, but when something like this happens, I go back to feeling like every conversation is a game of operation, and I'm trying so hard not to make the wrong move. And I move less, and less, and less, because sometimes it feels like the only way they can feel safe is if I'm as still as a statue, that any changes in me are plate tectonic slow.
I know it's not fair to expect them to be able to handle things the way I do, but I'm starting to feel exhausted and despair because it seems like every one of my feelings and everything about me ultimately gets reframed into how it affects them.
#unrelated to fandom#personal#relationship issues#gender issues#vent post#possibly delete later#or make private or whatever
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Miraculous fic recomendations!!
This is just an excuse to show all my bookmarks? Yes. Yes, it is. I'm pretty sure most of this fics are really popular, but try see if you find something you didn't knew about!
All of the fics will be rated Teen and up audiences or lower. Also if I don't put the author's tumblr is because they didn't put it in the fic or/and I couldn't find it.
Pairing: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
knowing you by emsylcatac (they are not really the author of the fic but that's the account that says in the fic, the actual author doesn't have an account).
After dropping their transformations months ago, Marinette and Adrien see each other for the first time after being apart. They've both left too much unsaid and have to work to pick up the pieces of their confused hearts.
Chapters: 1/1
Post-reveal but mostly ladynoir, light angst with happy ending.
the last day on earth by Reiaji
The first time Marinette sees Chat Blanc, she's fourteen years old. The second time, fifteen—the third time, seventeen.
The closer she grows to Adrien, the harder it is to save him.
Chapters: 1/1
Post-reveal lovesquare, kinda heavy angst, hopeful ending.
tell me something i don't know by carpisuns (@carpisuns here on tumblr)
Do you think it still means something? To love someone, even if the universe said you had to?
The odds of having a soulmate are about negative one billion (or something like that). But somehow, like they always have, Marinette and Chat Noir find themselves together. They’re ready to finally tell each other everything, but it turns out that even soulmates have to keep secrets, and while their bond draws them together, duty forces them apart.
Chapters: currently 17/28 (WIPs can be exhausting but this one is 100% worth the wait!)
Mostly marichat but almost all of the lovesquare sides make an appearance, soulmates au, mostly fluff but it can get angsty if it wants to.
One Thing After Another by SKayLanphear
Marinette notices that, sometimes, Adrien acts a little out of the ordinary--like the time he stood in a cardboard box for no reason, or when he actually hissed at Nino. It's only when she starts to notice the similarities between Adrien and a certain feline that she begins to get suspicious.
Basically, Adrien acts like a cat when he probably shouldn't.
Chapters: 15/15
Mostly adrienette with one sided reveal by Marinette's side, miraculous side effects (by both sides wich is really cool!), it's fluff with a lil tiny angst for drama.
This would take some getting used to by Codango (@codango here on tumblr!)
Adrien peeked out from behind the chimney even as the magic of his own Chat Noir mask fell away.
She was still visible, her dark hair bobbing under the street lamps a couple blocks away.
“Marinette.”
Adrien blew out a confused breath. His fiery Ladybug… was the quiet little mouse who sat behind him in class?
“What. The.”
This… would take some getting used to.
Chapters: 8/8
Adrienette with one sided reveal by Adrien's part, awkward flirting, just fluff, nothing to worry about.
comfort food also by Reiaji!
In Marinette's house, cooking is a language of love, and Marinette loves Adrien more than most.
Chapters: 1/1
Adrienette with a little of ladynoir, super super fluff, a lot of insight into Marinette's chinese heritage.
The right side of his face by walkingonthestars (@hamsternamedmarinette here on tumblr!)
Marinette and Adrien are able to remain in their new seats in the back of the room at the end of Chameleon.
Chapters: 1/1
Adrienette, fluff with light angst.
it's a long way forward so trust in me by aloneintherain (@captainkirkk here on tumblr!)
“You’re not the only strong one around here, Chat,” Marinette said. She looked a little winded, but she wasn’t struggling to hold him up.
This close up, he could see the freckles on the bridge of her nose. He could see how that smug smile lit up her eyes. He could feel the strain of her arms—and wow, okay, he really wasn’t the only person around here with muscles.
Six times Marinette carried Adrien (plus one time he carried her).
Chapters: 1/1
All the sides of the lovesquare! Fluff with LOTS of mutual pining.
a fight that you were born to lose also by aloneintherain
When the prosecution starts throwing around the word victim in reference to Adrien, he has to stuff his hands under his thighs to keep himself from bolting out of the courtroom.
Adrien had felt unsafe during those last few weeks, but, until he had woken up and seen Father silhouetted in his bedroom doorway, that had only been paranoia. Father was controlling and cold, but he wasn’t hateful. Adrien was isolated. He was often hungry. And some weeks ago, when he had snuck out to visit Nino, sitting thigh-to-thigh on his bed while Adrien cried in that silent, crumbling way of his, he hadn’t argued when Nino put a hand on his shoulder and said, tentatively, That’s abuse.
But Adrien remembers being small and Father touching his hair after he’d aced another test; Father holding his scribbled drawings like they were something precious, and framing them around his office; Father, dressed as Hawkmoth, his eyes wild behind the mask, lashing his sword against Adrien’s baton; Father, collapsed against Mum, crying into her ashy hair.
Adrien finds out Gabriel is Hawkmoth, and Gabriel gets to bring his long-waited plan into action.
Chapters: 1/1
This one doesn't really focus in the ship that much as is an Adrien character study and an exploration of his relationship with his father, but they're still there so I put them here. Really heavy angst (this is one of this fics that haunt me in the middle of the night) with a happy ending. ❗TW: parental abuse, eating disorders❗
Supercut by LNC
Marinette loves her friends and Adrien can't deal.
Chapters: 1/1
Post-reveal lovesquare, again light angst, an exploration of Adrien's insecurities, Marinette Dupain-Cheng deserves the world, happy ending.
Madame Snare by jettiebettie
“Sounds like a lot of work for nothing. She should take this as a sign to have a relaxing weekend with no responsibilities.”
“It's a lot of work she put her whole heart into. It wouldn't be right for it to go to waste,” Adrien whispers to him. The look on Marinette's face is enough to cause Adrien's own heart to ache. If anyone deserves the satisfaction and pride from a job well done, it's her.
“Too bad there isn't anyone else who can walk in those death traps,” Plagg says. Adrien hums in thought, tapping his chin.
“I could.”
Chapters: 1/1
Marichat, episode-based, Chat Noir in a dress!!!, light angst but it's mostly just idiots being idiots and a lot of fun.
in the same sun by peachcitt (@peachcitt here on tumblr!)
"It’s hard to believe that I saw you last at the peak of summer, when the sun was close and warm - and so were you. It should go without saying that I miss you. I miss you something terrible."
//
"It’s been seven months to the day since I’ve seen you. I wish you were here more than anything else."
Two letters, signed with initials instead of names, found in Paris, France.
Chapters: 1/1
Ladynoir, just angst, that's it, written like letters. No ending, just pain.
an uncurtain discovery by Missnoodles (@ladyofthenoodle here on tumblr!)
When he returns from school on Wednesday afternoon, Adrien discovers the darkness in his own home. He struggles to come to terms with it. To his utter mortification and delight, Ladybug is nearby to rescue him.
(He does not discover that his father is supervillain. That will happen on a different Wednesday.)
Chapters: 1/1
Ladrien, it says it's crack, and don't get me wrong, is super funny, but I also found it sad as fuck?
An Open Secret by Kasienda
Adrien whirled around toward Marinette. She smiled at him.
He couldn’t smile back. He stared at her like the dumb blond model that he was often accused of being.
Something shifted in her expression. And her warm open Marinette smile transformed into Ladybug’s grin. He was looking at Ladybug right now.
He knew Ladybug’s name!
Her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
And he couldn’t say anything! Not to Marinette! Not even to Plagg, who had confided two weeks prior that Master Fu was growing increasingly paranoid since the location of his home and hideout had been compromised. Their master had apparently decided that Chat Noir and Ladybug would have to give up their miraculouses if they ever discovered each other’s identities.
It wasn’t fair!
...
A fic where they both know, but can't openly talk about it.
Chapters: 4/4
Post-reveal... but is it? Mostly adrienette and ladynoir, fluff with light angst and them being absolute idiots at hiding their secret identity.
golden (like daylight) by okayanna (@anna-scribbles here on tumblr!)
Friendship, Adrien decided, shaking off the mental image of Marinette’s hurricane eyes and hesitant mouth, parted in a small, careful “o.” He had a very strong friendship with Marinette. That was all.
or
Adrien thinks a lot about words, love, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
Chapters: 1 + epilogue
Adrienette but has lots of ladynoir, another Adrien character study because I hate myself, it tries to not be angst but the writing will punch you in the guts and make you cry, it's so good.
Strangers in the Bright Lights by poodles (@ladybeug here on tumblr!)
Adrien is about two drinks in when he sees a girl at the end of the bar wearing black cat ears. It's kind of weird, so he watches her, and although it's crowded he can see her face when she turns around. She’s wearing a Chat Noir mask. He takes a quick look around- nobody else is wearing a mask. Just her.
Adrien finishes his gin martini and heads over to her. He could use some company tonight anyways, he hasn’t told anyone he’s back in Paris and Nathalie won’t arrive in town for another month. And it’s been a rough day, okay? A rough move! He’s not sure he wants to be back yet, and he spent most of the day in the Agreste mansion sorting through some photographs of his father he found in the study. Maybe he wants a drink and some stranger to tell him he’s pretty! That’s not a crime, is it?
Chapters: 1/1
Adrienette but it's also ladrien??? I think??? It's super super angsty but they're both drunk the entirety of the fic so it's also really funny.
Pick-Up and Chase by also SKayLanphear
After she accidentally trips into Adrien and apologizes about "falling for him," Marinette learns that he's no match for cheesy pick-up lines--whether they were unintended or not. And while she finds it flattering that he turns into a flustered mess with only a few words, Marinette comes to regret making him uncomfortable. That is, until she learns he's Chat Noir. At which point the phrase "just deserts" becomes a permanent fixture in her everyday plans.
A story in which Adrien is flustered, Marinette is smooth as glass at dropping lines, and Chat Noir gets the romance he was always asking for--even if he doesn't quite know how to handle it.
Chapters: 10/10
Adrienette with one sided reveal by Marinette's side, it doesn't say it in the tags but I'm pretty sure the characters are much older than they actually are in the show, so much fluff and so much flirting.
Pairing: Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe
Nino Has Done Nothing To Deserve This by GuardianKarenTerrier (@guardiankarenterrier here in tumblr)
It's nothing, really- just an innocent comment, a joke. But when they hear it, Nino and Alya come to a realisation.
There were, in retrospect, dozens upon dozens of hints. Now that they're suddenly aware of all their friend's flimsy excuses and rushed explanations, they're not only sure how they've missed it, they're not sure how anyone else has either. They realise that it had to be magic protecting their friends- and that same magic has ceased to work on the two of them.
Well, this means they'll just have to start watching over their friends themselves.
Chapters: 7/7
This is more a found family fic than anything else, Alya and Nino are the mom friend, has light angst but it's mostly identity shenanigans in the most bizarre way. ❗TW: eating disorders❗
christmas lights by demistories
Nino checks up and down the street, checking to make sure there’s no raging akuma headed his way before he crosses quickly and ducks inside the small café. He closes the door quickly before the icy air can blow inside and tugs his beanie down over his ears. He spots Alya sitting alone in the corner.
Chapters: 1/1
Just fluff!! Really short but really sweet.
hold on, i still want you also by Missnoodles!
Written for the @thedjwifizine ! Wich I also recommend if you wanna binge a lot of djwifi fics while also looking at amazing art!!!
Five times Alya ran into her ex, and the one time he stopped being her ex.
Chapters: 1/1
Light angst with a happy ending! I don't really like the ex-lovers to lovers trope but this one is the only exception.
I will continue to expand the list in the future! But by now I hope I was helpful in the search of new fics!
#miraculous ladybug#mlb#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste#chat noir#ladybug#lovesquare#lovesquare fic rec#miraculous ladybug fanfiction#miraculous ladybug fanfiction recomendation#miraculous fic rec#fic rec#djwifi#ninalya#djwifi fic rec#adrienette fic rec#marichat fic rec#ladynoir fic rec#ladrien fic rec#ml#fanfiction
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subtle | shouto todoroki/reader
pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader
status: complete
length: 2,171 words
summary: Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You're determined to track down the sender, certain it's a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.
tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, valentine’s day
warnings: aged up characters (no smut though!!)
There was a box on your desk.
There was a box on your desk, and the sight of it was enough to instantly set you on edge.
The box looked normal enough, if a little fancy, maybe. Its lacquered top glinted brightly under the fluorescent office lighting, its smooth, polished sides waterfalling into the soft matte of your desktop underneath. You weren’t close enough to read the inscription, but you could just make out some elegant, curling script inlaid into the top of the box, possibly the name of whichever company had produced it.
The box looked very normal, in fact. Only, you knew it wasn’t. Boxes didn’t just show up in the middle of the Todoroki Hero Agency, a campus swimming with pros and armed with layers of security so deep it took even you--Shouto Todoroki’s manager--fifteen full minutes to get through screening every morning. It was something very much like being a prison guard at Tartarus.
So either this box meant the agency was dealing with a security breach the likes of which had scarcely been seen before, or someone had mistaken your desk for somebody else’s.
Which, considering it was Valentine’s Day, made a lot more sense.
Buoyed by the realization it wasn't a security risk, you crept closer, peering at the box, and the script resolved itself into the name of the extremely fancy chocolatier in Hiroo district that you made a point of drooling over every time you had to make a house call on Shouto. Their prices were literally insane, so you had never let yourself wander inside, unwilling to shell out an entire week’s pay for a tiny set of chocolates. Even if they did look absolutely fucking unbelievable from the window.
Your mouth watered.
That confirmed it--this was a Valentine's gift, and it was definitely a mistake. For the briefest of seconds, you’d wondered if maybe you had gotten obligatory office friendship chocolates, but this was too much. Some poor, love-sodden flop had gone out, spent their week’s pay on someone they were clearly very serious about, and then proceeded to fuck the entire thing up by plonking their gift straight onto your desk instead of their intended’s.
You frowned, quickly checking the box over for some kind of clue as to who had left it. There was no note included, nothing even mildly helpful that would give you the slightest hint of the person who'd left it here. Which left you with the question of how to return the box to the sender without knowing who they were, or how to pass it on to whoever they’d really meant it for.
You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, staring hard at the surface of the box like you could crack its code if only you glared hard enough. The box stared back at you, unhelpfully silent.
You were still skewering the box with your gaze some minutes later, determined to unravel its secrets, when a deep voice murmured from your doorway.
“You look puzzled."
You startled, whipping around to find Shouto propping up the wall, looking as unfairly handsome as usual. He was watching you intently, those heterochromatic eyes fastened to your face in that careful way he had, the one that always made you feel too warm and slightly unfocused. As usual, it was all you could do to remind yourself that you were a professional and he was something solidly between a friend and a coworker, and no matter how cute and attentive he was, you shouldn't get any ideas.
This morning, he was dressed in his hero uniform, tall and broad-shouldered, his distinctive hair only a little ruffled from his early patrol. It wasn’t often someone tried something in the districts he watched over anymore, probably too nervous to find themselves on the wrong end of the number four hero’s temper. You knew from the reports you received to your phone that the only trouble he’d encountered this morning was a pack of amorous school girls purposely misusing their quirks to draw his attention.
Thirty minutes ago, in fact, you’d almost spit out your coffee laughing at a photo of him looking wildly uncomfortable as he attempted to ice down some girl’s lava quirk with his right hand while fighting off her unfathomably enormous bouquet with his left. It was only right that he should suffer once a year, when every other day he got to stalk about as handsome as you please, oblivious to the effects his appearance had on every breathing person within a five mile radius.
You gave him an absent nod, gaze drawn back to the box on your desk.
“Somebody accidentally left something in here,” you told him, gesturing to it. “I’m trying to figure out how to track down who it was, or who it was meant for.”
Shouto made a small noise in the back of his throat, almost like a cough, and it was enough to startle you into looking up at him again.
“What?” you asked, peering at him. Was he coming down with something? It wasn't often he got sick, but when he did, he usually attempted to hide it and needed to be steamrolled into taking time off. You looked him over, trying to assess whether or not you needed to start badgering him now.
Shouto gazed back at you evenly, his expression deceptively bland. “...You think it’s not for you.”
You felt yourself blink at him, surprised by the comment and struggling to discern his meaning. What did he mean, you think it’s not for you? “Of course it’s not for me, Shouto, it’s from Grégoire Chardin.”
You knew he’d know the place, considering he lived in the same fancy rich people neighborhood as the chocolatier, but Shouto looked unimpressed.
“Why should that mean it’s not for you?” he asked, his tone dry.
The remark caught you off guard, as his comments sometimes did, and you bit down something like a smile. Bless his sweet, oblivious, rich boy heart. Either he overestimated your appeal to his agency staff, or he really did not understand the concepts of cost and return on investment.
“It’s expensive, it’s not something you would give someone as obligatory chocolates,” you explained, watching as a white eyebrow went up. His expression sharpened into something you couldn’t read well.
“It could be a secret admirer,” he said.
You stared blankly back at him, absolutely floored by the idea.
He thought you had a secret admirer? The idea sent an excited thrill all the way down to your toes, but you quickly squashed the feeling. So far, you'd never been on the receiving end of any furtive but romantic gestures, and you really didn't get any interested vibes from anyone in the office, no lingering glances or excuses to spend more time with you. The person who paid you the most amount of attention was Shouto, which was to be expected, considering how closely you worked together. And obviously he wasn't interested, he was just happy to stand in your doorway spouting wild conspiracies about his agency staffers like they were completely reasonable things to say.
“I don’t have a secret admirer,” you told him.
Shouto’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he took an intent step forward into your office. “Is the point of a secret admirer not to be exactly that--secret? How can you be sure?”
You couldn’t help it--you gaped at him, your face going weirdly warm. Okay, was he--was he serious? You obviously weren’t the most unfortunate creature on earth, and you even had your good days, but nobody in their right mind was going to attempt anything with you when there were girls like Nejire Hado and Ibara Shiozaki roaming the hallways of his agency. Even several of the analysts and most of the support crew had you beat out in terms of appeal--literally bless this man for his obvious indifference to your appearance.
“I, uh--thanks for your confidence in me,” you said, fighting down a laugh. “But I assure you, it definitely wasn’t meant for me. I just have to figure out who left it and who they meant it for.”
Shouto shifted impatiently, like he was waiting for something.
“You’re so certain,” he said, sounding frustrated.
“Of course I am,” you waved at him vaguely. It was actually super cute that he thought you could net yourself a dude who was willing to shell out Grégoire Chardin dollars, but you were just wasting time now, lingering over the least important part of this entire affair. “Listen, Shouto. I know sometimes men talk in the locker rooms. If you--if you hear anything, will you let me know? I just want to return it, it looks way too good sitting here.”
It was actually taking all your willpower not to open it and avail yourself of Japan’s finest chocolate, considering you would never have another opportunity like this again. Maybe you should just pretend it was for you....Really, no one could fault you for opening something left in your own office. But...no. No, you knew better.
Shouto appeared indifferent to your internal struggle. He watched you for a long moment, his features impassive. “Under one condition,” he finally allowed.
You cocked an ear to show you were listening, rifling around with the paperwork on your desk to distract yourself from the chocolate. You were strong, a good person. You had willpower like steel. You did not need to eat it, no no no.
“If no one comes looking for it by the end of the day, you will open it,” he said, moving closer.
You glanced up at him, shocked. “Shouto, this is someone else’s gift,” you hissed. “I can’t just open it.”
He placed a large palm down on your desk, leaning over you slightly. “That is my bargain.”
“You want me to steal somebody’s shit in your own agency,” you accused him. You tried not to pay attention to how close he had gotten, how straight his nose was up close, the way his eyes seemed brighter and his mouth pulled into a pout almost too pretty for a man.
The rest of his expression slipped into something like annoyance, matching his pout. “If no one comes for it, then it must be evident that it was meant for you.”
You suppressed a derisive laugh. Now was not the time to get shirty with your own boss, especially when his delusions were kind of sweet. It was honestly just short of a miracle that a man who looked like Shouto did could possibly think anyone on earth would have a thing for you, regardless of his own tastes.
“What if they’re just too shy to ask for it back?” you asked, watching those heterochromatic eyes flick over you curiously.
“If it’s as expensive as you say, someone will come looking,” he said. Which was actually kind of annoyingly reasonable.
A smirk flitted across his maddeningly perfect face when you failed to come up with another argument. He had a point, and he knew it.
You let out a gusty sigh. “Fine, but only because I’m certain someone will come looking for it. Please be subtle when you’re gathering info, okay? I'm sure this is embarrassing for whoever made this mistake.”
Shouto looked almost offended. “I am perfectly capable of being subtle,” he intoned in his deep voice.
This time, you did laugh. He was quiet, maybe, very perceptive, and unobtrusive when he wanted to be, but no one had ever accused the man of possessing tact. “Yeah, okay. Just, try to channel more subtlety than you think you need, okay? No one else but the sender needs to know about the mix up.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Shouto was leaning over you more fully, eyes glittering strangely as his clean, fresh scent met your nose. You froze in your chair, brain going horrifyingly vacant as he leaned impossibly nearer. What the fuck was he doing?
“It will be like I’m not even asking,” Shouto promised, his voice light. “Not asking anyone at all.”
You tried to scrape your thoughts back into something resembling order, but the effort was all but futile. You needed to get him out of your space stat before you embarrassed yourself.
”Okay, then it’s a deal,” you said quickly. “Now go...flambé a villain or something.”
Shouto lingered for a long moment, his mouth curling a little at the corner, like he was being let in on a secret you couldn’t hear. His eyes brushed over you, almost like a physical touch. And then he was gone, pulling open the door to your office, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.
“You will see,” he said by way of farewell. “You will find out how subtle I can be.”
You stared at him in confusion, but he didn’t explain himself. He just smirked, and closed the door behind himself.
#todoroki shouto x reader#todoroki x reader#todoroki shouto#bnha#bnha fanfic#bnha x reader#boku no hero academia#shouto todoroki x reader
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can i request an angsty sbi fic where sibling reader lost two lives saving others (maybe tubbo at the festival?) and they see everything falling apart (techno and phil destroying everything, wilbur dead and tommy focused on the disks) and they pretend to be ok while their mental health gets worse and worse until they decide to end it, and people only realise they weren't okay after the death message pops up and their reactions to seeing it? if not thats completely fine, ik its pretty heavy
Broken
GN
Pairings: none
Characters included: Wilbur, Tommy, Philza, Tubbo, Technoblade
Warnings: depression, suicide (falling, non descriptive), angst
Series: a request!
Summary: Y/N just wanted their home back. They just wanted to live a peaceful life but instead all their hopes and dreams got ripped apart by the people they loved the most.
Words count: 3647
Authors Note: Honestly I could have shortened it quite a bit but here we are, it’s way longer than I wanted but I hope you guys enjoy this. I’m sorry if this went kind off of rails to what you might have envisioned. Also I hope that you guys know that you are loved and appreciated. I appreciate you for taking the time to read my stuff :] Here is m favorite video to cheer me up some times, hope it can cheer you up as well!
I’m also curious what your guys thoughts and opinion are on this or my writing in general! Can’t get better without feedback :]
Y/N loved their family.
They were all pretty chaotic but so was Y/N, following their siblings into trouble ignoring any possible consequences.
So when Wilbur proclaimed he would create an independent Nation inside the SMP that was owned by Dream himself, you bet that Y/N was standing right beside him.
When Wilbur would struggle with his tasks or was weighed down by doubts they would swoop right in and do their best to support him. Every time Wilbur would say “I don’t know what I would do without you sometimes.” While Y/N didn’t do it for praise but out of love for him it was still nice knowing that he appreciated them and that he took note of their work.
Tommy wasn’t really for heartfelt words but he too expressed in his own way how much he appreciated them being around. Most of his schemes wouldn’t have even happened without Y/N’s help after all. As a way to say thanks he would let them just take stuff fout his chets or when he heard they needed a specific resource he would wander out and get it for them. Of course saying something on the lines of “I was out there anyhow, so I brought some with me. It was on the way.” Y/N could read between the lines though. They grew up with him after all.
Y/N put so much energy into L’Manberg they couldn’t help but be in love with this little nation. They would do everything to protect their home.
When Y/N lost their first life it was together with their siblings protecting their nephew Fundy.
The Dream Team suddenly retreated after another battle against L’Manberg. While the group was celebrating what they thought was their first victory in ages, Eret appeared. She told the group of a small bunker with more resources.
Still celebrating Wilbur, Y/N, Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy made their way towards the bunker. The bunker that would later go down into history as “The Final Control Room.”
Inside they all looked at the labeled chests only to notice that they were empty. Eret then pressed a button which opened up secret walls with the Dream Team standing behind. She herself got into safety as Dream and his friends merciless attacked the L’Manberg faction.
As soon as Y/N understood what was happening they did their best to form a wall between the attackers and Fundy. Slowly pushing him out of the room while they made sure to block the exit, giving the Fox Hybrid enough time to run away.
When they woke up again it was inside their home. In L’Manberg. Sore from the respawning.
Once they did respawn though it didn’t take long for Fundy to barge into their room and throw himself against them, thanking them. Wilbur was close by, looking worse for wear as well but incredible thankful nonetheless.
After that and a few battles more Tommy challenged Dream to a duel in order to secure independence. He lost so instead he bartered his music discs for freedom.
After Tommy respawned a second time Y/N made sure to spent most of their time hovering around him. Making sure he was doing alright.
But with that L’Manberg was independent and it was Y/N’s time to shine. Sure, they worked hard on strengthening the infrastructure of the nation but now, maybe even because of that, they basically coordinated all the new builds.
Shops, homes and other things were being build with them overseeing it. Meanwhile Wilbur and Tommy took care of the political part only to come to the conclusion that they had to have a proper election.
At first it started innocently enough as well. New political parties were made that begun advertising themselves. Funny enough they would always come to Y/N asking them where they could hang up their posters. It was then that Y/N realized that the people saw them as some sort of authority, even asking them if they wanted to start their own campaign. They politely declined, saying they worked best as a support role.
Then Schlatt entered the stage and everything got thrown upside down.
In the end he managed to become the next president via a coalition and his first declaration as the president, or emperor as he called himself, was to exile Tommy and Wilbur.
As they ran for their life Y/N didn’t hesitate to follow. It hurt them so much to leave L’Manberg, their fruit and labor, behind. This only got worse once they realized that Tubbo was basically left alone back at the city under Schlatt’s rule.
Then Pogtopia got established.
Tommy, Wilbur and Y/N did their best to get a proper foothold again. Gathering resources and planning for ways to get their home back. And to accomplish this they soon called in the oldest sibling of the group, Technoblade.
Techno has been away for the longest time now. He moved out early to travel the world and apparently train himself. Somehow Tommy found a way to get a message to him, so he made his way towards Pogtopia.
He wasn’t big on words or emotions but as soon as he arrived he let Y/N hug him.
“This is a onetime deal, Y/N.”
With Techno they finally felt like they had a chance. Y/N could maybe return home someday. Back when they were children Techno always looked out for them so to have him back Y/N felt infinitely safer.
All the while Wilbur showed more and more signs that his mental health was rapidly declining. Y/N did their best trying to cheer him up but there was only so much they could do. Especially since they themself were struggling.
L’Manberg was their everything and now it was under the iron rule of Schlatt. They had to watch as Schlatt walked through the nation, ripping apart builds that they commissioned or even built themself. Every time he did something like that it felt like another stab wound directly into their heart.
Then the festival happened where Y/N lost their second life protecting Tubbo.
Schlatt wanted to apparently celebrate democracy and his amazing rule. Tommy and Wilbur weren’t allowed to join while Techno and Y/N received an invitation.
Y/N was very wary of that. They learned from Tubbo that Schlatt apparently was pretty interested in bringing them over to Manberg since a lot of the residents trusted them and saw them more as an authority than Schlatt himself, so bringing them over would probably also bring a lot of the residents around to his rule.
On the day of the festival Y/N made sure to stay close to Techno. Holding on to his arm and basically hiding behind him, not feeling up to talk with all the people in Manberg.
The people were happy to see them but Y/N was tired. They haven’t slept properly ever since the exile, too many thoughts that kept them awake.
Then the speeches started.
Honestly Y/N wasn’t really listening, their attention purely on a broken old building. It used to be the place where Y/N and the other residents would meet up and map out their plans for new builds. Discussing and even sometimes arguing on what materials should be used and where to get them. Now it was empty.
Their attention got pulled back towards what was actually happening once Tubbo begun speaking. It was a nice little speech Y/N had to admit.
Just as Tubbo was about to leave, Schlatt moved back in. Holding him in place and pushing him in something that Y/N had to describe as a cage with the help of Quackity.
“Techno, buddy. Come up here for a sec.”
Technoblade tensed up but still moved towards the stage. There Schlatt uttered the words that pulled the rug out from beneath Y/N once again.
“Kill him Techno. He is a traitor.”
“Don’t you dare!” Y/N yelled out, making their way towards the stage as well.
Y/N knew Techno couldn’t deal well with social pressure, especially when there were about ten people or more behind him that could attack him at any point.
Tubbo looked so scared as he pressed himself against the wall. There was no escape for him.
When Techno moved his crossbow up, aiming directly at Tubbo, Y/N let out another scream. Urging him to stop.
Explosions. Colorful explosions filled the place.
“Y/N!” it was Tubbo screaming their name out.
Just as Techno pressed the trigger Y/N managed to jump in front, the rockets hitting them instead of Tubbo.
Their older brother looked absolutely mortified “Y/N? Wha- What? Why? How?” staring at Y/N’s lifeless body that slowly dissolved. They were slowly respawning but seeing his siblings body was enough to send him in some sort of frenzy.
Filled with bloodlust he aimed his crossbow towards Schlatt and Quackity. Killing them with one press of the trigger only to turn around and aim his crossbow towards the people.
As this happened Tommy enderpearled over, screaming at Techno.
He helped Tubbo out of the cage who was still in a state of shock. He only saw Y/N for a second and the next they were laying on the ground in their own blood.
Y/N heard the details later after they respawned. Tommy had apparently been incredibly angry at Techno, even attacking him. Wilbur then offered that the two deal with their argument via a fistfight inside a pit.
Normally Y/N would have yelled at Wilbur for that. Would have told him that this was his dumbest idea yet but they were too shook from what had happened to them.
Technoblade always spelled safety to them but he killed them. Sure, he meant to kill Tubbo but that didn’t really make it any better. They gave him an out, they would have helped fighting off all these people so they could flee.
The next time they saw Techno they flinched every time he got too close to them and yet they still put on a smile “Never, do this again.”
Techno only nodded.
After this downward slope the momentum didn’t seem to stop for them. Wilbur dropped even more and more off. Falling victim to his paranoia. Y/N tried their best convincing him to not blow up Manberg, that they will fight to gain it back. At this point trying to gain back their L’Manberg was the only thing they could hold on to.
Though all that work was for nothing.
The war to take back L’Manberg went way differently than they all had imagined. Y/N fought with a viciousness most didn’t think they had it in them. This was the day for them to finally regain what they had wished for, for the longest time now.
Everything came to a halt once Dream surrendered. He showed them Schlatt who was sitting in the Carmavan. Drunk off his mind he yelled and screamed at people only to die of a heart attack which meant that the Pogtopia faction won.
The people begun cheering, they had their home back! They were free! Y/N was probably the loudest by far. It felt like a huge weight was lifted from their shoulders. All this hardship and they could finally return to working with the others and rebuild L’Manberg. Return it to its former glory.
Tubbo got appointed President and Y/N was happy with it. Tubbo had an eye for building and was a good person, with him they were sure they could do some amazing things.
Apparently Techno thought otherwise. Instead he pulled Soulsand out, holding onto the Wither skulls as a visible threat.
Y/N had somewhat forgiven Techno for what had happened. It was a stressful situation and they acknowledged it but seeing him there, threatening to kill all of them? That they knew they couldn’t forgive quite so easy. Especially since he made some sound points but it was their L’Manberg. The people didn’t like living under Schlatt’s rule, this wasn’t something that could be described simply as a coup. Technically he was right but only technically. There were so many things that came into play that could let you argue over that but Techno would have none of it. Yelling something about Tommy only wanting to be a hero.
When the first explosions rang Y/N thought it came from a Wither but Techno was still in the middle of putting the heads onto the structure.
When more explosions rang and the ground beneath their feet broke away, Y/N understood what had happened.
At some point Wilbur ran off and must have pressed the button. The button that set the TNT beneath the city ablaze, effectively destroying everything.
Y/N was too busy with finding hard ground again and then dealing with the Withers and Techno that they only noticed after the fighting ended, how broken the nation was now.
They had won. Why would Wilbur do this? He knew how much the nation meant to them and again, they had won, so there was no reason for blowing the place up!
And if that wasn’t enough to see how both their older brothers destroyed everything Y/N worked for, they also had to see how Philza, their father, stood next to the corpse of Wilbur. It felt like they lost everything.
They lost their trust in Technoblade.
They lost their hopes and dreams via Wilbur blowing up the freshly liberated L’Manberg.
They lost their trust in their own father who had slain his own son.
Y/N felt absolutely crushed. Family was so important to them and it was their own family that destroyed their hopes and dreams. They did everything for them and this is how they repaid them?
Once everything calmed down and Tubbo begun making plans on how to rebuild the nation, he immediately came to Y/N for help but they hesitated which worried him.
“Is everything okay? Usually you would have jumped on that offer, Y/N.”
Y/N put on a smile that didn’t seem to reach their eyes “Don’t worry Tubbo, of course I’ll help you. I’m just tired from what we have been through. I finally have time to take a breather and I think it all just crashed down on me.”
“Well if you ever need help you can talk to me.” It was an earnest offer that Y/N would never take advantage of.
Y/N mostly ignored Philza. He talked with them a few times and even explained what has happened but Y/N still made a wide berth around him. Seeing him just hammered back down the feeling of distrust and hurt. Their familial relationship took a hard hit from that point on.
With Ghostbur it was a weird situation as well. They enjoyed spending time with him but were also always incredibly sad around him. Ghostbur took notice of this and would always offer them to take some of his blue but Y/N declined every time.
“Don’t worry Ghostbur. Everything is still just fresh in my mind. I’ll be back to my old self in no time. You take care of yourself, you hear?”
“Of course Y/N! You have always looked out for me, thank you.”
L’Manberg slowly took on a proper form again but it wasn’t the L’Manberg Y/N knew. It felt to them like they were standing on top of a grave. A grave for their dreams and it was getting hard, real hard, to walk through it every day seeing places where they know specific buildings should be standing. Buildings they build on their own only to be destroyed by their brothers doing.
Then Tubbo exiled Tommy and Y/N felt conflicted. They felt obligated to stay in L’Manberg since they were the main person people came to for builds but that was their brother. Their only brother they still trusted and felt a need to protect.
Instead of following him into exile they stayed in the city. Visiting Tommy whenever they could, noticing pretty fast that he was struggling hard with his situation and for once they didn’t feel strong enough to properly support him. Y/N tried their best but once they noticed they couldn’t reach him completely they gave up a tiny bit.
It reminded them too much of Wilbur.
So while they visited him and helped them where they could, they spent more and more time alone in their home only coming out for work and other necessary things like food. Soon it was normal to see them with ever present dark circles beneath their eyes.
Before Philza disappeared to join Techno, he would stop by Y/N’s home all the time.
“Have you eaten, yet?”
“Yes, dad. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”
“I just haven’t seen you much lately and I got worried.”
“Don’t worry. I’m fine. Hey, if you go out, please, can you tell Ghostbur to stop coming around to throw Blue inside my mailbox? He won’t listen to me but perhaps he will to you.” And they would always carry the same big smile on their face accompanied by empty eyes.
The only time their happiness reached their eyes again was when Tommy returned from his exile. They crashed into their younger sibling holding him close to them and muttering apologies. He pried them off, embarrassed by all of this.
This short bout of happiness was destroyed by Doomsday. Dream, Technoblade and Philza once again made sure to set L’Manberg ablaze.
The second time Y/N’s fruits and labor got completely annihilated by their family but still they had some hopes this time. They still had Tommy on their side they could just finally build a home somewhere else and live in peace but Tommy had other ideas. He had it in his mind to get his discs back and he would do anything for it.
So while Y/N tried to ground themself with new hopes and ideas, holding onto the only constant of what was important to them, that being Tommy, Tommy ignored them. He was too busy with his own things and the worst part was that Y/N couldn’t even fault him for it.
They understood how much these discs meant to him and that this was something that had to come to an end but with this they lost another, and possibly their last, anchor point.
Yet you could still see them running around with a smile, tending to every one and trying to help out the best they could.
Then suddenly they were gone. They just disappeared one day. The few people who took note of that took some time to look around but there was no sign as to where they left. Y/N didn’t take their armor with them nor any weapons or food.
< Y/N succumbed to despair and fell of a high place>
When every ones communicators rung out with this message the SMP fell quiet.
Tommy couldn’t believe what he was reading. This didn’t make any sense. Y/N was fine! They would talk with them and everything looked fine! This must have been a cruel joke from Dream somehow, right? This couldn’t be real. Why would Dream do this? This didn’t seem to make sense.
Exactly there was no sense in Dream doing this.
While Tommy was battling with his thoughts Tubbo came running over to him. Tears streamed down his face.
“What happened? Why did this happen? Where are they?”
Tommy was visibly shaking “I- I have no idea. I don’t know. They looked fine. I’m- I’m not sure. Tubbo-“
Tubbo just slammed into him, giving him a proper hug, trying his best to help Tommy through his rising panic. He lost another sibling and by Ender that hurt.
Meanwhile in the snowy Tundra both Philza and Techno were staring at their communicators as well.
Philza was pale. So pale it almost rivaled the snow around him.
Techno had his brows furrowed. For anyone who didn’t know him well enough he looked at best displeased with this situation but Philza could see the small details that told a different story. Him sucking his breath in as he read the message, hiding his quivering lip in his cloak. He was heartbroken.
Sure the two weren’t on good speaking terms but Y/N was still his younger sibling. He still loved them.
Philza felt similar. He acknowledged that he screwed up and honored their wish to be left alone by him but he never imagined this could lead to their death. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground. Two of his children died, one directly by his hand and the other due to his inaction.
His eyes glossed over, the world became a blur and yet he continued rereading this message over and over. Y/N just lost their last life.
Philza could hear Techno walk closer to him and sat down on the ground as well.
“Y/N is-“ Philza begun but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. State the obvious to his eldest son?
“I have more fault in this than you, dad. Don’t feel guilty.” His voice was uncharacteristically weak. Wavering as he spoke. He wanted to cheer Philza up but it was a weak attempt.
“What have we done.”
Ghostbur was at first confused when he read the message. It was like he couldn’t connect the dots but it slowly dawned on him what this meant.
“Oh my.” His usual happy demeanor was suddenly gone.
He touched his face and as he put his hands back down he saw how they were smeared with blue.
“Y/N is dead?”
His usual ghost behavior seemed to break a bit. It was like through the warped version of Wilbur that was called Ghostbur for a moment the true version of him came through again. And he was hurt. Devastated.
“I think I need to find the others.” He mumbled to himself, making his way towards his family. All the while he held onto the blue wool of Friend like a lifeline. Combing through it nervously. Blue continuing to spill from his eyes.
#mcyt x reader#mcyt reader insert#mcyt fanfiction#mcyt x Y/N#dream smp reader insert#dream smp fanfiction#dream smp x reader#dream smp x Y/N#dsmp fanfiction#dsmp reader insert#dsmp x reader#sbi#sleepy bois inc#ramza writes#Anonymous#anon request
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👀 PLease tell us your thoughts about the Jedi babies re-growing up among different cultural contexts.
Oh fuck okay
Context: original post, chrono The specific post this ask is referencing: here
Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka), are now staying with the True Mandalorians under Jaster Mereel because the Force said to, go back to the Temple after about a decade. They grabbed Shmi about three months after arriving.
So as far as the cultural background goes, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had similar upbringings. She spent a few years on Shili first, but both spent the majority of their childhoods up to age 13/14 being raised in the creche. So that's the basis that they would default to, in a vacuum.
Nobody is raised in a vacuum.
Along with the Jedi cultural background, they're being raised by Tatooine natives in a Mandalorian environment.
Shmi and Anakin are both former slaves who have desert survival baked into their bones. The longer Anakin spends around her, the more his accent slips, the more he talks about old folktales, the more he uses idioms that don't exist on a cityplanet like Coruscant. All the things that he tamped down to be a Jedi come floating back to the surface, and Shmi's never known anything else. Anakin's knowledge of slave customs make her feel more comfortable, which in turn makes him feel better, and so on.
Mandalore is just... the culture they're living in. You don't grow up in a new culture with a new language without picking up on it personally. (Source: I moved to the US when I was a little under two years old.)
I think the thing I'm going to focus on as an example is the way each of these cultures approaches family, and then maybe how they approach the keeping of peace/what peace means.
Jedi: Where you come from means little, only the legacy you leave behind in your students. Mandalore: You protect your clan and your children; adoption is a major cultural value, if not actually practiced consistently. Tatooine: You can lose your family at any time, so you value what you have in all its forms. You don’t forget where and who you came from, to family of blood and family of choice alike. You cling to your memories and what little you still have of them, to what your master cannot take away.
These are all valid ways to approach family, and each of these approaches can have significant meaning to different people. But they do all, to a certain degree, conflict with one another, despite all three being fairly communal cultures.
The Jedi have a culture, one that’s built on a shared ability and religion over thousands of years. It’s not just an organization, but a continuous community with legends and traditions and art and records. But it’s one that is built on new blood coming in from the outside, volunteers who join because the religion speaks to them (near literally, given the nature of Force Sensitivity), given up by families who couldn’t or wouldn’t teach them in a way that let their talents flourish instead of pushing it all down.
For the Jedi, a culture built on people coming together due to something they have in common intrinsically that their families of blood do not, it makes sense to put emphasis on letting go of that past when they can, and to place importance on teaching lineages. It’s not just the official master-padawan pairs, either, but that’s the most obvious and easily paralleled element. Moreover, a lot of the Jedi culture is about gaining knowledge, so obviously spreading it is good, and also on supporting the galaxy to make it a better place; to view the Jedi order as a heavily communal culture would make sense, since their values are all about selfless betterment of the universe, which on a larger scale is about the galactic conflicts, but on a smaller scale is about supporting their own community, the children and the ill and elderly.
So that is the specific culture that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka grew up in, one that holds blood family as relevant but not particularly crucial to one’s identity, but is structured so people leave behind legacies through education in a manner that often becomes adoptive family (depending on your definition, I guess). Jedi are encouraged to connect to their home cultures, if not their families, with practices like the coming of age hunt for Togruta leading to the young Jedi taking a trip out to Shili to engage in that cultural milestone. This can also be viewed as a way for the Jedi to maintain personal connections to the wider universe, a (not entirely successful, but certainly attempted) way of keeping them from becoming too isolated and insular from the universe at large, and losing touch from what the galaxy actually needs of them.
They’re now growing up with two cultures that do place emphasis on blood and found family.
Mandalore, as presented in The Mandalorian, has their traditional values set as being heavily associated with their armor, battle skills, and childcare. While that’s clearly a set of values that aren’t actually followed by everyone with full sincerity, we can assume that these stated cultural values do have at least some impact on the way the society is structured, since we do see more traditional characters (Jaster, Din) adopt orphaned children and then have the Mandalorian elements of their immediate circles support that claim.
(We’ll ignore Jango and the whole clone army thing because the amount of Sith influence is up for debate and also holy trauma, Batman.)
However, we also see that a lot of Mandalorian culture is built on their family histories. On the New Mandalorian side, we see emphasis placed on the fact that Satine is House Kryze and that she’s a duchess. Her bloodline is relevant, though not the most important thing about her. On the Death Watch side, we have Pre and Tor placing emphasis on the fact that they’re Clan Vizsla, descended from Tarre, that this is important to why they deserve what the darksaber represents, this is part of why they not only deserve to lead, but should for the good of Mandalore.
Bo-Katan’s armor is a family heirloom. Boba’s armor was Jango’s, but before being Jango’s, it was Jaster’s. Armor is important enough to pass to family, but the family can be adopted. This all tracks.
The resol’nare specifies loyalty and care for the clan/tribe among the six tenets.
These two elements seem relatively well-balanced: the importance of adoption and the importance of family as a larger unit on the level of a house or clan.
And then you have Tatooine, which also balances blood and adoption, but for entirely different reasons, that being this: it can always be taken from you.
For all that a Mandalorian could historically expect their family to die in battle, and a Jedi could expect to lose their master the same way if things went poorly, those were usually choices. A Mandalorian was raised to walk into battle, and then they could make that choice to do so. It wasn’t often much of a choice, but they could feasibly turn their back and choose to be a farmer or a doctor or something, and support the people who went out to do battle instead of being the one on the field themselves. A Jedi could choose to be a healer or an archivist or join one of the Corps.
A slave does not get that choice. A slave can be killed or sold on a whim from their master. It’s not a one-time trauma, but an ever-present fear. Your parent, your child, your sibling, your spouse, all of them can be separated from you at any time. You can always lose them, and you have no choice but to grin and bear it, or try to run and die before you reach freedom.
In a context like that, I imagine Tatooine places a very heavy emphasis on family, both of blood and of choice, and on treasuring what you have while you have it. A person is always aware that they can lose whoever they have in their life, and so they make the most of their times together, have clear and consistent ways of expressing that love (I imagine primarily direct verbal confirmations and physical contact, practical gifts like water and fruit). Childcare is important, elders are venerated. Those who survived that far have valuable wisdom, and the children are to be given what happiness they can have before reality wipes that ability from them.
The family ‘networks’ among Tatooine slaves are smaller and tighter knit. There’s less trust for outsiders, but once you’re in, you’re in until you are taken away. Still, families are torn apart regularly, and often can’t contact each other after being separated if they’re sold far enough away, so families stay small because they’re always being broken up. Unlike Mandalore’s tribe/clan system, or the Jedi’s wide, loosely-structured community, Tatooine’s slaves form smaller groups that cling for as long as they can, and try to support each other. (There are selfish ones, of course, especially the newbies, but... well. Most try.)
Tatooine is also much more likely to assign a familial role (e.g. referring to an elder as ‘grandmother’). It’s not uncommon in the others (multiple Jedi refer to their masters as a parent or sibling, like Anakin’s “you’re like a father to me” line), but it’s not as baked-in that such a role should be given.
So on a structural level, we have two people from a community culture with little emphasis on blood family or formal familial roles are now being raised in a community that has them asking “what can you do for the people around you first, and then the wider world?” by people who tell them “your family, blood and found, is the most important thing you have; never let anyone take more from you than they possibly can.”
And that shit has an effect.
For all that Sokanth and Ylliben were once raised with a knowledge that their duty, their goal, was to better the galaxy as a whole, they are now being told that the community that raises them asks their loyalty back, because societies are built on support networks, and if you support the tribe, it will support you. There are parallels to that kind of thinking among Jedi, because it is basic social theory, but it’s not presented as the same kind of cultural value. It’s not given as something to strive for, just a basic fact.
This, for instance, means that once they’re back at the Temple, they have a tendency towards suggesting study groups and other ways of supporting people in their immediate circle, often structured in very unfamiliar ways. Again, this isn’t uncommon among Jedi, but it’s not done in the same way, or with the same emphasis. The Jedi also often approach problem-solving in a different order, so the step of “meditate on it and you may find your solution” often comes before “gather information from people who know more about it than you do,” while Ben and Soka have by this point learned to do it the other way around, because that’s what the Mandalorian system taught them: rely on your family first.
Meanwhile, the Tatooine element of their upbringing has them being much more willing to just... casually refer to ‘my dad’ and ‘my sister’ and so on. They use those words. It’s not just “my master is like a father to me,” but “this is my father.” They don’t hesitate to talk about the family they had and still have in Mandalorian space. None of the Jedi begrudge them it, really, but it’s always a shock to hear for the first time, and between the Tatooine refusal to pretend the connection is gone and the Mandalorian tendency to err on the side of roughhousing as affection, they’re just... odd. It’s not like none of the other Jedi know family outside the Order--some of the old books had Obi-Wan visiting his brother on Stewjon once in a while--or like none of the active Jedi are loud or boisterous, but the specific manner in which Soka and Ben interact with the Order, especially when their dad is around, is very weird.
More Soka than Ben, really, but that’s mostly just because Ben’s a very quiet person until he gets a little older, so it’s harder to notice on him.
Point is, while they still hold to their duty to the wider galaxy and will continue to keep that duty above almost anything else in their lives, the way they talk and act about the subject of family, especially in private, is heavily influenced by their new cultures.
This is already very long but I promised I’d talk about peace so let’s go:
The Jedi seek peace as an absence of war and conflict in the portion of the galaxy under their purview, in hopes that they will prevent as much suffering and death as they can.
The Mandalorians are varied, but Jaster Mereel’s group (which is the community the Skywalkers are with) is likely to view peace as unrealistic to achieve in the long term. They do not seek war, but they know the world they live in, and are prepared to protect against violence as their first resort. They always expect an attack, even if they don’t seek it.
The Slaves of Tatooine view peace as the calm in a storm. It is the status quo. Nobody has escaped tonight, for the guards aren’t searching, but neither is anyone dead. The Master you have is in a good enough mood to not sell you, to not kill you, to not beat you. Peace as an absence of suffering is impossible, so you seek for your master to be peaceful, that is to say: not raging at you.
The scope of each of these narrows significantly. From the known galaxy, to the wars that meet Mandalorian space, to the household one serves.
A community like the Jedi can choose to address peace as something to be sought on a large scale as an absence of war. They primarily function within the borders of the Republic, which has its problems but is largely structured to prevent such things from occurring until the Sith interfere. The Jedi have a structure that allows them to address peace as an ideal to be sought, at least within the borders of the territory they serve.
Mandalore, meanwhile, has been at war on and off for... ever. When they are not at war with themselves, they’re at war with someone else. ‘Peace’ is just the time between wars, and they know that if they do not attack first, they will be forced to defend. Jaster Mereel was known as the Reformer, and part of that was that instituting a code of honor, one that was intended to prevent Mandalorian warriors from acting as raiders and brigands, but rather acting as honorable hired soldiers, or taking roles such as the Journeyman Protectors. Given that, I imagine that he views war as something inevitable, but also something that can be mitigated.
War doesn’t touch Tatooine.
Oh, it might raise taxes and import rates. It might prevent visitors who come for the races. It can do a lot of things.
But to a slave, these are nothing. The only thing war does is affect the master, the person who chooses when their slaves get water, when they get beaten, when they are no longer useful enough to keep around or keep alive.
The peace of a slave’s live is dictated by how much abuse they are subjected to by the person who owns them.
What this means for Soka and Ben is... well, they are viewed as war-hungry by the people who don’t know them very well. They have armor. They focus on fighting, both with and without their sabers. They know tactics better than most masters. They claim that war is coming, and don’t seem too sad about it.
(It is a fact to them. War will come. All they can do is meet it. They’ve already done their mourning once.)
They also... well, Shmi tells them things in hidden corners. How to duck their head to hide the hate or fear in their eyes. How to watch for the anger in the tendons of a hand. The laugh of someone who enjoys the pain they’ve caused, not just the adrenaline of a fight. She is free, and so are they, but she has not forgotten how to hide in the shadows until the master’s ire has turned elsewhere. How to be small and quiet and unseen until the danger passes.
A Jedi’s first resort is words. Their second is their saber. But the Jeedai hold their heads high, and the Mandalorians do the same.
“You rely on the Force, and you have your pride,” she tells them, her hands on their own. “But there will come a time when you will not be able to remind people that you are free. You will not be able to say that you are a person, that you deserve the respect of a living sentient. Perhaps it will be a politician who treats everyone like that. Perhaps you will be captured by an enemy. Perhaps you will be undercover. You will not be able to fight, with words or with weapons, and you will have to know how to survive.”
Tatooine does not have peace. Tatooine only has survival.
And while Jedi fight for the survival and peace of the universe, they are refined and composed. Mando’ade fight like warriors of old, and Tatooine slaves fight like cornered, rabid anooba.
The galaxy comes first, but when the chips are down and the Sith come out to play, Soka and Ben do not need refinement, because they know how to toss aside their pride and live.
#Tatooine#Mandalore#Jedi#culture clash#star wars#the clone wars#Anakin Skywalker#Shmi Skywalker#Ahsoka Tano#Obi Wan Kenobi#Jaster Mereel#family#war#Phoenix Posts#Anakin and the Jedi Babies#Phoenix Answers Asks#I have no idea how accurate this is but it's what I'm working with
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i can't forgive me & you can't forget
Summary: Spencer is happy that his boyfriend is as compassionate as he is, but watching Derek do everything he can to help Strauss with her alcoholism when he stood by and did nothing back when he was struggling with his dilaudid addiction is beginning to take its toll.
Tags: hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst, insecurity, est. rel., hurt/comfort, cuddling & snuggling, angst w a happy ending, fluff TW: referenced past drug use, addiction, and overdose, implied/referenced alcoholism
Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid
Word Count: 4.5k
Masterlist // Read on AO3 // The other fic in this universe
Inspired by @marisatomay’s post here!!! The title is from the second part of the poem Betrayal by Lang Leav.
It’s pushing ten pm by the time Spencer finally hears the front door open and close with a soft click, hears the rustling of Derek ditching his leather jacket on the crowded coat rack and toeing off his shoes — no doubt placing them neatly at the side of the hall like he always does — and listens to his footsteps as he nears the bedroom where Spencer’s been holed up since Derek left.
“Hey, baby boy,” Derek says with a warm, relaxed smile, his fingers already working on undoing his shirt buttons, before digging through their wardrobe to find a more comfortable top.
“Hey.”
Spencer watches him with tired eyes. He’s been feeling as hurt and despondent as he does this evening for weeks now, but tonight is the first time he doesn’t have the energy to hide it. He’s spent the entire afternoon in bed, and he’s certain it shows in the imprints of the creased pillowcase on his cheek and his messed up hair, and where just a couple of days ago he’d rush to hide those tells, he simply doesn’t care enough anymore.
Derek turns around from the wardrobe and shrugs off his shirt, replacing it with a soft blue t-shirt Spencer’s always liked on him. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”
Spencer shakes his head. Derek undoes his belt and switches his trousers for a pair of grey sweatpants before walking over to the bed and climbing onto the mattress, grinning cheekily as he rolls over Spencer’s body and leans down to press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose.
It’s sweet and romantic and so painfully normal, and maybe that’s exactly why he suddenly finds himself swallowing back tears. He’s hardly spent any time with Derek outside of work in weeks and he’s hurt and sad and struggling, and it’s only making it worse that his loving and attentive boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice. Really, Spencer knows he needs to communicate, and that a significant part of his pain is his responsibility, but the shame—
“Well that just won’t do,” Derek murmurs, interrupting his thoughts as he brushes his fingers over a lock of curly hair resting on Spencer’s temple. “I’ll go and make you something. Or we can order in? What do you fancy?”
Spencer shrugs, looking away. He’s not trying to be difficult, it’s just incredibly hard to think about food and a relaxing night in with your partner when you feel like your insides are splintering and you’re just barely holding yourself together.
Even without looking directly at his face, Spencer can see Derek’s brow furrow and his happy expression fade, and soon enough Derek’s fingers are at his chin, gently moving his head until he’s looking at him again. “Hey, pretty boy,” he says gently, looking so concerned it makes his chest ache, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on in that big old head of yours.”
So much of him wants to give in and tell him everything, wants to spill his fears and his anxieties and his anger and his shame onto the sheets of their bed and lay it all out for him. He wants to shout, “See? This is who I am! This is all my mess and my pain and my regret! Look at it!”
But he can’t. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to meet the swirling worry in Derek’s deep, beautiful brown eyes and he wills himself not to cry. “Nothing,” he lies. “I’m just tired. Hungry.”
He knows Derek doesn’t believe him, but there isn’t much he can do if Spencer isn’t willing to communicate, so he nods reluctantly and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead this time, lingering there for a moment longer than he usually does. The feeling of his boyfriend hovering over him and asking him what’s wrong and kissing him so tenderly is all Spencer’s craved for weeks, but now it’s here, he still feels sad and empty and hollowed out by shame and bitterness, desperate for something more without so much as an idea as to what exactly more might entail.
“I tell you what, I’ll go make you some tortellini, alright? There’s a pack in the fridge and it only takes a couple of minutes so I’ll be back before you know it,” Derek promises, and Spencer can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Regardless, Derek hops off the bed and heads out to the kitchen, leaving Spencer alone in the softly lit bedroom. He pulls the duvet further up to his chin and buries his face in it, the soft fabric gentle on his skin, and the comforting scent of Spencer’s shampoo mingling with Derek’s cologne settling him slightly.
Derek had spent the afternoon with Strauss at the rehab centre. And not for the first time.
The problem is, how can Spencer be mad at him for that? Really, it’s the epitome of his character: genuine, constant, unconditional compassion for everyone around him, no matter who they are or what his history with them might be. Of course he’d see Strauss struggling with her addiction and swoop right in, getting her settled in at the centre and spending hours with her on visiting days, fighting alongside Hotch to persuade the director to let her keep her job.
But watching him leave every week, watching him text her encouraging messages, hearing him talk about her progress and recovery… it strikes a nerve deep inside Spencer. He isn’t proud of how he feels. He knows it’s petty and illogical, but he can’t help it.
Because somewhere deep in his soul, an old version of himself, a sad, lonely, scared, addicted-to-dilaudid boy is crying out, why didn’t you do that for me?
It’s that question that really plagues him. They’re called into work the next day for a fairly interesting case in North Dakota, and there are some fairly strong links to the world of academia, so usually, Spencer would be all over it, reeling off facts and statistics and reaching out to his contacts to further the case. But for some reason, he just can’t get his head in the game.
He finds himself zoning out on the jet and wandering off at crime scenes without even knowing where he’s going. Initially, his team had assumed that he was thinking, or was going somewhere deliberately that might help them with the case, they’d all counted on Doctor Reid to come up with some brilliant theory to bring them closer to catching their unsub.
But Hotch had quickly realised that his head was somewhere else and kept him close to his side from then on. At least staying at the police station with Hotch and being tasked with reading through the unsub’s literary work and constructing a geographical profile both gives him something specific to focus on, and — as much as Spencer hates to admit it — keeps him away from Derek.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Hotch asks gently when they both find themselves at the coffee pot in the late afternoon. He doesn’t look over at him, his eyes focused on the stream of coffee and creamer headed straight for his mug. Spencer knows it’s a tactic to make him feel less ambushed and more relaxed, but that doesn’t stop it from working.
“No,” he says honestly.
Hotch nods in acceptance. He puts a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes briefly. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”
Both JJ and Emily eye him suspiciously throughout the case as well, but no one is more confused and concerned than Derek. Spencer tries not to think about the irony.
“Baby, what’s got you all distracted like this?” Derek asks softly when they’re finally alone in their room that night, full up from the rushed dinner they’d all had in the lobby before crawling to their rooms for a couple of hours’ sleep before the manhunt continues in the morning. “This is so unlike you and you know it.”
Spencer doesn’t reply, just continues quietly changing into his pajamas before brushing his teeth and washing his face. Derek’s still sitting in the same position when he comes out, looking frustrated and contemplative, and Spencer feels guilty for making him feel this way, but he just doesn’t know what to do. He can’t act like everything's okay because it isn’t, and he’s tired himself out from pretending that it was for weeks, now. But he can’t tell him what’s going on either.
The thing is, how is Spencer supposed to admit that he’s still hurt over something that happened almost five years ago now? And how is he supposed to admit that Derek doing the right thing is only reopening wounds he’d tried so hard to heal and close? That both Derek and Hotch had specifically helped him heal and close?
He doesn’t know how to verbalise his feelings without sounding petulant or pathetic, so he doesn’t. He keeps them buried deep inside him and hopes desperately that no one comes digging.
“I’m fine, Derek,” he lies again, leaning down to kiss him gently before rounding the bed and crawling under the covers. “Just having an off day, I guess.”
Derek sighs but doesn’t push any further, clearly knowing a lost cause when he sees one. Instead, he follows in Spencer’s footsteps and gets ready for bed silently, whispering a quiet good night before switching off the lamp and climbing into bed on the other side.
It feels like the expanse of white sheet between them goes on for miles.
It’s the first time Spencer’s regretted Hotch’s decision to continue letting them share a room.
The question continues to plague him over the next week. He gets marginally better at pretending he’s not falling apart at the seams, and it’s enough to make almost everyone back off, but Hotch is still concerned and Derek is still confused, and he can feel himself drifting further away from the team each day, as though his rope tying him to the others has been cut, and now the current is having its way with him.
Nothing much changes. He continues in his hurt and lonely quietude, and Derek continues to ask what’s wrong, sighing sadly when he gets nothing out of him, and they exist in tandem.
It had always felt — ever since the beginning of their relationship — as though their relationship was a salsa dance. They were tangled in one another’s lives, both physically and emotionally, and they existed in this relaxed kind of ease that Spencer’s only ever seen before in long-term relationships. They’d fallen into a lucky, easy kind of love, and it was never as much work as everyone had promised him a relationship would be.
They’ve been together for four years, and their worst fight was over whether the cheese grater went in the cupboard next to the sink or above it. (Granted, it had spiraled into some other disagreements that came along with cohabitation, but. Still.)
Spencer knows he’s introducing a dynamic they’re unused to, and he hates it. Guilt plagues him, mingling with his shame and sadness until he’s drowning under the weight of it, no way to claw himself to the surface to take a breath.
They exist on parallel lines: next to one another; yet never crossing over. Their relationship is no longer a salsa dance.
The next off-day they have, Derek can’t get out the door fast enough. “I’m off to visit Erin,” he tells Spencer, and it still makes him irrationally angry that he’s stopped calling her Strauss and now refers to her like a friend.
Is it better that Strauss is now Derek’s friend? Him helping someone he actually cares about makes him not caring about Spencer all those years again slightly less of a gut-punch, he supposes. But the fact that Derek and Strauss of all people are becoming closer while he and Spencer drift apart hurts in a way he can’t even begin to explain.
This time, he spends the entire day crying. Every time the tears slow down and he catches his breath, another wave of grief and pain and anxiety and shame and jealousy crashes over him, and all of a sudden he can’t breathe again. It’s an exhausting cycle, and by the early afternoon his stomach muscles are aching and his ribs feel bruised.
It’s also the first day he gets a craving.
He’s an addict, right, he’s had periods of intermittent cravings over the years, that’s completely normal. Sometimes, even thinking about it in passing is enough for the itch to come back, to whisper the number of his old dealer in his ear, to recall in both his physical and mental memory the feeling that came with each press of the syringe.
This is the most intense one since his withdrawal immediately after waking up in hospital following his accidental overdose in his parking garage. It’s so intense that it scares him.
Crying harder than he thought it possible, he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and — fighting the temptation to type in the digits of his dealer — he dials the number he’s had memorised since he was nineteen. He can’t speak through his gut-wrenching sobs, but he knows the sound of him crying this hard will be enough, so he lies in bed and continues his pity party until he hears the front door swing open and the rapid steps through the hall.
Soon enough, Hotch is pulling him into his arms and he finally feels a little less alone.
Hotch lets him cry himself out, and only when his tears have dried up and the hiccups have subsided does he say anything besides the reassuring murmurs he’d spoken into Spencer’s ears as he cried.
“Spencer,” he says — somewhat desperately — “please. You have to tell me what’s going on. Let me help you, okay? Whatever it is, I’m here. I won’t let you suffer on your own anymore, I promise.”
Spencer doesn’t raise his head from its position buried in Hotch’s t-shirt, but he does finally say something. He doesn’t know what overrides the shame that’s kept him quiet — maybe it’s the exhaustion or the loneliness finally winning out — but whatever it is, he’s glad it does.
“I had a craving today,” he whispers, because it seems like a good place to start. “Haven’t been feeling good since, uh. Since… Strauss.”
It’s hopelessly phrased, but it’s the best way he can explain it and Hotch, being the miracle profiler and father figure of Spencer Reid, figures it out instantly.
He feels the way he slumps slightly, hears the tired, frustrated sigh, and knows he’s probably beating himself up for not figuring it out sooner.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”
Hotch shushes him. “You don’t need to apologise for that, Spencer, don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry for being so blind, and I am. I hate that you’ve been suffering like this and we’ve all been too stupid to realise why.”
“It still, it still hurts,” he says quietly, sadly, regretfully, “it still hurts that no one helped me until it was almost too late. But everyone dropped everything to help Strauss— I’m sorry, it’s so selfish, I shouldn’t be—”
“Hey, Spence,” Hotch interrupts him, caressing his arm gently. “It isn’t selfish. It’s human. And you’re right, we should have helped you sooner and it’s always been my greatest regret that we didn’t, and that because of that dereliction of duty, we almost lost you.”
“I’m not, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything—”
“Spencer, I know that. But you need to stop feeling guilty for how you feel, alright? It makes complete sense that this is bringing up both the feelings of rejection and betrayal, and also cravings for the drug you were addicted to at the time. It’s so obvious that I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier.”
Spencer nods, but he doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. “Derek’s been visiting Strauss on our days off,” he admits quietly. “I’ve barely seen him for almost a month now, and that— it isn’t helping.”
“I can understand that. Have you talked to him about any of this?” he asks, even though Spencer’s sure Hotch already knows the answer.
He shakes his head.
“I know it’s hard, Spence, I really do, but I think you need to talk to him. Obviously, it would’ve been better if both he and I had figured it out without you having to tell us, but clearly, he isn’t going to realise by himself. I know that as soon as you explain it, he’ll understand completely.”
Spencer sighs. Some part of him had known this was coming, he just didn’t know how it would come about. He wouldn’t have put money on Hotch being involved, but maybe he should have done. He always seems to come to Spencer’s rescue.
“He’ll probably be out for a while. He usually stays out for hours when he goes to visit her.”
“Well, how about I stay until he comes home, and then you can talk to him? How does that sound?”
Spencer looks up at him. “What about Jack?”
“He’s out with a friend and their family anyway,” Hotch reassures him, smiling as he runs a hand down his arm. “Now how about I make you some tea and we go and sit on the sofa?”
Spencer reluctantly agrees and moves from the safety of his bed to the comfort of his sofa, but he has to admit that the light streaming in from the big bay window and the feeling of sitting up makes him feel just a little better straight away. Once Hotch is back and placing a cup of chamomile tea into his hands, he doesn’t feel quite so much like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment.
“I have to ask, Spencer,” Hotch says carefully, “did you buy any dilaudid? Or attempt to contact your dealer?”
“Thought about it,” he admits, not meeting Hotch’s concerned eyes, “but I didn’t.”
Hotch relaxes. “Good. I’m proud of you, you know.”
Spencer looks at him with a hesitant smile that only grows when Hotch beams back.
They spend the afternoon watching nature documentaries — and Spencer admittedly dozes through a lot of them, exhausted from the burden of carrying so much pain around and the physical exertion of crying so hard — until Derek comes home at just gone five thirty.
“Hotch?” he asks, confused, and his voice wakes Spencer up from one of his unintentional naps.
He scrambles to sit upright, going inexplicably red at the thought of what he knows is coming. For some reason, he feels like he’s done something wrong and he’s about to be told off. He hates that this is what his relationship with Derek has come to.
“Hi, Derek,” Hotch says, squeezing Spencer’s ankle and getting up from the sofa. “Spencer asked me to come over earlier” — which is a bit of a stretch when really Spencer sobbed into the phone until Hotch showed up — “and I was just keeping him company until you came home.”
Derek’s eyebrows only furrow further, looking between them, confused. “Right.”
“Spencer,” Hotch says, meeting his eyes, “are you okay if I go now? You’ll tell Derek what we talked about?”
Immediately, Spencer blushes red as Derek’s scrutinising eyes fixate on him, but he nods and smiles weakly at Hotch, following him with his eyes as he lets himself out, if just to avoid meeting Derek’s.
“Pretty boy?” Derek says cautiously, slowly taking off his jacket and approaching the sofa like Spencer’s a wild animal liable to be spooked away at any given moment. He supposes it’s probably quite a good analogy, actually.
Spencer shifts nervously in his seat, moving his legs out of the way to give Derek more room to sit down on the sofa.
“You finally gonna tell me what’s been up with you these last few weeks?” Derek asks, and Spencer isn’t oblivious to the hope in his voice. “I’ve been worried about you, baby.”
Spencer nods and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths to compose himself. He’s told one person, and it went fine— it went well, actually. Derek is his life partner, his soulmate, and they tell each other everything. He just needs to start at the beginning. He needs to tell him all of the disclaimers, remind him that he’s not angry at him for doing the right thing or for being the compassionate person he is, he just needs to— He needs to focus, and he needs to tell the truth.
“I called Hotch earlier because I was scared of myself,” he says, finally opening his eyes and looking into Derek’s. “I was having some of the most intense cravings I’ve had since being sober, and I was seriously considering calling my dealer, but I managed to call Hotch instead, and we talked about how I’ve been feeling.”
“Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Derek says regretfully, his face melting into the very picture of apologetic as he scoots a bit closer on the sofa so he can grab Spencer’s legs and pull them over his lap.
“I know,” Spencer replies, ignoring for now that him not being here is why they have a problem in the first place. He moves on. “I’ve been… struggling… over the last month or so with feelings that I haven’t really known how to rationalise or explain, and when I finally did make sense of them, I felt that I couldn’t share them with anyone, which is why I’ve been so distant and private. And I’m sorry for that, by the way.”
Derek just smiles, caressing his bare ankle with one hand as he rests his other over his shin.
He pauses for a moment, trying to find the best way to word his thoughts, but before he can think about it too hard, the words come spilling out, unbidden. “I’ve found it hard to reconcile your attentiveness and willingness to throw everything at helping Strauss, and the way no-one helped me with my addiction back in 2007.”
Derek’s face instantly falls, and saying the words out loud brings all the emotions he’d managed to control back again in full force, and suddenly his face is crumpling, too. Derek surges forward, moving them both until he’s situated between the sofa cushions and Spencer, cuddling him as close as he can while Spencer cries into his chest.
“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking as he begins to cry as well. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything then and I’m sorry I didn’t put two and two together to realise why you were struggling so much. I can’t believe I was so oblivious, Spence, oh God.”
They lie there for a long time, crying together as Derek runs his hands through Spencer’s hair and Spencer clings desperately to the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt.
“I was just feeling so distant from you because we weren’t spending as much time together, and I had no idea how to admit that I was feeling hurt about something that happened almost five years ago,” he continues when they’ve both calmed down again, and they’re ready to resume the conversation. “I guess I just felt… ashamed of both my feelings now and being jealous, which is so ridiculous, I had no idea how to tell anyone how I was feeling. And I’m so sorry that my lack of communication affected us so much.”
“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry that I was hurting you when I should’ve known the effect my actions would have. This whole mess is on me for so many reasons.”
“Der, I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says insistently, urgently, looking at him imploringly. “You’ve apologised enough for what happened back then, and there’s no way we can change what happened. You were just being the same kind and compassionate person you always are when you were helping Strauss.” He reaches out and cups Derek’s face gently, hating the tells of guilt and self-loathing he can see all over it.
Derek sighs and moves Spencer’s hand to his lips so he can kiss his palm. “When I was sitting in that hospital room waiting for you to wake up,” he explains, “I made a promise to myself. I told myself that I would never let anyone down like that again. I was never going to stand back and watch anyone else I knew fall into the same trap you did. So when I realised Strauss had a drinking problem, all I saw was an opportunity to keep that promise.
“The only problem was that I was so wrapped up in doing the right thing in helping her that I wasn’t doing the right thing by you. I should’ve realised all the feelings, physical and emotional, that this would bring up for you, but I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, baby boy, I really am.”
Spencer cuddles back into Derek, burying his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and relaxing into the reassuring scent of his person. “I know, Der. I forgive you.”
“How about we order in some Thai for dinner from your favourite restaurant and watch some Doctor Who?” Derek suggests after a couple of minutes of silence. “I think we’re long overdue for some quality time together.”
Spencer smiles at him, feeling so much of the heaviness that’s been weighing him down over the last few weeks lift that he feels almost like he’s floating. “I think that sounds like a plan.”
They set the living room up to be as cosy as possible, lighting the candles Penelope had made for them and using only their soft lamps to light the room, before piling the couch high with blankets and pillows until they’re cuddled together in a little nest.
The evening is spent eating their favourite food and watching their favourite season of Doctor Who, and while Spencer’s still hurting and they still have healing to do, this feels like a damn good start.
“I’m proud of you,” Spencer whispers to Derek late into the night, when they’re close to falling asleep in the comfort of their blanket pile.
Derek turns to him, looking confused. “What do you mean?”
“You made a mistake when you let things get bad with my addiction back in 2007,” Spencer explains, “and when you saw someone headed down the same path, you stopped at nothing to make sure you didn’t make that mistake again. If anything shows me how much you regret not doing anything sooner, it’s your devotion to Strauss’ recovery.”
Derek smiles at him, his eyes a little watery, and holds his chin gently as he leans in to kiss him. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”
Spencer kisses him again before cuddling back into his side. “I know you do, Derek. And I love you, too.”
And really, when it comes down to it, that’s enough.
Ahhh, this was the first fic in forever that actually felt fairly easy to write thank GOD. I loved this concept and writing that good, good angst was so much fun. Plus, we always love a happy ending in this house! Also, a reminder that how other people when you confront them with the way they hurt you or made you feel is not your responsibility.
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