#you choose what i write

[bifangirl09er]

THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO VOTED IN MY THREE POLLS!!!

The results are in:

KinnPorsche

2gether

Between Us/Until We Meet Again.

Let me know what to write next!!

[126simp]

Please pick a theme for some good Tarlos fanfiction.

If you have any specific ideas please comment below.

[nientedal]

What progress at home has biden enacted? What policies of his show that he is making progress that prove he is actually different than trump?

I like to pretend I have faith in humanity, so I'll answer as if you're asking this in good faith.

Biden's DEA has lifted restrictions on telehealth prescriptions to make appointments and assistance more accessible.

He put a funding package into place to help unhoused people get access to mental and physical healthcare, as well as short-term and long-term housing.

He has attempted and is still attempting to get student debt relief through - this was blocked by Republican judges appointed by Trump, but he's still working on it.

Infrastructure repair - his administration has budgeted funds to actually fix some severely-damaged and frequently-traveled bridges.

Trying to expand access to healthcare to include undocumented immigrants who came to the USA as children (Dreamers) under the Affordable Care Act. Support for Navigator programs and outreach has also been increased.

He has vetoed Republican-led bills that were attempting to overturn environmental protections - one that would have forbidden investment fund managers to consider climate change in their portfolios (I have two degrees in accounting and this is actually huge), and another that would have overturned restrictions on agricultural runoff into our waterways.

He and his administration worked for ages to get rail workers paid sick days.

This is just some of what he's been doing. Meanwhile, Trump and other Republicans want to criminalize the lives of LGBT people like you and me. They want to eliminate no-fault divorce and force births that will kill parents or devastate them financially. They have stated flat out that they want to install a military dictatorship in the USA. They attempted to put that in motion on January 6th, 2021. They failed once. They will do better next time.

One party wants to house the homeless and expand social safety nets, while the other one wants to criminalize homelessness. One of them wants a future in which I might be able to vote to change how much of a war machine my country is, while the other one wants to eliminate my ability to vote entirely. Those are not the same. Those literally are opposites.

At the end of the day, all you and I can do is choose to do the least amount of harm possible. You and I cannot choose to do no harm. This is the USA, we sell war, you and I cannot choose to do no harm. I wish we could, my god do I wish we could, but that is not an option. So we grieve for the harm we couldn't eliminate and work to minimize the harm that is done. Despite all the crap they support, Democrats are the minimum amount of harm right now. Acting like they aren't is exactly what brought us to an election where our options are a future where we are either wading in blood or drowning in it.

Not voting for Biden will not help Palestine. Not voting for Biden will guarantee a Republican president who will make the situation in Palestine WORSE. AND it'll hurt a lot of other places as well, both at home and abroad, because Republicans are about business and the USA is in the business of war! And I would very much like that to change someday! I would very much like to someday be able to choose to do no harm! And I know what I have to do to try for that future, so what are YOU going to do? There is no standing off to the side in this. If you aren't helping pull, you're the dead weight we're pulling. Are you going to dig your feet into the mud and blood and drown us there? Or are you going to get the fuck off your ass, grit your teeth, and help us pull free?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

He is at his limit.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[breadmecoshy]

Experimenting with style on these two

I feel a little empty, since I finally finished the oumota comic. I can start drawing another one while I have the strength....

I have comic ideas that are tearing my soul apart. Or I can just draw something romantic ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

[pigswithwings]

Sources: Wikipedia (Angel), Wikipedia (Robot), Wikipedia (Sacredness - Holy), Wikipedia (Guardian Angel), Wikipedia (Duty), Wikipedia (Seraph), Wikipedia (Transcendence - Religion), Wikipedia (Divinity)

[icarryitin]

Effortless

spencer reid/gn!reader

coming into this from a fandom where my last fic got literally 11 notes (half of which were my own self-rbs) the reception for workplace hot was heartwarming, pls accept more pre-relationship work crush goodness as thanks🧡🧡

series masterlist

word count: 1.6k// warnings: absolutely hopeless pining, this man is so so clever but so so oblivious

summary: Taking care of you just comes naturally to him.

“Chicken.”

“Did you know, the origin of ‘chicken’ in reference to someone who’s afraid can be traced back to the use of ‘hen-heart’ as a synonym for ‘fainthearted’? Its first documented use was in the York Mystery Plays - which are considered to have been written prior to 1450.”

“Chicken.” Morgan repeats.

“Shut up.”

While his second response is decidedly less eloquent, Spencer’s pretty sure he can’t fact-dump his way out of this particular conversation.

It’s not exactly a secret - his giant, all consuming, world ending crush on you - at least, it’s not a secret from anyone except you. He’s past being embarrassed about it when one of the others brings it up, as long as it’s not around you. That’s happened exactly once, and Spencer’s automatic response was to chatter about the migration patterns of a specific type of bird he’d read an article about the day before. Ceaselessly. No matter how much everyone else had begged him to stop, until the previous subject was well and truly forgotten. So when you’d asked a leading question about another kind of bird? He was more than happy to oblige. You’ve always done that, listened to him. It’s nice.

It’s probably what got him in this mess in the first place.

Somewhere along the way, a routine developed itself. He remembers the first day you asked him to elaborate on something he’d started on earlier in the day, trivia about the fluctuations in the popularity of a specific make of car. It had ended up being useful in the context of the case anyway but, more importantly to Spencer, the tidbit had you cornering him in the kitchen to ask him about it. And now it’s just what happens. You potter around to make your lunch, he chatters about the most recent paper he’s read like your own personal podcast.

It’s a comfortable friendship, solidified by little things like that. Though they’re not all that little to him, if anything they’ve only deepened his feelings for you - he doesn’t let on, for your sake, he tries not to.

But his affection sneaks out in other ways.

He gravitates towards you without realising it, just to exist in your space. At the round table, on the jet, at crime scenes, in whichever office the local PD have cleared out for the team. He’s never hovering, but he’s not not hovering. Just working parallel to you. It’s why he likes the bullpen, for all its hustle and bustle, because he can look at you out of the corner of his eye whenever he wants to. He can spin his chair to face you, stretch his legs out across the aisle, and let a wave of sheer steadiness wash over him. Sometimes it’s you, reaching over to hand him something or abandoning your post completely to perch on the corner of his desk. Spencer thinks that’s what it might be, the peace you seem to exude that quiets his busy mind - the kindness you extend to victims and their families that flows through your very veins. It follows you like an aura, there’s very little he won’t do to be bathed in it whenever he can. It’s all led to a unique dynamic that means you’re paired up together more often than not.

You move around each other unconsciously now, leaning over maps and files and evidence. Swapping pens and ducking under one another’s arms as you both scribble away at the board. It’s almost choreographed, natural. Everything is with you, and that’s what gets him. There’s a part of Spencer Reid’s brain that is dedicated to considering his actions in relation to the people around him, running in the background like a computer programme, but he doesn’t have to run it around you. He doesn’t think, for once. He just does.

It’s effortless, second nature, to make space for you. The same as it is to leave a seat open for you, even if it’s the only one. To nudge you gently when you’re too far in your own head to realise you’re picking at your skin. You’ve started nudging him back in recent weeks when he does the same, chewing on the inside of his lips and paying absolutely no mind to the damage he’s doing. You notice, you care enough to stop him. Just like you’ll leave an empty space on the nearest desk for him to hop up on. He’s not sure if you realise you’re even doing it. Clearing perfect Spencer-sized spots at every precinct and office you’re set up in, because you know he prefers it to the chairs. Which makes his own actions feel a little less overt and, in turn, lets him breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this is just what good friends do for each other. He can call you that, at least, if his own fears won’t afford him the chance to call you anything else.

Though, he’s not sure he could stop himself from taking care of you in his own way if he tried. Mostly because he’s not trying in the first place.

He didn’t even realise what he was doing, the first time he turned to you to double check your protective vest was secure. Narrow fingers tugging on straps, barely even processing the inviting warmth of you underneath them, he’d been too focused on making sure you were as protected as you could be. And then he’d walked into the Unsub’s home ahead of you anyway.

Spencer never walks ahead of you, anywhere. He’s always ushering you in first, something drilled into him by some unknown force, his basest of instincts - you’re ahead of him into the office, into precincts, into crime scenes, even into the elevator. But in a hostile situation? He’s first through the door every time.

So much so that it’s routine now, wherever the case, whoever is around. He grasps the shoulders of the thick vest and wiggles it, he rips the velcro straps off at your waist only to secure them again. A little tighter, and he’s quietly grateful that you let him. The heat of you at his back is reassuring when scenes aren’t secure. To know that, based on his experience anyway, the Unsub will more than likely jump out ahead of him - and he’ll be the one between you and the bullet. Which is maybe a little dramatic, but it’s the truth.

“Ready, boys?”

Doctor Spencer Reid has never claimed to believe in any god, but he makes sure to thank something for the interruption. Anything to get himself and his giant crush out from under Derek Morgan’s microscope.

It’s Emily who speaks, Emily who tosses protective vests at him and Derek, but Spencer’s eyes are focused on you entering the office behind her. You’re concentrating on your own vest, securing straps that’ll only be repositioned in a minute or two. But you still do it yourself each time, as if you’re not expecting him to come over and double check your work. There’s no way you haven’t noticed by now. That he’ll do it every time, that he doesn’t do it for anybody else, that he spends twice as long checking on your vest than he does securing his own. FBI emblem emblazoned on his chest, Spencer crosses the room dutifully to conduct his little ritual.

Velcro isn’t quiet. It pierces through the background noise when he undoes the buckle at your side and tears it free, but his eyes don’t move from the task at hand. Yours are heavy on his face, the way they always are when he gets this close. He pretends not to notice.

“Thank you.” You whisper softly. So softly that between the chatter and gun checking behind him, only the two of you can hear.

It’s only now, now he’s certain your vest is snug as possible, that he allows his careful gaze flicker to meet yours. He struggles not to take a step back with the force of it.

“Of course.” He replies, reluctantly pulling his cold fingers out from the warmth beneath the shoulders of your vest. His smile, small, self-conscious, is returned tenfold and beaming. The same way it always is. He doesn’t know how you do it - see the things you see every day and still manage a grin wider than the Río de la Plata. Maybe he can’t explain everything.

He catches a movement over your shoulder, it’s Morgan. Arms folded at the elbow, fists tucked close to his chest, as he makes the exaggerated movements of a chicken. Head bobbing and all. The teasing support, because that’s all it is, is nice to have - but there’s not one member of the team who understands exactly why he’s so afraid to say anything to you. In an ideal world, he wouldn’t be. He’d be able to pull you aside and tell you exactly how many days it’s been since he’d met you, started crushing on you, fallen absolutely hopelessly in love. It kind of all started at once, if he’s being completely honest. And in that ideal world, you would smile that billion kilowatt smile and tell him you love him too, and even the paperwork from the bureau wouldn’t matter. This isn’t an ideal world, however. He knows that better than most.

Spencer’s been rejected before, more than even he would care to admit, by friends and lovers and parents and colleagues and strangers. But he’s not sure he could take it from you, not while you hold his heart so tenderly in your hands. Even unaware of the responsibility, you’re gentle with him.

He’ll keep you close, regardless, as much as he can without arousing your suspicion. He’ll keep making space for you and double checking your vest until every ugly confession claws its way out of him.

That’s enough, for now.

if you’ve made it this far, pls know i am kissing u gently on the forehead🧡🧡

i’m also thinking about opening requests for all things pre-relationship spencer bc mutual pining and obliviousness is my fav fav fav thing, in case anyone was interested👀

[deoidesign]

Thinking about vampires, death, life, and the space they occupy in between

[justaz]

arthur (prince of camelot) still has to study under a tutor bc yknow uther wants him to be very intelligent before becoming king or something bc its super important idk idc anyways merlin is doing chores in his chambers while arthur is squinting at a book and merlin eventually caves and asks him what he’s reading and arthur gruffly explains that its a collection of stories from greece that make absolutely no sense so merlin asks him to read them outloud to him. arthur of course teases him and calls him an idiot and asks how he could possibly help but does as he’s asked and reads the stories to merlin as he does his chores. merlin (being crushed under the weight of destiny and tormented by the prophecies that kilgharrah spews) understands the stories almost immediately and gets all excited and starts rambling about them with arthur. arthur is glad to have someone who understands so he can give something that reflects a hint of understanding to his tutor who accepts it and moves onto the next unit of education.

the thing is, arthur finds more stories in camelot’s library and brings them up to his room to read them aloud to merlin under the guise of completing his studies but really he just wants to watch as merlin’s eyes gleam when he understands whats happening and listen to him ramble on and on about them bc he’s gay. the stories stick with merlin though and he realizes that they’re cautionary tales, that the heroes who were told too much of their future doomed themself to fulfill them - that them fighting the prophecies led to their completion. merlin takes it to heart and gives a big “fuck you” to kilgharrah before forging his own fate and helping morgana with her magic and handing out an olive branch to mordred and now everyone can live happily and peacefully in an albion teeming with magic.

[intermittent-showers]

Didn't realize that changing your mind on 911lbr was such a major crime that I would wake up to a fucking firing squad in my messages for finally telling the chat that I haven't seen Buddie as romantic since S4.

So, because I don't fucking owe these people an ounce of my time I immediately deleted my Buddie fics, deleted my Tumblr, and made a brand new one for bucktommy. If you can throw away years of communication and friendship over one tiny message, then clearly we weren't friendly to begin with, and no one like that is welcome in my corner.

And don't pretend Buddie is superior when every hiatus all you all do is bitch and moan in private about how much you hate the all of the other characters, besides Buddie, and wish they'd get a new ensemble of younger actors like they did in Grey's Anatomy.

Anyway, new blog who dis?

They're just sooo... *sigh* 🥰🫠

[good-advice-ganondorf]

mr ganondorf sir i want to start writing again but there are constant bees in my brain (autism+adhd) and i can't focus well, how do i teach myself to be more productive? 🥺

[itsjustpoopeh]

also I remain an unrepentant ted lasso season 3 apologist. it's not as awful as most of you like to pretend and a lot of the hate is just shipper tantrums

[varpusvaras]

Breha wanted to have a soulmate.

Her parents were soulmates. They both had a mark of the Hand of Skies, the constellation visible during the winters of Aldera, on their left shoulders. Her mother had originally had the right hand of the constellation, while her father had had the left hand, and the mark had completed itself for both of them after they had met each other for the first time. It had been an early match, and her parents had grown up together since they had been ten years old. For as long as Breha remembered, she had looked at their love and connection, and indulged herself in the warmth and familiarity they shared with each other, dreaming of having the same for herself.

Her parents hoped for her to have a soulmate, too.

"Being a Queen is an important task", her mother always said. "Sometimes, it can be very lonely, too. I have gotten over so many moments of doubt with your father on my side."

She didn't talk about the other reason to her, but Breha knew about it anyway. She knew enough other Royals, other Nobles, of people born into influental families all across the Galaxy.

She knew what happened to those who didn't have a soulmate.

A soulmate was a part of you. A soulmate was someone who no one would ever take away from you. A soulmate was someone who would stay at your side.

A soulmate meant protection.

Breha didn't fully believe that her parents would make her marry someone she did not truly want to, but the fear was still there, and it gnawed on her, stronger and stronger, with every passing year. Alderaan was an affluent world, after all. Old, rich, and located in the Core. Many would be vying for the hand of the future Queen, if it was free for the taking.

Her parents had both gotten their marks at nine years old. Most people on Alderaan got their marks before their tenth birthday.

Breha's twelfth birthday had come and gone, and her thirteenth was fastly approaching, and there was nothing.

She didn't dare to speak about her growing nervousness to her parents. It felt like she would be insulting them, by insinuating that she thought that they would force her into something she did not want. She couldn't just keep it all inside, either, as it continued to bother her more and more.

In the end, she went to her grandmother.

"Sometimes it just takes time", her grandmother said, stroking Breha's back as Breha sniffled against her collar. "Sometimes the Galaxy and the Force has to look at things a little deeper, and to take a lot of things to consideration, things that you and me, or no one else, for that matter, has no idea about. It has to look at so many options before making the decision, so that the decision is the right one."

It did make Breha feel a little better. Maybe she had hope. Maybe she or whoever it was, at the other side, was just a little difficult to match with. Breha didn't think of herself as particularly difficult or complex, but maybe the Force knew something tha she didn't.

So she kept her hopes up, and she waited.

--- ---

She got her mark a week before her birthday.

She had noticed it immediately after waking up, and she had jumped out of her bed and ran to her parents to show it, without even bothering to change out of her nightgown before going.

Not that they cared, as they were just as happy as Breha herself.

The mark was a small flower, on the inside of her left wrist, with seven rounded petals that turned to sharp points at the last second. Breha thought it looked a lot like a star, if one had been turned into a flower.

Her grandmother agreed when Breha showed the mark to her.

"It's a forest star", she told her, "they grow in very deep forests, where sunlight comes through the trees only in small dots, and all the colors are dark and the ground is always glistening with water."

She turned Breha's hand a little to see the mark better, as it was sitting off center, on the right side of Breha's forearm. She was quiet for a moment as she looked at it, clearly contemplating her next words.

"What is most notable of them", she said, finally, "is that they always grow in group of threes."

She ran her fingers over the mark once more, and then gave Breha's hand a little pat.

"It's a beautiful mark", she told Breha, smiling. "With a mark like that, you're going to have a wonderful soulmate, I already know it."

Breha believed her. She had been right about the mark. She would be right about her soulmate as well.

--- ---

Breha met Bail Prestor when she was just shy of seventeen, after she had finally gotten her feet properly back under herself. She noticed him immediately, and joined him and his father to a debate between few other noblemen of Alderaan, that had been invited to the Palace.

She took his side against one of them, and when Bail turned to look at her and smiled, a little unsure but genuine still, Breha felt like something had bloomed underneath her skin.

When she looked down, there was another flower on her arm, on the opposite side of her original one.

She lifted her eyes back to Bail, to see him looking at her now with surprise in his eyes and equal amount of surprise in the smile he still had on his face.

Breha smiled back at him, brightly, with joy and relief.

--- ---

"I will do my best", Bail promised her that night, "no matter what, I will be the soulmate you deserve."

Breha believed him.

"Thank you", she said. "I will do so as well, for you."

She was there for Bail just as much as Bail was for her, after all.

--- ---

"I must admit", Bail said one day, when they were walking through the gardens on a late afternoon. "I am still a little surprised about the mark."

"How so?" Breha asked. She had the feeling that Bail wasn't talking about being the soulmate of the Princess.

"My mother looked up the flower when I got my mark", he said. "She told me that they grow in threes. I expected you two have two flowers, or something similar, I think."

That was right. Breha glanced at their hands. They had both received each other's mark, so they had fullfilled the mark for each other, but the flowers sat apart from each other on their skins, leaving a gap between them.

A gap, just wide enough, that a third flower could fit in between, linking their flowers to each other.

"That would've made sense", Breha admitted. "My grandmother told me the same. We have fullfilled each other's marks, though. I think that is the most important thing."

"It is", Bail said. "It just makes me think..."

He looked down on their hands, and then up at the sky, right past the mountaintops.

"If there is someone out there, with a single flower on their hand", he murmured, reaching for Breha's hand as he spoke.

Breha laced their fingers together, and thought.

All marks had a meaning. A point of connection. Like her parents, with each one side of a whole constellation, two hands made of stars, always meant to be holding each other.

Wouldn't it mean something, too, for her and Bail to have flowers that always grew in threes?

Breha looked up at the sky as well, and she wondered.

--- ---

Years went by. Breha married Bail. She became the Queen.

There were two flowers on each of their arms, apart from each other, with just enough space for a third one in between them.

--- ---

Being a Queen was sometimes lonely work.

What her father had not told her, was that being a Senator was sometimes just as lonely.

During the longest days, Breha would look down on her hand, to the two flowers on her skin, her own and Bail's, and she would draw strength from seeing the proof of the connection she and Bail had, even when the void of space was in between them.

She knew Bail did the same, and Breha was happy that she had been able to give him that connection, that lasted over time and distance.

She looked at her mark for a long time, when the word of the war starting reached Alderaan.

--- ---

Bail was calling her in the middle of her Court.

Usually, when he had something to tell her during their work hours, Bail would send her a message and ask her to call him, or call Visaiya, if it was something more urgent. It wasn't like him to call her like this, without sending a word out first.

She looked up at her Ministers, and gave a signal.

"My deepest apologies", she said, standing up. "I am afraid that I have to take an incoming call right away from the Viceroy."

There were no objections. The war had forced them to raise their means of security on both Alderaan and Coruscant, especially since Bail had not confined himself to only inside the Senate and the House. Anything sudden regarding him was treated with utmost gravity.

She stepped outside the Courtroom into the foyer to answer.

"Are you alright?" She asked, instantly, when the call connected and Bail's image appeared. "What's going on?"

Bail didn't look injured or even angry or crestfallen or anything of the sort that she had kind of expected.

Instead, he looked almost flustered when he looked at her, his eyes wide open, like something entirely unexpected had happened.

"I am alright", Bail answered, and then drew in a deep breath. "Something has happened, and I needed to tell you about it right away."

Before Breha could ask more, Bail pulled up his sleeve, and turned his hand around to show her.

There, on the inside of his arm, right at his left wrist, were three flowers.

It was just like Breha had imagined it. The third flower, right in the middle of the other two, interlocked its petals precisely with the flowers on both sides of it, and so linked them all together, with no space left between them anymore.

Breha lifted her eyes to Bail, who was looking at her, like he was just waiting for her to say something.

Breha had just one thing to say to him.

"Who?" She asked.

"I don't know", Bail answered.

It was not what she had expected him to say at all.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I was just returning to my office", Bail said. "I had to wait a little since there had been some sort of incident, and the troopers needed a little more time to clear things up, and then I just felt it. And there it is, now."

Breha looked at the mark again.

Three flowers, right next to each other, interlocked.

There was a rule in giving and receiving another part of the mark, and fullfilling it.

There needed to be a point of connection in order for it to happen. It wouldn't happen simply for being in the same space with the other. There needed to be a moment of true attention, intentionally given and received, for the connection to happen.

That meant that Breha had more to ask.

"Who did you talk to?" She asked. "When it happened?"

She hadn't even needed to ask. Bail had already arrived back to the point himself.

"Oh", he said, then thought for a moment. "I think I need to have a word with the Commander of the Guard."

Breha knew from the moment Bail said those words, that many things were about to change irrevocably.

She looked Bail in the eyes, and she knew that he knew it too.

[luxaofhesperides]

Surprise husbands + "How are you real?" ; requested by @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff!

They may not have planned to get married, or even wanted it all too much at the beginning, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to treat each other right. It was rough going, with both of them coming out of relationships and having secret identities, but time had softened the hurt feelings and allowed them to actually get to know each other.

And Danny, Duke has discovered, is a really good husband. 

Neither of them ever saw themselves as married at 20, but sometimes life throws horrible curses at you and the embodiment of balance and life and death swoops in to save your life. Via marriage. 

His life is weird, okay? Duke has made his peace with it.

The thing is, if they had met naturally and started off as friends, Duke could see himself falling for Danny and asking him to marry him in a far off future. Instead, they’re doing everything backwards: married, then going on dates to know each other, and finally feeling close enough to be friends. 

It helps that Danny does his best to communicate and that helps Duke find the words he needs as well. 

He’s sweet, too, so kind and doting and affectionate. Like a really lovable cat, honestly. Duke’s never been cuddled so much in his life and he’s loving every minute of it. 

He… might be falling in love with his husband. What a revelation.

“Duke?” 

He blinks, looking up from his half-empty plate, pulled out of his thoughts suddenly. Tim and Dick stare at him, concerned, and he realizes he’s missed the entire conversation because he was so preoccupied thinking about Danny. In his defense, it was their one year anniversary the night before and Danny had kissed him for the first time after a date night spent playing video games and talking shit about their respective rogues. 

Tim snaps a finger in front of his face, and Duke startles. He got distracted by his Danny Thoughts again.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You okay? You’ve been out of it all day,” Dick says, clearly concerned.

“Oh, uh, yeah, it’s all good. Just… adjusting.”

“To what? Did something happen?”

Duke shrugs, scooping up another forkful of pasta to shove in his mouth. “Yeah, I… this is going to sound kind of stupid, but I think I’m in love with my husband.”

Tim, taking an ill-timed drink, chokes and spits out his Zesti. Dick springs back, trying to get out of the spray zone but doesn’t move far, shocked still by Duke’s words.

“Oh, yeah,” Duke realizes, “I didn’t tell you guys, did I?”

“You’re married?!” Tim shrieks as Dick clutches at his chest, eyes wide.

“You didn’t tell me?” Dick asks, offended.

“Seriously? That’s what you focus on?”

Duke smiles as they begin to bicker. They do it constantly, but this time it’s halfhearted, as if they’re just going through the motions of something familiar to distract themselves from the bomb he’s dropped on them.

In all fairness, Duke did forget that he didn’t tell them that he’s married to Danny. He’s also only mentioned Danny once or twice and heavily implied that Danny was just a classmate at GCU. And then forgot that he didn’t tell them, assuming that they’d figure it out eventually being Batman trained detectives, after all.

Well. 

Oops.

Clearly that is not the case. Duke hurries to finish his pasta before Tim and Dick finish their joint freak out and get their senses back together enough to interrogate him. He can’t escape it, but he refuses to have this discussion with an empty stomach. 

He just barely manages to scrape the last mouthful off the plate when his fork is being yanked out of his hands. Tim and Dick close in on him, standing to either side of him, trapping him in place, and look at him with knife-sharp smiles.

Here we go, Duke thinks tiredly, and resigns himself to clearing up this misunderstanding.

Somehow, he manages to explain the situation (I got cursed, he saved my life, we ended up married because magic is bullshit, he treats me so well) and Tim and Dick both agree to not hunt down Danny to show him the wrath of older brothers on one condition: Danny has to join them for a family dinner.

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch everyone up on your… situation,” Dick says, pulling on his jacket to head out. Tim is already on his phone, no doubt telling someone already. 

“Great,” Duke says, unenthused. “You’ll also be answering all the questions because I’m not in the mood. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to figure out a day that works for all of us, and then I’m going to kick my husband’s ass in Mario Cart.”

He walks out the door, grinning as he hears them scramble after him, then twists the ring on his finger (not a wedding ring, but a magic portal making gift) and steps into the portal. It closes quietly behind him, leaving him in Danny’s lair, a comfortable, spacious house with high ceilings and little bits of his personality scattered about. There are soft rugs with geometric patterns on them, star maps on the wall, stained glass windows that throw colors across the floor, and a giant couch and pillow pit in the living room.

Danny’s asleep in it, curled up and looking completely at peace. Duke toes off his shoes and carefully makes his way over, footsteps silent so he doesn’t wake him up, all plans of Mario Cart fading away instantly.

Danny doesn’t get much sleep, with the stress of school and an internship and ghost fights to worry about. It’s why his lair is so quiet and comfortable; it’s what he needs, and he doesn’t let anyone else in without invitation, rare as it is.

Duke is allowed to waltz right in thanks to the ring Danny gave him. It never stops making him feel overwhelmed by how much trust Danny puts in him to allow him unlimited access to what is his only true sanctuary, letting his lair be a place of safety and respite for Duke as well. 

He crawls into the pillow pit, There’s no way to do this without waking Danny up since he can’t fly, so he isn’t surprised to see Danny blink his eyes open, still looking soft and content. He smiles when he sees Duke, reaching a hand out to him that Duke gladly takes, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss his palm.

Sitting up, Danny tilts his head up in a silent request. Duke happily obliges, still reeling over the fact that he’s allowed to do this! He can kiss his husband whenever he wants! 

Yeah, he’s going to be riding that high for a while.

“Hey,” Danny murmurs, sleepy and quietly pleased to see him.

“Hi honey,” Duke returns fondly, “Have a nice nap?”

Danny nods, leaning into Duke and closing his eyes again. “Mhm. How long are you staying? I wanna cuddle.”

“I got nothing going on today. I’m all yours, baby.”

“C’mon,” Danny tries to tug him down. Duke goes slowly, covering Danny’s body with his own, but holds himself with one hand before he blankets his husband completely.

“Wait. There’s something we need to talk about.”

Immediately, the sleepy haze is fading from Danny’s eyes, leaving him alert. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Not really? You know how we agreed to keep our marriage a secret until we weren’t in danger anymore and all those cultists and sorcerers were taken care of?”

“...Yes?”

“Well.” Duke sucks in a breath and offers a bashful smile. “Guess who forgot to tell people we were married after that whole mess was dealt with?”

The nervousness clears from Danny’s gaze as he stares up at Duke with incredulous amusement. “No. No way.”

“Yeah. Kinda dropped a bomb on them and they started freaking out over me being married. Anyways, they want you to come to dinner?”

“When?”

Duke leans back, sitting on his heels. “Let me check.” He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to the group chat asking for a day they could have a family meal to meet his husband.

His phone is bombarded with texts and calls immediately until Barbara, bless her entire soul, forcibly mutes all of them and puts in a poll with a few dates, setting the poll to close in 24 hours.

“Okay, well, they’re deciding now, but probably soon.”

Danny nods. “Alright. I know these aren’t normal circumstances at all, but I’m so excited to meet the Bats.”

“You do not mean that after hearing all my stories about them.”

“No, I do!” Danny laughs, surging up to wrap his arms around Duke and pull him back down to lay among the giant pillows with him. “They sound nice!”

“The Bats sound nice?!” Duke repeats in horror. “Did you hit your head?”

“They do sound nice! You talk about them so fondly, and yeah they have problems and are dysfunctional, but they’re heroes. Of course they have problems. Even with all their baggage, they’re kind. And you clearly love them, so I do too.”

It’s hard to resist the urge to hug Danny tight enough to make him squeak while peppering his face with kisses, so Duke doesn’t. He just goes and does it, because he’s allowed to shower his husband (!) with affection (!!!) as much as he pleases.

“How are you real?” he says against the corner of Danny’s lips. “How are you so perfect! To me specifically! Honey, if we weren’t already married, I’d be going down on one knee right now.”

“I mean, you still can. We never got a proper wedding either. Think if we offer them a chance to help plan our wedding, they’ll forgive us for secretly being married for so long?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Duke says. He’s already giddy, just imagining what their wedding will look like, what song they’ll play for their first dance, where they’ll have the ceremony… He should create a Pinterest account to start putting ideas together. 

Later, though. He wants to woo Danny properly and take him on so many dates.

Dates which include dinner with the Waynes and Wayne-adjacents, apparently.

“You sure you’re okay with meeting them over dinner?” he asks, just to be sure. He knows how intense they can be, even when pretending to be normal civilians. It took him years to get used to them, himself, and he doesn’t want to push Danny into doing something he’s not ready to do.

Danny cups Duke’s face in his hands and gives him a quick, reassuring kiss. “I’m sure. If nothing else, it’ll be fun to see how long it takes for them to realize I’m not fully human.”

“I really am glad it’s you.”

“Yeah, me too. I’d choose you all over again if given the choice.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Duke laughs, wrapping an arm around Danny’s waist.

“Can we nap now? Now that you’re here and holding me, it’s taking everything I’ve got to stay awake.”

“Yeah, we can nap now.” Duke settles into the pillows, Danny cradled in his arms and closes his eyes to bask in the quiet easiness of it all. 

He really couldn’t ask for a better husband, unexpected as he was. The others will see that too, once they meet him. It’s impossible to not love Danny once you meet him; Duke knows this all too well.

He loves his husband.

And his husband loves him back.

Duke is fully prepared to keep making that choice for the rest of his life.

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

Alhaitham referring to kaveh in ways which acknowledge his skill, and kaveh perceiving it as sarcasm, even though alhaitham refers to kaveh in the same ways when kaveh isn’t present is driving me a little bit insane - especially what this prompts the player to question!!

When we first meet kaveh in the archon quest the relationship between him and alhaitham is presented to us as “terrible” (courtesy of npc geoff who introduces kaveh’s return to sumeru city), and the cutscene in the house of daena demonstrates what this entails, being that the two cannot see eye to eye, and, seemingly don’t hold each other in high regard.

Alhaitham seemingly refers to kaveh’s genius in a sarcastic light and kaveh claims to despise talking to alhaitham because of his arrogance.

Looking to kaveh’s hangout, however, when the player has a one-on-one with alhaitham, the player gets a glimpse into alhaitham’s personal understanding of kaveh, and with this, his own views on kaveh.

Within this exchange between him and the player, Alhaitham uses Kaveh’s title without sarcasm, sincerely praising him and his skills, elevating him over ‘less skilled’ architects and asserting that Kaveh should have more confidence in his work.

The reason that Alhaitham does not openly praise Kaveh is stated here, being that “admonitions” will serve no purpose due to people being prone to fall into “similar pitfalls”, and that people should have the right to lead their own life, rather than have it interfered upon by others

The reading here is that even if Alhaitham did openly praise Kaveh, no difference would be made in Kaveh’s thinking. Yet, by refraining from praise, and instead goading, by this logic, this also makes no difference. Therefore, the question is raised, ‘why can Alhaitham praise Kaveh to the player, and not to Kaveh himself?’

When Alhaitham praises Kaveh’s work within Kaveh’s hangout it is through there being no record of issues in the reconstruction of port ormos, which is something kaveh states first - in this context, alhaitham notes the work as an “impressive achievement”, which kaveh assents to, as there is no standing in which this can be debated. Kaveh cannot resent a compliment steeped in fact, even from alhaitham

The problem, then, is rooted in alhaitham’s delivery, which relates to their core issue of miscommunication. Referring back to their exchange in the House of Daena, it is observed that Alhaitham uses similar descriptors of Kaveh to Kaveh, similar to the descriptors he uses to the Traveler in Kaveh’s hangout, however, Kaveh perceives these words as sarcasm.

This highlights the miscommunication between them and can aid in answering the question why Alhaitham cannot be open with Kaveh, as he will be misconstrued.

​Through Alhaitham’s repeated elusions to Kaveh when he is not present and his open esteem of Kaveh and his work to the Traveler, Kaveh’s assertion that Alhaitham holds him in a negative light is proved incorrect. This serves to highlight the miscommunication between the two, causing the player to question why they hold such contrasting views of the other.

Clearly, there is a reason why Alhaitham cannot openly express his regard of Kaveh to Kaveh, but this reason is obscure to both kaveh and the player.

In terms of queer subtext it’s pretty interesting that alhaitham’s high regard for kaveh is shown within the surface text and yet the reason for this secrecy is never made explicit within the story’s surface and is only to be inferred from alhaitham’s and kaveh’s character stories.

In terms of the two functioning as mirrors, the fact that the knowledge that alhaitham cannot outright compliment kaveh 1) is not only due to their past argument and lost friendship and 2) is also due to his awareness that kaveh cannot accept goodwill, is only obtainable by reading both kaveh and alhaitham’s character stories shows how intertwined they are as characters - you cannot fully understand one without the other

(Update: For more analyses like this, the essay this is taken from is now uploaded! It can be accessed here and here as as a pdf <3)

[oneluckydragon]

Thinking about how these two met. Get adopted, idiot.

More human!Echo.