#me when I’m trying and failing to be profound

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 3: Escape & Evade

Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.7K

Content: Explicit 18+ - [Intended for mature audiences]

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

The forest is dim and obscured by a thick, opaque fog. You’re running through it in nothing but your night dress. The viscid milky haze parts around you as you advance, ducking and dodging around thick trees and willowy branches. The cool air is damp, leaving a sheen of clamminess veiling your skin. Your eyes search frantically through the dense foliage.

A profound sense of dread grips you, and tears stream down your reddened cheeks. You’re trying to scream, but your throat is tight, and sound can’t escape your constricting esophagus.

You catch the faintest glimpse of him before he disappears into the dense, chalky vapour like a ghost.

You try to call out to him as you swiftly change directions. Your bare feet skid on the soggy forest floor. Your muscles tighten and twist instinctively, and you regain your failing balance. When your feet finally find purchase, you launch forward. Sharp stones and sticks bruise, scrap, and cut the soles of your feet. Branches batter at your face, pull at your hair and gouge your satiny skin.

He’s not here.

You turn rapidly, wet hair sticking to your face, and your eyes scan the trees again. Your breath comes in heavy, rapid gulps. The muscles in your legs twitch and tremble with over-exertion.

You catch slight movement in your peripheral vision. Spinning, you sprint as fast as your fatigued legs can carry you.

I have to be quicker.

Gritting your teeth, you bolster yourself and try to force your body to accelerate.

You spot him briefly before he turns and disappears behind a tree.

“Astarion!”

You finally find your voice, and it rings deafeningly, echoing in the murky night air.

“Astarion, please! Don’t go!”

He stands still momentarily.

“I’m here.”

His lips don’t move, and his voice sounds oddly far away. He slowly backs off and dissipates into the thick, pasty air.

Your lungs burn with anguish you have never known. You whirl around, squinting your eyes, trying to peer into that dense pale haze.

Movement.

You push your body forward with all that’s left of your energy. Your muscles seethe ferociously, and your heart feels like it’s about to explode in your chest cavity.

You hurtle out of the thick forest to a clearing with a sharp cliff face that drops off into nothingness. Your breath wheezes as you inhale raggedly, trying to devour the air.

Astarion stands at the precipice, vibrant crimson eyes staring at you with a happy smile.

You catch the first glimmer of the golden rays of light brightening the sky behind him.

“Astarion, no! I’m begging you, please!”

The sun breaches the horizon, the brilliant glowing sphere rising fast.

Much too fast.

Astarion’s skin starts to turn grey, crack and fissure.

“Don’t go. Please, don’t leave me!”

He doesn’t move, that unsettling happy smile is still worn on his lips as he begins to dissolve into ash, being carried away by the wind.

You scream at the top of your lungs, “Astarion!”

“Wake up, my love. I’m here.”

Wake up?

“Wake up.” 

Launching your eyes open, you surge upright in a cold sweat. Your heart pummels against your ribs and thrums in your ears. Tears cascade in salty streams down your cheeks.

A cool hand touches your face, cradling it, gently directing your gaze towards familiar crimson eyes bathed in candlelight.

“Easy, darling. It’s just a dream.”

“Astarion?” You gasp breathlessly.

You throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your entire body trembles with the remnants of the nightmare. Astarion wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. His hand comes to the back of your head.

“I’ve got you, my love.” He whispers, “I’ve always got you.”

Desperate sobs wrack your quivering body as you bury your face into his shoulder, and your chest heaves with rapid, shallow breaths.

“Deep breaths, my dear. With me.”

Of course, Astarion doesn’t need to breathe, but he still can, even if it is not required. He would often breathe to keep up appearances purely out of habit. Cazador had forced his spawn to breathe off palace grounds while hunting their marks so they didn’t raise any suspicions, and it was a habit that he hadn’t been able to shake.

His chest begins to move under you as he inhales slow, deep breaths. He pulls you even tighter to him so you can feel it well. 

“In and out, with me.”

You try to sync your breaths with his as best you can.

The door swings open, and Gale shouts, “What did you do now, Astarion?”

“A nightmare.”

“Another one?” He relaxes with a sigh, “They’ve been near-constant since she got here.”

Astarion’s jaw tenses slightly, and he starts rubbing your back with slow, comforting circles.

“I’ve got this, Gale.”

Gale bows shallowly, “I suppose you do. I’ll be in my room if you have need of me.”

“Gale?”

Gale glances at Astarion, “Yes?”

“Thank you for… for taking care of her.”

A small smile creeps across Gale’s face, “Of course, my friend. Anytime.”

The door closes, and you’re left sobbing into Astarion’s shoulder. As the nightmare fades from your mind, so does the intensity of your sobs, and you eventually untangle yourself from around his neck.

Astarion wipes the last remaining tears streaking down your cheeks away with his finger, “How long has this been going on?”

You glance away from him, unable to meet that penetrating glare, “A while.”

“How long?”

You shrug, “Does it matter?”

“It does to me.”

Your shoulders slump, “Does it?”

He left me.

Sadness clouds the sculpted planes of his features, and his brows pull down slightly. He reaches out and slips the strap of your night dress back up your shoulder, such a small gesture but so full of compassion and humility.

“I’m sorry. That was unfair of me.”

Astarion looks at his hands, “I had it coming.”

“No, I-”

He cuts you off, “Apology accepted. There’s no need to speak more on the subject right now.”

“How did you know?”

Please tell me I wasn’t screaming in my sleep this time.

His eyebrow cocks, “Know what?”

“That I was having a nightmare.”

“Darling, you were positively screaming my name, and not in the delicious way I want you to be screaming it.”

Fuck.

You groan and cover your face with your hands as you feel your heart leap again. A muffled laugh escapes his lips, and he sweeps the hair clinging to your wet cheeks behind your ear.

“Sorry about your shirt.”

He smirks, “Don’t worry about it, my dear. I am well acquainted with all of your fluids. Although, I would have preferred happy tears, but beggars, choosers, and all that.”

A small giggle rumbles in your throat.

“There’s my girl.”

Astarion always knew how to make you feel better, and he seldom failed to do so, even when you were at your lowest.

“You should get some rest. You do look terrible.”

You huff at him, exasperated. He slips off the bed, and you’re suddenly terrified to let him go, so you quickly grab a handful of his shirt.

“Please, don’t go. Stay with me?”

Your tone is more pleading than you would like, and your voice shakes with the unmistakable declaration of fear.

“Are you sure?”

“Please.”

You can feel the tears start to well up in your eyes again. You have perpetually relived losing him in your nightmares time and time again. You will never admit it to him aloud, but you need him now.

“Okay, darling. Since you asked so nicely.”

You get up and close the shutters of your bedroom window and pull the drapes shut tight, making sure absolutely no sunlight would be able to filter in. The last scenes of the dream drift through your mind, making you shudder noticeably.

Astarion looks at you with a cocked brow but doesn’t comment further on your strange behaviour. You crawl back into bed, and he slides in easily beside you. He stays above the covers, and you whimper at the barrier between you.

He tucks you in and lays flat on his back, his hand behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Astarion?”

He shifts, rolling over and turns towards you. His face rests on the pillow just inches from yours. Astarion’s crimson eyes drift to your lips with a longing look before meeting yours.

“Yes?”

You can feel your rationality starting to slip. He’s here, right in front of you, so close you can almost feel the chill of his skin and smell that signature scent. His presence is intoxicating.

I’m home.

You sweep his silvery-white curls behind his ear and leisurely run your fingers along the silky skin of his jaw. You search his face for any signs of discomfort but find none.

I should stop.

Astarion runs his thumb tenderly along your bottom lip. Your breath hitches in your throat, and your eyes lock with his. You give him a heated stare, drawing him in. Your heart picks up its pulsing rhythm, and arousal spreads like a liquid flame between your legs.

But it’s been so very long.

His scarlet eyes are half-lidded in a sultry gaze, and you bite your lower lip in anticipation. He leans forward, closing the distance between you, but hesitates when his lips ghost over yours. A moan escapes you at his delicious proximity, and that’s all he needs to spur him on. A low growl vibrates in his throat as his lips meet yours with a hungry fervour.

All rational thought dissolves as he sends your senses spiralling. The coolness of his soft lips on yours, his fingers on the back of your neck, while his thumb sweeps affectionately across your cheek. He is like a black hole, and you’re dragged in, being consumed by him.

His expertly parts your lips, and you sigh, relishing him, soaking in his familiar taste. His tongue explores your mouth, sending waves of pleasure rocketing through you. Every nerve in your body hums, and you drink him in. Your hands grip handfuls of his shirt, and you tug it free from the waist of his trousers. The intensity of his mouth on yours deepens, his tongue teasing and dancing with yours.

The world drops away, and it’s only you and him in this moment of feral passion.

You’re embarrassingly wet, and your clit pulses in tempo with the drumming of your heart. You squeeze your thighs together in a hopeless effort to relieve the intensity of the yearning throb between your legs. A small smile tugs at his lips, and a sonorous, visceral groan resounds in his chest.

He knows. He always knows.

He runs his fingertips up your spine, and you arch your back instinctively. The coolness of his fingers on your heated skin sends a jolt running through you, and you sigh at the sensation of his touch. Your hand desperately squeezes the sculpted muscles of his side.

He bucks his hips into you with a growl, and even through the blankets keeping you apart, you can feel his erection jutting into you, straining against his trousers.

You’re all instinct, passion and desire. You want him, all of him, right now. The longing ache of your clenching core begs for his hard length, and you whimper at your emptiness, hungering to be filled. Your hand falls to the outside of his trousers, brushing his bulging erection.

With a hiss, he breaks off the kiss and jumps out of the bed.

No, no, no, no, no.

“Astarion?”

Astarion squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw clenches, and you recognize that look immediately. You took it too far, allowing your passion and arousal to cloud your judgment.

“Astarion, I’m so sorry.”

“Hush, darling. A moment, if you please.”

Well, this answers one question I had.

You wait for him to collect himself in an awkward silence. His body slowly relaxes, and his eyes finally open to meet yours.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha-”

He cuts you off, “This is not your doing. The blame is not your burden to bear.”

“I’m still sorry.”

You know your next question is selfish and one you shouldn’t ask of him, but it spills from your mouth before you can stop it.

“Will you still stay? Tonight, I mean.”

“I’m not sure if I should…”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, pulling your knees to your chest.

“Right.” You shake your head, trying to part the arousal obscuring your thoughts, “Yes, of course. I understand.”

He turns towards the door, and his hand rests on the handle. The muscles in his forearm tense and relax as he stands there pensively. Astarion glances at you sitting in your bed and his hand drops from the door.

“Move over.”

Move over?

You look at him, and your eyebrows pull down as you attempt to figure out what he means. He comes towards you, and it dawns on you.

You shake your head vehemently, “No, Astarion. Don’t do something you’re not comfortable with.”

You are more than used to him pushing himself to do things he didn’t want to. He had learned to say no and mean it, for the most part. Enforcing his boundaries had always proven to be a challenge when it came to you.

No matter how often you tried to nudge him to tell you what he needed, he consistently kept it from you. It meant you had to try and read his mind, which was a formidable hurdle all on its own.

He observes you with a defiant glower, “Move over.”

With a gentle shove, he nudges you to the other side of the bed and settles himself back beside you.

“Astarion, you don’t have to stay. I shouldn’t have asked. It was selfish of me.”

“I’m fine. Truly.”

You eye him with a probing gaze, looking for all his usual signals that he’s discomforted. As you examine him intently, he glances at you and giggles. It’s an adorable sound and eases the tension that thickens the air and the knot in your stomach.

“You can stop stripping me bare with your eyes anytime, darling.”

Your face twists into a scrutinizing glare, “If I could trust you to tell me the truth, I wouldn’t have to strip you with my eyes.”

Astarion shakes his head at you with a sly smile, “Far be it from me to deny you what your heart desires most.”

Ugh.

“You said you didn’t want to stay. You should return to your room if that’s how you feel.”

“I’m quite comfortable, actually.” He makes a show of further settling into bed, in his usual resting position, “You’ll have to force me to leave if that’s what you truly want. You can cast Telekinesis, no? Throw me out if you wish.”

He closes his eyes, and his face relaxes in a serene expression.

Your eyes roll so hard you swear you can nearly see the back of your head, “You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told, darling.”

You grunt your exasperation and make a dramatic show of rolling over, effectively ignoring him.

Astarion merely snickers at your theatrical performance, “Sleep tight.”

Your eyes peel open slowly. Your vision is still fuzzy, with the remnants of sleep clouding them.

A familiar, comfortable weight blankets your body, and you roll over. Astarion is resting peacefully beside you. His arm is slung over you in an embrace you have not known for some time. His eyes crack open with your movement, and he groans tiredly.

“Well, hello.” Astarion’s scarlet eyes are still heavily lidded with the residue of his trance leisurely dispersing.

“You stayed all night?” You can’t hide the surprise in your voice.

You had expected him to sneak out as soon as he detected the tranquillity of a deep trance overtaking you.

“I suppose I did.”

His voice is deep, saturated with sleepiness, but carries a hint of astonishment.

He wasn’t planning on staying all night.

He clears his throat, “You were positively thrashing about all night. You only settled when I held you. How could I leave?”

Was I? 

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, beautiful.”

Glancing toward the window, you see only the hints of sunlight permeating the edges of the heavy curtains shielding the room.

You vaguely recall the nightmare.

Astarion’s pristine ivory skin split apart in glowing fissures.

The half smile on his lips as he dissolves into ash.

The wind that swept past carrying his remains.

You cringe inwardly, trying to force the images from yourself. Your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of your hunger.

Astarion undrapes himself from you and turns onto his back, “Gale is making breakfast.”

“Oh…”

You can’t hide the disappointment in your voice, and Astarion lets out a loud laugh.

“Don’t tell me the wizard's cooking still hasn’t improved. He’s got a whole kitchen at his disposal now!”

You suppress a low laugh but don’t bother answering him. He can surely smell whatever Gale is cooking, and, more than likely, he can tell that the quality of Gale’s cuisine hasn’t improved too much.

You roll out of bed with a shiver and throw on your robe.

“Remember, the upper floors are not curtained.” You remind him as he watches with you with a fixed intensity.

“Dually noted, my dear. Who is up there anyway? I can hear someone pacing about.”

“Gale’s mother lives up there.”

Astarion shoots upright in bed, laughing hysterically.

“The wizard still lives with his mother?!” The amusement dances over his face, “Why am I not surprised?”

You click your tongue in disapproval, imitating him, “Astarion, don’t get any smart ideas.”

He cocks his eyebrow at you in a devious, snake-like expression, “Oh, darling,” his hand goes to his mouth melodramatically, “I would never dream of mocking him… much.”

You shoot him a warning scowl.

“Fine!” He throws himself back to a lying position, “I shan’t mention it.”

“Good. You better not.”

His eyebrow cocks, “Is that a threat?”

“Do you want it to be?”

He looks at you suggestively, “Depends. What would be my punishment for disobedience?”

“Astarion!” You scold him.

“You’re no fun.”

He hops out of bed and straightens his wrinkled clothing, tucking his shirt back in, “I’ll see you later?”

You nod in agreement as he walks to the door. He hesitates before opening it, looking at you to see if you’re appropriately dressed.

Astarion opens the door and peers down the hall. No doubt checking that no rays of sunlight snuck through the heavy curtains. When satisfied that he’s safe, he winks at you and strides down the hallway, vanishing into his dark room. 

You waltz down the stairs with more energy than you can recall having in years despite the dreadful nightmare. The manor is usually brightly lit at this time of day, and the darkness takes you by surprise for a second.

The joys of living with a vampire again.

You give Tara a chin rub before heating some water and making yourself some fresh mint tea.

“Good morning, Gale. Would you like some tea?”

You faintly remember seeing his concerned face last night through your blurry vision.

Did Astarion actually thank Gale, or was I still dreaming?

Gale smiles, “I would love some, thank you. I made breakfast. Help yourself." 

You look at the soupy porridge and decide to change the subject.

“Thank you for coming to check on me last night.”

“Always.” He hesitates, “Although it seems our nocturnal friend got there before I.”

Your stomach knots slightly at the intonation of his voice. He sounds a little disappointed that he hadn’t gotten there first.

“You can’t compare yourself to him, Gale. He can hear a rummaging mouse a mile away. He likely heard the second my heartbeat started to pick up.”

Gale chuckles slightly, leaning back in his chair while you put the mug of hot, steaming tea down in front of him.

With the mention of mice, Tara peeks out from behind her fluffy tail, “The vampire better not hunt my mice!”

The aggravation in her voice is tangible, and you snicker.

Astarion’s voice echoes through the halls from his bedroom, “I don’t eat vermin!”

Gale’s eyes widen, and he leans in, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Can he really hear that well?”

“Yes, Gale. I hear everything.”

Gale’s eyebrows shoot up, wrinkling his forehead, and he flushes red, looking sheepish.

I don’t even want to know.

You bring your tea to your lips to hide your amused smile.

Gale’s eyes drift to the floor, “Well, that’s certainly disconcerting.”

You reach out and quickly pat his forearm comfortingly, “Don’t worry, you get used to it… eventually.” 

Your fingertips plod along the rough spins of the old books stacked on shelves from the floor to the high, ornately carved ceiling in the library.

Candlelight flickers around the room, and dancing shadows caress the walls. Gale’s collection of rare tomes and books was impressive. You have spent many days and nights curled up in here.

Picking a leather-bound book, you sit on the plush couch, curling your legs up under you, and lose yourself in the story.

You feel Astarion sit beside you on the couch before you hear him, “Do you have nothing better to do all day than sit in the dark and read by candlelight?”

“What exactly did you imagine I do all day, Astarion?”

“Oh, I don’t know, darling. Skip merrily about in the sun looking for kittens, puppies and children who need a hero to save them?”

You scoff at him, “My hero days are behind me.”

I was never a hero.

“Finally, some good news!”

You give Astarion’s leg a nudge with your foot in response to his pretentious tone, and he smirks happily at you. Astarion looks around the library scrutinizingly.

“The wizard has quite an impressive collection.” He shoots you with his best warning glower, “Don’t you dare tell him I said that.”

You smile and wink, “Your secret is safe with me.”

Astarion slides his hand across the cushioned seat, and his pinky brushes against your bare foot. Keeping your eyes on the page, you gently nudge his finger in reply. He beams, and his cool hand envelopes you, his thumb pressing firmly into your sole, massaging it.

Your eyes drift closed at how good it feels. Your heartbeat kicks up a notch, and you sharply inhale. A devious, haughty half-smile quirks the corner of his mouth up, and his crimson eyes shimmer provocatively.

“Are we going to talk about last night?”

You shake your head, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I beg to differ, my dear.”

“Let me rephrase that then. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He sags into the couch, leaning back, staring straight at the ceiling. His thumb still skillfully massages the sole of your foot.

He sighs, “There was a time when you would talk to me about anything.”

You slam the book closed and pull away from him, jumping off the couch, “Yes, there was, and then you fucking abandoned me in the dead of night!”

Gale walks in with his book in the crook of his arm, “Sorry. Am I interrupting?”

“Yes,” Astarion says sharply.

“No, I was just leaving.”

Gale’s eyes shift between you and Astarion scrutinizingly.

A disarming smile widens on his face, “If you’re going into the city, would you mind if I joined you? I have a shipment of rare books that needs collecting. If it wouldn’t trouble you too much, I could use some assistance carrying them. I may have overdone it a touch.”

“Of course, Gale. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Lovely!” He bows, “I’ll fetch my boots, and we can be on our way.”

You slide your book back into its spot on the shelf and head toward your room.

Astarion’s voice drifts hauntingly out of the dim room, “You can’t run from this forever.”

I know. 

You wind through the high lacquered shelves of Blackwell's Fine Books and Good Tomes while Gale speaks to Mr. Blackwell. It smells pleasantly of sandalwood incense with a slight hint of vanilla. The light in here is dim. Closed shutters garnish the windows to keep the sun’s bleaching rays off the rare texts.

You’ve been here before with Gale when you were searching for books, tomes or any documents relating to vampirism. You never stopped searching for a cure, even after Astarion left.

“It’s nice to see you again, Saer.”

“Good afternoon, Aldous. How are you?”

Mr. Blackwell’s son assisted in the shop from time to time. Aldous had been intrigued by your rather odd fascination with vampires. He had agreed to keep an eye out for anything that may be of interest to you. He was mostly pleasant and well-mannered but obviously born of privilege.

“I’m well, thank you. Looking for more information on vampires? I’m sorry to say we have not received anything new on the subject.”

“No, I’m just here with Mr. Dekarios today.”

“Ah, yes, he had us procure quite the shipment.” His eyes slink over you in a way that makes your stomach churn, “My Father and Mr. Dekarios tend to gossip for quite a while. Perhaps I could interest you in a drink? The Tavern of the Flagon Dragon is not far from here, and I’m sure my father would not want our esteemed guest to be bored.”

Esteemed guest? Spare me.

“No, thank you, that’s quite alright.”

He gives you a haughty look. He was an attractive man from noble money, and you expect he doesn’t get rejected often. His mouth twists into a wicked grin that makes your palms heat up, ready to defend yourself, but it’s gone almost as soon as it was there as he reins in his expression.

“Saer, there’s no reason for us to be dulled out of our minds listening to the languor musings of these two fine gentlemen. It would be my treat, my lady.”

No never means no to the noble class.

“I said no.”

The intonation in your voice is a little coarser than you meant it to be, but you try to plaster on a smile, feigning indifference to his repeated attempt to persuade you.

“Of course. I did not mean to offend.”

His words roll off his tongue in a pleasant and apologetic tone, but his eyes and body language tell you differently. His hand is squeezed into a fist at his side, and his jaw is clenched so hard you’re surprised his teeth haven’t started splitting.

You can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself.

Someone needs to teach this arrogant arse some humility.

You beam a grin at him, “Of course you didn’t. I best check on Mr. Dekarios. It was nice to see you again, Aldous.”

He gives you a shallow, rigid bow, “Saer.”

You stride away confidently, but you can feel the man’s indignant stare boring into the back of your head. It sends a shiver down your spine as if your body is alerting you to a lurking threat.

As you approach, Gale looks at your cross expression and blanches.

“Well, Mr. Blackwell, I best be going. Thank you again for the chat and your hard work obtaining these for me.”

By the look of the small chest, it’s not even a large shipment, but you already knew that. Gale would never ask you out to carry his things for him. He would use magic to do the heavy lifting as he always did.

Gale leans close as you depart the store, “You look rather sour. What happened?”

“Noble hubris knows no bounds.”

Gale chuckles, “Young Aldous, I take it?”

Exasperated at the interaction, you nod, “The man can’t accept no for an answer.”

“My friend, I have no doubt you will teach him the meaning eventually.”

“Someone has to. Gale, what did you really want to do out here? That’s not nearly enough books to require both of our fine magical talents.”

“Things seemed… tense. I thought it best to get you out for some air before you burned down my library.”

You laugh and wait for him to continue. You know what’s coming next.

“And I was hoping we could have a chat. Far away from overly sharp vampiric ears.”

There it is. The real reason Gale asked to join me.

You nod, “I was wondering when you were going to bring this up. Come on, let’s find somewhere to sit.”

You and Gale sit on a stone bench near The Lady Dreaming, one of many enormous statues you could find throughout the city. The sun is hanging low in the sky as night prepares to extinguish its golden light.

“Well, my friend, how are you holding up?”

Running your fingers through your hair to get it out of your face, you look at him with sad, downturned eyes, “I’m a mess.”

“Quite the unforeseen turn of events, eh?”

“I thought he was gone for good, Gale.” You sigh, “I gave up this fantasy. I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“I’m not sure anyone could have prepared for this, my friend. Be gentle with yourself.”

Gale’s hand gives your shoulder a light squeeze, and his brows knit together with worry.

Fidgeting with your hands, you give Gale a woeful expression, “What am I going to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

Be his again.

You shake your head, “I don’t know.”

“You still love him, yes?”

“Always.” Your voice comes out in a whisper as if admitting a secret.

“Then what makes you hesitate? I have seen you run headfirst into far greater danger with far less favourable odds.”

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive him.” You pick at your hands in your lap, “Much less trust him again.”

“You’re still angry with him.”

You rise from the stone bench so suddenly it makes Gale jolt and scan the surroundings for danger, a behaviour remaining from your adventuring days that has never gone away. You pace back and forth, your boots slapping loudly on the paved stone ground.

“You’re Gods damned right I am!” How could he do that? How could he just so easily leave, as if I was nothing as if we were nothing?! After everything we had been through… how could he…”

The flash fire of your rage fizzles out just as quickly as it spawned into life, and your heart suddenly feels heavy and sinks in your chest. Tears brim in the corners of your eyes, escaping the prison you had locked them in.

Gale pulls you into a friendly, comforting hug, “You know, I only ever truly like Astarion when he’s not talking.”

You pull out of the hug and laugh. Gale’s hands rest on either side of your shoulders.

He continues, “But, and I do hate to admit this, it’s obvious that he cares for you deeply. Have you spoken to him about how you feel? Asked him all the questions that have been plaguing your mind since he departed?”

You shake your head, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I fear the answers, Gale.”

“Fear… Fear holds us mortals back so often.” He chuckles with a faraway look in his eyes, “An obstacle we shackle ourselves with that stands in the way of progress.”

Stupid wise wizard.

“Do not let it shackle you in your unhappiness, my friend.”

By the time you and Gale return to the manor, night has blanketed the city in its frosty grasp. Tara wakes up from her bed by the unlit fireplace with a stretch and a yawn. She walks over to you lazily, rubbing herself on your leg.

“The vampire told me to tell you he went out.”

You give her a stroke, “Did he? And what persuaded you to deliver this message?”

“He warmed my milk.”

Gale and you look at each other wide-eyed with mutual surprise.

“Surely, he wouldn’t?”

“Are you telling me the vampire gave you milk, and he even warmed it up?”

Tara glances at you as if you are stupid, “Is that not what I just said?”

You look at Gale with an expression of pure bewilderment and shrug your shoulders, “Apparently, he would.”

Gale’s laugh booms, “The wonders never cease!”

Saying goodnight to Tara and Gale, you go to your bedroom. You light the little brick fireplace with the whisper of a cantrip, imbuing the room with a welcome heat and tawny glow. The fire crackles and pops as the timber starts to ignite.

Sitting on your bed, you think back on the day. Astarion had tried to talk to you, and you ran from it, ran from him and the pain his words might bring.

I have gotten so good at running.

You try and remember when that change took place. When did you get so good at avoidance?

I avoid everything these days - my feelings, thoughts, and memories, even slipping into my trance.

You had never been one to run from your problems before. You had always faced things head-on, preferably with fire in hand. You sigh and push yourself to search your memories, looking to pinpoint the exact moment you decided that hiding or just outright ignoring things was an acceptable solution. Your memories are tinged with tragedy and laced with heartache, and you force them back into the depths of your mind with a shake of your head.

Running again.

Looking at the wardrobe, you slip off your bed and walk towards it hesitantly. Your bare feet pad softly on the chilled floor and your heartbeat spikes. This was one of the things you avoided. This silly, unassuming wardrobe had been opened and shut once when you arrived, and you never dared to do it again.

The hinges creak as you open the door for the first time since you got to Waterdeep, and you peer inside. Everything is as you left it, never to look at it again, until now. Reaching in, your fingers tremble as they brush over the remains of your old life.

You pick up the hefty, carefully wrapped mirror. Gold trim peaks out from the cloth, protecting it from harm. Your heart drums so harshly that you can feel the thumping in your head and hear it in your ears.

Lowering yourself to the floor, you cross your legs, anchoring the mirror protectively in your lap. You carefully unwrap it and stare into the blemished reflective surface. Your image is distorted by the deterioration of time.

How long has he had this thing?

A barely audible soft rasp on your door makes you jump.

Propping the mirror against the wardrobe, you throw the cloth back over it before answering. Astarion is standing there leisurely. The low amber light from the ebbing fire reflects off the vibrant scarlet of his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You blink at him, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I can hear your heart beating fiercely. I… I was worried.”

You laugh, “Naturally. Untold dangers could be lurking in my room.”

He shrugs, “Perhaps you saw a spider. You always did get squeamish around those and call for me to kill them.”

“Hey! I fought and killed the phase spiders, didn’t I?”

“Oh yes, my dear, I remember it well. You were positively recoiling the entire time, repulsed, and yelping when even the little ones neared. Had I not been there to shield you from them, I worry you, our fearless leader, may have jumped into the chasm to her death to get away from them.”

He laughs hard, “You couldn’t even look at the corpse when we finally felled the bloody matriarch! You made me loot it for you!”

“Made” isn’t the word I would use.”

“Oh? What do you call pointing at it with your eyes squeezed closed, whimpering “Astarion? Please. Astarion, can you?”

Astarion does his best imitation of your whimpering voice.

“That is not what I sounded like!”

“Sure, darling. Of course not. If my memory serves, you even chucked a rock at me when I laughed at you!”

“That’s what you get for laughing at your fearless leader!” A shudder courses through your body, and your face twists into a cringe. “It’s all the legs and beady little eyes.”

“Of course! The legs and eyes trouble you, but not the enormous venomous fangs.”

“You, of all people, should know that fangs don’t frighten me.”

He chuckles, “I suppose they don’t at that.”

“Do you want to come in?”

He smiles, “I thought you would never ask.”

Astarion’s eyes peruse your room. Not having bothered to add additional garnishing, it’s sparsely decorated and furnished, remaining the way it had been when you arrived except for a few scattered books and half-burnt candles. His eyes fixate on the open door of the wardrobe before falling to the floor.

Astarion’s brows rise, and his mouth falls open, “You kept it?”

You follow his gaze. The corner of the mirror peeks out from behind the cloth draped over it—the golden pipping glinting.

“Of course.”

Did he think I would leave it all behind? Leave him behind? Like he left me...

You hadn’t taken many of your belongings when you set out in search of him all those years ago, but you had kept everything he had left behind. His discarded belongings had been the only things you had left of him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to part with them.

He slowly walks to the antiquated mirror and crouches, pulling the cloth covering it away. His fingers gently caress the rough, worn trim with a wistfully nostalgic expression. A small smile quirks his lips up at the corners.

“I never thought I would see it again,” he says in a low whisper.

He was never planning on coming back to me.

Walking over to him, you give his shoulder a comforting squeeze. His eyes trace up to the open door of the wardrobe, halting at the neat bundle housing all his things.

“You kept everything…” He reaches out and plucks the faded envelope resting atop his other belongings, “even this.”

Astarion rises back to his full height, and he turns the letter over and over in his hands, examining it. The yellow colour has faded to a light flaxen hue. Creases are strewn over its once flat surface from all the times you had crumpled that letter up intending to dispose of it.

You had spent many nights staring down at it, willing yourself to relinquish it, burn it, throw it in a chasm, or destroy it in some kind of dramatic fashion, hoping it would make you feel better.

You could never bring yourself to go through with it.

In truth, when his scent had long faded from the articles of clothing he left behind, that damn paper still retained it, and it had brought you some comfort during those lonely years.

Astarion deftly takes the old letter out and unfolds it. The ink has paled over time and, in some spots, has run and become smudged where your tears had fallen on the page.

His fingers graze the blotchy blemishes, “Why?”

“It was all I had left of you.”

“I’m s-”

You put your hand up, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Gale’s words echo in your head, “Do not let it shackle you in your unhappiness”

I need to stop running.

“Not tonight, at least.”

He nods, “I understand.”

Astarion’s jaw clenches as if about to say something, but he stops. Folding the faded letter, he slides it back into the envelope and returns it to the wardrobe.

“You should get some rest.”

“Don’t you want the mirror and your things?”

He hesitates at the open door. Astarion gazes into your eyes intensely. They are brimming with profound love and intimacy.

“Everything I could ever want or need is standing right in front of me. Goodnight, my only one.”

The door shuts with a low click of the latch, and you’re left alone again. You return to the open wardrobe and hesitantly finger the envelope. Carefully wrapping the mirror back up, you put it away and close the door.

He is not going to make being friends easy, is he? But, perhaps, I don’t want him to… 

As always, big thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. It really does brighten my day, and I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.

Chapter Master List - Shadow of the Past

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

AO3: Crossposted

Happy Holidays!

#astarion x mc #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion romance #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion and tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fic

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Perhaps a oneshot of oppie experiencing possessiveness and jealousy for the first time which could turn him into a desperate man in a way?

I’m curious to see how you would explore that because Oppie was a womanizer and I feel like that does not come with the possessiveness and jealousy.

Warnings: jealousy, slight misogyny, age difference, some fluff, Robert’s pov

-thank you for the request, hope you enjoy lovie

The town gathered near a restaurant by the ocean, celebrating our success with the testing of the atomic bomb. 

The weather was warm, crickets chirping while I walked hand and hand with my wife Y/N, the wind bellowing through the blades of grass.

She was rather stunning, wearing a simplistic black dress, her hair tied up professionally with a hint of makeup. Though I preferred her natural self, she still had a way of radiating and capturing the attention from any room she set foot in.

Before we were too far past the door way, a man approached her, offering to buy her a drink. I didn’t think anything of it at first, wishing for her to simply enjoy herself on a beautiful night like tonight.

As I carried on in conversation with strangers I hardly knew, time seemed to pass, and I glanced down at my watch realizing it had been nearly thirty minutes she’d been at the bar.

She never was a drinker, only having a light rum and coke every now and then, never went past a singular drink.

When I was about to excuse myself to go check on her, I stopped in my tracks, witnessing the scene unfold before my very own eyes. 

She was still there, the drink she ordered hardly touched still sitting on the bartop, while a man was smiling, failing at hiding the amber blush on his face. 

She was laughing harmoniously, completely intrigued by whatever the man was saying. He hadn’t touched her yet, but their proximity was far too close for me to be comfortable.

Her eyes connected with mine from across the room, perhaps in an attempt to see if I was noticing.

Containing my composure, another man walked toward me, wanting to discuss the physics aspect of my endeavors.

As he began talking, the words coming from him seemed to go in one ear and out the other, which was a shame due to my field of study, and knowledgeable suggestions.

I couldn’t stop glancing over, wanting nothing more to intervene, yet I didn’t. I was not a jealous man, nor controlling of my wife. I wanted to see her enjoy herself, see her socializing and putting in the time and effort for my successes as I do hers.

When he leaned in closer, whispering something surely inappropriate in her ear, I found myself becoming more and more concerned, the odd feeling of jealousy consuming my very being.

He was a young, wise man whom I had taught at the college, much closer to her age range, I hadn’t recognized him until now, it had been years since I’d seen him.

His name was James, and much to my dismay, they had grown to be very close friends. Yet for some odd reason I resonated with a profound feeling of jealousy, to which I’d never felt before.

I began to wonder if this was how my ex wife felt. Uncommon, and indescribable, I wasn’t sure if I should approach or watch from afar, as if I wanted to put my wife to the test.

Regardless, of how terrible that may sound there was no denying the longing, lusting gaze James portrayed to Y/N.

My stomach bubbled like a boiling pot with unease, unsure of what actions I should take if any. 

I kept my distance, trying to give my wife the benefit of the doubt and not wanting to appear as a jealous, controlling husband.

After a few moment she excused herself to the restroom, taking her purse along with her and I noticed he began to fix his hair in the mirror behind the bar, pulling what looked like to be breath mints from his pockets. Was he planning to kiss my wife in front of myself and everyone else in the room?

My thoughts ran ragged and before I knew it she was walking back from the bathroom and I found my feet wandering.

Approaching the bar, attempting to hide my concern, which I was not quite good at might I add. She hadn’t glanced in my direction, unknowing I was nearly almost beside here until I ran my hand down her arm, pulling her closely to my side with gentleness.

“Oh, sweetheart! James was just telling me how he traveled to Oxford. Did you know he can speak three different languages? Impressive isn’t it?” Temptation to wipe that grin off of his face washed over me like a freight train yet I resided, simply smiling kindly, holding my tongue.

“Please, you’re by far more intuitive than I ever will be. Robert I must tell you, you’re a lucky man, Y/N’s one hell of a woman.” He extended his hand to shake mine as I was stood there stunned by his words and the audacity to say it to my face in front of her.

As a man myself, I knew that very well to be code for “i’d fuck your wife if I could, if the opportunity were to arise” and here she was blushing next to me. I bit down on my tongue in aggravation, putting forth my best attempt at a friendly smile as I shook his hand.

I tried to convince myself that he never would be able to get his hands on my sweet Y/N but I couldn’t help to think of my swift way of words with women in the past and how easy it was to charm a woman, sometimes leading her on. I knew how James was operating and I refused to stay here and watch it any longer.

I stayed near her side, eventually ushering her back home, to where I desperately needed to be.

I was not an angry man, nor irrational and I refused to blamedher for any of it. Instead blaming myself for acting like an insecure, childish boy, knowing that perhaps she could do better than me, maybe she was settling out of fear of breaking my heart.

Walking into the bedroom, I shed myseld of my clothes and found myself, sitting on the bed replaying the interactions in my head, creating obscure scenarios of imagining my wife leaving me for a man more around her age, with similar interests. Pleasuring her, picturing her moans, and the different positions she could be in.

Hearing the bathroom door open, I lifted my weary head to find my wife standing there, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

In that moment I truly took in her extraordinary, delicate facial features, the way her body captivated a melodic, shining aura of kindness, and attractiveness.

She was magnificent, and the thought of possibly losing her shattered my heart, a feeling I’d never worried about with past lovers.

Without saying a word, she examined my desperate, saddened state and took a seat next to me on the bed, reading me like a book she’s read a trillion times.

“What’s wrong love? You only trace your wedding ring when something is on your mind. Did I do something wrong?” I immediately stopped her, insisting it was nothing she did, but moreso my thought process of others actions.

My chest felt heavy, a sour, bitter taste of jealousy settling on my tongue, unknowing of how to cope with such a strong sense of discomfort, and fragility.

“You’re my wife and I suppose I can tell you anything.” I reached with shaking hands, intertwining ours together in worry and desperation when she nodded with concern for me to continue.

“Seeing you with James tonight, I can’t help but think that I’m at risk of losing you. He’s charismatic, charming, shares similar interests. I also know that he’s more around your age, and for the first time in my life I feel weak, and worried that I’m not the right partner for you.” A wave of relief washed over my chest, but I found myself scared for her response. What if I was right? Nor did I want her to spare my feelings. I knew I was acting out of my usual character, and the revelation that I could feel such insecure jealousy caused me a great discomfort.

Her angelic eyes surmised with concern, but spoke with sincerity as her fingers caressed mine devotionally.

 “Darling. I don’t care about James, if he thought he was getting anywhere with me well, he is sadly mistaken. I’d never leave you for him. I love you and only you, okay?” Her soft hands rubbed my back soothingly, her eyes speaking with valid sincerity and admiration yet that wasn’t enough for my concern to dissipate.

I was holding James to a standard that I once was. Though I may not have held the confidence and ego he did, I knew the way to a woman’s heart, those soft spots that would make them weak at the knees.

“Y/N, we both know with my past I have no right to complain. He knows my past, the whole world does. I know it must be hard for you to deal with me. I’m not exactly a perfect husband. I’d never cheat on you and I have changed, but I still feel undeserving of your love and the immense amount of patience you have with me. You can’t tell me you’ve never bared the concern of me being away from home.” Even with my complaints and assumptions she still held her composure, not one raising her voice at me. If anything lowering her tone to a monotone of ease and grace.

She spoke with the utmost clarity, and honesty, almost like she didn’t even have to think before speaking.

“No I haven’t love. I really haven’t. Who would I be as a wife to hold your past against you? Each day we grow, we learn, and you sitting here speaking with me in this way tells me all I need to know. Most men don’t come to their wives with their problems and I’m grateful you do. Love’s a funny thing and I’ve always lived by when you know, you know and I’ve never had that desirable feeling until I met you Robert. Excuse my language but fuck what anyone else thinks. I love you and only you, since the day you stopped me in the pouring rain outside that cafe to help me pick up my books that got ruined and you remember what you did?” A small, delicate smile formed on my face, reminiscing back to the first day I met my endearing wife.

She was running late to her class and had been running on little to no sleep. She vented about how her alarm didn’t go off, and the coffee shop accidentally gave her the incorrect order and was worried the professor would be upset.

I calmed her down to the best of my ability, even buying her a quick breakfast and offered to drive her there, refusing to allow this beautiful women to walk in the pouring down rain.

The next time I saw her was in my class room. Physics wasn’t her strong suit but she never gave up, never afraid to ask for help. I ended up buying her a new set of books, ensuring they were first edition with a notes section and helped her after class. Our bond became strong, growing more and more every day until I finally asked her on a formal dinner date after she graduated. The rest is history.

“I do, I do. My love. I want to apologize for tonight.” My hand reached for a wild strand of her silk hair, brushing the smooth texture behind her ear, getting lost once more in her bright, loving eyes as I’ve done many times.

She shook her head as if I didn’t need to apologize but I carried on.

“I acted foolishly and I should have just pulled you aside there and then to voice my concern. Now I bid the question, will you forgive me for my childish actions and thoughts?” She giggled, settling her warm hands on my cheeks and leaning in, connecting her smooth velvet lips with me in a desirable manner, deepening the kiss with the utmost love.

“You’re forgiven my darling. Just please talk to me from now on with any concerns. I’m here for the long run and if I recall we have an unfinished puzzle sitting at the table. What do you say I put on some tea and we see if we can finish this thing tonight snd then perhaps make sweet love after?” She hadn’t need to say anymore. I followed her in all her wonderous beauty, reaching up to the shelf she couldn’t reach, bringing the tea down for her as I went off to start a fire in the dining room.

We took our usual seats under the dim light of the tabletop lamp, carrying on in casual conversation as I made jokes she didn’t understand, and she expressed details of the newer books she’d been reading. Things felt normal, as if nothing happened tonight, and I found myself falling more and more in love with my beautiful wife with each passing second. She truly was a diamond in the dust, and I’m beyond grateful for her every day and that with opportunity I had the chance to put a diamond on her finger, forever indebted to her forgiving, patience, and strength.

#j robert oppenheimer imagine #j robert oppenheimer x reader #Oppenheimer x reader #ranaewrites #j robert oppenheimer #oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer x you #Oppenheimer x you #Requested

[webanglikethat]

oh well … I just finished the episode and as a luke stan, this hurt in every single way and angle.

there’s a lot I could say (and I will) but I want to focus on how, during the confrontation Luke doesn’t act like your typical storybook villain. there's no malicious smirk, no sinister laughter, no scornful remarks about Percy's trust. there is no “I can’t believe you trusted me” or berating in any way. he doesn't belittle or exude confidence; instead, he stands devoid of arrogance, pleading.

he is there, and he’s begging him. he’s pleading him to understand. because they walked on the same path. they lost their mothers to a God. and sure, you could argue that Sally never described Poseidon as a monster and neither did May. but I wonder, to what extent can the love of a profound being envelop you without sculpting you into a poignant victim of its depth? “trust me I know” and it’s the second time Luke agrees when Percy talks about his mother. he knows, he’s been there. history - fate - is repeating itself. he can’t stop it, he tried with his mom. but he is still trying and trying and trying. he tried so desperately, to alter the narrative etched in the stars, to rewrite the script that destiny had penned. but it didn’t work back then. but maybe this time …?

when I say I’m thinking about the parallels between Percy and Luke I mean I am thinking about their relationships with their parents, with their mothers, with how their fathers left their mothers (albeit Poseidon’s actions didn’t make Sally go insane) and thinking about how everything Percy does is because of and for his mother and thinking about how Luke sees himself in Percy and thinking about how Luke never got to have the type of relationship with his mom that Percy has with his because of the gods and I’m thinking of how home is the first place you learn to run from, and how losing faith in your father is like losing faith in a God. but what when he’s both? and I think of how Percy almost lost his mom because of the gods. I think of their shared pain, one fighting for the love he has and the other for the love he lost. 

and oh, the hesitancy to pull a sword on Percy. he still saw Percy as his brother. they could’ve been a family, all of them. him, Percy, Annabeth. they could’ve been one happy family, without the burden of their parents, the constant quests, the fighting, the dying.

because, imagine this. you are seventeen and coming back from a failed quest that your father tossed at you like trash, with a scar that will forever be imprinted on your face. the gods, once the pillars of your purpose, have now withdrawn their interest, rendering you a discarded pawn in their divine game. and the realization strikes like a thunderbolt – you are useless to them. you are useless. years of training and fighting and bleeding until you were on your knees, yet you are of no use to them. so who are you then? and despite all of this, the younger campers still look up to you. and you see it in their faces how they still yearn for a chance to embark on a quest themselves, to be chosen, to catch the fleeting attention of their unknown godly parent. and there you are as you realize that their highest aspirations are to put their lives at risk while running an errand for a parent that does not care and will never care. they hope that in death, they’ll get the recognition they didn’t get alive. and some souls, still to this day, yearn for the acknowledgment that eluded them in the realm of the living.

so truly, you can’t be mad at Luke for thinking “do the gods find pleasure in our begging? does the aroma of our need, our desire, our pleas, not reach the pantheon of the heavens, or do you simply choose to turn away?” because wouldn’t you be filled with fury too? wouldn’t you want a better world? wouldn’t you too be easy to manipulated by a titan?

he didn’t betray Percy, he wanted a better world for them both, for all of them. but Percy betrayed him the moment he mentioned his father, this mention became an unwitting weapon, inflicting a pain that would forever bleed. this cut deeper than his own scar. he could’ve had it all. but he lost it again. and why does no one understand him? someone please understand him. he’s not going insane, why can’t anyone else see it?

the gods, in their relentless whims, have cruelly drained the essence of their youth, offering hollow promises of glory that crumble into the tragic reality of sacrifice and unending celestial burdens. the gods are the ones who shattered it all, but they hate Luke Castellan. it’s always him, isn’t it? first he couldn’t achieve that damned quest and now he wasn’t able to save what mattered the most in the end. his family. again.

#and in this essay #JB is thinking about pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson series #pjo series #percy jackson disney+ #percy jackson spoilers #pjo tv show #luke castellan #luke castellan apologist #pjo luke #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo show #percy jackson show

[onthecrescentofthehill]

g1deon and pyrrha + gideon and harrow throughlines scattered in all of tlt continue to drive me insane.

the initial investigation scenes post the 5th deaths where the 2nd house tries to pull cohort rank control of the situation, gideon & harrow immediately sneak away to learn that the winnowing trial was developed by the second house and cohort founders, g1deon & pyrrha. winnowing as incorporating the other, refusing distractions for the sake of true control, loyalty and duty.

gideon is wearing his sunglasses, rifling through their things. she doesn’t see it as a real place someone would live in, only a stop along the way to somewhere else, more whole.

she sees a gun on the wall that her mother's ghost will use the river memory of to try and kill harrow in the dream of cannan house:

It took Gideon a long time to realise that she was looking at something goddamn ancient: it was a blowback carbine gun. She’d only ever seen pictures. ….. The hairs on the back of Gideon’s neck had risen when the lights came on, and they hadn’t gone back down, as if her intrusion might well tempt time back to claim its grave goods. GTN chapter 19

Carbine rifle, read the key. For a moment she pitied Judith Deuteros’s last seconds. To be killed with this ancient piece of grave goods! It would have been like being set upon by a ghost out of time. HTN chapter 18

gideon reads "one flesh, one end" for the first time. she tells harrow these people were living in each others pockets, the same phrase she'll later use to describe the two of them. pyrrha spent nearly 10,000 years locked in a drawer in gideon the first’s mind bc he couldn't bear to let her go. gideon tells harrow how they feel like strangers despite growing up together.

harrow cant stand the thought and in less than a month harrow will lock gideon in a drawer and gideon the first will relentlessly try to kill harrow in her waking hours to spare her the agony he'll never learn is closely parallel to his, and when she fails to hear his real name her brain starts bleeding:

And he had said: “Ortus, have pity.”

“This is my pity, Lord,” said the Saint of Duty. HTN chapter 20

g1deon was john’s oldest friend, he carried that suitcase in his loyalty to him. then he becomes an amnesiac, immortal thanergy void, absorbing and nullifying the echoes of that catastrophe. founding the cohort that flips planets in the exact mirror to the ecological tragedy they all sacrificed everything to spare earth from. over and over again.

He didn’t even ask me to explain. That was the kind of guy he was. He and I had grown up on the same street. I’d spotted him for mince pies all the time as kids, so stands to reason he let me cut off his arm and carried a nuke for me. John 1:20

in g+p’s room harrow says that theyre all the ninth house has ( = you’re all that i have). gideon firmly says shes "NO ONE'S son or daughter"

but in less than a year gideon’s mother, sitting opposite her father, will recognize pyrrha with a sense of profound relief before her revenant is unceremoniously killed. gideon will watch through harrows eyes, in hiding:

Harrow, I will never forget the look on her face as long as I live, or as long as I die. (…) It was the smile for your old cellmate who’d just landed back in prison, the one that told them at least you were in it together—or more correctly, the smile of someone stepping out of jail after serving a very long sentence, having seen someone there waiting for her. Someone whose presence meant total reprieve, someone she hadn’t expected. It was a little bit mocking. It was deeply relieved. HTN chapter 50

i don’t have a conclusion to this rn i’m just……much to think abt. the displacement of grief, the loyalty through control, how it just happens over and over and over again and they just bear witness as tools or trapped souls or revenants, clinging to anything they can even if they don’t remember it.

#this is such a mess but i was getting spiritual indigestion turning it over at work. i need to quit and pursue tombposting full time #tlt spoilers #tlt #tlt meta #gideon the first #pyrrha dve #tlt txt

[snapghoul]

Do you feel my hand? It is there.

✰ Paring: Johnny Cage/Kenshi Takahashi [mk1 versions]

Johnny’s new developing powers send him an comatose. Kenshi is very worried and discovers that he may like the actor more than he originally thought.

✰ tags&notes: injury, hurt/comfort, realization of feelings. Still don’t know what I’m doing, still new to writing. Might be OOC. No beta. Enjoy.

– ⭑ –

It happened too quickly; one second, Johnny was standing next to him, and the next, he was flying backward with a force that should have been fatal. Kenshi, through sento, saw the remnants of energy swirl around Johnny as he landed on the ground.

That was hours ago. Now Johnny is still motionless on a cot, the monks trying to discover why the actor is unresponsive. Although Kenshi couldn't see it, the monks were muttering about a faint glow underneath Johnny's skin, the glow being green and embedded into his knuckles.

Kenshi paced back and forth in the dimly lit chamber where Johnny lay unconscious. He could sense the unease in the air, the palpable tension among the monks who surrounded Johnny’s cot, their brows furrowed in deep concern. The healing room was silent except for the soft hum of mystic energy that lingered in the air.

Liu Kang stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he examined Johnny’s motionless form.

“This energy,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above a whisper. The aura surrounding Johnny was familiar to the keep of time; he'd seen it in other timelines. But how did this happen? Why did this energy fuse itself with the fibers of Johnny’s being?

Kenshi turned towards Liu Kang, his expression curious and concerned. “Do you know what’s happening to him?”

Liu Kang shook his head, his face etched with worry. “I can sense a growing power within him, but its source eludes me. Whatever hit him during the battle has awoken something dormant within his soul.”

As they spoke, Johnny’s body twitched involuntarily, his fingers curling into fists. The green glow beneath his skin pulsed rhythmically, matching the beat of his heart. Johnny’s face contorted into a look of discomfort, face scrunching together, and a weak groan left his mouth. His body tensed and arched in pain before it relaxed again.

Kenshi stepped forward, very concerned. Cage was there for him when he was blinded, and it pained him to know he couldn't do much to soothe his... Friend? Yes, friend, nothing more. Kenshi found a spot next to Johnny and settled in, resting Sento on the floor beside him. Kenshi sat like a sentry for hours.

Hours turned into days, and Johnny remained in his comatose state. The green glow on his knuckles had now spread throughout his entire body, congregating at pivotal joints under his skin. Kenshi couldn't help but feel responsible; he had been there with Johnny during the final battle and had failed to protect him from whatever had struck him down. So he sat like a sentry, watching Johnny when the monks could not, refusing to move unless someone traded places with him.

Kenshi's concern for Johnny grew more profound as the days turned into nights. He couldn't deny the emotions stirring within him that went beyond mere friendship. He had always admired Johnny's brash confidence and charisma, traits that differed from his reserved and stoic demeanor. But now, as he watched Johnny's unconscious form, Kenshi couldn't help but realize how much Johnny meant to him.

The actor's loud and obnoxious pop culture references, his relentless sense of humor even in the face of danger – all those things that used to annoy Kenshi now felt like cherished memories. He missed the banter, the camaraderie, and the laughter that had once filled the air around them.

Kenshi's thoughts were interrupted by a soft murmur from Johnny. The green glow beneath his skin pulsed more intensely, and his eyelids fluttered as if struggling to open. Kenshi leaned in closer, his heart racing with hope. "Johnny?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Johnny's lips moved, forming words too faint for anyone else to hear. Kenshi strained to catch them, and finally, he made out the words, "Kenshi…help…"

A surge of emotion rose within Kenshi as he realized the depth of his feelings for Johnny. He had never allowed himself to acknowledge this side of himself before, but now, with Johnny's life hanging in the balance, he couldn't deny it any longer. He cared for Johnny more than he had ever cared for anyone else.

Determined to do whatever it took to save Johnny, Kenshi grasped his unconscious friend's hand gently. He could feel the pulsating energy coursing through Johnny's body. Kenshi focused his senses on the energy within Johnny. He could feel the turmoil, the struggle for control. With a deep breath, Kenshi channeled his inner strength and began to project calming thoughts and positive energy into Johnny's mind. Sento glowed brightly beside him, his ancestors aiding.

Slowly, Johnny's facial expression relaxed, and his body stopped twitching. The green glow began to stabilize, no longer pulsating with such intensity.

“Johnny?” Kenshi angled his head down, seeing through Sento's still form. He frowned and reached one hand out to rest on Johnny’s shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. “Cage?”

Kenshi's touch on Johnny's shoulder was gentle yet firm, his fingers seeking a response, any sign that he was still there, fighting beneath the surface. The room seemed to hold its breath as Kenshi waited, hoping for some indication that his efforts hadn't backfired.

For a moment, there was nothing. Just as doubt began to creep into Kenshi's mind, Johnny's eyelids fluttered. His eyes once glazed over with an ethereal green, now seemed to regain a flicker of consciousness.

"Takahashi?" Johnny's voice was weak, barely audible, but the recognition was there.

Relief flooded through Kenshi. He tightened his grip on Johnny's shoulder, his voice steadier than he felt inside. "Yes, it's me. You're going to be alright, Johnny."

Johnny's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, gratitude flickering in his eyes. "Man, did someone get that number... whatever it was that hit me?"

Despite the gravity of the situation, Kenshi couldn't help but feel a ghost of a smile tug at his lips. Johnny was back with his humor intact. It was a sign that things might be alright after all.

"You took quite a hit," Kenshi replied his tone light, trying to ease Johnny's obvious discomfort.

Johnny's weak chuckle turned into a grimace as he shifted his position, clearly in pain but refusing to show it. "Yeah, felt like being hit by a truck. Or maybe Something Outworld-y."

Kenshi's smile grew a little wider, appreciating Johnny's ability to find humor even in dire situations. "You always did have a knack for understatements," Kenshi said, his voice warm.

Johnny winced as he attempted to sit up a little straighter, his eyes never leaving Kenshi's. "Well, what can I say? It's a gift. You know, along with my devastating good looks and unparalleled martial arts skills."

Kenshi couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension in the room easing just a fraction. Johnny's spirit was unbreakable, and it was contagious. "Modesty, too. Let's not forget that."

Johnny grinned, his eyes squinting in amusement. "Ah, Kenshi, you always know how to make a guy feel special."

Despite the circumstances, Kenshi found himself genuinely chuckling. It was moments like these, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, that reminded him of the strength of the human spirit, of Johnny's spirit.

"As special as you are," Kenshi said, his voice sincere. "Rest now, Johnny.”

Johnny nodded, the gratitude in his eyes deepening. "Thanks, Kenshi. I don't say it enough, but I'm glad you broke into my house that night to steal Sento from me.”

Kenshi raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression. "I prefer to call it 'retrieving Sento for a more noble purpose,' Johnny."

Johnny chuckled weakly, the pain in his body momentarily forgotten. "Yeah, noble purposes, whatever you say, Kendoll."

Kenshi's eyebrow arched a little higher at Johnny's playful nickname. "Kendoll? Really Johnny?"

Johnny grinned, his eyes still closed. "Hey, it suits you, man. You're like the action figure I never knew I needed."

Kenshi couldn't help but shake his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'll take that as a compliment."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the room bathed in the soft, ambient light. Kenshi watched over his friend, grateful that Johnny's spirit had endured despite the ordeal. As Johnny's breathing grew steady and deep, Kenshi's posture relaxed, and the worry that had gripped him went away. Everything was okay for now.

#johnny cage #kenshi takahashi #johnshi #mortal kombat #mk1 #kenshi mortal kombat #mk johnny cage #I’ve taken matters into my own hands #mk kenshi #mk1 johnny cage #mk1 kenshi

[writingforstraykids]

Addicted to you-Chp.16

Pairing: Minchan (brief mention of OT8)

Word Count: 4943

Summary: Chan takes the news better than expected and they end up having a casual date night. The next day Chan has a little surprise for him, making things official for the two of them in private.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, hate comments, date night, they're just stupidly in love, fluffy shit, soft!insecure!minho, soft!protective!chan

Chp.15 | Chp. 17

"Why?" Chan asked, hesitantly.

"Why?" Minho repeated quietly. "Do I have to give you a profound reason so you'll allow me to?" he asked, a little sour.

Chan noticed the tension in his voice and quickly shook his head. "No, of course not. I just…wanted to know, I guess." Minho didn't answer and chewed on his lower lip nervously. "Do you want to tell me?" he added carefully.

"Because I still feel like shit, Chan, that's why," Minho finally said. "I can't just cover that up by playing a happy boyfriend, having amazing sex, and pretending in front of the kids."

Now, it was his turn to remain silent, unsure of how he should react to that. He opened his mouth but closed it again, feeling a little overwhelmed by the revelation. "Is it that bad that you're only pretending to be happy?" he asked hesitantly. Minho let go of his hands with a huff. "Minnie, don't get mad, I'm trying to understand you."

"Well, you're kind of fucking it up. Just forget I said anything," Minho said and tried to scoot away from him, wanting to get away from him. But Chan wrapped his arm around his torso, holding him close. "Chan."

"Don't run from me again. I mean it, I want to understand you. It's just the first time one of you approached me about something like this. I don't know what to say and I’m nervous. So if I seem insensitive, I'm sorry," he told him calmly. Minho groaned frustrated, but leaned his body against him once more. His mind screamed at him to distance himself. His body craved the warmth he’s just got back, after yearning for it for so long. "Please don’t shut me out. Tell me, Min."

"You act like something major has to happen for someone to go to therapy. You thought about ending your life, but backed out because you were scared. You decided not to go to therapy. Not everyone needs a drastic reason to get help," he told him more firmly than he had wanted to.

Chan swallowed hard but reminded himself to stay calm. Minho was on edge and may snap at any moment. "Okay let me put it differently then. I don’t mind if you went to therapy, Min. I know me staying up late and waking you when I finally come to bed annoys you. I wouldn't judge you for going to therapy because I know how much the kids asking where the fucking remote is bothers you. I don't care about the reason. I'd just like to know so I know how to support you."

"It's just a lot of minor things I have to work on. I let all the hate get to me. I feel like a complete fuck-up because my knee is injured and I can't do my job properly. I'm insecure about losing so much weight. I feel like I failed you all by letting myself get to this point and not caring about what it does to others. I'm scared I'll be depressed once you leave because honestly, the time we were fighting was awful. I’ve had you back for a day and I don’t want to lose this small moment of happiness," he rambled on. "I don't trust myself anymore. I lost my confidence on that stage I collapsed on. I feel like I have to function around you and not with you so you won't feel like I'm not good enough..which is totally on me," he continued, tears burning in his eyes. Chan grew very quiet behind him, letting him get his feelings off his chest. "I feel like I fucked up with Felix by showing him how broke I was. I always try to protect him, and yet he’s seen me at my worst. And having sex with him didn’t help. I snapped at Hannie when he asked me to eat after I had been skipping meals for days. I almost gave him a panic attack. I told Hyunjin to fuck off when he tried stopping me from the extra dance practices because of my knee. Seungmin's sassy comments and Changbin fooling around during practice completely pissed me off, and I let them have it afterwards. I completely neglected our baby when he asked for comfort after getting hate online because I was so caught up in my own head…I was awful to all of them, and still, they wrote those sweet letters. Which I feel like I don't deserve..and-."

"Okay, slow down," he said gently as Minho trembled in his arms, tears running down his cheeks. "None of the kids are judging you or have hard feelings about any of this. It was their idea to write the letters and make sure you know they love you no matter what. You saw how excited they were talking to you today and the possibility of visiting. So yes, you deserve every single word of affection they wrote in their letters," Chan told him very gently, rubbing his thumbs over his knuckles. "You're right, I don't need you to avoid working with me because I don't do that around you. You're not a fuck-up. You just need some time off to get better before stealing the hearts of everyone at our shows again with those moves of yours."

Minho chuckled sadly and rolled his eyes. "Oh shut up."

Chan smiled and kissed his temple. "I mean it. You'll gain your confidence back soon enough once you can perform properly again. You're working on the weight aspect, and you know every one of us is willing to support you. I don't know what to tell you about the hate because that's something we all suck at dealing with."

"You really do," he nodded. He stopped counting how many times one of the members searched for comfort in him when it all became too much to bear. Minho felt safe to all the members, and he was always there.

"My point is you're not alone, Minho. You never are. I know you want to work on all the little things to function again. But I want you to do it for yourself. You deserve to be happy and comfortable because you want to be. And if therapy is what you need, you should definitely go for it," Chan told him encouragingly. "Maybe we can even search for someone together and make an appointment for you?"

Minho pressed his lips together tightly and swallowed down his tears. He didn't think Chan would take the news with this level of ease and care. "Thank you," he breathed out.

Chan shook his head. "Thank you for telling me," he said, squeezing him lovingly. "We'll get you through this, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded bravely and cuddled up against him.

-

Minho pulled the zipper up on his jacket and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Although he was tired after the bath, they decided to take a walk after dinner. The evening temperature brought chills down his spine, as goosebumps began to creep up due to the cold. He was walking next to Chan, who did his best to walk slowly without making it obvious to others who they were. Of course Minho noticed the attempt, but he thought it was rather sweet. They had spent the evening searching for a therapist who seemed fitting to Minho and had sooner availability for an appointment. Luckily, one of them had an open slot tomorrow morning due to a cancellation.

Chan let Minho take the lead. After all, it was his hometown. He was glad they found someone relatively quickly and hoped Minho would feel comfortable with them. She seemed very kind and professional on the phone, at least. He glanced at Minho as the wind blew his hair in his face. Giggling softly, he took off his beanie and put it on his head, gently brushing a few strands of hair beneath it. "Better?"

Minho felt a lot warmer almost immediately and nodded. "What about you?" he asked and gently fixed Chan's natural curls.

"I'm alright," he assured him with a smile and looked into his eyes, admiring the way they sparkled in the light. "I wish I could kiss you right now," he confessed quietly.

"What?" he giggled, surprised at the sudden outburst.

"You just look so adorable, baby." Chan smiled happily.

Minho blushed and punched his arm softly. "Stop it. You’re making me blush."

"Make me," Chan teased.

"You’re lucky we’re out in public, or I would," he smirked before turning a little to the side, noticing the street they were on. He pointed down the street. "There’s a shop that has really great ice cream a little further down the road if you'd like."

"I thought you were cold?" he giggled.

Minho pouted softly. "But it's so tasty, Channie hyung."

Chan giggled adoringly and rolled his eyes fondly. "Is it far away?" he asked. They've already been walking for a while after all.

"Not that far, no," he told him hopefully, and Chan agreed to take the journey. It was a little further away than Minho had thought, and Chan noticed the subtle limp in his steps before he spoke up. "Channie?" he asked at the pulsing pain radiating and grabbed his arm, lifting up his injured leg to take off some weight for a moment.

"You need to take a break?" he asked, and his boyfriend nodded. Chan looked around, but there wasn't a bench in sight. "I'll carry you the rest of the way. Hop on my back, baby."

"Channie, you really don't have to. We can go back the other direction. There's a bench about five minutes from here," he told him.

"You really wanted some ice cream, so we're getting it," Chan told him and turned around, crouching down a little. "Come on."

Minho playfully rolled his eyes before doing as he said and letting Chan carry him. He exhaled, relieved as the pain slowly subsided, and rested his chin on his shoulder. "Thank you, darling," he said softly.

"Of course, Min," he smiled. As they reached the small store, he let him down carefully. Minho’s face contorted slightly at the pressure back on his knee, but he adjusted to the pressure and stood tall. They went into the shop and to the counter to order their ice cream. Chan paid before lifting him up again and stepping close to the counter so Minho could hold them in his hands.

"Let's go find somewhere we can sit," Minho suggested and tried his ice cream, humming softly. "You want some?" he asked, and Chan nodded. Minho moved Chan's in front of his face, not really seeing what he was doing. Chan laughed as the ice cream met his nose. Minho started giggling and carefully wiped it off with his thumb, licking the ice cream off. "Yours is good as well."

"You could've just told me you wanted to try some instead of shoving it up my nose," Chan teased him. Minho chuckled as he held it up for him again. Chan was finally able to taste his own. "Oh, that's actually pretty good."

"Told you," he smiled, satisfied, and continued eating his own.

A few minutes later, Chan finally found a bench for them to sit and gently placed him down. He sat down next to him and giggled softly at the sight of Minho's hands. Due to holding both ice cream cones, he hadn't been able to keep them from melting. It was slowly dripping down his fingers, and they were surprised that none of it had dripped on their clothes. Chan pulled out a tissue from his pocket and jogged over to a small fountain, making it a little wet. He went back and lovingly cleaned his hands for him before taking his ice cream.

"Thank you, Channie love," he smiled and finished his own.

"You’re welcome, darling. Hey, do you wanna take a selfie and post it?" Chan suggested. "To show everyone you're okay after the incident on stage."

"Right, I haven't been online or anything since then," Minho nodded, agreeing, and took out his phone. After taking off the beanie, he took a few pictures, and they searched for their favorite. "What do I write as a caption?"

"No idea, honestly," Chan said.

"Date night with Channie love," Minho grinned, and Chan groaned softly.

"I wish," he admitted.

Minho gently patted his thigh for a moment. "I know, me too." He zoomed in a little and contorted his face at the dark patches beneath his eyes. "I still look like shit."

"You look tired, Minho, that's all. It's probably good if people see that and don't think we're dramatizing the whole situation," Chan reminded him kindly.

"Fair point," he sighed softly and started to write a caption for the picture they'd picked out. He added a second one of him and Felix at the hospital as well, where Felix hugged him and he smiled into the camera bravely. "Is that enough drama?"

"That's good," Chan laughed at Minho's theatrical sigh. Minho handed him his phone to let him read through it.

Slowly getting better and taking some time off. What better way to start your exile than a visit by the ones who are responsible for it 👀💕

"Always so dramatic," Chan giggled.

"You wanted drama, here you are," he smirked and took his phone back, uploading the post. Only seconds later, his phone lit up with several notifications of likes and comments. Minho unlocked his phone, scrolling through them, and smiled at his fans' sweet messages and encouragement. He leaned closer to Chan, letting him read along as some mentioned what a great leader he was, visiting him. "If they only knew what a visit from you actually meant," Minho smirked, and Chan laughed out loud.

"Came here for comfort, had great sex instead," Chan said, pretending to type a comment, and Minho started laughing.

"Channiee," he shook his head and looked back at the comments. His smile faltered seeing a few more comments rolled in.

You're back already? I was happy hearing I wouldn't have to see your stupid face for a month. Loved seeing you fall like that on stage, I hope it hurt.

Always knew they'd be better off without him. Should've stayed eliminated.

Chan had still been looking at him and frowned softly at the sudden change in his mood. He glanced back at the screen, and his heart sank as Minho didn't have a sassy reply in store but remained quiet. "Minnie…" Chan gently eased his phone out of his hand and blocked those users for him. “They don’t know what you’re going through.”

Minho swallowed down the lump forming in his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Can we go back?" he asked quietly, suddenly feeling sick.

"Wait a second. I'll send their account to our staff so they can keep track of their ID and-"

"Chan, please," Minho shook his head tiredly. "It's just a comment. I don't know how many more will show up. Telling staff won't make a difference. I love you for trying to help, but there's no use in chasing anonymous bullies," he told him quietly and could barely meet his eyes.

Chan handed him back his phone and nodded. "You're probably right…Listen, I know that's probably not what you want to hear right now, but don't focus too much on that one hate comment, okay? You received a lot more sweet and loving comments," he told him gently.

Minho had to smile at Chan, using his own words from a few months ago. "When did you get so smart, huh?"

"I learn fast," Chan smiled kindly. "I think it's time to take your own advice to heart, kitten."

Minho glanced up at him, and his face softened immensely. "I missed that one," he confessed.

"Oh, really?" Chan asked, knowing how much he could make him melt with just that one word.

"Too bad we're in public. It makes me really want to kiss you and snuggle up in your arms," he told him.

"Don't tease," he sighed softly. "Let's go back, I want my kiss," Chan jumped up, deciding to give them a better reason to return to Minho's home. Minho made grabby hands in his direction, and he pulled him up.

A low moan slipped from his lips once he stood, and he let go of Chan's hand, carefully reaching down to check his knee. "Fuck," he breathed out. "I think I really overdid it today."

Chan knew there was no way Minho would be able to walk the 15 minute journey back home. "I'll carry you. And tomorrow, we'll take a shorter route."

"Okay," he nodded and apologized as Chan lifted him up once again. "If you keep doing this, your back will be fucked up by the time my knee is healed."

"You're not that heavy," Chan chuckled. But not even a moment later, he corrected himself. "You never are, you know." He reminded himself about Minho’s insecurity about his weight.

Minho noticed the effort and smiled to himself. "If you say so." About five minutes into their journey, he was starting to feel sleepy and rested his head on his shoulder tiredly. Chan kept on rambling on about something, but Minho couldn't keep his attention on him. All he did was slowly get pulled into a deep sleep as Chan's voice softly reverberated through his body, softly rumbling against his chest.

Chan noticed the quietness and chuckled softly. "Are you tired, kitten?"

"Mhmm," Minho hummed quietly, already having trouble keeping his eyes open. "I think I'm gonna fall asleep."

"That's okay, I know the way back," he assured him and smiled softly as Minho buried his face partly in his neck. Minho planted a tiny kiss on his neck and giggled at Chan's pleased hum. Chan could tell he was asleep as he felt his breathing slow down against his back. He was glad he'd only have to walk for another two minutes as Minho’s body weight became heavier because he was asleep. Once he reached the house, he pressed the doorbell, knowing there was no chance he'd reach the keys in Minho's pocket.

Luckily, Minho’s parents were still up and opened the door. "Is he okay?" his father asked worriedly.

"He's fine. We walked a little too much, so I carried him back since he was in a bit of pain," he told them. "He fell asleep on the way back."

"Oh, did you carry him all the way back?" his mother asked, and Chan nodded. "Make sure to be careful with your back."

"That's what he said too" Chan giggled and carefully let Minho down, quickly turning around. Minho winced softly and slumped against him sleepily. "Shh, it's okay. I'm just taking off your jacket, alright?" he asked, and Minho hummed, letting him proceed. Chan took off the beanie as well and lovingly brushed back his hair before picking him up again, in the front this time.

Minho wrapped his legs and arms around him, burying his face in his neck comfortably, not even noticing his parents watching them.

"Let's get you to bed," Chan said, adjusting his weight slightly. "Hold on tight, okay?"

"Kay," Minho mumbled drowsily and locked his hands together behind his neck as Chan carried him up the stairs.

Chan kept talking to him quietly on the way up, trying to keep him awake long enough to get into bed. Minho chuckled sleepily at something he said and tightened the grip of his arms around his neck.

Minho's mother watched the two as they walked away, hoping that Chan and her son would be figuring things out together from now on. He seemed so much happier with him around. It usually was her son taking care of others. It was good to see someone who looked after him with so much care and consideration. With so much love. Exchanging a look with her husband told her he was having similar thoughts.

Chan sat Minho down at the edge of his bed and kneeled down in front of him, untying his shoes for him. He gently helped him out of his sweater and pulled a shirt of his own over his head, knowing Minho loved stealing his clothes. Once Minho was ready for bed, he made grabby hands in his direction.

"Channie, lovee," he whined cutely, already falling asleep again.

"I'll be there in a moment, baby. I promise," he chuckled and closed the bedroom curtains. He set an alarm for tomorrow morning and slipped into bed. Minho scooted closer to him, pushing his leg between Chan's, and buried his face in his chest. Chan cuddled him close and soothingly massaged his scalp.

Minho suddenly pulled back. "Wait, I promised you a kiss," he said, making Chan giggle and quickly connect their lips.

Chan couldn't help but smile at how slow and lazy the kiss was. "Night, baby," he said softly as he pulled back.

"Night, love," Minho smiled before cuddling into his embrace again.

-

The next day, he had his first therapy session. Originally, Chan was going to pick him up once it was over. But he got a text from Minho telling him to pick him up somewhere around the corner from the building. Chan made his way around the building, and found Minho about a half block away leaning against the wall. A quick glance told him that Minho had been crying, and he looked rather tired. Chan took a pair of sunglasses from his jacket and walked over to him, handing them over to him. "Hey there," he said softly.

"Hey," he smiled tiredly and put them on, thanking him quietly. In case they were surprised by the media trying to take photos, no one could see his teary eyes.

Chan walked closely next to him and didn't quite know where to start. "Do you want to grab something to eat and go back home?"

"No," he shook his head and chewed his lower lip. "I could really use a hug right now."

His face softened, and he opened his arms for him, welcoming him in a warm hug. "Do you want to talk about it?" he offered gently, lovingly rubbing his back.

"It was..a lot. I think I overwhelmed her for a moment, telling her roughly about what was happening in my life. She tried to organize my chaos a little so we can work on everything in the following sessions," Minho explained. "I also told her about us since she isn't allowed to talk to anyone about this. I hope that's okay."

"Of course it is," he nodded.

"She said, judging by my emotional state right now, combined with my knee injury that's taking a toll on me, it'll take a while to work this all out. I can see her once a week though, as long as my schedule allows," he continued.

"We'll make it work, and if it doesn't because we're on tour or something, you can still do it online," Chan assured him. "There'll always be a way to find time."

"I'll tell the others soon so they know, but…what about the staff and fans?" he asked. "I mean, I can't drive back home once a week without anyone noticing."

Chan hummed, agreeing. "I don't think our staff and management will support the idea of telling the fans. But it's your decision, so I wouldn't worry too much about that. We can still ask the others their opinion as well," he suggested, and Minho agreed before pulling back. Chan smiled and gently wiped away a tear from his cheek, handing him a tissue.

"Gosh, I hate this," Minho cursed softly before blowing his nose. "I'm so emotional, it’s embarrassing."

"I think it's adorable," Chan tried to cheer him up.

"Me crying all the time?" he asked, trying to be irritated, but unable to hold it together. "You're not serious. So far, you told me you have a thing for me being mad, and now this?" he giggled. “You’re such a weirdo.”

"Seeing you smile is worth being a weirdo," he said, and Minho gently punched his chest.

He sniffled softly and threw the tissue into a bin nearby. "Fine, let's go and get some cookies."

"Cookies?" he asked, and Minho nodded.

"Just wait and see," he said, walking beside him. They walked in a comfortable silence for a little bit, but then Minho quietly stopped in his tracks. "Channie?" he asked, a little timid.

"Yeah?" he glanced back at him as Minho stopped walking. "What's wrong?"

"Can I hold your hand?" he asked softly. "I'll come up with an excuse, don't worry. I could just use some emotional support." He hadn't quite finished his sentence when Chan was already beside him, taking his hand.

"You can hold my hand whenever you want to, kitten," he promised, and Minho smiled sweetly, intertwining their fingers and continuing their journey. They reached another small store a little later, and Chan let him pick out a few cookies for them.

Once they were back outside, Minho glanced at him. "You know you don't have to pay for everything. I'm not broke," he chuckled.

"You always spoil the kids. Let me spoil you," he grinned. "Should we eat them back at yours?"

"Why the hell do you want to get back so soon? I thought you wanted to see the town," Minho laughed at him and noticed Chan blushing.

"I don't know. I just thought you would want to get some rest," he spoke gently. He nervously glanced away as Minho leaned forward to see his face.

"Channie," he giggled. "Don't lie to me, you suck at it."

"Fine, I have a surprise for you. But I can't show you in public," he groaned.

Minho grabbed a cookie from the bag and took a bite, thinking about it. "It's not like no one has seen your abs before," he teased.

"Not like that, Min," he whined.

"Too bad," he smirked, and Chan blinked at him. "I'm teasing you, relax. I'd like to be able to walk properly again at the end of my break. Taking your dick every moment we’re alone won't help reach that goal...even though I haven't so far."

"You're so naughty sometimes," Chan groaned, a blush creeping up his neck and ears.

"You love it, so stop complaining," he grinned, handing him a cookie. "But okay, let's go back. Now I'm curious."

Chan laughed as Minho took his hand again, pulling him with him. He didn't stop trying to make him laugh all the way back, and Minho seemed a lot better than before. Minho handed him the bag with only a few cookies left and unlocked the door. Chan stepped inside and yelped in surprise as Minho threw the door closed and pushed him against it smoothly. He blinked at him and blushed at his loving gaze. "Hi?"

Minho smirked succeedingly before kissing him passionately. Chan dropped the bag and cupped his face, deepening the kiss. "Thank you for picking me up, love," he said softly before hugging him close and burying his face in his shoulder. “Needed you there.”

"Anytime," he told him and kissed his hair. "Ready for the surprise?" Minho pulled back and nodded excitedly. "It's not much."

"I don't care," he chuckled.

Chan giggled before taking his hands and searching his eyes. "Minho, I love you so much. You have no idea how much you truly mean to me. I'm so happy I got to meet you and get to know you the way I do today. I know things are a little complicated in our situation, and I wish we didn't have to hide it. But I wanted to ask you something," Chan said, lovingly fondling his knuckles with his thumbs. "I’ve wanted to since that dinner I've promised you."

"Go on," he encouraged him shyly, not quite knowing where this was heading. But he loved the way Chan was so nervous, like a little puppy.

"I know we've already kinda talked about this, but I never actually asked you. Do you want to be my secret boyfriend?" he asked with a sweet smile, eyes shimmering suspiciously.

Minho pressed his lips together as his own eyes brimmed with tears as well, and he nodded firmly. "I'd love to, Channie."

"Close your eyes, Minho baby," he said gently, and Minho did as he said. Chan took a small box from his pocket and opened it, taking out a delicate silver ring. He gently put it onto Minho's finger, whose lips parted in surprise. "Open up," he said, and Minho looked down at the ring amazed. "I want you to have this as a reminder that I love you no matter what happens or where I am."

Minho was speechless, he couldn’t believe it. He lunged forward, hugging him tightly. "It's beautiful," he whispered honestly, and Chan squeezed him tight. "I'll wear it proudly."

"If someone asks you about it, you can answer honestly. I don't mind people knowing that you mean the world to me," he told him.

"I love you, Channie," he said softly, kissing his cheek before burying his face in his shoulder.

"I love you too, Min," he answered just as softly. Chan's phone suddenly rang, and he groaned softly, pulling it from his pocket. "It's Changbin."

"Go on," Minho nodded.

Chan took the call and put him on speaker. "Yes?"

"You two lovebirds are all over the news!" he dropped the bomb on them immediately.

Chp.15 | Chp. 17

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@kai-lee08 @atinyniki @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaasia111 @galaxycatdrawz @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @mellhwang

#stray kids #skz #chan #skz fic #minchan #minho #chan fic #stray kids fic #minho fic #minchan fic #minho angst #minho fluff #minchan angst #minchan fluff #chan angst #chan fluff #poly!stray kids #poly!skz #addicted to you #requests open

[autisticxielian]

God but i love xie lian so much. the flower and the sword, his great capacity for kindness and his great capacity for ruthlessness. that seventeen year old, idealistic and foolish and prideful and arrogant. and just a kid. who wanted to save people. his profound loneliness. his despair and anger. how loud the snap is when he finally breaks, how much that breaks my heart. the defiance in him clawing himself back to kindness, loving humanity, that made me cry the first time I read it. how he took that one small moment and held on so goddamn tightly, keeping it with him in the form of the bamboo hat. both his sheepish humility and his cutting snark at times. his sense of humor. how he loves his friends. both the hope and the tragedy that follow him. the larger than life Flower Crowned Martial God and the human being crushed under its weight, trying to live up to it and failing. the tired 800 year old man. his depression and apathy. the utter joy in seeing him finally be able to rest, to start to heal. in seeing him rediscover what it means to be happy.

I’m going to go cry about xie lian please excuse me

#xie lian #tgcf

[carrythatwayt]

I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. (4x01)

You don't think you deserve to be saved... (4x01)

Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul? (4x07)

I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. (4x16)

For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this. (4x16)

We've been through much together you and I. (4x22)

I'm hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you... (5x02)

So, what, I’m Thelma and you’re Louise and we’re just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together? (5x03)

I’ll just wait here then. (5x04)

What? I like past you. (5x04)

Don’t ever change. (5x04)

I rebelled for this?! So that you could surrender to them? I gave everything for you. (5x20)

Dean and I do share a more profound bond. (6x03)

I wish circumstances were different. Much of the time I’d rather be here. (6x10)

So I went to an old friend for help. But, watching him, I stopped. Everything he sacrificed and I was about to ask him for more. (6x20)

And the worst part was Dean, trying so hard to be loyal, with every instinct telling him otherwise. (6x20)

I’m doing this for you, Dean. I’m doing this because of you. (6x20)

I was there. Where were you? (6x20)

Dean, I do everything you ask. I always come when you call. (6x21)

Don't make me lose you too. (6x22)

I'm gonna find some way to redeem myself to you. (7x01)

You just met yourself. I've known you for years. (7x17)

Part of me always believed that you’d come back. (7x17)

I'll go with you. And I'll do my best. (7x23)

I'd rather have you, cursed or not. (7x23)

Cas, we're getting out of here. We're going home. (8x02)

I prayed to you Cas, every night. (8x02)

Let me bottom-line it for you. I'm not leaving here without you. Understand? (8x02)

I have a price on my head and I’ve been trying to stay one step ahead of them. To keep them away from you. (8x02)

Cas, buddy, I need you. (8x02)

Cas... we're gonna shove your ass back through the eye of that needle if it kills all three of us. (8x05)

...thank you, for everything. (8x07)

Cas...I got you, hold on! (8x07)

...you can't save everyone my friend, though you try. (8x07)

I don't need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don't need it! (8x07)

I did everything I could to get you out – everything! I did not leave you. (8x07)

Yes, I am with you. (8x07)

I’ll watch over you. (8x08)

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you're back, I'm thrilled (8x08)

I won't hurt Dean. (8x17)

Cas, fight this! This is not you! Fight it! Cas. I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. Cas… It's me. We’re family. We need you. I need you. (8x17)

Dean, I can go with you. (8x22)

Dean. I'm sorry. For everything. (8x22)

Please man I need you here (9x01)

Cas? Cas!.... Never do that again! (9x03)

Dean, you know I always appreciate our talks, our time together. (9x03)

Nobody wants him here more than I do. (9x04)

Sorry I told you to go. I know it's been hard on you, you know, on your own. Well, you're adapting. I'm proud of you. (9x06)

I came as soon as you called. (9x10)

Cas, you just gave up an entire army for one guy. (9x22)

...everyone you love, they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I’m the one who will have to watch you murder the world. So, if there’s even a small chance that we can save you, I won’t let you walk out of this room. (10x22)

Dean. I don't wanna have to hurt you. (10x22)

No, Dean. Please. (10x22)

It?" It's not an "it," Sam. It's Cas...Cas is family. (11x18)

I could go with you. (11x23)

Morning, sunshine. Some coffee? (12x03)

And Cast—Cas is my best friend. (12x11)

My shy but devastatingly handsome friend. (12x12)

I love you… I love you all. (12x12)

It's a gift, you keep those. (12x19)

And I just wanted, I needed to come back here with a win for you. (12x19)

We’ve lost everything. And now you’re gonna bring him back. Okay? You’re gonna bring back Cas... (13x01)

It’s good to have you back. (13x06)

Cas, you wanna try this angel thing, then go for it. Just don’t get dead again. (13x19)

Dean. You asked "What about this is real?" We are. (15x02)

Cas, I hope you can hear me… that wherever you are, it’s not too late. I should’ve stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go. ‘Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong. I… I don’t know why I get so angry. I just know… I know that it’s… i-it’s just always been there. And when things go bad, it just… it comes out. And I can’t… I can’t stop it. No matter how… how bad I want to, I just can’t stop it. And… And I… I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I’m sorry it took me so long… I’m sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I’m… I’m so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me. (15x09)

You don’t have to say it. I heard your prayer. (15x09)

What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer because the one thing I want... It's something I know I can't have. But I think I know... I think I know now. Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being. It's in just saying it.

I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive, and you're angry, and you're broken. You're "daddy's blunt instrument." And you think that hate and anger, that's... That's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. (he smiles, crying now) You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell... Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean.

I love you. (15x18)

Updated to include more quotes. Due to the deluge of script leaks showing edited or censored destiel dialogue, I decided it would be cathartic to collate the dialogue that did make it on the show. Data crunch: Dialogue spoken only by Cas and Dean. 65 total quotes: 34 Cas (52%), 31 Dean (48%).

#destiel quotes #otp i love you #otp profound bond #otp: i need you #dean winchester #castiel

[stoat-party]

My lukewarm takes on Romeo and Juliet characters, heavily influenced by the specific production I watched yesterday

Romeo: So extra. Absolute drama king. He would watch Encanto and not be able to stop thinking about it for a month. He absolutely fell in love twice in a week based purely on looks, but that love was pure and romanticized to no end. In his mind, it was worth dying for. He should have been allowed to be a stupid kid, but under the circumstances he felt forced to marry in secret.

Juliet: Every adult in this girl’s life failed her. Of course she fell in love with Romeo, she’s thirteen. Their relationship isn’t particularly profound, it’s their devotion. Their innocence. When you were a thirteen-year-old girl, didn’t you fantasize about doing something drastic just to make your father understand? She’s the girl who acted on that fantasy, in the most horrible way. And she’s a child. A baby. They’re all just babies.

Paris: Himbo. Yeah, he tried to marry a thirteen-year-old girl. Yeah, he’s probably an adult by our standards, or close to it. However misguided his feelings toward her, though, they were real. He felt protective toward this girl he’d barely met. That wasn’t the blood feud talking. It was his meathead himbo brain. What caused this man to think it was okay to marry a little girl? How was he so casual about it? Why so violent? We’ll never know.

Benvolio: Shares an archetype with Horatio. Guy who lives, but at what cost? When I read the play he seemed like the sweet, reasonable one, but this production really played up the teenaged boyness of it all. The important parts to him, though, are that he loved Romeo, and he didn’t want any of this. Noticeably absent in the final acts.

Mercutio: Baby. Actual tiny baby man. I read this book when I was fifteen, I had no maternal feelings toward any of these kids, but this actor’s Mercutio broke me. He was just a little goofball from a rich family, he had no concept of consequences. The actor was an adult but somehow made his voice crack. When he started a swordfight over a cause that had nothing to do with him, it was like I was watching a puppy trying to play keep-away with a tiger. Tybalt even backed off and tried to sheathe his sword, but Mercutio gave him a little *boop* on the backside and it started again. His death scene started off laughing and ended in screaming. After Act III, all jokes in the play cease.

Nurse: I just feel bad for whoever gets cast as the nurse to get insulted for three hours.

Friar Lawrence: Who does this guy think he is? Okay, he couldn’t have predicted the plague or the duel, but he seems very confident about courses of action that have a high likelihood of ending in tragedy. The lesson is, don’t enable teen hormones just because you think it’ll help you end a blood feud. I can’t discount his good intentions, though, and the kids would probably have been worse off without him.

Tybalt: I seethe.

Lord Capulet: I’m doing this for your own good but also I’ll ruin your life if you disobey ok? <3

Lady Capulet: She definitely shares some of the blame for what happened, but her love was genuine. She had been brought into this cycle at Juliet’s age, how was she supposed to break out?

Lady Montague: idk why shakespeare thought killing her offstage was necessary. we don’t even find out until after the climax so why? it’s more thematically consistent if all the deaths are young people.

Rosaline: If thou findeth thyself in a Shakespearean tragedy, get thee to a nunnery.

#romeo and juliet #romeo montague #romeo #juliet capulet #juliet #shakespeare #mercutio #tybalt #tybalt capulet #benvolio #benvolio montague #william shakespeare #romeo & juliet

[twinkle-art]

since you talked about sho's relationship with toichiro after the last comic, I'm curious about your takes on serizawa's relationship with him now (if you want to share)

ohhhhhhh boy do i ever have takes on what was going on there. for everyone's sake i'm just going to try to keep it to what my reading of the actual text is so. this is. that

the most surface-level observation that i think needs to be made here is that serizawa OBVIOUSLY adored him. he thought extremely highly of him and valued his words accordingly. 

i get why people tend to gloss over this part but. it’s incredibly overt and i think it does his character a disservice to ignore that he was both victimized by touichirou and complicit in a lot of what he did. he had his reservations and doubts about claw’s intentions from the beginning on account of Having A Moral Compass, so the number one thing that kept him in line was that touichirou had him completely wrapped around his finger. notably, it wasn’t through threat or overt coercion, but because he preyed on his desperation to feel seen and needed.

(a slightly more nuanced take on this facet of their dynamic is that while fear WAS a relevant component, i really, really don’t think serizawa was ever made to be scared of touichirou in the context of his capacity for violence prior to wd arc, and think that would’ve been counterintuitive to the particular way he went about manipulating him. he WAS, however, scared of returning to his life as a shut-in, and since he didn’t see any options for himself besides that and his dependency on him, it was in touichirou’s best interest to allow that fear to fester)

and.. at the risk of sounding like i’m playing devil’s advocate.. it makes COMPLETE sense to me that serizawa would feel this way. fifteen years is an incredibly long time to be isolated and have god knows how many people all resoundingly fail to help you. like. no shit he’s willing to ignore the sinister undertones of the only person who was able to save him from that fate, the first person who ever made him feel like he wasn’t alone. it’s easy for us as an external audience to go well, obviously that guy was the fucking worst, what redeeming qualities would serizawa even cling onto, but having that profound of a material effect on his life really can’t be understated imo. i think it’s completely natural and normal that on some level, he’d still feel a level of gratitude* to him for that, despite rationally knowing it wasn’t for his benefit. 

*idk how many of you are familiar with the fanbook blurb that states what i always assumed was the intended subtext more overtly. i actually translated the page it’s from myself, if you’re interested in that. i promise i’m not lying for fun on the internet i’m sure this information is available somewhere else by now

or to say all of that in much simpler terms: he loved this guy the way you’d love a meal that kept you from starving to death, even if it was poisoned

(fig. a– girl what the hell is this)

(as an aside: i don’t necessarily disagree with anyone who focuses on reading discomfort into serizawa’s interactions with him but… as i said before i simply don’t think that renders the constant stream of admiration for him irrelevant)

now, obviously this is muddied by the fact that these feelings were born of truly heinous manipulation, but it’s also just observably true that they spend nearly all their shared screentime with serizawa fawning over him and hanging onto his every word. 

it’s because he felt this way that i think the role he adopted under his guidance stuck to the point where he took it with him when he left claw. like, he fully internalized this idea of being The Muscle as a perfectly normal way to express that he cares for, and feels an obligation to, certain people in his life. so while obviously it goes without saying that his relationship to spirits and such (or reigen specifically, if that’s what you’re in the mood for) is so much more fulfilling and respectful and real, you can still see that learned behavior present. i don’t think that’s a bad thing inherently, like, of course you want to protect people you care about, but i do find it……….interesting lol

but this has all been about how serizawa feels about touichirou, because obviously that’s way more important to him than the other way around. how touichirou feels about serizawa i think requires a lot more extrapolation and personal interpretation of the themes he’s here to deliver. personally, my stance can be summarized with two statements: 

on some level, he took serizawa’s betrayal personally despite claiming to be above human connection, because this series is committed to the truth that no one actually is

telling serizawa to let him go and learn his lesson because he never cared about him anyways, after all the violence/grevious child abuse/openly admitted exploitation/that whole mad king-esque breakdown still wasn’t enough to permanently sever his attachment, was the first and only kindness he ever showed him

(fig. b– the manga omission i’ll be saddest about forever rip spare battery scene you’ll always be famous)

(sorry i keep making asides. but referring to the umbrella that he presented him with under the guise of it being a necessary tool as his weapon the second it’s turned on him is an incredible way to make him show his hand)

in conclusion mp100 is Oops All Parallels all the way down so you see echoes of these themes all over the place. it’s just that this is a strong contender for the most horribly mangled manifestation of a way someone can come to care for someone else in this entire story

#i tried my best to stay on the topic of what went into that comic i really did #anonymous

[daphnebowen]

day five of twelve days of rina: favorite episodes 🤩

I’m doing one from each season because I’m like that and can’t choose

season one: episode five - homecoming

homecoming is obviously one of the most important and essential episodes to rina’s storyline. This is where they all got started, this is when they really started to shine, and obviously without this episode there really wouldn’t be a rina. their chemistry was off the charts in this episode and honestly going back and seeing how genuine they are with each other and how they can be so fresh and just honest with each other; man it really is something else. rini never held a candle to rina, looking back on it. They never stood a chance. “I thought we sort of, like, got each other” and “You know I meant what I said. at the skate park, about you having your own style. I don't even think I knew how much I meant it when I said it.” like dude. monumental. Already these two characters are having such a profound effect on each other and it’s been only a couple of months. AND THE CHEEK KISS. THE FREAKING CHEEK KISS. because for me, rina was never really a thought in my mind until that kiss. Until Gina showed me that she was opening up her hard heart to the brown curly haired boy with the great voice and sass for days. until Ricky showed me he wasn’t opposed to it. until their chemistry was so off the charts I was blown away.

season two: episode four - the quincenero

okay, hear me out, this episode is actually pretty important to rina. There’s a ton of character growth from Gina specifically. obviously there are other moments but I really do like the moment where Ricky comes to Gina for advice about nini and she says that maybe they shouldn’t give advice to each other and she’s not nini. which I think is a beautiful parallel, looking back on it, to when Ricky didn’t try and convince Gina to stay in slc and not do the movie because he’d already had an experience with nini where he did tell her that and she completely fumbled and freaked out. which, understandable, whatever. That’s her. But the thing is, that’s what gina wants. Gina wants to be set apart from nini, Gina is completely different from nini and in this episode she’s trying to tell him that (which she’s right, bc nini did not like it at all when Ricky revealed he’d talked to miss Jenn about getting nini in the show, but the fact remains is that Gina said she’d be flattered but said “I’m not nini and we’re not dating” to try and tell Ricky that maybe that’s not what nini wants). Gina is telling him that the things that work for her are not going to work for nini because they are two different people and their relationships - both romantic and platonic, current and future - are entirely different. which is so profound and beautiful when you compare that to Ricky’s aversion of change and you see how nini and Ricky’s relationship began to fail because Ricky was using things Gina had told him all along. which is kind of emotional cheating but wtv. anyways, the fact that Ricky was dating the person he was “most comfortable with” but using the girl who represents change’s advice is something I just love. And I’m sure I’m not explaining it well, so if anyone sees this and wants to add/explain better pls do.

season three: episode five - the real campers of shallow lake

okay I absolutely love this episode and not just because of the rina content. everything about the drama between Maddox and jet to portwell drama to Ashlyn and Val and obviously Ricky angst and feisty gina makes this episode so 💋 but obviously, I’m here to talk about the what do you know about love duet. Which Ricky/josh and Gina/sofia ABSOLUTELY SLAPPED and I gave them a standing ovation as soon as it was finished. because this was EVERYTHING. Kourtney’s clear approval, Val’s interpretation of the whole thing, their freaking history, Carlos’s encouragement, ej’s uncomfortableness, it’s all perfection. their playful banter, their voices, this being their first duet, ugh it does things to me. And the fact that it really does represent gina as anna and Ricky as Kristoff seeing that Gina is in a brand new relationship and thinks everything is rainbows and butterflies while Ricky, who has only experienced love where he has to work for the other person and strive to make things work instead of it being more effortless and easy (as rina are later) is amazing and beautiful. I could explain this more later but I don’t want to run out of room so if you want to know more, lmk. and also the “rebound” afterwards where RICKY APOLOGIZES FOR HIS INTENSITY KNOWING GI WAS EQUALLY AS INTENSE because he knows something is up with ej. but he wants to be there for gi. He wants her first relationship to go well, and he defends her to ej as well telling him that she’s just tired and coming down from the rehearsal. watch out world, Ricky Bowen will defend Gina Porter with his entire being.

season four: episode five - admissions

AGHHHHHHHHHH this episode lowkey might be my favorite of the entire series. but then again I loved every moment of every episode so I won’t say that. But this episode is MONUMENTAL for both Gina and Ricky and especially in their relationship. Gina finally opens up to her mom abt her and Ricky, Ricky opens up to ej about his fears and confronts his tendency to hide when things go wrong, and it all culminates in a beautiful second chance confession rain kiss spin hug. UGH, Tim, my FRICKIN HEART! I really do love the conversation between ej and Ricky because they truly are brothers and besties. ej truly helps Ricky so so much. And I could have a whole conversation about their conversation and all the ways it is beautiful but I won’t. Gina, meanwhile, is coming to the realization that Ricky is her inspiration and Ricky is the reason why she is happy. Ricky Bowen makes her the happiest she has ever been and it physically hurts her that her mother does not know this (it hurt me, as a viewer!) and the beautiful second chance playing as Ricky sees Mack and Gina and turns away~ it really shows that 02x12 really was about Gina all along, it was never about lilly. it was always Gina. nobody else ever stood a chance.

#12daysofrina #I have no idea if any of this makes sense #I think there’s some coherent thoughts in here #but I truly have no idea #a lot of rina's important character growth happens towards the middle of the season im realizing #which is I guess how it should be #but writing down my favorite rina episode for season 2 was hard #because that drought was rough #once I got over rini I needed rina and man there was none #thanks for reading!! #ricky bowen #gina porter #gina x ricky #ricky x gina #hsmtmts #rina #day five #already omg #I’m not ready for it to be over ☹️

[totowlff]

extra — bliss

➝ toto is grinning like a goofball. and it didn't go unnoticed.

➝ word count: 4,6k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author’s notes: this is, probably, my favorite chapter to date. you will know why.

The image on Toto's cell phone screen looked straight out of a dream. At the edges of the shot, his fingers were holding up a small glossy rectangle with an image printed in black and white. It wasn’t high-quality or high-definition, but it was probably Toto’s favorite picture on earth.

The subject featured a slightly elongated white blob, resting at the bottom of a dark oval. On the bottom of the picture, there were a series of lines in consistent peaks and valleys, depicting a heartbeat. It was the absolute proof that he wasn’t just imagining things.He was going to have a child.

“A child with her”, Toto thought, as he thought about the way Cassie smiled at him as she told him the news a few Sunday evenings prior. The memory of it made something feel warm in his chest.

While Toto was in Barcelona for the Spanish Grand Prix, he’d called Cassie to find out how her appointment went at the fertility clinic. She’d been scheduled for a blood draw and an exam that day ahead of their second try at IVF conception after a first attempt failed. While they were on the phone, Toto could hear a certain hesitation — maybe fear — in the tone of Cassie’s voice. His first thought was that something was wrong, but Cassie didn’t say.

It made the entire weekend drag on for what felt like an eternity. Despite his efforts to keep focused on his duties with the team that weekend, he felt internally consumed by anguish and anxiety. During debriefs, he found his mind wandering to what would happen when he would go to Cassie’s flat upon arriving back in Oxford. He feared the worst — that whatever caused their first attempt to fail was a bigger problem than expected and would prevent any future attempts at conception, putting an end to their shared dream.

He also couldn’t bear the possibility of seeing Cassie in the state he’d found her in when he returned home from Bahrain. She had been devastated by the failure of their first try, in tears, talking about how big of a failure she was. Her sadness that night was like a knife in Toto’s chest, so profound was the heartache he felt for her, and for himself. He hoped he wouldn’t ever have to see her that sad again, he was sure of that.

He tormented himself by imagining every possible scenario for the entire flight back to the UK, and for the entire drive into her neighborhood in the north of Oxford. He steeled himself, fully prepared to see Cassie just as she was on that terrible night in April.

When she answered the door, though, all appeared fine. It eased his heart a bit. 

— Good evening, Cassie — he said.

— Good evening — she replied, a peaceful expression on her face — Come in.

He stepped into the flat and took his shoes off by the door, glancing around the living room to see if it was like last time, with discarded tissues, empty wine bottles, and various forgotten messes. He was relieved to see that it looked neatly organized like it usually was, just a white box on the coffee table and an episode of some television series he wasn’t familiar with paused on the screen.

Toto heard Cassie’s footsteps behind him, and turned to face her. 

— Well, I was going to stop by today anyway, but you said you needed to talk to me, so I decided to stop by before I went home.

— Yes, I needed… I need to.

— Well, I'm here.

His chest tightened at the awkward silence.

— Cassie, is there something wrong? Did something show up on your blood test?

— I think you'd better sit down — she replied, her voice thin. 

Nobody ever said that unless they had bad news. Toto’s stomach lurched. “This is it. It’s all over”, he thought.

— Cassie, I'm not going to do anything until you tell me what’s wrong. Please, tell me.

Then, it got worse. Cassie's eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip started to tremble. Without a second thought, Toto took two steps forward and placed his hands on her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks.

It was painful to see her crying, but seeing her crying and not knowing why was even worse. After urging her to explain, Cassie took a deep breath, laying her hands on his wrists.

— There was… A change in the hormone levels on my blood test.

— What kind of change?

— The level of a hormone called ‘hCG’ is… Elevated — she whispered.

Toto had read a lot about the IVF process. He'd been with Cassie for almost every appointment since he'd cast his lot into this endeavor and had done his own research so he’d know exactly what Cassie was dealing with. He’d read more about hormones and the human reproductive system than he’d ever cared to and he knew she wasn't taking any medication or receiving any hormone injections for her body to reset itself before a new IVF cycle. He couldn’t ever remember seeing anything or hearing anything mentioned about a hormone called hCG, which made things even more frightening. 

— Is that serious?

— Well, it depends.

— Depends on… What?

— How serious is a child for you?

Toto's heart leapt in his chest. Was she implying what Toto thought she was implying? He couldn’t have heard that right. She couldn’t have just said something about a child.

— What? — he managed to stammer.

— I'm pregnant — Cassie said, as more tears streamed down her face. There was no sadness in her eyes, quite the opposite. She had a wide smile on her face — We're having a baby.

Toto took a few seconds to process her words, his eyes fixed on hers, searching for any indication that she was kidding. After so much pain, so much fear, so many doubts, the last thing Toto wanted was for this to be a joke.

But Cassie had been to the doctor, had the tests done, talked to the clinic staff. She wouldn't say that if it wasn't true. She wouldn't joke about this. “It's real, my God, it's real”, he thought, as the smile grew on his face, his anguish metamorphosing into pure joy.

 He took his hands off of her face and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet, twirling Cassie into the middle of the room. He laughed aloud, the certainty that this was the happiest a man could be in his life growing inside his chest.

His dream had come true.

He was going to be a father.

Since then, everything in the world seemed a little more alive, more vibrant, more beautiful. All he could think about was Cassie and the way she smiled and laughed as he twirled her around her living room, happiness etched on her face. Any problems or unforeseen events at the factory did little to affect his mood, and apparently, his happiness was quite visible. 

— Toto?

Casting a sidelong glance across his desk, he realized he was rambling about something while Ola Källenius was sitting in front of him, one eyebrow raised over her rectangular glasses.

— Yes?

— Is everything okay?

— Everything's great, why?

— It's just that you seem distracted today — the executive said, taking a sip of the coffee that was still left in his cardboard cup. 

Toto flushed a bit in embarrassment.

— I'm sorry, Ola — he quickly responded, running a hand through his hair — It's just… I got some news yesterday and I'm still processing it.

The man's expression softened.

— Well, I hope it’s a good thing, you seem very happy.

— Yeah, it's really good. I think it's the best news I've ever received in my life.

— The best news, huh? Has Lewis decided to sign a lifetime contract?

— I'm going to be a father, Ola — Toto answered, without hesitation, before realizing what he had done. He and Cassie had agreed not to tell anything to anyone until a few months in, until after the risk for miscarriage or other had passed. However, Toto’s excitement had gotten the better of him. Ola grinned widely at him. 

— This is fantastic, congratulations, Toto! — he said, reaching out to give his shoulder a friendly squeeze — Do you know the sex yet? Is it a boy or a girl?

— No, we don’t know yet, we haven't done any imaging or anything...

— Oh, so is recent?

— Yeah — he said, doing some quick mental math, trying to ignore the image of Cassie writhing in pleasure that filled his mind — A month, maybe a bit more.

The man smiled beside him.

— You were lucky to find out early, then. But, do you have a preference as far as the sex goes?

— Well, no. But, I think if I could choose, I’d like to have a little girl.

— I thought you'd like a boy to accompany you on paddock adventures.

— There’s nothing that stops a little girl from liking racing, right?

— Indeed — Ola replied, laughing.

The two talked a little more about parenting, with the executive sharing some anecdotes and stories about the children he had with his partner, Sabine. Hearing Ola talk about his children made a strange anxiety settle in his chest.

It wasn’t just the anticipation of finding out if they were having a boy or girl, it was wondering what the little person growing inside of Cassie would be like, in general. It was the anticipation of meeting someone that he didn’t know, but already loved so deeply. Would the baby be serious and driven like Toto, or would they be a free spirit like Cassie? Would they be more athletic, or more artistic? 

There was one thing Toto was sure about, however.

“You’re going to be as beautiful as your mother”, he thought, smiling at the phone's screen, where the ultrasound image continued to glow, foreshadowing the entire life Toto and his child would have together.

— What are you looking at that has you smiling like that? — a man said, bringing Toto out of his thoughts. Looking up, Toto found Niki Lauda staring at him from the other side of the plane’s seat. His blue eyes shone with curiosity. They were on a plane, flying to the Azerbaijan Grand Prix in Baku. He usually did his best to avoid keeping his attention glued to his phone while he was on flights to and from races, to give himself time to decompress and let his mind wander, but all he could think about was Cassie and the baby she was carrying.

Since he had joined the Mercedes operation, the former driver was usually at his side, during races, debriefs, and flights to and from races. Toto had always admired him both on and off the track. His vision and courage never ceased to amaze him. Despite Niki saying he didn't have any friends, Toto was proud to be the exception.

As Niki’s friend, Niki knew quite a bit about Toto’s life.

He was one of the few people who knew about the entire history of Toto’s love life. There had been a few times that Niki had teased him about still being single, and good-naturedly offered to introduce him to one of Birgit’s friends, but Toto had refused. He was fairly certain that a blind date set-up wouldn’t be the way he would find the right person, and had expressed that to Niki, telling him that he wanted someone who was looking to start a relationship with, not just a casual date or hookup.

One thing Toto appreciated about Niki was how understanding he was. However, he wished he had been a little more than usual when he told his friend about his plans to have a baby with Cassie. He had already mentioned her to Niki on enough occasions for the man to suggest that Toto should ask her out on a date if he was in such a mood to “dip his pen in the company ink”. However, when Toto told him about their plans to pursue IVF conception, Niki immediately shot the idea down, telling Toto that he thought it was a stupid idea.

“Is it so stupid to want to fulfill a dream?”, he remembered asking himself.

— I'm looking at a picture — Toto replied, containing his smile a little.

— A pretty picture, by the looks of it.

— The prettiest I've ever taken, I think.

— Care to show me? — Niki asked, smirking.

Toto turned his phone towards his friend, mentally preparing himself for his reaction, which could be anything between joy and absolute bewilderment.

The former driver leaned back in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he studied the image. The following silence was longer than Toto would have expected, causing anxiety to tie knots in his stomach.

— Is that a baby?

— Well, technically it's a six-week old embryo, but you could say that it’s a baby.

Niki looked up at him.

— It's yours? — he asked. Toto just nodded, which made a small smile appear on his friend's face — So you went ahead with your plan with that girl, what's her name again? Alexandra?

— It's Cassandra, Niki. And yes, we went ahead with our plan and had our first round of IVF…

— And you got a positive at the first time? — Niki said, cutting him off. He looked impressed — If I can say one thing, you guys were lucky. When Birgit and I decided to have children, we had to go through three rounds before we got the twins, and it only worked once she changed one of the medications she was taking.

Toto pursed his lips hesitantly.

— But, I remember that the feeling of seeing the two lines on the pregnancy test was incredible. I started to cry when I saw the result, even after so long. I realized that day that I hadn't lost my enchantment with the world...

— The first attempt didn't work out, Niki.

Niki looked at him, confused.

— Oh, so, it was the second, then…

— We, uh… Didn’t get the chance to go ahead with the second round…

A few seconds later, his expression lit up as he connected the dots.

— Did you fuck?

— Niki! — exclaimed Toto, exasperated. He felt his face heat with embarrassment. He didn't like talking about his sex life openly, not even with people who knew him intimately.

— Toto, you just told me that you went ahead with your stupid plan and it didn't work, but there's a picture of an ultrasound on your phone and you've been smiling like a goofball since you boarded this jet, so I can only assume that you two fucked or this Sandra...

— Cassandra — Toto said, correcting him quietly.

— Cassandra, whatever, is the new Virgin Mary, and this baby of yours will be the second coming of Christ.

Toto sighed, defeated.

— We slept together...

— I knew it — the ex-driver said, chuckling in satisfaction.

— But it was only once, at her flat, when I got back from Bahrain. I hadn’t heard from her during the entire flyaway, so I went over to check on her. Cassie was devastated that it didn't work out and I felt awful that I hadn't been there for her, that I hadn’t given her the support that I’d promised I’d give her in the beginning…

— So, you decided to give her your support in bed?

— No — Toto replied quickly, as he realized that was exactly what had happened. Cassie had said she needed him and he hadn't had the heart to say no to her — Well, not exactly. She started saying that the things her parents said about her were right, that she was useless, that she couldn’t even do the basic things expected of her, that…

Suddenly, it felt as if all of the emotions that Toto had dammed up had found a way out, and he couldn’t stop himself from telling Niki everything.

— I told Cassie that she wasn't useless, but an admirable, courageous woman, capable of anything she set her mind to. And I told her not to feel bad, that we could try again. I promised that I would give her a child. And after all of that, she just… Kissed me.

— And you kissed her back, I imagine.

— I — he hesitated for a few seconds — Well, I didn’t really mean it to happen that way. I didn't want to take advantage of a moment as delicate as that. She was sad, and frustrated, she hadn’t slept well in days. But she said she needed me, that she wanted me. I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

— So, you dipped your pen in the company ink.

— Niki — Toto muttered, in a scolding tone.

— You know I think that’s a bad idea, right?

— That’s funny, considering that you met Birgit when she was a flight attendant for Lauda Air, right?

— It was NIKI, but that’s beside the point.

— That’s exactly the point! You’d been dating less than a year before she gave you one of her kidneys, because she loved you and you needed one.

— No, the point here is that you had sex with Addie…

— For fuck’s sake, Niki, it's Cassie! — Toto grumbled. He was starting to get frustrated. Her name was so simple to remember, he couldn't understand why Niki was having so much trouble getting it right. It wasn’t as if Cassie was a stranger to Niki, that he’d never met her before. 

— Okay, you fucked Cassie and got her pregnant on the first try. That’s pretty remarkable.

— Why do you think that’s remarkable?

— Because, I was with Marlene for almost ten years before we managed to have Lukas, and Birgit and I only had the twins after we had IVF ourselves. Three rounds, like I said.

— What about Christoph? — he asked. Christoph was Niki's third son, with whom he had no contact. The boy’s mother, who Niki had an extramarital affair with in the 1980’s, requested that Niki not be involved in his life. The affair eventually culminated in Niki and Marlene’s divorce. 

— Well, that took a few tries, too, not that I was trying to get her pregnant. But, given that, I can assure you that… How do I say this… Hitting a bullseye with your first shot is impressive. 

— Thanks, I guess — Toto mumbled. There was something strange about talking about it like he and Cassie ended up having a casual fuck at her apartment that resulted in an unexpected pregnancy.

The fact that they had sex was unexpected, but there was nothing casual about it, that was one thing Toto was sure of. He’d had brief flings with a few women that resulted in some no-strings-attached sex, but this didn’t feel like that. There was something different in the air, in the way Cassie looked at him, the way she touched him, the way she kissed him. It wasn’t just a casual fling. It was something Toto could neither define nor explain, but it was definitely unlike anything he had ever experienced in his life.

— So, does that mean you two are together? — Niki asked

— No, no. We are still friends, not...

Niki chuckled.

— So, you’ve convinced yourself that you’re still just friends with her?

— Yes, because we are friends, Niki…

— Toto, you clearly like her.

— Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn't be building a family with her.

— Then it's more serious than I thought — he muttered, crossing his legs to left his right ankle on his left knee. 

— More serious? What are you talking about?

— Toto, you love this woman.

The word knocked the breath out of his lungs, a shiver running down his spine.

Love was a strong word for Toto. It wasn’t like he didn’t feel love, or was shy about expressing it. He loved his mother, sister and nephews. He loved the friends he had known at different times in his life. He loved his team, his job, and motorsport. But Niki was referring to a different kind of love.

It was a kind of love he hadn't felt in a long time, not since… Julia. 

Her name was Julia Hirsch, and she was the first and last woman that Toto loved. She had a degree in economics and had been working at the Vienna Stock Exchange for a few years when they met in 2005 through mutual friends. Toto was enchanted with her from the moment they met. She had dark blonde hair, a soft, kind face, and light blue eyes. They started dating, and it didn’t take long for them to fall in love, and for them to start talking about marriage and children. 

A few years before that time, though, a friend of his asked him if he was interested in getting back into racing as a hobby, mostly rallying, but some GT and endurance racing as well. He found a way to make it all work together, and Julia was supportive, but eventually, he started taking racing more seriously, and found himself spending more time away from home. A distance grew between him and Julia, and Toto only realized how serious the situation was after his accident on the Nordschleife, in 2009. 

He was attempting to break a lap record there for GT cars. When he regained consciousness at the hospital in Adenau, he was a little surprised to not see her at his bedside. Nobody had told Julia of the accident. The racing team he was with that weekend didn’t know that he was in a relationship. It was as if she didn’t exist in that part of his life.

He knew something had to change. After all, he knew he wouldn’t be able to play with race cars forever, and the experience of riding in an ambulance and trying to figure out if he could feel his legs or not hastened his decision to hang up his helmet for a bit. 

He was transferred to a hospital in Vienna, and Julia did come visit him, furious and worried. It was then that he realized how close he was to losing her, and that his life needed a change.

They talked for a few long hours in his hospital room, both of them resolving to repair their relationship, but neither of them really knew how. Toto gave up racing, and Julia cut her work schedule back, and stayed in his penthouse to help him with his recovery. She never returned to her own condo. Six months later, after he was given a clean bill of health, Toto proposed. She accepted, and they started planning their wedding.

In time, Toto realized that he couldn’t stay away from racing altogether. He didn’t get back in a car again, but he had made a successful career out of investing and finance, so he married his interests and invested in a racing outfit called HWA, which managed Mercedes’ entries in the Deutsche Tourenwagen Masters Championship in Germany.

Then, an opportunity to invest in a Formula 1 team called Williams Racing came about, which eventually turned into a seat on the team’s executive board. He resumed his routine of traveling and spending a lot of time away from Vienna. Julia wasn’t exactly happy about it, but at least he still came home to Vienna, and to her.

The last straw was when he received the offer to buy a one-third share of the Mercedes F1 team, and for him to become the CEO and team principal of the F1 team. He would have to move to England, because that’s where their base was. It would also mean long hours of travel on race weekends, sometimes back-to-back.

Julia said that she couldn’t stomach the idea of starting a family with someone who was away so much, but asked Toto for a few days so she could think about whether she wanted to move to the UK with him. Toto, of course, told her to take all the time she needed. A month before the move, he returned to his penthouse to see Julia’s things gone, and her engagement ring in its box on his kitchen counter. That was her answer.

Julia had slipped through his fingers, without even saying goodbye.

That had been the last woman he had loved in his life. As he sat in his half-empty apartment with all of his things boxed up for the move, Toto realized that his plans had gone down the drain. He couldn’t blame her, he supposed, but he still loved her.

Julia was the one he was going to marry, to have children with, to spend the rest of his life with. There was no more Julia, but there was Cassie, and she made Toto feel something achingly familiar, an emotion that he hadn’t felt in a while, but was too afraid to put a name to. 

He hung on to the ring for a year while he grieved, but after the team won its first championship under his ownership, he decided that he needed to move on. He sold the ring to a jeweler in London that gave him a decent price for it. He went on a few dates after that, none of them resulting in much. Eventually, he just decided to focus on work, because that made him happy, and that was enough for the time being. 

— Niki, I think you’re imagining things.

— I'm not imagining anything, I'm just stating facts as I see them. You love this woman.

— I don't — Toto paused for a few moments. He couldn’t gather the courage to even utter those words — Look, I like Cassie. I like her a lot. She's my friend and, soon, she's going to be the mother of my child. We're going to have a family together, so...

— That, right there. That’s how I know you love her, Toto.

He blinked.

— What do you mean?

— The fact that you say that you’re going to have a family with her.

— But that’s what it is. We’re having a child together, that’s having a family.

Niki shook his head.

— If there's anything I've learned, it’s that having a child with someone is the easy part. Fuck some woman without protection at the right time of the month, and nine months later, you’ll have someone that calls you daddy and asks you to play peek-a-boo with them, but having a family is so much more than that.

Toto glanced out the jet’s window, thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure if he followed.

— Trust me, I’ve done both. I've had children with three different women in this life, but I’ve only had a family with Marlene and Birgit. It’s about more than just having a bit of fun, or even making a baby together. I was only able to have that with them because I felt a deep love for them. I still do, actually, and I'm sure they feel the same way about me. That's the big difference, Toto.

— Love?

— Exactly. Which is why, the moment you tell me you're going to have a family with Callie — Niki paused for a second while Toto opened his mouth to correct him — Cassie, I mean. It means you love her enough to face this challenge together with her and not separately, like me and Christoph’s mother did.

Something in those words carried Toto back to the day Cassie told him about her plan to have a baby on her own. Knowing more about the terrible relationship she had with her own family, he concluded that he had been right to offer to participate in the process. But Toto knew he had a deeper reason, one that didn't involve his own desires or the things that happened to him and his sister during their childhood. 

He wanted to make Cassie happy. He wanted Cassie to fulfill all of her dreams. He wanted Cassie to see herself the way he saw her. He wanted Cassie to love herself as much as he loved her. 

— You're wrong, Niki — Toto said abruptly, turning in his seat away from the older man — I like Cassie, we're friends, and that’s all it is. End of discussion.

#toto wolff #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #toto wolff x oc #formula one x oc #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula one fic #wlffog #collab #etlwlff

[maikingsenseofit]

The Problem with Zvtara: Part 2

Continuing off of the last meta, let’s jump into the next analysis. Zuko through the lens of Katara.

The common Zvtara argument here (and I’m paraphrasing, I don’t remember the exact words but they all sound like this) is as follows:

Katara understood and cared about Zuko in a way that nobody else other than Iroh did. The empathy and understanding they display for each other simply cannot be replicated between them and any other character in the series, especially within the Gaang. They can only be themselves with each other and around everyone else they put up a mask or a facade.

Let’s go back to the pivotal Crossroads of Destiny moment. Once again I will emphasize that im not trying to diminish the power of this scene, the moment when two sworn enemies bond over their shared trauma. But just how well did Katara understand Zuko?

Upon seeing his scar, her immediate thought is to use spirit water to heal it. While this is an outstanding demonstration of kindness for someone she is not obliged to show it to, let’s remember that right before this Zuko says:

“It's okay. I used to think this scar marked me. The mark of the banished prince, cursed to chase the Avatar forever. But lately... I've realized that I'm free to determine my own destiny, even if I'll never be free of my mark.”

This. Right here. It is so important to understand. Zuko’s scar is so much more than a scar. It represents his trauma from his father, the trials and tribulations he faced to earn Ozai’s approval, and is a further reminder that he is the black sheep of the family both figuratively (a son who could never live up to his title, who could never bend like he was supposed to) and literally (the only member of a pristine royal family with an ugly brand on his face).

But his journey with Uncle Iroh in Ba Sing Se allows him to come to terms this trauma, or moreover this scar. It’s a reminder that we cannot escape our past or try to stifle it. We must embrace it and learn to accept it. It is only then that we are fully liberated from the shackles of our trauma and can fully determine our paths forward.

Katara’s offer to get rid of Zuko’s scar represents a regression of Zuko’s hard earned realization. He had just come to terms with his troubled past and accepts the ephemeral mark on his face. He even wears it with pride. He doesn’t try to hide his past or stifle his trauma, not anymore. It is an integral part of who he is. It is what makes Zuko, Zuko.He vocalizes this to Katara immediately before this. Katara however, fails to understand the significance and the journey behind this mark, largely in part because she wasn’t there to witness it. Her attempt to heal his scar falls flat in several ways, but one main reason is because just because something is healed physically, doesn’t mean it’s healed emotionally. But it’s important to consider something else here: Zuko never explicitly asks Katara or verbalizes a desire to get rid of his scar. Based on the earlier conversation, he’s finally gotten around to embracing it and welcoming the significance behind it. What Katara offers is in stark contrast to what he said. He allows her to touch his scar, but it is evident that she would never heal it. Why?

From Belen Edwards, despite the traumatic memories associated with his scar, Zuko never seems particularly ashamed of it. Throughout season 1, his hairstyle ensures that it's completely exposed, showing his identity to the world. In the second season, Zuko tells Katara that he's beginning to accept that he won't be rid of the scar.

And yet despite hearing the last part, Katara still offers a solution to Zuko to get rid of it.

This is where we see that the so called deep understanding and caring that Zuko and Katara held for each other is beginning to crack. Where is Katara’s deep and profound, soul-ular (get it, like cellular?) understanding of Zuko that no one else, other than Iroh, had of him? It begs us to ask if Iroh was in that room, given the journey he embarked on with his nephew both physically and emotionally, would he have encouraged Katara to get rid of this mark? The answer is obviously no. If there is a deep vulnerability and intimacy that they share with each other, and no one else, it does seem pointless given on both ends neither understands the full depth of the other’s situation. This is exemplified by Zuko immediately forgetting his entire interaction with Katara (but not His interaction with Aang interestingly) afterwards and still failing to understand why Katara was mad at him, even AFTER she explicitly tells him. And this is exemplified by Katara not fully acknowledging and understanding Zuko’s acceptance of his scar and offering a surface level solution that will never address the emotional significance and tribulations that come with it. Nothing against either of the characters by the way, and I need to emphasize that in bold font. I am simply observing their interactions and dispelling these “Word of God”-like claims.

Consider Zuko’s interactions with Mai. When he first sees her after years of banishment she gently his scar and touches in it not in an attempt to get rid of it, but because it is a part of Zuko. And when it comes to kissing Zuko, it means touching his scar, touching him in his entirety- including his physical and emotional marks. There’s a deliberate reason why the storyboard artists included Zuko’s scar in the scene. Because she’s known Zuko her whole life and was there when he first received it. Zuko and his scar are not two separate entities for her. They are one and the same.

She is able to reconcile that he not only the prince of the fire nation, tasked with the impossible, but also a broken kid who had a tumultuous background and never received enough love. Which is why after he divulges the root of her pain to her and their friends, she breaks free from her emotional, careless facade , makes herself vulnerable in front of Azula, to emphasize that she cares about him, despite his imperfections.

In a good faith interpretation, I must acquiesce that Mai has known Zuko for her entire life and Katara for far less than that. But to reiterate, this is to dispel the misconception that Katara knew and understood Zuko better than anybody in his life, ever, maybe except for Iroh, and that this was exemplified from their very first interaction as potential allies. And that is why they’re soulmates - because they had that instant connection and innate understanding. That is simply not true.

Now let’s dispel this other claim: that Katara was the only one that Zuko could ever open up to in the Gaang, and unlike his canonical love interest who shut him down. I’ve already went over this argument several times, but in case you need the reminder: Mai did not shut Zuko down when he was divulging the root of his pain and confusion at the Beach. She was genuinely curious and helped Zuko through his tumultuous time with Azula and Ty Lee, and reaffirmed her care for him at the end. She also did not shut Zuko down when he explains to her how the meeting with his father went. She was genuinely curious and provided to be a safe and effective sound board for him. She listens to him fully when he talks about he wasn’t himself, but rather the caricature of the perfect fire nation prince in the meeting. She did not shut him down out of boredom or because she was uncomfortable acknowledging his feelings. This represents character development after her first interaction(s) with Zuko, Azula, and Ty Lee. She gives Zuko the opportunity to open up about his decision to leave her in the boiling rock. She allows him to explain himself - Even if she didn’t completely understand how he wasn’t betraying his country, largely due to the years of indoctrination that the fire nation instills in every citizen. From @thethiefandtheairbender “Although Mai, understandably, disagrees, she still hears him out. She came here, ultimately, for a better explanation because she knows there must be one. She still debates and engages.” It is canonically and undeniably sourced that she allows Zuko to open up to her on multiple occasions, and he does. Yet all I see is Zvtara shippers, not all, use their first interaction to characterize Mai and her relationship with Zuko. Like we see in this very argument.

But outside of Mai, let’s address the claim that Katara was the only one that Zuko could ever open up to in the Gaang and that she had this deep understanding of him that no one else had. They bring up Katara asking Zuko what’s wrong when he’s about to meet Iroh again. What we see here is Katara asking a very simple and sweet question. She offers Zuko a word of encouragement. Both of these are very indicative of normal friendships and shows that on some level, she cares about him as a friend and a human. But there is no deeper or more intimate understanding or vibe to this. What’s she’s showing here is a common courtesy to ask what’s wrong and a standard note of encouragement. She knows, like the rest of the Gaang, that Zuko has tried very hard to redeem himself, that he doesn’t have any evil intentions, and that his uncle, more than anyone, will forgive him when he apologizes.

But isn’t this the exact same thing we see occur with Zuko and Toph? Zuko also opens up to Toph about his turmoil and guilt over betraying his uncle. She, like Katara,understands the depth of Zuko’s angst. And like a good friend and someone who is deeply insightful, she tells Zuko exactly what he needs to hear and makes him feel better. That his uncle is indeed proud of Zuko and he doesn’t have to do much else to earn his forgiveness.

Does this mean that Toph had a more intimate and deeper understanding of Zuko, when in reality in both instances, this is how you show affection and empathy for a friend? Does this make Toph the best romantic match for Zuko?

The last claim: but Katara was the first person to see Zuko’s capacity to change and she saw the good in him!

Actually, that was Aang. Aang was the first person to see the inherent good in Zuko, to understand that maybe his intentions weren’t all that evil and that he was confused, not an innately evil person.

From the Reddit:

And unlike with his interaction with Katara, Zuko actually remembers this one with Aang and even references it later.

And Zuko opens up to Aang completely and quite in depth in the Siege of the North. He talks to him at great length about how everything always came so easily to Azula and how he resents Aang because of this. It is here where Zuko first verbalized how confused, frustrated, and unloved he is. And although we don’t know if Aang heard him, one can assume he knows all this about Zuko by now, because he makes the deliberate decision to save Zuko and bring him along instead of letting him freeze to death (even though Aang wouldn’t let anyone go like that).

There’s this one other claim that Katara and Zuko are the only two characters to have parallel arcs that are marked by the same foundational events (the loss of their mothers) that enable them to have this deep intimate understanding of each other that no one else does. While Zuko’s loss of his mother (although she never dies, he just doesn’t know where she is) is an important part of Zuko’s life it does not define his entire arc. Nor does it for Katara.

Here’s what parallel arcs marked by the same foundational events actually looks like. From the Avatar wiki, this is a long one and complete credits to the author who wrote this!

Despite Aang being the clear protagonist and Zuko initially being the main antagonist, their stories were often paralleled in the narrative structure of the show. Flashbacks of the incidents that changed their respective lives forever, Aang being told that he was the Avatar and subsequently running away, and Zuko's Agni Kai against his father and subsequent scarring and loss of his honor, were shown side-by-side.[5] Their attempts to progress in their bending while impeded by psychological blocks were also shown side-by-side.[30] They were both marked men, with Aang having his arrow tattoos all over his body, while Zuko had a large scar on his left eye given to him by his father.[5] Scenes of Aang struggling to cope with an unexpected betrayal from an Earth Kingdom general morphed smoothly into Zuko facing a similar betrayal from his sister.[7] Aang was shown displaying the same frustration about the loss of his honor as Zuko, echoing the same frustration Zuko had been uttering for the first two seasons, "I need to redeem myself. I need my honor back."[11] Both Zuko and Aang found out about their interconnected fates, with Aang being the reincarnation of Avatar Roku and Zuko being Roku's direct descendant as Roku's granddaughter was Zuko's mother.[32] Both characters, at some point, stated that they were ready to face the Fire Lord. Aang intended to do battle with Ozai, while Zuko was ready to confront his father about his feelings and choices. During that confrontation, he announced his intention to join the Avatar and helped him defeat Fire Lord Ozai. Zuko's confrontation with his father was mirrored by Aang’s battle with Azula.

So there’s the deconstruction of the argument that Katara and Zuko understood each other in a way that nobody else ever did or could, that they could fully be themselves around each other and no one else, and that they had similar arcs defined by the same foundational event that no one else shared with them. In the earlier meta, we saw just how much Zuko really connected with Katara in the catacombs, by immediately forgetting her act of profound trust and never mentioning it again, only to be completely stupefied when she brought it up. He connects the anger she has with him with the loss of her mother, even though they aren’t that related. If it wasn’t for her voicing her displeasure in front of the entire group, he would have never sought to make amends with her personally. He redeemed himself in her eyes out of conditional necessity, not out of a deep care or love for her that people will staunchly claim they saw.

The only thing I can give to Zvtarians is the timeline. With Zuko and Katara, we had a very linear progression from when they were enemies, to allies, to friends - which coincides with the end of the Avatar show. But love, outside of fiction, is not linear. It is marred by disagreements and makeups, kisses and fights, that co-occur, not one after the other. Often times, we make up before all of our issues are resolved in it’s entirety. That’s why I stand behind Bryke’s decisions on the canon ships.

Until next time!

#anti zutara #heavy emphasis on anti cause i’m not about to go through this again #zuko #avatar the last airbender #mai #maiko #atla maiko #katara #aang #kataang

[endcant]

bear with me bc i am drinking THC lemonade

whenever my “people shocked by me being interested in consumer aesthetics counter” ticks up by 1, i know that i have failed to express myself on the internet. i am obsessed with commercial ephemera. it’s not that i like it… it’s something deeper. something… worse? better? something more embarrassing, at least.

the only time i’ve ever done psychedelics my profound realization was that i really, really enjoyed going to target. i like the lights. i am always commenting on the products and whether i think they are on trend or off trend for what i understand the target demographic to be. i love nothing more than to watch someone pick up an object, briefly imagine their life with that object in it, and then either put it in their basket or put it back on the shelf. even moreso when i’m watching a friend shop. even moreso when we can only window shop and that friend starts explaining to me what they would do with the thing if they had the money to buy it.

i studied american pop music history in college and i continue to study the history of bubblegum pop in my free time. i want to eventually write up a video or a series or something about the extended international history of teenybopper bubblegum pop. i am trying to learn music industry jargon old and new in my target languages in an attempt to gain access to information about these things that i can’t access in english alone.

i read early 2010s posts about how minimalism was the only morally righteous visual style with rapt fascination. i had a vaporwave phase exactly one decade ago. my friends in high school would bring me arizona green teas because they knew i would find it aesthetic. my advanced painting teacher hated it because i kept painting pale minimalist watercolor pieces that looked like 90s waiting room wall decor. my dream at the time was moving to santa fe and becoming a fine artist.

i was a proto-cottagecore blogger before cottagecore was named. i have well over 100 blogs, considering i hit 96 at some point during my previously mentioned decade-ago vaporwave phase. i do not bother to count anymore

as a young child, i used to go to the store almost daily with my parents and look for unfamiliar packs of gum so i could assess their packaging, flavor, and concept. i *really* cared about this. i got into this because i was given free packs of 5 gum and orange mountain dew at the halo 3 midnight release.

i learned HTML from neopets and i used to code gaiaonline themes and put them up on tektek. they sucked really bad btw.

i spent around 2 decades looking for the source of a single image of an anime river angel i saw on quizilla because she meant so much to me as a child about the power of what mere images could be only to find last year that the artist now draws hentai on pixiv and their art quality is now quite rushed. i think about this regularly when i think about creators i have idolized, and i don’t know what it means to me, but it feels like valuable information.

last night i couldnt sleep because i kept wanting to get on my phone to look at ancient greek vases on jstor

the worst part is i feel that the way that seeing ONLY consuming-or-not-consuming as the primary way to interact with the world is a serious mental roadblock for people in capitalist society. i think that consumer identity is a tool often used to warp the minds of citizens. i think that if i could go back in time and strangle edward bernays i would. i think that it is meaningful that american society has generated dozens of terms for “someone who is stealing or misusing a cultural signifier, or otherwise engaging with a culture or subculture under false pretenses/without doing due diligence/without participating in proper cultural exchange” over just the past couple centuries and that seeing and acknowledging the cycle is essential for anyone working in the arts

ive spent the past couple years reading up on historical art movements since industrialization to see how other art workers have dealt with their jobs being mechanized away, and ive decided to choose to value myself as a human animal who gets to experience the process of making things with my human animal body.

i am compelled to play piano when i drink red wine and i feel that i’m a fundamentally superficial being in function, but i can be more in purpose. like a poster. like a mask. like someone screaming so hard on stage that you believe them. that you look behind you to see what they are screaming at. i think in symbols and colors front and center, with verbal background chatter like an ever-tuning radio, and i am frustrated when people don’t understand that i am speaking my mind when i show them what i’ve made.

i care about aesthetics a lot. consumer and otherwise. it just so happens that i live in a capitalist society wherein the market attributes value to certain aesthetic information, which generates conversation about what certain images mean, what gives them value, what detracts from their value, what they are responding to, what responses they require in turn. but anywhere, anytime that there is a conversation about aesthetics, i want to be there.

i have always loved to perceive and to make, since the earliest stories anyone has to tell about baby cave. if i lost everything that makes me who and what i am right now, i believe i would still care about aesthetics. if there is anything left for even a cell of my body to experience, it would want to experience it beautifully and enjoy it deliciously.

happy 420

#we live in a consumer society -the aestheticer #this is just like #what its about #in da cave zone #🎤

[izzytown]

okay so i had a request to redo my “the fellowship reacts to starbucks” post but with the company (and since this is my niche now, i’m here to provide!)

the premise is mostly the same as the other post, just my silly little headcanons on what the characters would drink at starbucks. i now present to you “the company reacts to starbucks coffee” (part 1/2)

i adore the hobbit, but even though I’ve read the book (and watched the films) a fair number of times, i’m much more well-versed with LOTR characters than i am with those from the hobbit, so bear with me.

note: will not be including gandalf as i’ve already included him in the fellowship’s post - pop over there if you’re curious!

thorin: the grumpy-ass prince himself need not trifle with complicated orders when going to the bux. in fact, i propose he only goes if he’s DRAGGED by his arms and legs by fili and kili during babysitting duty—he gets a dark roast pourover, regardless of what roast is brewed, just because he “respects coffee craft.” you will find him rolling his eyes whenever a frap is ordered, silently mumbling about how his local coffee shop under the lonely mountain is WAY better.

fili: the quieter, more thoughtful sibling, fili is hit or miss on caffeine. if he’s looking for something pretty caffeinated with flavor, i think he goes for an iced brown sugar, toffee nut latte. not too sweet, but very flavorful (just like his personality). if he ain’t feeling a lot of caffeine, he probably gets an iced black tea to have something to sip on while supervising kili's shenanigans. also, he gets a cheese danish as a little snack, it’s canon-

kili: this man is on crack. he’s a kid in a candy store when he walks into starbucks- first off, he gets a birthday cake pop EVERY time without fail (much to thorin’s bank account’s dismay). he’s okay with caffeine, but the taste of coffee is a little much for him, so he cycles through a strawberry açaí lemonade, a vanilla bean frap, a chocolate cookie crumble frap, or an iced chai with cold foam and caramel drizzle. just gallons of pure sugar in a 16oz “coffee” for this guy!

oin: now i know very little about oin, but what I do know is that he seems like he doesn’t give two shits about anyone (respectfully). to me, that sounds like someone who drinks an insane amount of espresso and could care less how long it takes to pull 8 shots. therefore, I propose he drinks a 6-8 shot espresso over ice in a venti cup, with a light splash of cream. the pedro pascal special!

gloin: dark roast is the only acceptable roast of coffee in gloin’s household, how else would gimli acquire his profound appreciation for coffee? gloin tends to go for heavier, powerful drinks, contrasting gimli’s love of a good 'ol cappuccino. gloin’s go-to if there’s no dark roast available is probably a hot black americano with a couple packets of raw sugar, keeping it classic while wanting a drink that packs a punch.

ori: this is the sweetest dwarf you ever did see, and i think his drinks reflect that. not only does he give the vibe of someone who doesn’t drink anything too caffeinated, but he also seems like he has drinks for every season. he’s happy to have a nice chai latte in the autumn, a decaf peppermint white mocha for winter, a peach tranquility tea with two honey packets during the spring, and probably a passion tea lemonade (sweetened with liquid cane) during the summer.

dori: he so slays. dori seems like a mom friend to me, rolling his eyes and being a responsible part of the company, so i’m gonna make the executive decision and say he probably gets a typical “mom” drink, which to me is an iced mocha (or black and white mocha) w/ no whip. or maybe a honey citrus mint tea if he’s feeling sick, trying to cut back on sugar (as if it’s any better for you Lmao)

part 2 is available here

#shitpost #lotr fandom #the hobbit #the hobbit movies #uncle thorin #thorin oakenshield #fili and kili #ori the dwarf #dori the dwarf #gloin #oin the dwarf #coffee #starbucks #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit shitpost

[zalrb]

it's kind of funny how voyeurism became a thing for the cesare x lucrezia ship lol cause it's how we open the show with them, how she's watching him with a woman and it comes across as something she'd done before and by that point the show wasn't actually going to really go down the romance road with them beyond subtext but then by season 3 when they do just go "fuck it, let's DO this" we get cesare having to watch lucrezia with another man.

Mm, yeah. Because I think it's more complicated than "fuck it, let's do this" . From other posts of mine:

Also, I think it’s interesting that to you, Cesare is well aware of a less innocent feeling before Lucrezia because now that I’m thinking about it, I find it telling that the first scene we have of Lucrezia is her spying on Cesare having sex,

which I’ve said before, yes, but also that Cesare knows immediately that it’s Lucrezia, that indicates to me that she’d done that before and that she’s openly curious about that side of Cesare and experiences that side of Cesare through voyeurism so to speak to your point, I can definitely see that the “lifetime running away from me” could be him holding that boundary by not discussing it and Lucrezia kind of just waiting for him to for longer than we give her credit for.

combined with

But what I actually enjoy about The Borgias is that the torment between Cesare and Lucrezia doesn’t stop after they finally give in and have sex, it’s not like things get easier, in fact things get so much more difficult because there is such a profound embarrassment and shame that they both feel after what happened. Lucrezia describes it as a cloud descended upon her and she can’t consummate with her actual husband after what happened

But those feelings don’t disappear, they eat away at the both of them

which leads to

even in 3x04 when he’s putting distance it’s after two instances where he fails to “do the right thing”. Like it starts with him abstaining and putting distance:

and when Lucrezia is hitting him after he tells her she has to have sex in front of Ferdinand [...] it’s when Lucrezia screams “I love you!” that he’s just kissing her because of course he loves her too, of course this is tearing him apart

so when he’s watching, it’s this, a) I don’t want her to go through this degrading experience b) I don’t want to watch her with another man c) but now we’re simulating the act by watching each other so d) I’m turned on and it’s like we’re doing the act together e) I shouldn’t be having these feelings and it’s tearing me up inside

which then means that even though they’re not physically touching in that scene, neither of them are abstaining from their connection and they hadn’t abstained before so by the time he is putting distance between them

it’s because he failed miserably the first two times.

which is all to say, voyeurism becomes a signature of Cesare and Lucrezia because they are saddled with these feelings that they can't get rid of and they spend as much time trying to hold some kind of boundary to repress them as they do relishing them so it becomes this thing where they succumb and abstain at the same time, which then manifests in voyeurism.