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coralinnii · 6 months

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‧₊˚✧ Everything Stays, Right Where You Left It ‧₊˚✧

↳ meeting once again after you returned home

feat: Azul ❋ Jamil ❋ Sebek ❋ Jade genre: hurt/comfort, romance note: no pronouns used with the reader, speculations of how Yuu/reader returns home are all theoretical (no canon timeline is confirmed at this time), established relationships, happy ending, a nickname for reader was used in Jamil ver.,

I didn’t add a quote or “voice line” like my typical headcanons/scenarios posts because it felt unnatural to this vibe.

Song suggestion: Everything Stays by Olivia Olson (Adventure Time)

You broke your own heart saying goodbye to him. Whether he begged you to stay or reluctantly let you go, the overwhelming pain burned deep in his soul when he saw your figure disappear into the mirror, to where he couldn't reach you anymore.

Time waits for no man and he has to keep going, without you by his side.

But then, just as mysteriously as before, you appeared once more before him, beautiful as the day you left.

“I missed you…”

Such an unfortunate soul, he first thought. A fish out of water, so far away from anything or anyone you knew, Azul hoped you would find comfort in him, for a price of course.

But you surprised him with your unyielding character, quick adaptability and eagerness to keep Azul on his toes. You were a tricky customer who threw him for a loop, and he became ever grateful you did. Friendly competition and cheeky comments became shy smiles and soon longing embraces.

But your efforts to find clues to your mysterious arrival to Twisted Wonderland bore fruit, and you were able to find a way to open a portal to return home. But you weren’t sure what was going to happen once you crossed that portal. You may have to say goodbye…forever.

This was a deal he just couldn’t make, the cards were against him. Azul would have bargained with every morsel under his name just to keep you in Twisted Wonderland, with him.

But there was a chance for you to finally return home, back to where you had a whole life before being whisked into this magical world. You had no regrets coming to this world, meeting Azul, and eventually loving him, but you couldn’t abandon your old life, without even an explanation.

Azul understood that, he truly did. So he used the last moments he still had with you to give you an experience you could never forget, so you could never forget him. At least Azul could let you go without regrets.

But still, on the night of your departure, muffled cries could be heard through the walls of the merman’s bedroom. He thought he could put on a brave face for you as you made your way to the mirror, but he still had tears left to shed as your figure finally disappeared from his sight, out of his reach.

It took so long for him to change his routine since you left. He had to squash that yearning part of himself that kept hoping you would suddenly walk through the doors of Mostro Lounge and give him that warm smile that melts his stress away.

Sometimes he wakes up, reaching out to your warmth on his bed only to see the vacant space in his too-large bed. For a creature from the icy waters, he felt so unbearingly cold since your departure.

The fateful reunion

He was almost over you, ready to move on with his life after 2 years since your farewell. He was off to complete his independent study for his final year when he heard news of the Dark Mirror lighting up one random day and a mysterious figure fell out from its glass.

When he returned to the campus, Azul had to weave your old friends and other curious students around you in your old Ramshackle dorm, but when your eyes met his, his eyes lit up as though it finally came to life once more. You looked a little older and all the more beautiful, Azul almost fell to his knees in disbelief.

Nervously, you walked towards your former lover with a glint of fear in your eyes. 2 years may not mean much in the long run but it was still plenty for the merman to forget you, a piece of his life perhaps best left behind. But still, lost in his blue eyes, as deep as the ocean he hails from, you whispered the thoughts you had the moment you stepped back into your world.

“I missed you, Azul.”

Swift as a wave, strong arms wrapped around you as you pulled into an ever-familiar embrace. Soft curls tickled your face as the bespectacled man pressed his face into your shoulder. Despite being hidden away from watching eyes, you could hear his sniffles as he cried in the comfort of your arms.

But you soon joined him as the rush of emotions rushed within you, your control crumbling apart when you heard the soft plea Azul whispered into your skin, words he kept locked away all these years.

“Please…don’t leave me.”

You were like him in a way. Trapped in a situation you didn’t decide yourself, forced to adapt and live with the cards given to you. To put aside your feelings of helplessness and laugh, like a smiling genie stuck confined to a tiny lamp.

What was first pity became a bond from a kinship to an affectionate fondness for one another. The two of you even joked about traveling the world some day, just to give each other that chance to feel free together.

But by chance Crowley found a way for you to return home, a choice to free yourself from your bizarre predicament. Suddenly, Jamil felt even lonelier than he has ever thought possible.

Then, Jamil couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Of course, anything that he desired could never be his. What was he thinking? He should have known something as amazing as you was too good to be true.

An expert liar, he congratulated you on such a fortuitous event. He wore his well-crafted smile as he told you how glad he was for you to return home, to gain the freedom the two of you dreamed of.

A man trained as a servant, Jamil knew how to push down his selfish thoughts, even when you knew that he wasn’t being truthful with his words.

Great Sevens, he loved you for knowing him so well. He loved you so much that he convinced you to go home, as no one knew if such an opportunity would ever come again. This time, he was truly happy to ignore his selfish desires, if it’s for you.

But even Kalim, for as oblivious as he can be sometimes, knew to leave Jamil alone in his room that day when he shared one last kiss with you before you disappeared behind the magical mirror.

The fateful reunion

It’s been 2 years since Jamil and Kalim graduated from Night Raven College, 5 years since either of them saw you since your departure, since he last felt whole.

The first few years, Kalim tried to cheer his childhood friend, offering words of comfort and even hoped that perhaps you would return someday. You magically came here before, who’s to say it won’t happen again?

The well-meaning Asim heir only stopped mentioning you when Jamil lost his composure one night, screaming at him to stop making him hope for something so impossible. To Jamil, what hurts him more than you leaving him was losing hope that you could come back someday.

Since that day, Kalim did his best not to mention your name near the long-haired man in fear of opening old wounds.

Which is why Jamil was confused when the snow-haired heir called him during his overseas trip, urging him to return to Silk City immediately.

“Jamil, you gotta come back! It happened!”

Jamil’s heart beat hard against his chest, the long buried hope he tried to crush came back, fueling his body to run towards the fastest route back to his hometown. His pessimistic logic demanded him to lower his expectations but that childish longing in him begged him to run faster.

There, inside the Asim family’s large room, you stood there in the middle of the room surrounded by lavish walls and decor. The room was filled with luxurious ornaments and bright colors, but Jamil could only see you and your beautiful face with eyes as mesmerizing as he remembered in his dreams.

“Jamil…I-“

Before you could fully speak, the usually collected man ran to you without restraint as he encased you in his arms, as though he feared this to be a cruel mirage. His selfishness bled through as he held you closer than he ever had with anyone, his racing heart could be felt between you two.

“I missed you, habibti.”

Being with Sebek was like an adventure. A man with such vigor and determination towards life gave you the motivation to go through this strange new world the same way. You didn’t know if you could never return home but what good was it to give up on being happy?

What started off as admiration turned to fondness, then after an awkward period of confusing feelings, the two of you started a meaningful relationship. Sebek was insistent on formally courting you with the intentions of marrying you, but you told him you’d marry him with a paper ring. Sebek expressed feelings of indignation but the flush of his ears said otherwise.

But hidden in old fae books locked away in the royal libraries, Lilia found stories of people who came to this world seemingly the same way as you…with a way to send you back. It would have been impossible to gather enough magical energy to return you to your original world, but Malleus was the only one capable of accomplishing this feat. For his dear friend and his trusted guard’s beloved, he would gladly do this grand favor.

How…fortunate you are.

Sebek was stunned silent over this revelation. He should be happy, shouldn’t he? Despite your smiles and laughs, he knew the days where you would look out in a daze, lost in your feelings of homesickness. He told himself that he would give you everything if he could, no matter the pain it may occur to him…

Malleus gave the two of you time to discuss amongst yourselves and you could see your green-haired lover mentally fighting with himself. That was fair, you too were emotionally split over this information.

With a heavy heart, Sebek chose to let you go. He feared that if he were to speak his desires, someday you would grow to resent him for holding onto you. You told him otherwise but all of your arguments lead to the same conclusion, you needed to return home.

With tear-filled eyes, Sebek watched as you were engulfed with his liege’s magic, a blinding glow wrapping around you like a chrysalis. Though he denies it, he was grateful for Silver’s comforting hand on his shoulder as he broke down to his knees, a burning pain in his chest and the stinging of his tears cascading down his face.

The fateful reunion

The years were good to him, after 10 years he became what he always dreamed to be, a recognized guard of the royal family, under his magnanimous king.

With the advice of Lilia, the grown half-fae decided to keep a journal with records of his accomplishments and struggles, everything he wished he could tell you. Perhaps in hopes that he could one day share his life with you, or perhaps simply a way to keep his spirits up since your departure.

Sebek is not usually the one to dwell too much in the past, rather the type to look towards the future. But on occasion, he catches himself lost in his thoughts over his moments with you whenever he comes across something that reminds him of you, which were a lot of things.

He tried to kick this habit, as it was troubling for a guard to get so easily distracted, especially if he was meant to guard his king with his life. Eventhough Malleus, Lilia, and Silver were understanding over his situation, Sebek chastised his unprofessional behavior.

Even now, he was angry with himself when he sees a mysterious figure walking towards him at the castle’s gate under this heavy downpour. For a moment, he froze over how familiar this figure was, who walked uncannily similarly to the way you did, long ago.

Shaking this thought away, Sebek demanded this suspicious figure to stop before stepping any closer to the castle’s gate.

“Reveal yourself! Lest you prepare to meet my spear!”

“Sebek?”

Your voice struck him like lightning, stunned him in his post as flashes of the past rushed through him. You cautiously stepped closer, Sebek finally able to see your face under the castle’s lights. Like him, you grew considerably since he last saw you, but still as enchanting as that fateful day, even when you were drenched in the pouring weather.

With a whisper of your name, Sebek unceremoniously tossed his weapon to the muddy ground as he forsaken his position to run to you. Closing you in his arms, he could smell that comforting scent of you even in the drenching rain. Your warm body soothed his own as he shared a deep kiss with you under the rain, a decade of his longing finally rushing out in this unbelievable miracle that was you.

“I missed you, for so long.”

Jade was certainly curious about you. You reminded him of an old famous tale in his hometown, of a young mermaid who found herself in a world that was nothing like her own. He found amusement in you as you gasped and floundered over the myriad of magical possibilities that were a mere commodity in Twisted Wonderland. How adorable you were, he thought.

Fascination replaced curiosity and soon infatuation came into play. Eventually, Jade has come to enjoy your company more than anyone else’s, and he had to maintain a steady smile when you confessed your mutual feelings for him.

But when the Dark Mirror announced that a portal to your world has opened once more, he found difficulty in keeping his practiced smile. His otherworldly lover has a chance to return home, leaving him behind.

The eel merman was grateful for your attempts to comfort him, telling him that you could refuse this offer. You entertained the thought that perhaps the portal will appear once more at a later date, to diminish the significance of this opportune chance.

But Jade is no fool, he never was. No matter how happy you were with him, he recognises the wistful looks when a reminder of your old world is brought up. While he revels in the stories you joyfully regaled him of your past, he can hear the soft sighs under your breath and the melancholic smile upon your lips.

What was that phrase land-dwellers are so fond of? “If you love something, set it free.”

Jade never knew he could love someone as much he did with you, he didn't think he would ever do this for anyone. How amazing you are, it seems.

Jade loved you enough to let you go. He loved you enough to hold you as you cried through your broken goodbyes. He loved you just enough to finally let go of your hand as your figure disappeared into the magical glass.

And Floyd and Azul loved him enough to delegate his vice housewarden duties as he holed himself in his terraturim collection for days after your departure.

The fateful reunion

1 year has passed and while there have been some changes, there are things that stayed the same. Though now third years, Jade maintained his position as Octavinelle’s vice housewarden, by Azul’s side.

As such, his presence was appreciated in the Hall of Mirrors as new students filled the room, anxiously waiting for their dorm sorting. While this was a grand occasion for many young mages, Jade doubts that anything can outdo the unorthodox events that happened a year ago, when you appeared.

He couldn’t help but chuckled to himself when he recalled the ruckus you and Grim made, the reckless beast yelling out such amusing things.

“MY HENCHHUMAN IS BACK!”

Oh my, speak of the devil.

Grim, much stronger than he was before, burst through the heavy doors as he ran about with fat tears soaking the fur on his face. The notorious Heartslabyul duo tried to grab hold of the rambunctious creature but nothing could quell the ball of fur.

Hasty footsteps were heard as a figure came rushing in soon after, seemingly chasing the bawling Grim. Upon your appearance, the row of gasps and shouts echoed through the room, specifically from the older students and the faculty.

Jade felt a rush of emotion crashing into him. As a desperate measure, he tried to forget your face lest he wished to stay haunted by your image through restless nights. But there you stood looking as beautiful as the day he lost you.

Cautiously, he walked towards you like a wary eel. If this was a cruel trick, he will not be merciful towards anyone who believes they can play with a Leech’s heart.

But when your gaze matched his, he felt the world start once more, as though it fell to a stop the moment you disappeared. Your expressive eyes were the same beautiful sight he fell in love with, even when lined with building tears.

“Jade,” you whispered in disbelief. “I missed you so much”

With quick movement, Jade pulled you into him as he engulfed himself in the joy he’s feeling. Your touch, your voice, your scent, it’s all back.

What was that phrase land-dwellers are so fond of? “If it returns, it was meant to be.”

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ginnsbaker · 9 days

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (7/?)

Part summary: Six weeks later, Leigh decides to throw herself a birthday party.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.600+ | Warnings : None | Author's Note: Just a reminder that this doesn't strictly follow canon events. Borrowed some elements from the actual birthday episode, but it's going to go very differently for us :) Enjoy!

Six weeks later

“Hey! Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Leigh’s mom calls out from the kitchen as Leigh hurries down the stairs. She runs straight into Amy’s arms, a ball of energy, drawing bewildered looks from her mom and sister. Ever since Matt died, they are used to Leigh either being too quiet or too snarky. Today, of all days, they were expecting her to be something else much worse. But it seems they're mistaken as Leigh turns to Jules, yanks her in close, and kisses her hair.

Jules and Amy share a look. To say this as an interesting development would be an understatement. It's her birthday—her first one without Matt, who had been at the heart of her celebrations for the last decade. They hope Leigh finds some happiness, truly, but these past several months have taught them to temper their expectations.

They keep their silent exchange to themselves, watching as Leigh picks up a croissant and takes a heart bite out of it, her face lit up with the widest smile. “Happy birthday,” Jules grins, pushing a small envelope towards Leigh. “Got something for you.”

“Thank you!” Leigh exclaims. She eagerly opens the envelope to find a bunch of homemade coupons, each promising some sort of favor from Jules, good for the next year. They range from “Will listen to your rants for 30 minutes, no interruptions” to “I will restart the book club you tried to get me and mom to do and actually read the books this time.”

Laughing, Leigh flips through them. “These are brilliant, Jules. Might have to use one today,” she says, already thinking about which one she'll cash in first. Then, she pulls Jules in a bear hug, as if it’s the most exquisite present she’s ever gotten in her lifetime.

“You okay?” Leigh asks when she notices Amy staring at her.

Jules gives their mom a warning look as Amy struggles to come up with a response. “Nothing, I just… I didn’t think you’d be doing quite so well today. That’s all.”

“I didn’t either but we all make choices and I’m choosing to have a great birthday. So, let’s do this thing!” Leigh says in a manner that Jules feels too over the top. Amy starts laying out the plans for the evening and Leigh has a blank look by the time she finishes running them through it.

“I think I want a party,” Leigh announces. It’s met with astonishment, as if it’s the last thing her family’s expecting to hear.

“You do?” Amy.

“A party?” Jules.

Leigh isn’t perturbed by their reactions. “I do. I want a party,” she confirms. She delights at the dumb look on their faces as she reiterates, “Tonight. I want a big party.”

“You’re not having a big party.”

Danny calls her up the minute he gets her Facebook invite. He's partly furious about receiving the invite through Facebook, given that they’re “kind of seeing each other”, and partly incredulous because he couldn’t believe she’s making plans on her birthday without considering the fact that they are “kind of seeing each other”.

Leigh, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear as she flips through a recipe book on her kitchen counter, rolls her eyes so hard she worries they might stick that way.

“Well, yes, Danny, that's exactly what I'm doing,” she fires back matter-of-factly.

Danny's frustration simmers on the other end of the line. He had already made plans, not bothering to consult Leigh because he assumed that their day would be spent together—privately, just the two of them.

“You didn’t think I’d have something planned?” he asks, more hurt than angry.

“Why would I think that?”

“Because we’re dating, Leigh,” he says, appalled that he needs to remind her. Leigh takes a second, biting her lip. Maybe it was a bit inconsiderate that she didn’t consider Danny when she impulsively decided she wanted a big celebration. But that flicker of guilt is short lived.

After all, she couldn’t remember the last time she’s actually excited for something, the last time she thought, I deserve to be happy.

“Yeah, well, I can still do what I want, Danny,” she retorts.

“Now you’re acting like a child,” he snaps.

Leigh feels a flash of anger, then something else—determination. “Maybe so. Come to the party or not, I don’t care. I'm going to have fun, Danny, with or without you.”

“Fine. Just don’t—”

Leigh doesn’t let him finish. With a press of a button, the call ends, his words cut off mid-sentence. Too often, she’s been criticized for not always following through with her declarations, but it's a different game when she's out to prove something.

Drew steps carefully around a minefield of clothes and makeup scattered on the floor to get to Leigh. She's curled up over her laptop, one leg propped on the chair, chin on her knee, in a posture that makes Drew wince. “For a fitness instructor, you're not exactly a poster child for back health,” he says, announcing himself to his best friend.

Leigh's head snaps up at Drew's voice, but instead of annoyance, a smirk quickly spreads across her face. “Good thing I'm not a fitness instructor anymore, then,” she says. Then she turns her attention back to her laptop as if he’s not there. Drew moves to sit on the edge of her bed, flops down on it like a ragdoll and stares at the cobwebs on the corners of the ceiling.

“I know what you’ve been doing, Leigh,” he says.

Leigh is unphased, keeps typing. Then, as if she’s just heard his remark, mutters a distracted, “What have I been doing?”

“Avoiding. You've been avoiding writing about anything that's even remotely related to love or grief,” Drew says.

This time, Leigh stops typing. She sighs, a long, drawn-out exhale that seems to carry the weight of the world. “I’m busy, Drew. This gig is eating up all my time.”

After leaving the Beautiful Beast, she took on a part-time job as a remote project manager. With Matt gone, she's left to deal with the debts they racked up together. She loved her studio job, really did, and wasn't fazed by the slim paycheck because it helped her mom out. Being surrounded by family has been a huge support (despite her occasional squabbles with Jules), but she knows she'll need to move out on her own again at some point. Ultimately, the pressing need for financial stability has pushed her to seek out better-paying opportunities.

Drew straightens up, leaning in with his elbows on his knees. “Bullshit.”

Leigh looks over her shoulder at him with mild irritation. “What do you want me to say, Drew?”

“You're meeting your weekly quota on other topics,” he points out. “Makes me wonder if bringing you back to the advice column was…premature.”

It sounds like a threat, but coming from him, she understands it as an early warning in case the senior editor begins to notice the issue. Leigh smiles thinly, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why does it even matter which topics I choose to engage with? First off, I'm collaborating with other writers now; it's not entirely my show anymore. Secondly, I've been doing a good job—”

“A great job, actually.”

Leigh tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. “So, what's the problem?”

“They're expecting you to lead on those topics because you've lived through them. They're looking for more authenticity in the pieces,” Drew explains.

Leigh looks out the window, seemingly lost in thought, then shakes her head slightly. “What, you want me to write about how I started picking fights left and right after Matt died? Do you want me to detail my attempts at fixing his depression, as if it were as manageable as setting a broken bone?”

“You don’t have to delve into the most personal details.”

“It can’t be authentic if it’s not personal,” Leigh sneers.

“Just think about it, okay?” Drew presses, a little desperately.

Leigh chews on the inside of her cheek, mulling it over. There's a whole part of her story she hasn't even touched on with him—the string of one-night stands with Danny, the way she's snapped at anyone who dared to disagree with her in the past few weeks. She's been on edge, not really liking the person she's been, and the thought of putting that version of herself out there for everyone to see is nothing short of humiliating.

As a writer, she knows what to say, the same way a psychologist would know what to do even if they don’t need to have all sorts of human experience to help someone in every situation. But she also questions her right to preach behavior to others when she's far from having it all figured out herself. Regardless of her indecision, she knows Drew’s not going to drop it until she at least tells him she’ll consider.

“Fine,” she says, with a nod. “I'll sift through the inbox and tackle the ones I feel up to.”

“There you go, that's my girl,” Drew says, visibly relaxing. But then, a moment later, he feels a stab of guilt for showing up mostly because of work. It's been a while since they've hung out, their usual brunch dates falling through one after the other, and their daily chats have shriveled up to a few messages a week, with mostly just memes from Leigh that Drew hardly ever acknowledges. Eventually, Leigh just stopped sending them.

Drew fidgets, avoiding eye contact for a second before it dawns on him—he hasn't just been busy; he's been dodging Leigh on purpose ever since he popped the question to his partner. He was worried Leigh wouldn’t take the news well, considering the things she’s been going through. But if he’s being brutally honest with himself, a part of him just didn't want her grief to dampen his excitement. He was worried her sadness might dampen his spirits, and in a bid to preserve his own happiness, he’d left her out in the cold. He hadn't stopped to think that maybe he owed Leigh more than just her column.

“So, uh, how’s it going?” Drew asks cautiously.

“It’s going,” Leigh offers. Heartfelt talks aren't their thing, so Leigh decides to brush it off fast. “By the way, I'm throwing a birthday party for myself.” It comes out a bit more cheerfully than she feels.

“A party? That's great, Leigh!” Drew exclaims. “And hey, if you need help setting up or anything, just let me know.”

“Yeah,” she forces a smile, not as enthusiastic as she was about the idea at breakfast. “It's tonight, though. You're coming, right? And bring anyone fun you know.”

“Wow, OK,” Drew nods before his face morphs into a grin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, is this where you're planning to hard launch your new relationship? At your party?”

Leigh’s eyes sharpen into slits. “You know about Danny?”

“Jules told me,” he says.

Rolling her eyes, Leigh retorts, “Let me guess, she told you so you'd join the haters club?”

“Nah,” Drew shrugs, his smile bright and sunny. “Danny's okay, I guess. If you're happy, I'm happy.”

She hasn’t been not happy lately. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but it sure beats being on her own. So maybe she is—or at least, on her way.

“Thanks, Drew,” she murmurs thoughtfully.

Drew makes himself comfy, chin in hand, looking like he's all set for one of their marathon catch-ups. "So, how did you and Danny even start? Tell me everything."

Leigh's trunk is a one-can band, banging and clanging with every turn. Her groceries create a beat, something to fill in the lack of sound in her car. It’s how she drives these days—in utter silence. Before, she wouldn't even think of heading out without the perfect playlist, which often took her an extra five to fifteen minutes after settling into the driver's seat. But these days, as soon as the key is in the ignition, she twists it and takes off, not even waiting for the car to warm up.

Organizing a party by herself (with Jules' indispensable assistance, of course) and extending invites to her entire Facebook friends list has turned into quite the ruse. She's seasoned enough to temper her expectations—knowing well that not everyone who RSVP'd “yes” will show, and that some who didn't bother to RSVP might just surprise her by showing up. So, she's stocked up on as much food as her sedan can hold.

While Leigh's mind wanders to what snacks to whip up and what sauces to pair them with, she accidentally ends up on a lane that forces a left turn instead of going straight. This little misstep means she's got to take the scenic route home, which, by pure coincidence, takes her right past your clinic's street.

Her heartbeat quickens, though it shouldn't. There's no reason for it. She hasn't seen you in a month, not since the night she made a bold declaration on her bedroom door.

Leigh never planned on actually liking you as a person. Initially, her motive was purely to get a closer look, to dissect what it was about you that caught Matt's eye, what you possessed that she lacked. However, the answer to that mystery didn't remain elusive for long after spending a little time with you. You had this kindness about you, soft and easy, something Leigh’s always found just out of her reach. She prides herself on being decent enough but next to you, she feels a bit more like sandpaper to your silk.

Matt was like that too—gentle, easygoing. Leigh is well aware of her own rough edges, her sharp corners that don't quite align with Matt's smoother ones—and, by extension, yours. You and Matt had more in common than just interests; you both saw and reacted to the world in similar ways. Finding out that you and Matt were alike in important ways, in ways she wasn't, is something she's still learning to cope with.

As she nears your clinic, her eyes instinctively search it out, a habit she can't seem to break.

This time, her timing is impeccable; just as she glides by, you step outside with a puppy in your arms, licking your face all over. You catch sight of her car from a distance, and you couldn’t stop the surprise that flashes across your face. As she drives past, you give her a little wave, puppy still in tow. Leigh cracks a small smile, then throws on her aviators, maybe trying to hide a bit more than her eyes. She sneaks one last look in the rearview, catching you watching her car disappear down the street before you head back into the clinic.

As soon as she gets home and is safely out of the car, she opens her messages.

The last text you sent her says, “I'm sorry. I hope we can still be friends,” sent three days after the encounter in her bedroom. She didn't respond to it, and you didn't push any further or impose yourself on her.

She wishes she had at least reacted with a heart or sent a smiley face to your message. Maybe then, inviting you to her party tonight wouldn’t feel so awkward. Nevertheless, she manages to type out a quick invite and extends to you the courtesy of bringing a plus one, someone you believe would be good company.

Your response arrives within five seconds of her hitting send.

“Thank you, I'll be sure to drop by :)” - Y/N

Satisfied, Leigh sets her phone aside. Now, she can focus on making those Deviled eggs.

The dress she's pulled from Jules's closet is a bold choice: deep black with a plunging neckline and a hem that flirts with daring. It's sexy, but not quite Leigh's usual style—and that's exactly why she loves it. It clings to her in all the right places, promising a confidence that Leigh isn't entirely sure she feels. Her hair, which is normally pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, hangs loose and wavy. She tops off her outfit with a slick of red lipstick and layers of dark eyeliner.

With about an hour to spare before her guests are due to arrive, Leigh decides it's the perfect time to follow through on a promise she made to Drew. She logs into the shared inbox of the advice column she co-manages with two other writers at Basically News. Leigh scrolls through the submissions, Drew’s words playing on repeat in her head. He had a point. Maybe people don't always need the right answers—answers she hardly uses herself. Perhaps what they really need is someone to affirm what they're already feeling, to say it's okay to follow their gut, to be themselves.

She reads an interesting entry from one EspressoEyes:

“Do you think it's too much for me to give a puppy to this woman I like? I'm not even sure she likes me back (or like me in general 😣), but it's her birthday, and I feel like a puppy could be exactly what she needs at this moment.”

Leigh reads the message, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. Personally, she muses, she'd welcome a puppy from just about anyone. But that's just her, especially with the rollercoaster of a year she's had—she's at a point where the gesture, no matter who it comes from, would be a welcome slice of joy.

Thinking it over, she starts replying, “A puppy is a big gesture—it can be an overwhelming gift for some. It might even be seen as too forward, especially in certain relationships.Yet, a gift is a gift. Sometimes, you need to just go for it, without apologies. If her feelings don't align, she'll let you know. She has to, because giving a puppy is essentially a love declaration, in case you hadn't realized. And who knows? She might feel the same about you. Just make sure she's actually up for the responsibility of a pet. They're for life, not just for birthdays.”

She signs off with her pen name—Gigi Herrel—a clever anagram of her name as it would have been had she taken Matt's last name in marriage: Leigh Greer. Though it never quite felt like her own. She only used it when she came back to Basically News in obeisance to his passing. Drew has granted her the autonomy to publish her responses without his oversight (“Just make sure your grammar is perfect,” he said), so Leigh doesn’t think twice before publishing her response.

Leigh moves on to browse through other submissions, this time, on those related to marriage and loss—the very subjects she promised Drew she would tackle. She’s been in those shoes, still feels like she's wearing them. With a deep breath, she clicks on one and dives right into it. Her first attempt at a response feels inadequate, prompting her to hit delete and start anew. This process repeats itself, one draft after another, until she has five versions sitting in front of her, none of which feel right. With a huff, she deletes them all.

Just then the doorbell rings, pulling her out of her advice-column vortex. Leigh glances around, momentarily disoriented. It takes her a moment to recall that there's a party happening downstairs, and she's meant to be enjoying herself.

She’s halfway down the stairs when Jules's eyes land on her. Leigh freezes, as if she’s been caught red-handed. “I…couldn’t find the coupon for borrowing your clothes.”

Jules just smirks and arches an eyebrow, taking in Leigh in her dress. “Oh please, as if I ever keep track. Besides, that was just gathering dust after my ‘slutty Halloween phase’ as you so lovingly called it.”

“Cool! Perfect!” Leigh says, ignoring the backhanded comment. Her focus immediately turns to the front door as another guest arrives. “Hey, Dad!” she calls out.

Leigh’s dad walks in with his partner, and she greets them with a warmth that's been rare these days. He hands her a large, beautifully wrapped box. Leigh grasps the gift with both hands, shaking it gently, much like a child on Christmas morning. She’s thanking them when an old friend from high school she hasn’t seen in forever walks through the door, a bottle of wine in hand. Her mom swoops in like a hawk, reminding everyone it's a dry party in support of Jules's sobriety, and the wine is swiftly traded for a mocktail.

For the next hour, the house fills up. Leigh finds herself out back, tending to snacks, when a small line of people forms to chat with her. They each ask if she’s doing okay, their condolences tucked neatly between cheerful birthday wishes. Leigh’s smiling, but it's so fake even she is not buying it, mentally blacklisting half of these people for next time.

Just when the parade of condolence callers is beginning to fray her patience, one of her actual favorite humans finally shows up, saving her mood from souring completely. Drew looks striking in a simple black polo shirt, so much so that it reminds Leigh of the time Matt got all jealous over him, until Leigh let him in on the secret that he plays for the other team.

He passes her a little envelope, his birthday offering—a gift card. Leigh’s barely expressed her thanks over the simple present when he jumps right into feedback on her latest advice column.

“Read your puppy counsel on my way here. It felt a bit... casual, don’t you think?”

Leigh smirks up at him, arms crossed, the gift card crinkling between her forearms. “Just say it's terrible advice if that's what you mean.”

Drew purses his lips before relenting. “Fine. It was terrible advice.”

“Expect more of that if I tackle the stuff I’ve been avoiding. Still think it’s a good idea?” Leigh says, nodding like it’s exactly what she wants to hear. Drew lets out a sigh, swiftly steering the conversation away before their playful banter escalates into a disagreement. With Leigh, he knows all too well that the edge of an argument is always closer than it seems.

“Anyway, happy birthday, again,” he says, trying to lighten the mood again. “Ryan's tied up with work stuff, totally wiped, but he did wish you a happy birthday.”

Leigh’s face hardens slightly at the mention of Ryan. She’s been harboring this nagging thought that Ryan dislikes her, a suspicion fueled by a criticism she once shared with Drew in confidence, suspecting Drew might have passed it along. Drew, seeing her expression change, doesn’t rush to correct her assumption.

“He hates me,” Leigh concludes before Drew can even get a word out.

“He doesn’t—”

“What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t have kept it between us?” she demands, feeling betrayed.

“Because Ryan’s my person. I tell him everything. That’s how being in a marriage works,” he says, but the moment he sees Leigh's face fall, he wishes he could retract those words.

Leigh bristles, her voice rising, “I know how being married works!”

She's livid, because that should go without saying. How dare he imply that she no longer knows, now that she's only half of a whole—her best friend, of all people.

Drew exhales coolly, as if trying to douse the proverbial fire between them. “Why does it seem like we're always either fighting or about to fight?” he wonders aloud.

Leigh’s anger softens into something more reflective, and she sighs, the fight draining out of her. “I don’t mean to...” She trails off, searching for the right words. “It’s like I’m always ready for a battle. I don’t know why. It’s like I’m expecting it, waiting for it, at the end of every day.”

Drew lets the moment breathe, waiting for both of them to deflate completely before tacitly reaching out behind Leigh for a snack. “These are great, by the way,” he says between bites, acting like they hadn’t just been at each other's throats.

Leigh tries to match Drew’s candidness, but inside, she’s reeling. It bothers her, this pattern they’ve fallen into—her temper flaring up, followed by a quick brush-off, as if these outbursts are merely now a part of who she is. She hates that she’s become predictable in her volatility, that her explosions are met with a shrug and a wait-out-the-clock mentality from those around her. She’s tired of it, tired of being seen as a ticking time bomb, her anger and hurt dismissed as just Leigh being Leigh, waiting for the reset button to be hit so the countdown can start all over again.

But it's her birthday, and she's brought these people together on a Tuesday night for fun. She didn't gather everyone just to tell them, once and for all, that they need to stop acting as if her husband just died.

So, she goes with the flow, laughing when it's her cue, even though deep down, she feels more alone in the crowd than ever.

With the absence of alcohol, the party winds down by 11 PM. Guests begin trickling out as early as 10, and by the time Leigh is bidding farewell to the last attendee, she's already donned an apron, ready to take on the mountain of dishes left behind.

Which is to say, showing up right now pretty much means you've missed the whole party.

Pulling up in front of Leigh's house, the night already deep into its quiet hours, you’re running on the adrenaline of the day's emergencies. Two cases back-to-back at the clinic, one of them diving straight into surgery, left you no choice but to push everything else to the side. Suzie, who was meant to join you as your plus one, ends up stuck back at work, tending to a recovering St. Bernard, so it's just you and the sleeping puppy on your lap now. For her sacrifice, you promise to take her out to a nice lunch one of these days.

The puppy starts wagging its tail in its sleep, and you look down with a smile at the little dreamer. The decision to give Leigh the puppy wasn't made lightly. You've been turning the idea in your mind for a while now. Initially, you didn't even realize her birthday was coming up, and the invitation to her party caught you off guard, especially considering the somewhat unresolved way things were left between you two weeks ago. The timing of her birthday, your rocky history, it all made you second-guess whether a puppy was a good idea. In search of a voice outside your own head, you turned to a favorite advice column you often read in your spare time. To your surprise, your submission was picked up by one of the columnists, and the response you got wasn't just advice; it was the push you needed. You were lucky to be able to catch their answer, just before you got home to change for Leigh’s birthday party.

Trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach, you give yourself a quick once-over in the rearview mirror and apply a fresh swipe of nude-colored lipstick. With one last look, you carefully step out of the car, the sleeping puppy nestled securely in your arms. The moment you move, it stirs, burrowing deeper into your armpit, seeking refuge from the light of the street lamps.

Everything's too quiet as you walk up to Leigh's house. You anticipated some noise, music or chatter—anything to indicate the party was in full swing. But there are none. Could you have missed the party? Or worse, did Leigh get the date wrong on her invite? Hesitantly, you press the doorbell, instantly regretting it, thinking you might be waking up the whole house.

Just as you're about to bail, the door swings open and it's Jules.

“Y/N!” Jules nearly trips over herself getting to you, eyes wide when she spots the furball you’re holding.

“Hi Jules,” you mutter sheepishly.

“Is that a…” she squeaks out, already reaching for a cuddle before you've even nodded. Jules is all over the puppy, who seems just as happy to be the center of attention. After a while, she looks up, a bit more composed but still glowing.

“I didn’t know Leigh invited you. Too bad, you just missed the party. But you should definitely come in and say hi to Leigh,” she says. You want nothing more than to see Leigh again, even if only for a brief moment, just to accomplish what you came here for and perhaps wish her a happy birthday. But with the party over and you potentially being the only guest, it feels like walking into a situation you don’t think you’re prepared enough for.

Then, as the puppy licks Jules' face off, she pauses and looks at you funny. It clicks for her—no collar, no leash, just you and this puppy who appear no more than two months old.

“Oh my gosh, is this for Leigh?” Jules gasps.

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I-If she wants him.”

Jules looks at you, then at the puppy, her smile blinding. “Well, I want him. But if she doesn’t, I’ll be more than happy to be his mommy.”

You laugh at her enthusiasm. Still feeling skittish, you ask, “Do you think it’s an appropriate gift for Leigh?”

“You're a vet. It's kind of on-brand for you,” Jules quips.

You laugh again. “Really?” you ask, kind of hoping for a more solid reassurance.

Jules considers it for a second, before saying, “I can at least assure you it’s not unwanted.”

Good enough, you think. Jules hands you back the puppy and then says, “She’s in the kitchen. Look, she’s not exactly in a good mood, but I think you should go for it anyway.”

That’s two people egging you to go ahead with your surprise. It must be a sign from the universe. You make up your mind for the final time. “Thanks, Jules,” you say.

“Anytime.”

You tread lightly, making sure your footsteps don’t give you away as you approach the kitchen. Leigh is at the sink, doing the dishes, clad in a black dress that skims her thighs, her feet bare against the cool kitchen tiles. Her shoulders are slumped, her movements laconic, as if her body is there, but her mind is miles elsewhere. The expanse of skin revealed by her hair tied up in a high ponytail captivates you, holding you back from announcing your presence. You allow yourself a moment to take her in, thinking this might be the only chance you get to really look at her like this.

You’re about to say “Hi”, when Leigh whirls around, startling you both. Leigh, not expecting anyone to be there, loses her grip on the plate she's holding, and it smashes loudly against the floor.

“Jesus!” Leigh’s scream summons Jules and her mom into the kitchen. Meanwhile, you are trying to do damage control—holding the puppy with one hand and attempting to gather the ceramic shards with the other as Leigh continues to stare at you in shock.

Amy, wrapped in her robe, looks from the mess on the floor to you and then to Leigh. “What’s going on here?”

Jules is unfazed, simply watches the entire scene from a corner of the room, smirking.

Your cheeks flush with shame, and you find yourself grateful to be still seated on the floor, your back turned away from Leigh's family.

“I’m so—” you start, but Leigh cuts you off.

“Okay, everyone just...calm down," Leigh says. She kneels down beside you, her hands joining yours in cleaning up the broken pieces.

“I'm heading to bed,” Jules says and then winks at you. “Happy to see you, Y/N!”

Amy wraps her robe more snugly around herself, then with a small, puzzled shake of her head, says, “Well, good night everyone. And happy birthday again, sweetheart,” before she walks down the hall and out of sight. Leigh gets to her feet, a slight nod of appreciation directed your way as she holds open a trash bag for you to deposit the ceramic shards. That’s when the puppy finally catches her attention.

“And who's this little guy?” she asks, a smile starting to play at the corners of her mouth.

You clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. He’s yours if you want him. Don’t worry about refusing, there’s someone lined up to take him in case you’re not—”

But Leigh’s already gently taking the puppy from your arms, instantly cradling and bouncing him as though he’s a tiny human baby. It’s a sight both funny and utterly endearing, and you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle, feeling your heart grow a size or two.

“Who wouldn't want him? He's perfect,” Leigh says, her eyes not leaving him as he nestles comfortably in her arms. Hearing those words, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. She doesn't find it odd; she's already falling for him.

“Happy birthday,” you tell her, and when she looks at you, her smile is so bright it could light up the whole night. Right there is everything you hoped for. All you really wanted was to see her happy.

“Thank you so much,” she murmurs, clutching the puppy tighter to her chest. Then, cocking her head to the side, she inquires, “What's his name?”

The grin on your lips can’t be helped, and you’re hoping she wouldn’t see just how much she’s having an effect on you. “I haven’t named him yet. He was always meant to be yours, Leigh,” you say.

Her smile just gets bigger as she gazes down at the little furball in her arms, and you think this is exactly how things were supposed to go down. It’s one of those rare moments where reality lines up perfectly with expectation.

“I think I’ll call him Logan.”

You and Leigh retire to the living room after she kindly offers to make you decaf. As you settle onto opposite ends of the couch, tucking your feet under you, Logan instinctively takes shelter in Leigh's lap, as if he already knows he belongs there.

“So…Why Logan?” you ask, after making a mental note of how Leigh makes her coffee: one cream, two sugars.

“Well,” Leigh says, her fingers gently stroking Logan’s deep chocolate fur, “he just looks like a little wolverine, doesn’t he? With that color and those defiant little eyes.”

The dots connect in a funny, unexpected sort of way. Leigh and comic books don't seem like the most likely pair.

“Ah, like the X-Men character. I didn’t know you were a comic book fan,” you say.

She laughs, a sound that’s light and free of any shadows. “Oh, I wasn’t. Not really. It was all Matt. He had this massive collection, and he was pretty obsessed. I guess some of it rubbed off on me after all.” The mention of Matt doesn’t bring clouds into her eyes like you expected. She talks about him like she’s looking at something distant but dear.

“Thought you were bailing on me tonight,” Leigh , almost casual but there’s this undercurrent, like she’s really saying she’s glad you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I got stuck at the clinic longer than expected.” Leaving her waiting, especially today, was never part of the plan. Your work as a vet often means unpredictable hours, but you hadn't expected it to stretch so far into the evening.

“It’s okay, you didn’t miss much.”

Her casual dismissal makes you wonder, but not wanting to pry too much, you shift slightly, asking, “So, how did it go? Did you enjoy yourself at least?”

Leigh simply smiles and shrugs, an action that speaks volumes without giving much away. “This,” she nods down at Logan, “getting him from you, feels more like my birthday than anything else today.”

The conversation that follows is easy, skipping over the day-to-day stuff—nothing deep, but you're both there—really there—and it's nice. It feels like a fresh start, and you're deeply thankful for the second chance she's offering you. You promise yourself you won't mess it up this time.

But just as you’re both delving into more personal topics, someone rings the doorbell. Logan perks up, his head tilted, ears alert. Leigh gives you a look, as if saying she's not expecting anyone else to show up this late at night. She puts the puppy down on the floor and when she opens the door, it’s Danny, looking sorry for himself. He’s holding a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It seems as though he has the whole evening planned out in his head—apologize, crack open the wine, and maybe be invited to Leigh’s bedroom afterwards.

Danny’s eyes find you and his face falls a bit. He wasn’t expecting company, certainly not you. “Leigh, can we talk?” he asks, then looks pointedly at you. “Alone?”

Leigh looks torn for a moment, glancing your way as if she's not ready to let you out of her sight. She insists it'll just be a minute, but you can read the room. This is something they need to sort out without you playing third wheel.

“It’s all good, I'll head out,” you tell her though you're staring Danny down, making sure he knows it’s not because of him that you’re leaving. Leigh either misses the whole glare-off or decides to stay out of it. Logan tries to follow you as you make for the door. It’s hard leaving him behind, but you know he’ll be happy to have found his forever home. You kneel down, giving Logan a soft kiss on the head, promising him you’ll be back soon. And then you turn to Leigh, a question at the tip of your tongue but she already knows what you’re going to ask.

“You can see Logan anytime,” she says with a faint smile. “I might need your help with him sooner than you think.”

The moment you close the door behind you, Leigh's jaw sets in a firm line, bracing herself to confront Danny. Her main priority is to get Logan settled, so she decides that forgiving Danny might be the quickest way to send him on his way. But Danny’s focus now isn’t on apologies or making it up to her. He’s fixated on Logan, his brows knitting together in confusion and, curiously, a bit of annoyance.

“Who gave you that?” he asks Leigh as if he’s just referring to an inanimate object lying around the house. He sounds like he's almost accusing her of something, and Leigh's baffled.

“A friend gave him to me,” she says, nodding towards the door you've just walked out of. Danny's face twists up in an instant, like a storm cloud bursting. “A friend,” he repeats, and the way he says it, it’s clear he’s not just asking. He’s fuming with jealousy, and Leigh can’t wrap her head around why.

A gift is just a gift, right? Why would…

Oh.

Earlier, while she was reviewing submissions for the advice column, someone asked if giving a puppy as a birthday gift to someone they're interested in would be a good idea. She remembers how she happily encouraged them, telling them to go for it.

At this realization, Danny, the puppy, and everything else slide to the back burner. The only thing occupying her mind now is the deep, dark brown hue of your eyes, like rich espresso.

EspressoEyes. That's how the person behind the submission signed off. It's like a lightbulb moment, but softer—like waking up slow.

It's you.

Oh.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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anonymous-dentist · 8 months

Text

Okay I did some vod searching and here’s Cellbit’s pov of the prison announcement (in the form of a pretty badly clipped video lol)

A couple of things to note:

The silence

The stammer

The knife

The eyes

First, the silence, because it could be easy to miss from another pov because he was already pretty quiet before. But you can see the literal second it registers what Forever had just said because the change in the silence is palpable. He didn’t even raise his voice above the noise when he asked Forever if he was being serious.

Second, the stammer. This is a man who is very good at talking. Look at him during the presidential debates, nothing was able to keep him from talking, not even his own suicide. But then here he… can’t talk. He’s that shocked, and he’s terrified. See:

Third, the knife. Now this knife. Now this knife. It’s his emotional support murder knife. He only brings it out when he feels scared, and it’s gotta be a real deep fear for him to bring it out. It’s only been a few times, namely when he’s been triggered over his past, most notably when he and Richarlyson explored the Federation prison after Pac’s kidnapping.

And then fourth, the eyes. After he takes the knife out, Cellbit’s eyes flick back and forth between Forever the audience in what appears to be genuine confusion. Because, and this is important, Forever never told Cellbit about the prison. So between the fear and the Horrors, there’s some actual legitimate confusion in there because he didn’t know about this.

So now, after all that, let’s take a look at q!Cellbit’s character in general because I know there are people who don’t know about his very tragic backstory.

So Cellbit was in prison for… something. Probably murder tbh, but that was never confirmed. He was in prison with Pac e Mike and he was a really bad person. As in, murdering people, threatening people, ripping human ears off, stabbing, inciting riots (I think???). He killed Felps. He almost got Pac and Mike to kill each other.

And then, after being left to die alone on an island, Cellbit got some goddamn help for the first time in his life.

Before prison, he was in a war (ie the Hunger Games.) Then he was in prison, and the math is hunting towards him being incarcerated prior to his eighteenth birthday. He was 18-ish when he was in prison, and he’s 26 now, and he spent those eight years in therapy. Now he’s a better person, and he’s a very scared person.

He has many triggers, but the one that’s come up the most has been prison. He killed Abueloier that first time because they were in a prison-like cell. After hearing that Pac e Mike were arrested, he almost became another person as he interrogated Foolish (just watch that vod back, the whiplash is there.) When exploring the Federation’s prison, he was visibly on edge, clutching his emotional support murder knife and tensing when he saw all of the cells and almost stabbing Cucurucho when it appeared. Foolish asked if he could arrest him, Cellbit immediately turned him down, and he went behind his husband’s back to convince Foolish not to arrest him, either. (I’m not sure if he knows in-character about the prison cell in the new murder mystery game, but he will Not be happy if he gets put in there.)

So. Prison.

He wants to be a better person, is the thing. Cellbit doesn’t like thinking about who he was as Cell- he canonically even avoids cellphones when he can (see: Abueloier.) But he can’t help what happens when he’s triggered: he killed Abueloier, he almost attacked Cucurucho and risked his whole new infiltration plan. He’s worried about hurting someone again, because he knows he’s capable of it. He might not be the best at pvp, but that doesn’t matter when half the server is just as bad as he is (/affectionate.)

He doesn’t want to hurt his family, and there being a big huge physical trigger all of a sudden in the form of this prison he wasn’t ever told about has clearly made him realize that, oh shit, this could be bad. Bad for himself, and thus bad for others.

#qsmp #long post #idk guys I’m just thinking here #I’m very tired hah

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poppadom0912 · 2 months

Text

Excuses

Warnings: Mentions of fainting, diabetes, canon-typical injuries

Summary: You suffer the consequences just because your teacher thought you were making excuses.

A/N: First fic of 2024!!! I had plans that I was going to post weekly in the new year just like last year but things went downhill. This january and february has had its very good but also really bad moments and even writing this was a struggle. I've found myself in a weird place of wanting to write but struggling and all of a sudden not being able to balance my schoolwork and writing. So I took a lil step back to solely focus on my work but looking at everything now, my fic updates will be much less frequent but hopefully just as or if not, more fun to read.

I feel bad for not saying or posting anything since the new year but I'm here now and hopefully will be more alive. I've got lots planned for you beautiful people, several series and way too many fics in my drafts that I cannot wait for you all to read. This wasn't as long or as juicy as I intended but my brain completely failed me so I hope this is good enough. I initially wanted to post this at the beginning of March but I finished the final editing today so here you go!!

Final note before we start, I have general knowledge about diabetes but that's all from my grandma. I have no idea if it's the same for teenagers so I'm sorry for any mistakes. Happy reading!!

Your biology teacher had been on maternity for three weeks now and you were seriously contemplating life.

Because of the crappy rules surrounding maternity leave, when your teacher refused to return before her three months ended, your school had a supply teacher fill in for her till she came back.

Since day one, you knew you hated her.

It was mid lesson and you knew as soon as you started feeling sluggish that your sugar levels were dropping. Your thoughts were only confirmed when your Dexcom receiver let you know of your decreasing glucose.

This wasn't a usual occurrence. Will and Jay always made sure you had eaten enough and you had the means to maintain the needed glucose levels so that nothing happened.

Alas, you were up late revising and you were stressing about keeping up your good grades. Jay was rushing you out the door because he needed to go to a scene he'd just been called to and Will was out walking Kol and hadn't seen you leave.

In conclusion, it'd been a hot minute since you last ate something.

The school were well aware of your diabetes. It was one of the very important things your brothers stressed them about when you first started.

Most students knew about it actually, having seen your Dexcom and not understanding since a diabetic child apparently wasn't common according to them.

So, when you randomly pulled out a snack from your bag mid class, no one questioned it and instead would make sure you were okay. There'd never been a problem before in school and everyone wanted it to stay that way.

However, this new teacher, Mrs Byrne was apparently completely unaware of your medical condition.

"Y/N. You know the rules about eating in class." She said strictly, pulling away all the attention from the board onto you.

She stopped you in the middle of opening the packet of fruit gummies. You frowned, looking at her confused along with your classmates.

"I have diabetes." You said bluntly, continuing to open the packet. "I don't eat this and I'll pass out."

Mrs Byrne only rolled her eyes, smiling at you condescendingly. "I've heard that excuse hundreds of times, give those to me."

You scoffed at the audacity, refusing to hand over what was yours.

It was when she started walking towards your desk with a pep in her step that the entire class got involved. Their raised voices overlapped, some angrier than others over what was happening.

However, you too were Stubborn alike to your brothers so you kept as firm of a grip of the packet. You turned a blind eye to the anger fuelled cover teacher. You continued to smile as she spewed threats of all sorts.

Due to your frustration and annoyance over the teacher who wanted to take your gummies away, you didn't notice how everything started change; how hard it was to move your eyes and lips, your limbs getting heavier and you thoughts slowly getting muddled up.

Lost in a daze, you were no longer able to fight back when she pulled harder, successfully snatching the small packet out of your hands. It was now that the class got furious, your friends were already up and at your side but now they were verbally attacking the teacher.

Fed up with her petty behaviour, you were going to get up and go to the nurses office who would take care of you but getting out your seat was harder said than done.

With one of your friends help, you weren't too sure who was helping you from your hazy sight that cleared when you blinked too many times.

You were wobbly on your feet, taking slow and hesitant steps towards the front of the classroom but before you could leave, you felt your legs give out and everything went black.

*****

It turned out that supposed crime scene that he was imminently needed at was nothing but a prank by a bunch of college boys resulting in a grumpy Hank putting them in cuffs and having them fined for a very reasonable reason.

That's how the rest of the unit found themselves finishing up paperwork, catching up about life in general as they debated what they were getting for lunch.

Jay was smugly sitting back, eyes flickering between Kevin and Adam who were bickering over something trivial when his phone rung, catching everyone's attention.

They were all so bored and normally when one of their phones went off during work hours, it meant something came up and they were needed.

In interest, everyone turned their heads towards Jay and waited for him to tell them they got a crime scene.

Picking up his phone, Jay's brows furrowed at the number, confused as to why your school was calling him in the middle of the day. They'd only call him if two things happened: You'd gotten in trouble or you got hurt.

"Hello. Is this Y/N Halsteads brother Jay?" A voice he couldn't recognised asked, most likely some lady from the main office.

"Yeah, that's me." Jay confirmed, sitting up in preparation for whatever he was going to be told.

"So sorry to interrupt you sir but Y/N collapsed in class." The lady said with guilt laced in her words. "Your other brother didn't pick up the phone. We called to let you know we had to call the paramedics and they've taken her to Chicago Med."

"Uh yeah." Jay said, collecting his jacket and keys. "Yes, thank you."

Not waiting for a reply, Jay hung up and quickly knocked on Hank's office door frame.

"Sarge, I gotta get Y/N-"

"Go get her. We're done here."

*****

Wanting to pull his hair out, Will rubbed his eyes in frustration, glaring at his patients scans that only confused him further. He was tired and was coming to half way through his twenty four hour shift.

"Dr Halstead- Uh, Dr Rhodes in T4." Maggie stumbled, looking down at her brick and making sure she read it correctly.

"What's wrong?" Will asked, confused as to why Maggie changed her mind which she usually never did.

"It's Y/N."

Now fully awake, Will followed Connor towards the ambulance bay where you were being rolled in. You were groggily sitting up on the stretcher, you hair a mess and a few scratches around your face and hands from when you fell.

"Sylvie, what happened?" Will asked the blonde paramedic while looking you over. He desperately wanted to check you over himself but let Connor do his thing. He really did not need Ms Goodwin on his case today.

"Teachers didn't tell us much but her classmates said she collapsed after not being able to eat." Sylvie relayed the minimal information she knew, shrugging her shoulders when the two doctors looked at her weirdly. "No one would tell us anything more."

"Y/N, it's Connor. Can you hear me kid?" Connor said while pulling out his penlight. He was like another brother to you, his concern just as high. "Can you tell me what happened?"

You groaned, mumbling nonsense with your eyes screwed closed. Your words were mostly unintelligible but Will understood them mere seconds later.

Fixing the problem you complained about, Will turned down the lights and let Connor continue fussing over you.

It didn't take long to find out the cause of your collapse, Will sighing at the news when he read the numbers from your tests.

"I thought she was always on top of her sugar levels." Connor said, closing the room door so you could sleep in peace.

And what he said was completely true but they weren't aware of why you couldn't today specifically of all days.

"She is." Will said, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration. "Maybe her dexcom malfunctioned or something."

Connor hummed, agreeing with his friend.

"Hmm, maybe."

*****

Arriving at Med, Will gave Jay a detailed rundown of everything he new about your medical state but also the events pre your hospital arrival.

Getting a good look at you, holding your hand in his and kissing you on your forehead, Jay was more than happy to leave you in your oldest brothers safe hands while he got to the bottom of this entire ordeal.

He noticed Sylvie was still at Med, Foster mentioning they were running low on a few supplies so they needed some stocking up. Jay took this opportunity to interview the two paramedics and try to get further understanding on this situation that wasn't making much sense to him.

Arriving at your school, Jay had some thoughts in mind but they weren't very concrete and his confidence wasn't as strong as he'd like it to be.

Walking into the school, Jay immediately noticed an entire class sitting and standing around in the corridor waiting in front of the principals office.

One of the girls who had been sitting in a chair had caught sight of Jay, her eyes widening before she smiled, gently nudging the girl next to her and pointing in his direction. The girls reaction was the exact same.

This created a sort of domino effect as the boy next to her noticed Jay and everyone was telling the other of his sudden arrival. The once silent corridor was now beginning to fill with murmurs and whispers, all their eyes glued onto his figure that moved down the corridor, their shocked faces quickly changing into smiles and smirks.

It seems that Jay had a reputation of sorts.

"Why are you making so much noise? What did I just say about talking-"

The principal cut himself off from his scolding when he suddenly noticed Jay's presence, his face blanching as all the pieces clicked into place.

"Detective Halstead! What a surprise, we weren't expecting to see you so soon-"

This time Jay cut him off, not too bothered about his lack manners. "My brothers with Y/N at the hospital so I thought there was no other perfect time."

The principal remained silent.

"Now, why don't you explain to me why my sister fainted under your watch?"

The students behind Jay couldn't help but snicker knowingly.

#onechicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #halstead sister #jay halstead #will halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x sister!reader #will halstead x reader #will halstead imagine #will halstead x sister!reader

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meraki-sunset · 9 months

Note

Hi Meraki!

Can you draw Carapaces at different points in their lifespan? I wanna see babies, kids, and the elderly chess pieces.

Sure bro. here are some chess people and some headcanons i have

🧸👶BABIES!👶🧸

It's not confirmed if carapace can reproduce naturally or if they can only multiply using the ectobiology machines.

On sburb, the chess people are born as adults and with a specific purpose, with a barcode on their wrist to identify the, i guess, model. So there are no babies on Prospit or Derse.

The babies the players made in the post credits would be the first carapace children to exist.

I headcanon that they're born with a full set of teeth that fall eventually, like with any other child. They're a little more squishy than an adult carapace but less than a human baby

i also though it'd be cool if sometimes they got black or white spots

(Also, even if chess people remember living for years before the arrival of the players, they effectively began to exist the moment the first player enters the game, those memories being an illusion, same as how, when you buy a game and turn it on, the NPCs might tell you about their childhood, when in reality, they were never kids in the real world, they were rendered as adults for the purpose of being there in the game. The same happens with the chess people)

🎈🎀KIDS🚀🪁

Like before, there are no carapace children in sburb, but I imagine they would be the quiet type of kids. Not necessarily shy, but not very talkative. They would have a lot of energy and due to their physical endurance, they would play outside a lot, sometimes a little too rough with the human and troll kids

⚽⛱️TEENS🎮👗

I guess this is the period where they would become more vocal.

Also, I can see many of them using a lot of hats/accessories as a form of self-expression. Suction-cup accessories would be their own version of hair clips and scrunchies

👠👓ADULTS💍🎓

They're the strongest, a lot of them have more pointy features than their teenage counterparts, some may retain the round face into adulthood, but they would still be sturdier than a teen. Their hands have now fully developed claws. They aren't strong enough to open a can, but they can hurt

EarthC adult carapace specifically would be more talkative than Sburb's carapace. Also, not having a predetermined role to fulfill, they would be more similar to humans. If you dropped one of them on one of the sburb moon, they would stand out a lot.

🌙SBURB CARAPACE🌙

Just some apreciation of the canon characters.

i love them to death

👨🏻‍🦳ELDER👩🏻‍🦳

Last but not least, the elderly carapace. Sburb carapace didn't seem able to age, or at least they did so very slowly, because their purpose was to live long enough to act as sort of guides to the players after being exiled.

I suppose they can grow old eventually, specially the ones born outside the game, as babies, they most likely have a shorter lifespan that their Prospit/Derse counterparts.

Probably you can tell they're old because of the damage to their external carapace, which isn't as hard as it used to and their posture, product of time taking a tool on them.

As for wrinkles, they're only visible in their faces, which are softer for facial expression, but they don't even get that many

(also, just so you know i cried drawing the chicken grampa carapace, he knows his wife loves birds so he bought her a chicken, that's not exactly the kind of bird she expected but loves it regarthless, the chicken's name is gertrude, the grampa loves gertrude, she's a shicken orb, a chorb if you will. they're all happy, i would die for chicken-grampa)

And that's all, that's how I imagine EarthC carapace work. They're not so different from the Sburb carapace, but they get to experience growing up and deciding what to do with their lives.

i really love the species and i want to explore them more in the casu epilogue

#homestuck au #crow strider au #csau extra

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sepublic · 5 months

Text

In lieu of my latest reblog about people taking compelling characters and projecting their writing onto some other (usually white) dude, I want to bring up a post I had drafted all the way back from April, but never posted because at the time I still had enough patience not to. But now is different. I do think this analysis is a bit outdated because it doesn’t consider the mediocre white dude angle of Belos that I find paramount, but it’s good enough for my repurposed point.

I find it funny when some people complain that the narrative was unfair to Belos despite his “trauma” and circumstances, like there aren’t multiple characters out there who parallel his issues, and get sympathy AND a redemption, in all but one case! Belos is narratively condemned not for what he has in common with others, but for what sets him apart, particularly his stubborn ego. Cases in point;

“Belos deserved to have sympathy for having an unhealthy attachment to his more confident sibling that was mixed with resentment over being abandoned for someone else, culminating in guilt over hurting them and regretting it!”

Lilith exists. She’s motivated by a massive inferiority complex with Eda, Gwen favors her. She’s clearly salty about Eda going off to have fun with Raine, and claims to Luz that she’s Eda’s ‘real’ family. She cursed her sister and felt enormous guilt over it… But in the end, Lilith IS given sympathy by the narrative, and the chance to redeem herself. And she takes just that.

A lot of the people claiming Belos deserved better theorize that stabbing Caleb was an accident, and you know what? So was the permanence of Eda’s curse, Lilith expected it to only last a day and certainly not transform her sister. But Lilith still owned up. And she learned to make other friends while respecting Eda’s boundaries.

“Belos was an orphan raised in a culture that encouraged genocide and a hatred of wild magic!”

Caleb exists, he went through the exact same childhood as Philip, but still chose to change. And while they weren’t orphans at the time, Hunter and the Collector were also raised on genocide, taught to find wild/Titan magic apprehensive. But they loved it instead.

“But Belos actually lost his brother, his loved one died!”

So did Hunter’s! And he was shown to be snappy and aggressive, pouring himself into a mission to cope! But he still owned up, apologized to Willow for rebuking her. He lost Flapjack, and instead of making replicas of his lost loved one to keep to himself, discarding anyone that wasn’t close enough, Hunter made a diverse array of palismen for other kids, to give them the loving relationship he lost! Even his own palisman was clearly carved to be different from Flapjack, reminiscent but still their own thing.

Then there’s Darius, who lost his mentor the previous Golden Guard; His own ‘Caleb’, so to speak! And he was also unpleasant about it, he took his grief out on Hunter, who had nothing to do with this! The canon audio diaries even confirm the apprehension has been going for a while… But Darius realized he was wrong to have projected onto Hunter, made up for this by practically adopting the kid and giving this kid the happy ending his mentor didn’t have; Passing the cycle of kindness the Golden Guard started. And his own grief is pointed out to the audience by Hunter himself.

“They should’ve shown how having a hero complex and a desire to live out a fantasy can corrupt anyone!”

Luz and the Collector. Luz herself makes these comparisons for Belos, and there were times where she hurt her friends trying to live out her fantasy, and/or planned to leave them under the impression she was doing the ‘right thing’. Luz makes a legitimate consideration that she could’ve been Belos, if she refused to listen to others and change. But Luz owned up! As did the Collector, whose escapism and wish to play the role of the ‘hero’, in this case Luz, causes them to do some pretty terrible things. But they still change after being called out, and are still given sympathy over the loneliness and trauma that fueled their escapism, as was Luz.

"Philip struggled with getting over a different type of fantasy, one that relied upon him conquering and hurting others!"

As did King! And King got over that, he quickly learned that other people would always be more important than his fantasies, even if the 'sacrifices' were a lot more minor. King started off the same, the difference is that he still grew up and that's why we judge his antics as so much more light-hearted.

“Well that’s not fair, Philip’s examples were more extreme!”

How about Eda’s curse? Belos never brings up his other sources of trauma as an excuse for his actions, but you know what he does invoke? His curse, claiming to Hunter and Luz that it forced him to act certain ways. But we see Eda, who got a rawer deal with her curse; She didn’t bring it upon herself, as Belos did. She legitimately loses control when it takes over. She scarred and disabled her father because of it, and you know what?

Eda never uses her curse as an excuse. She never lets that justify what she’s done to people, and she even befriends the creature at the source of her curse, the Owl Beast. The curse she deals with is objectively worse, objectively more unfair, than Belos’. But it’s only Belos who actually cites his curse as an excuse, and the palismen at the source of it? He kills them.

“Belos’ cursed form is treated as ugly and evil!”

The palismen amalgam in his mind looked almost exactly the same, to the point where Hunter, who had seen Belos’ cursed form in person before, thought they were identical. But in the end, the palismen amalgam, despite resembling Belos’ cursed form, is a sympathetic and tragic victim who is murdered. Luz and Hunter mistaking him for Belos is justified, but it’s also still regrettable that they are judged by appearances.

“It hurts people to sacrifice their morals for the greater good, you know!”

Raine did that, they felt compelled to drag Darius and Eberwolf (one of whom was a childhood friend) into a murder-suicide, because as far as they knew, they were already going to be caught and executed, so may as well take their oppressors down with them! And they aren’t called out for it, because they couldn’t have known about Darius’ actual intentions…

Because in the end, sometimes you have to punch a fascist, and sometimes you have to oppose a friend or loved one because they took the fascists’ side. It’s why Lilith is expected to change for Eda, not the other way around. Raine is not the aggressor here, it’s all from the principle of self-defense for themselves and the isles as a whole.

And in the end, it’s because Raine is approaching from a place of actual good intent and moral concern that there are lines they still refuse to cross; As soon as they learn about Luz and King, they sabotage their own plans because they refuse to orphan these kids they just found out about for the ‘greater good’. When one of those very kids, Luz, makes Raine promise to keep Eda safe, you can see the conflict between their morals and their obligations in their eyes as Eda accepts the Bard sigil, and ultimately Raine powers through the draining spell to save Eda’s life, simply because Luz asked them to.

I’ve talked since their debut of how Raine has some similarities to Belos, in particular how they both work their whole lives to infiltrate a group from within to topple it, even as they publicly support it as a celebrated leader. They both had to lie and work under the radar, and make effective rhetoric; They each wear their own masks. Raine has to constantly lie to and rebuke Eda about being brainwashed, and we can see the moral agony it gives them!

But Raine is opposed to a legitimate threat, whereas Belos is completely making one up; Raine has to work under the micro-management of tyrants with control over them, Philip has been free from his colony for centuries, and even after finding out Gravesfield gave up on its witch hunting mission in the present, still traps himself of his own will. Belos feels no guilt for any of his ‘necessary evil’.

Raine had actual morals unlike Belos that they did sacrifice, for an actual greater good, and they actually hurt over these choices. They dedicated their whole life to stop a dark and twisted parallel, which makes their inclusion in the finale as the only person outside of the core trio to help against Belos all the more deserved; They even help deliver the killing blows. And Raine is rewarded for all of their effort, allowed to see it come to fruition and rest happily afterwards, because they really were sincere, and actually did make sacrifices, something Belos preaches but never follows. Most importantly, Raine knew they couldn’t justify everything even for their morally-justified mission.

“Belos was still legitimately wronged by Caleb for nothing, he didn’t deserve to be abandoned!”

Even if we believe Caleb did ‘abandon’ Philip or whatever; The Collector was legitimately wronged by the Titan, imprisoned and isolated for millennia despite being innocent. But while he justifiably calls the Titan a bully, he never takes this out on King, or any other Titan for that matter, remembering the rest with love. Nor is the Collector expected to forgive the Titan; The Titan accepts she made the wrong call. After all, imprisoning the Collector left them in a vulnerable state to be exploited by Belos, and give him the draining spell…

The Titan and Caleb’s mistakes were very much that, but the Collector matured for others, without needing an apology from the dead person who wronged him. And based on what we see of Belos’ memories, Caleb probably DID get to deliver that apology when he was alive, and Philip still insisted on being bitter!

“His only childhood friend just ditched him for someone else!”

That’s what happened to Willow, and that’s how she understood it for most of her life; Amity leaving her behind because she was too weak, and kids like Boscha and Skara were more popular, stronger, etc. But not only does the show say her rage against Amity is totally warranted and that the onus is on Amity to apologize, even if she didn’t choose to leave Willow (keep in mind she still saw Willow as a weak person to protect without input, as we later see in Labyrinth Runners)…

Willow is still kind. She still opts to be compassionate to Gus, and to Luz, and in general a nurturing person despite her abandonment. And when Willow is given the chance to take revenge on Boscha by stealing her glory in Grudgby, she doesn’t kick the girl while she’s down to do so; But Willow is also allowed to still hold anger towards Boscha, as we see in Season 3. And assuming Caleb wasn’t malicious about leaving Philip behind, we clearly see how he welcomes his brother back and wants things to get better, just as Amity does; He had his own side of the story. And Willow doesn’t kill Amity despite being primed to very easily do so…

"But imagine finding out they CHOSE to leave you, when you thought they didn't!"

Camila?!?! In fact, Camila was THE precedent for this, and people went and applied her tragic scene to Philip to make HIM into some angsty sadboi! And last I checked, Camila didn't exactly murder Luz... Plus, Philip had infinitely more time to see Caleb and Evelyn interact, and thus figure out that Caleb wasn't being kidnapped or brainwashed; Compare that to Camila who is just dunked into that situation out of nowhere, and is barely even adjusting to Vee's existence on top of finding out Luz was someplace else the entire time, and dealing with Jacob.

"A lot of family members at least start off as well-intentioned when hurting loved ones, they could've shown that!"

Bold of you to assume that Belos' selfish entitlement towards Caleb is the same as Camila or Gwen's legitimate concerns for their daughters; They did unconditionally love and they were misguided. But when shown they were causing pain, they actually shifted gears instead of focusing on how they were fight because they knew better. And what they were doing WAS still harmful, even though they DID care.

“Belos was probably a weirdo himself, and suffered from internalized hatred for his deviancy!”

Lilith dyed her hair to fit in with the coven, and be taken seriously. Amity suppressed herself to be a stoic perfectionist, constantly trying to justify her own existence as she says; She had to work to be good at magic while others like Gus, Emira, and Edric were naturally talented, and was made to hate those who weren’t successful as witches. Hunter too loathed his own lack of bile magic!

Most tellingly, Camila herself was taught to hide her weirdness, grew up thinking she was successful for doing that, and even tried to impose the same on Luz because of that misconception! But Camila realized what was done to her was wrong, and the same applied to her daughter; Accepting Luz’s weirdness meant accepting her own.

“Even if he still chose to double down in villainy, Belos could’ve at least been given a moment where he was sympathetic, where his sadness was shown, before nevertheless deciding his fate!”

Kikimora had an entire episode where she agonized over her obligations to a mother that seemed low key abusive, given her threat to disown her. We see her hesitate, cry, and be legitimately disappointed when she’s rewarded for staying with Belos by ‘getting to live’, a reward that doesn’t even last by the Day of Unity! Even after Kikimora makes her choice to betray Luz and Amity, we still get a final scene of her looking uncertain and even regretful of her decision, before she commits. Kikimora isn’t redeemed but is still humanized, despite being less human than Belos, so to speak.

She’s even a dark parallel to Lilith, having jealousy towards the Golden Guard, an emotionally abusive mother, and an inferiority complex towards other members of the coven despite working directly with Belos! And she is given many chances to escape Belos, a few months where she is legitimately free from him, and chooses to remain in her ways because Kikimora’s difference with Lilith isn’t that life was more unfair to her, it’s that she refused to change.

Now this is a bit out there, but there’s also the other Coven Heads! Mason, Vitimir, Hettie, and Osran! The show was shortened, so who knows what they could’ve provided for the story… Mason, Hettie, and Osran especially, since they’re not included amongst the coven head loyalists who still cling to power, even after Belos’ death. The show could’ve easily set up sympathetic moments to indicate a possibility of change, paying off in the epilogue; But because of Disney, you can’t blame the writers for not delivering everything they could’ve.

“How about a character who was just… an asshole, no outside reason given?”

Boscha, who was popular and privileged. While she does allude to some pressures that motivate her, as far as we know, there wasn’t really anyone or anything that made her be so cruel towards those she perceives as lesser. But despite this, Willow doesn’t see any point in trying to take Boscha’s spotlight as a Grudgby captain, when offered by her teammates; She doesn’t kick Boscha when she’s down. And Boscha is ultimately still recognized as unhappy with the loss of her friends, so even if she does do egregious things during the Collector’s reign, Amity offers Boscha the chance to become better and improve, as she did. And she takes it!

“Well, none of these characters had to grapple with having done things nearly as bad as Belos!”

And why do you think that is? Why are Belos’ sins so monumental in comparison, how did they get so bad? Because he kept refusing to change, kept refusing each opportunity, and got worse because of that. His first confirmed murder was Caleb, who right beforehand embraced his brother during what appeared to be a manifestation of the curse. But Philip still chose to commit his first sin despite receiving such unconditional sympathy, because he wanted control, not happiness. He didn’t start off as a genocidal dictator, he worked his way up to that over centuries.

“They make it seem like Belos was born evil!”

Our earliest chronological appearances of Philip are as a happy, carefree child who plays games with the brother he loves and looks up to; That isn’t the portrayal of someone ‘born’ evil. This is the portrayal of someone who became that way, over time, because he refused to concede anything to anyone, and wore away what decency he had across centuries, until we see the Emperor that Belos is when the show starts.

An evil dictator who ravaged an entire world for hundreds of years came from an innocent little kid, and Luz becomes self-aware of how this can apply to her, even as she’s reminded that she also ISN’T like Belos because of this critical reflection and willingness to listen. Belos, on the other hand, consciously cultivated an echo chamber for centuries, killing any Grimwalker he felt disagreed with him, despite their unconditional love and support. He deliberately shut himself off from the isles and ignored the kindness of others.

Bump reminds Faust that it’s disingenuous to project malice onto children who often simply don’t know any better, and just need to be given a chance to be taught and educated. But kids also have to take initiative to mature when they get older, hence why we hold adults more responsible; The established logic is that Belos wasn’t an evil child, he was simply a child who never grew up and that’s where his evil came from, rather than being some pre-existing source.

To be honest, I think the narrative doesn’t bother showing sympathy to Belos over his trauma because he’s already HAD more than enough sympathy, across centuries, from his brother, the Grimwalkers, his followers, even Luz and the Collector! So the story doesn’t feel the need to waste tears on someone who already got them, and instead focuses sympathy to characters who haven’t received as much, if any; People like Lilith, Amity, Hunter, etc.

Belos is the culmination of other characters’ traumas (who prove you can still choose to be better and happier despite these things), and was practically coddled by the people in his life for it. But he still chose to be bitter, never opened up to accept help, and his rejection brought even more pain that he could only blame on himself. Belos’ only tragedy is his refusal to change for the better; Even the narrative has made it clear he had chances, tears wept for him by people he knew.

He is a mirror to so many characters, what could’ve happened if they looked at their own pain and used it as justification to continue lashing out, because clearly they are the underdog heroes who have been wronged and are fighting against an injustice, right? The hero of their own story, if you will. Hell, we still also get that with Kikimora, as I just said! What I’ve listed is not a double standard, but rather proof that Belos was not uniquely condemned by his circumstances, for he is alike many characters as I mentioned. And Belos does not need to be portrayed “sympathetically” in order for the audience to understand the relevance of these parallels; Namely, that Belos has no excuse to still be like this when those similar nevertheless choose not to be cruel, and will accept others’ compassion.

And besides, with how the show was shortened… Who’s to say the writers didn’t plan to throw Belos a sympathetic moment of genuine loneliness, before doubling down? Not that they really would’ve needed to. But if they planned it, the writers had to leave it out to prioritize the weirdos this show is actually about, due to the shortening.

#the owl house #emperor belos #philip wittebane #lilith clawthorne #caleb wittebane #the owl house hunter #darius deamonne #Luz Noceda #the owl house collector #king clawthorne #Eda clawthorne #edalyn clawthorne #raine whispers #camila noceda #the owl house boscha #fandom salt #white favoritism

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orbital-inclination · 11 months

Note

I requested more of the scenario Molt meeting og nightmare

I'm sorry for the wait anon! For a change of pace, you get a one-shot this time! word count: 3411 general content warning for canon typical violence and angst.

------------

Something grainy, like gravel and sand, crunched under the soles of his boots as he shuffled back a step. One looping tendril made contact with a roughly cut boulder behind him. The height of the stone reached his hip. Clumsily, he ran his phalanges along its surface. He stepped around it and stopped once he stood on the south side, uncertain of how to proceed from there.

It was rare that he found himself in a space so wide open without someone nearby. He’d like to think he was better at navigating now than he had been when he was younger. Yet, regardless of how much time passed, he could never seem to quite outgrow the sudden spike of anxiety he felt whenever he entered a space that seemed... empty.

He didn’t know what he was walking towards or away from. He could be approaching a canyon for all he knew.

A steady, lonely wind howled above him. It caught the tail of his tunic and the fabric slapped against his side. Something rustled in the distance.

The wind turned cold.

Ley lines of magic, negative and positive, wrapped around this world in a vast net of ever-shifting ripe tides. Instinct had directed him to follow the nearest positive swell but now he felt it move again. Bending as though to make way. Just as suddenly as the air had turned cold, a well opened up, and negativity cascaded down the pit and condensed into a single point of black frost.

A shiver ran down his spine. “Nightmare…?”

Something about Rem’s magic didn’t feel right—

“How unlike you to make the first move. Was it not enough for you to…” his brother’s voice trailed off. “You are not my brother.”

No... no he was not. Rem’s magic felt cold, but not this cold. Though, the undercurrent of bitterness was painfully familiar.

“… the sentiment is mutual,” Molt murmured. He steadied himself on the boulder behind him. Silently, he tried to gauge the other’s intent.

An air of suspicion and curiosity rolled underneath the cold. He had the sense he was also being appraised.

“And yet, you are Dream.”

He did not sound—did not feel happy about that.

“If it were not impossible, I would wager you were from a divergent timeline.”

“Our world had only one timeline,” Molt confirmed cautiously. His voice remained low. “… it’s tied to the multiverse itself. No resets. Just the one.”

“Ah, so you are informed,” his brother's voice mocked. “Your presence here suggests a paradox, then. For all my searching, I have never met another iteration of us who could breach the confines of their AU on their own. It seemed there was some law restricting the role of Guardian to Two.”

He nodded because that more or less described the situation back home. With a renewed sense of scrutiny, Nightmare said, “Can I assume then, that instead of your brother, you were the one who bit the apple?”

And Molt stalled. The question was so direct. It felt a bit like a verbal slap to the face.

Nightmare hummed. “I see. That expression you’re making... It makes sense for my alternative self to have other motives if you are like this yourself.” He heard the grin in his tone, even if he could not see it. “Tell me, Dream. What do you say to adding to that collection of yours?” He— he couldn’t be serious.

“In this multiverse, you have the opportunity to increase your power. If you collect the last apple from my brother, perhaps we can reach an agreement.”

His mouth felt suddenly dry. He had to consciously still his tentacles to keep them from lashing defensively.

“You… you want me to kill my counterpart.”

He struggled to wrap his mind around that. Less so the threat itself and more so that it was Nightmare who was asking him to do it. He felt sick.

His brother’s alternate rumbled a low laugh. “It would not be difficult for you. You dwarf him in raw power. I’m confident you could easily subdue him... Ah, but I see I cannot convince you. The thought distresses you. A pity.”

Gravel and sand crunched underfoot. The sound came quietly. “ … hmm just as I thought, you are blind.”

“...what are you doing?”

Nightmare was amused by the question. Dread washed over him. Nightmare had been speaking to him civilly until that point, and while this mirror of his brother gave off an ambient feeling of danger, he had not taken the feeling as seriously as he should have.

“I am considering what to do with you. Since it seems you are reluctant to cooperate. But you would be of a dull mind not to suspect that already. If you are anything like the thorn I have in my side now, I’m sure you will quickly surmise why I simply cannot let your existence go unchecked.”

Molt slowly shuffled a step back.

“… where do you think you will escape to? Are you even aware of what is behind you?”

Molt froze.

He sensed no one behind him but— the subtle rustle of fabric. A step was taken closer and it dawned on him that Nightmare had been trying to distract him.

Molt’s hearing was keen. It had to be. He learned to rely on it when sensing nearby emotions, and the flow of positive and negative wasn’t enough. But his haptic memory was better, and with one tentacle brushing against the boulder behind him, he knew which side he stood on and which direction he originally came from.

He darted around the boulder, squarely placing it between himself and Nightmare. His brother’s alternate self stood still, contemplative and mildly surprised.

“Hm. You cannot see, and yet you are able to pinpoint my position. Interesting.”

Molt didn’t feel like providing a reply.

Nightmare didn’t move for a width of time that felt like years. And then, he vanished. The cold sucked out of the air in a blip of distorted space-time.

Alarm seized him. Given no time to think, he picked direction and distance at random and took a shortcut through. As he felt his bones materialize in reality again, a dense frame of cold magic solidified where he had stood seconds prior.

Displeasure radiated off of Nightmare in waves. “Come now. Don’t run. It’s unbecoming. We can discuss the terms of your departure from this world with maturity.”

Molt shivered. “Don’t. I would return to my reality if I knew how.”

“Then allow me to assist you,” Nightmare said, and the malice in his words sent needles crawling up his spine. He vanished again in a wash of cold. Molt leaped back, grasping at the nearest tide of positivity to carry him away.

He found his feet again on the sand. The sudden incline made him stumble. The seconds it took to catch his balance nearly cost him. A frustrated growl and the sensation of ice to his right was the only warning he had before a sharp object whistled past his skull. He teleported again and Nightmare followed.

“Enough! Cease this childishness.” The burning cold struck his side. Molt tumbled to the ground. He rolled, gasping in pain, and launched himself to the side. “Stop! I don’t want to fight you.” A loud crack sounded where he’d just been. Gravel pelted his arm.

“Then what happens next is your own fault,” His brother’s voice snarled.

He took another shortcut. Aiming north of the dense vortex of cold desperately trying to put some distance between himself and his brother’s counterpart. He needed that distance to escape this AU. If he attempted the jump too close to Nightmare he might unintentionally drag him along, or Nightmare would be able to sense where he went and this fight would never end. The temperature plummeted. In a split second, a cold tendril snapped around his middle. And then he was flung. His body hit the ground once, twice, and his skull was knocked against something hard.

A hiss shuddered through his ribcage. Molt clenched his teeth as the world spun, attempting to swallow back the sound.

“You brought this on yourself, Dream.”

Gravel and sand crunched at a steady pace. Malice approached slowly.

He struggled to push himself upright. The ground beneath him swayed dangerously. His tendrils lashed, writhing in defense of their host. But the ground beneath him lurched, his arms buckled, and the ground swung up to meet the side of his skull again.

His soul pulsed so fast and hard in his chest, he thought he was going to be sick.

“Poetic, isn’t it? I wonder... did the same desperation drive you?”

Cold wrapped around him and slammed his back into a hard, stone wall.

Claws dug into his jaw, roughly pinning his skull to the stone slab behind him. A strained hiss tore from his bared teeth. He found the strength to wrestle one arm free and dug his claws into the wrist pinning his head down. Nightmare’s strength didn’t waver, but an involuntary noise rattled through him, a jolt that was close enough to a flinch to be nothing else.

Faintly, Molt felt the phantom echo of a hot brand race up Nightmare’s arm, starting from where his claws dug into his wrist.

“W-why are you doing this? I am not from your timeline, so why?”

“The distinction is irrelevant,” the grip on his jaw tightened. “This fate, it’s the least you deserve. For everything you put me through. For every day I was left to defend myself while you selfishly basked in undeserved praise.”

Exhaustion crept into his limbs. He felt weaker and heavier by the second.

“Would you have always resented me?” Molt gasped out. “If things had been different... If our lives had been better—”

Nightmare barked out a bitter laugh. “Even as you are now, you are naive. No. I cannot imagine a world where I did not hate you. For us, no other outcome was possible.” Molt flinched. “... you doubt me? Do you actually believe my alternate self doesn’t resent you?”

The knife in his heart gave a sharp lurch. It would make sense... wouldn’t it. For all he hadn’t done, who wouldn’t resent him?

“N-Night...”

“You neglected your responsibilities, Dream. You were selfish. I’ve always wondered if you had known what I stood to lose that day. If you had known what they had planned to do—” “Nightmare!” Molt snapped. He was terrified, his soul shook, and he was painfully cold. “That was my home too!” Something snapped. He felt the abrupt, quaking shift in Nightmare’s demeanor. Rage colored all rational thought. Molt didn’t know what he intended to do and he didn’t have time to think about it. That rage solidified into a single, sharp tool. Malice soaked the thing so vividly, he could almost see it. A serrated bone dagger.

Molt jerked his head to the side, the claws on his jaw slipped, and something sharp and blisteringly cold scraped the side of his skull.

He might have blacked out for a few seconds. He couldn’t be sure. One moment, his vision was black. Then it was white. He’d yanked a tentacle free in the next. A resounding crack thundered through the stone lab behind him. Nightmare’s grip on his head slipped, caught off guard. Molt kicked his shin, and as Nightmare staggered, snarling, he flash-stepped out of immediate reach.

A safe distance away he sank to the ground.

Head swimming, he lifted a shaky hand to the side of his skull. He felt bone. The dry, clean surface of a malar bone. The muddy, blurred shape of his palm swam in and out of focus.

Nightmare stood very still for a long moment. His emotions felt stunted and Molt could not identify the feeling that had rendered him so still. Moments ago, Nightmare had been content to hurt him in every possible way.

“Get up,” Nightmare said. And he couldn’t identify the emotion behind that command either. It felt like anger but brittle. “I said get up!”

A tremble racked through his body. He felt a forbidden spark of anger ignite in his throat and shakily rose to his feet.

As he slowly lifted his gaze, palm still pressed to the side of his skull, he saw black tar and went still.

It was one thing to guess the shape of the magic that had tossed him around the field like a rag doll, but it was another thing entirely, to see it.

The ground felt like it was tilting. Nightmare was taking too long to respond. And though he hid it well, he was clearly in pain. Head swimming. Pounding. Red-hot needles. Nausea pricked through his brother’s bones.

Nightmare took one step closer. Molt flinched back, and a bitter smile crawled over his brother’s teeth—

“NOT SO FAST!”

A sharp ping. His vision was eclipsed in hazy blue. Before Molt could blink, he found himself yanked to the side, several feet away.

He was released, gently at that, and stumbled once as gravity resumed its normal weight. The world erupted in a cacophony of noise. With color and light sloshing together, it was difficult to make out shape and form, but the stirring magic immediately in front of him was familiar.

“Blue?” Molt whispered, but like Nightmare his magic felt just slightly off. The hope in his soul withered. He was surrounded by strangers.

“MWEH HEH HEH FEAR NOT STRANGE INTERDIMENSIONAL CITIZEN! WE ARE HERE TO SAVE THE DAY. NIGHTMARE! YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS!”

Whatever his brother’s mirror said in reply it was drowned out by noise.

“Wait.”

But his voice was too low. Too quiet. And his plea went ignored.

Too much happened at once after that. The Swap Sans launched himself into the fight. Light. Movement. A flash of white. Bones summoned then shattered by the furious sweep of a black arm. Nightmare’s strength was weakening. The balance had tipped. And battling three by himself? Nightmare couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

Most of the fight happened too fast for his barely stable eyelight to track.

So he did what he always did when the world around him became too chaotic to follow. He reached for the cold pitch of his brother’s magic.

He followed the current of cold as it funneled into a singular point. Pushed back, and back again by a burning white star. Hope. Concentration. Concern for the other, yet the courage to see his actions through to the end. The familiarity of the magic here was disconcerting. But his head already ached something awful and he didn't think his nausea could get much worse. The phantom lashes he’d endured at Nightmare’s hand still burned. But... Nightmare. He felt his twin’s exhaustion, felt the unsteady slip to his heel, and his alternate was closing in now and—

The shortcut was rough. Poorly executed. And finding his balance on the balls of his feet was not fun. He raised his arm defensively, anticipating the attack seconds before, and found his hand closing around the pole of a golden staff. It smacked into his palm with a solid clank. It hurt only a little bit. His own magic absorbed the brunt of the blow to feed itself. To lessen some of his own pain. And staring into the wide eyes of his own face was...

Dizzying.

Everything was dizzying.

That startled look melted into one of fear, and it didn’t make sense. His own rib cage hitched, sharing that fear second hand and then it dawned on him how this might look. Oh. He thought. …oh.

He released his counterpart's weapon and yanked his hand back. The other skeleton flash stepped out of reach, his soul pulsing with the rhythm of a terrified rabbit.

Within the pool of frigid cold at his back, he felt a spark of something that felt suspiciously like gratitude. Nightmare struggled to stand for a moment, winded, then laughed. The sound was not pleasant. “Recklessness must be a universal trait.”

“That’s enough,” Molt rasped. “Please. Just stop…”

“You should have taken my offer when you had the chance,” Nightmare sneered, words bitting. But more than anything, they felt defensive. The darkness pinched into a small, black star, and then he was gone.

“I SEE. WAS I MISTAKEN THEN? ARE YOU AND NIGHTMARE ALLIES?” Blue had taken a defensive stance beside his teammate. His weapon was drawn, but he didn’t move yet. His soul hummed with grim focus. The suspicion hurt.

Molt struggled to speak for several precious seconds. Unsettled. He was reeling from the fight, from everything he had learned about this reality and the cruelty of his brother's words and actions and he was trying ever so hard not to let a tremble snake its way into his voice. It was very hard... to hear someone say those awful things in Rem’s voice.

He shook his head and said softly. “We aren’t.”

Blue’s brow furrowed. “THEN, WHY DID YOU DEFEND HIM?

The words ‘because he is my brother?’ were on the edge of his teeth but the hostile edge to Blue’s magic and tone made him pause. It was less a question and more of an accusation. And that answer wouldn’t have been exactly true besides.

The tendril on his back coiled defensively.

He hadn’t stopped to think before he leapt in front of Nightmare. It hadn’t been a “should I or shouldn’t I” situation in his mind. In that moment he was unable to look past the pain and hurt his brother’s mirror was experiencing. In that moment, the distinction didn’t matter. He had to put a stop to it, that’s all. He couldn’t fight his brother. In any form he took. He just couldn’t do it. It reminded him of too much. And he couldn’t stand to watch that either.

But how could he possibly explain that?

A step behind his teammate, Dream was trying to calm down. Blue’s presence helped but he was struggling. Molt took a step back. He was causing someone pain and distress. He didn’t want that. Blue’s stance shifted. Bracing.

That felt like betrayal too. Molt swallowed something bitter behind his teeth and tried not to think of it that way. Ignored that small part of him that hissed and felt a little bit angry. It didn’t make sense. He knew the person in front of him wasn’t his friend.

“FRIEND, I WANT TO GIVE YOU THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT BUT... YOU ARE ACTING SUSPICIOUSLY.”

“I’ll leave,” Molt said. His head was pounding, and the last thing he wanted was to be dragged into another fight. “Wait...” Dream took a breath. “You’re hurt. Stay for a minute, let’s talk.” “DREAM IS RIGHT, POTENTIAL ENEMY OR NOT, IT WOULDN’T BE RIGHT TO LEAVE YOU THIS WAY. NOT TO FEAR HOWEVER, I AM ALWAYS PREPARED!” “It’s okay. I don’t need candy,” Molt said and felt vaguely like he was reading the lines of a script. If Rem or any of the others were here, they’d be calling his bluff. “Then, what do you need?”

“Somewhere calm, with hope. That’s all.”

The two exchanged a look. Surprise, suspicion, resignation, dread. “I SEE. SO YOU ARE LIKE DREAM THEN. BUT SURELY THAT'S NOT ENOUGH. I... I CANNOT SEEM TO CHECK YOU FOR SOME REASON, BUT YOU DO NOT LOOK WELL.”

Blue seemed to ask to Dream something silently. Concern. Suspicion. Acceptance. Dream sighed. “I know somewhere. It’ll be okay. We’ll be keeping an eye on him together, right? The place I’m thinking of is isolated so...”

“IT’S SETTLED THEN.” he finally dismissed his weapon, and Molt felt the tendrils on his back slowly lower. “SO THEN, NEW FRIEND, WHAT DO YOU SAY TO A TRUCE? WILL YOU COME WITH US?”

He gauged their intent for a moment. Rem had sometimes remarked that his empathy made him gullible. But Molt was tired, and sore, and aching. The others weren’t here. And he let them make decisions for him too much anyway. He hated to admit it but Nightmare was right. Dream wasn’t a physical threat to him. He was scared and trying so hard to be brave, and Molt was trying equally hard not to feel rattled.

“Okay,” he said.

Blue made a noise, something between acknowledgment and mild confusion. Dream offered a strained smile. He supposed they had a lot of questions.

#orbital chatter #moltendreams!au #molten!dream #nightmare!sans #nightmare sans #OG Nightmare meeting Molten!Dream situation but its longer #it doesnt go well #ink arriving late w/ starbucks: so what did i miss?#everyone is gone #ink: wow so alot #one shot

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lovemyromance · 23 days

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Stops this madness!!

Like yes, I know every side of the fandom is guilty of twisting things in their favor but come on. COME ON.

There are theories and then there are people doing the splits, breaking their arm trying to make these egregious extrapolations and reaches.

I have personally, never denied the fact that Elucien were mates. In fact, I didn't even question that fact despite the Elriel theories swimming around - until HOFAS came out and we got confirmation the cauldron was wrong

Yes, their bond seemed so different than Feysand and Nessian, but I did not really say anything about it until I got canon confirmation that the Cauldron had been tampered with.

I did not twist canon text. I did not theorize beyond what is already there on the page.

So I hope you can see why, I am incredibly annoyed every time I see Eluciens trying to shit on every Elriel moment and twisting it to have some alternative crazy reasoning.

I'm not going to call anyone out because I don't usually go fighting on anti-posts (even though their blatant disregard for canon makes my eye twitch). But why did I see an anti post saying

"Oh, Azriel only went to go save Elain from Hybern's camp as a challenge from Nesta, because she said "then you will die". He was just trying to prove her wrong."

Like what? You are honestly telling me, someone read that scene, saw how Azriel defied all warnings and orders and said "I'm getting her back" when he is not her mate, not her sister, barely even her friend at this point, getting his wings shredded to save her, swaying on his feet from pain and blood loss but still not letting her go and demanding to get the chains off her -

You read that scene-the multiple chapters to cover it - and thought "Oh, he only did that to prove Nesta wrong?"

REALLY?

Why would he even want to prove Nesta wrong? Why would that even be a thing? Why would it be something he would risk his life for? Can you please explain? Is he suddenly beefing with Nesta in the middle of a war?

Sometimes... the most obvious answer is the right one. Sometimes when an author writes something, she means it.

Like half the headcannons and theories antis post are fine whatever, but why do they have to shit on beautiful Elriel moments? Your ship should be able to float on its own, and if it doesn't maybe that's a sign 🙄

Sorry Elucien doesn't have any positive interactions together. Sorry Gwynriel barely even interacts on the page, let alone romantically.

Be happy with your ship. And if headcannons and theories is all you have, then be happy with that because you chose to ignore canon and ship whatever. Don't go around trashing actual canon text and purposefully misconstruing it to make yourself feel better.

God I'm tired of this and I've literally only been engaging in this fandom for like a month. I can't imagine what people who've been here since 2016 have had to go through, y'all stronger than me for sure 😅

#elriel #azriel #elain archeron #pro elain #acotar #elain x azriel #elain #antielucien #antigwynriel

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always---wrong · 2 months

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Okay, so I wanted to discuss the situation with Alastor, his canonical sexuality, and fans.

I have seen the two sides alot.

So one side ships Al with numerous characters and sees this as casual fun.

And the other thinks this is disrespectful cause he is ace, or Aroace.

(I believe that he is Aroace. His va said so, his character has shown no interest in romance, and Viv may have confirmed it at some point)

Now, I am sex repulsed ace and I'm aro. And I have strong opinions. Alastor is my favorite character in Hazbin Hotel, he is also the FIRST confirmed ace character I've seen. (This doesn't include subtly implied characters) Because Al is the first and I care for him he is very important to me.

My opinion is really mixed because on one side it's; yeah, it is a fandom, and fandoms ship. It's what they do. Its also kind a rude to judge someone for their favorite pairings and stuff, in my opinion.

On the other side though I'm hurt. I am a queer person with basically no rep. And I hadn't realized how upset I was by this until I saw discourse over this character. I had FORGOTTEN that it was possible to have confirmed canonical ace characters. I had gotten so used to that just being a head cannon. And not only just an ace character but also an Aroace character. And not just that but a seemingly non sex favorable ace character. I would even argue he is sex repulsed.

My real problem with all this is:

Yes, I KNOW ace characters can have sex. But do you know who else can? Literally every single allosexual character. I KNOW aros can date. But you know who else can? Everyone else. The appeal of ACTUALLY having characters with the same sexuality as me is that they would be like me. Cause I and other aces like me never, ever get stories like that. So many times in media I would be enjoying a character who had shown NO interest in sex/romance and would suddenly be partnered up with another just for the heck of it. This has happened SO many times it's not even funny. It's incredibly frustrating.

So, the point I'm trying to make is that; YES, there are aces who have sex. HOWEVER, a large number of us do not. And it's like everyone forgets that. Your not writing Alastor having sex with Angel cause your showing the vast spectrum of asexuality. Your most likely writing it cause it's sex between two hot characters. It's simply maddening.

(One thing I wanted to say was, despite the fact that Al is ace i don't think it's bad to find him attractive. He is very pleasing to look at so I understand allos finding him hot. However I'm not sure where I stand with people sexualizing him. I think I'm leaning towards, 'please don't do it'.)

Now, the worst thing though is when I'm looking for content to enjoy. When I found out Al was canonically ace I was so happy and excited. I'm pretty sure this situation wouldn't make me nearly as frustrated if it weren't for the overwhelming amount of sexual content for Al. Some would be fine. I could just scroll past it if this were the case. But it is not. Content for Al is MOSTLY sexual. That's why I don't believe people when they keep saying they aren't invalidating aces because almost every time I go looking for a fic I have to scroll for HOURS just to find few non ship fics.

I can't even use the Asexual Alastor tag because all that does is bring me to a bunch of fics where the author is like 'he's ace trust me,' then proceeds to write smut.

Why can't I even use a tag made for aces without being drowned in smut. It's so frustrating! Like I'm getting to a point where I wish the authors would stop using the tag and openly admit they made him not ace for the story. Like I know your trying to not throw away his canonical sexuality but I mean at this point I think it'd be better if you did. And if someone is going to write sex favorable ace Al then please leave it to the aces. I trust us to at least weave it into his character instead of stating it and acting like it's there when it's not.

So basically: I don't mind if you ship him, just don't say he's ace or Aroace if your neither of those in ship/smut content. I'm sick of trying to find content that isn't sex/romance in Aroace tags!

I don't want to judge people for liking a ship. But I'm really tired.

ON A DIFFERENT NOTE, I would love to see content with Al and Lucifer. Like them hating each other to like frenemies. It would be so funny.

Anyone have any platonic content with Al and the rest of the cast???

#aroace #alastor #hazbin hotel #asexual #aromantic #fandom

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percheduphere · 3 months

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honestly I'm more at a loss when people say sylki is canon. I am...very confused by what people mean by that. they were never anything romantic together? I honestly feel like I've missed a whole season of the show when that gets said. that's not from a shipping standpoint; that's from nothing happening that'd make them "canon"

like, to ship sylki is still to ship something that isn't and didn't become "canon". it's still wanting something that didn't happen between them

like, even if sylvie was an intended "love interest" (was she? even? on the basis of her being a woman that loki connects with?), I don't call that alone a romantic relationship between them being "canon". Like, if elizabeth bennet and mr darcy never became anything, they're not "canon". that's just something that could have been but wasn't.

they were never actually anything?

LET'S TALK ABOUT "CANON" & BISEXUAL REPRESENTATION, THE SERIES' MIDPOINT & THE THEME OF BETRAYAL, AND THE SUBJECTIVITY OF ROMANCE

I've been sitting on this inbox comment/ask for a long time because I wanted to make sure I respond in a way that feels productive, kind, and doesn't step on other fans' joy. Having said that, as a Lokius shipper, I think it's really important for Lokius shippers and Sylki shippers to unite on at least one subject and that's positive bisexual representation. This isn't meant to be a harsh reply--I understand what the anon is saying from their point of view--but I also want to delineate between canon and personal interpretation/taste.

I also want to note that it's unfair to disavow Mobius and Sylvie's impact on Loki, Loki's impact on each of them as a result of his individual relationships with them, and thus the impact Mobius and Sylvie have on one another separate from Loki. Doing so really halves the overall richness of the story, and taking this into account is why my metas are so annoyingly long. This one, in particular, is a mess but hopefully I've managed to wrangle it into some kind of coherence that addresses the anon ask that is respectful to Sylki. Fear not, Lokius shippers, I discuss Lokius in this post, too. But first, let's talk about canon and bisexual representation ...

CANON AND BISEXUAL REPRESENTATION

Canon is often defined as: 1.) what is actually written in text (as opposed to subtext), AND 2.) what the creator(s) verbally confirm.

I've said before and I'll keep repeating: the most important aspect of art is art's relationship with the reader/viewer. Individual interpretation is what escalates a medium to a deeply personal and, at times, spiritual level. Art is supposed to make us think and feel. We're supposed to interact with it and do with it what we will. This is particularly important when we consider that much of consumable art is hampered by the demands of capitalism. Fan-interpretation democratizes what people without power want to see and hear, whereas canon (especially mass media canon) often self-censures to sell to the widest audience.

From the creators' standpoint, Sylvie has always been intended to be Loki's romantic interest, and Loki was always intended to have romantic feelings for her. This is what the creators tell us. Whether or not one likes Sylvie and Loki together is subjective.

As for the text, the plot between Loki and Sylvie has the markers of a romance, albeit one that doesn't come into full fruition. By full fruition, I mean a happy ending with each character affirming one's love for the other and committing to being together. Now, a relationship doesn't have to be successful or reciprocal to be considered romantic. Heck, it can be absolutely toxic and still be romantic. Whether or not the plot is convincing in its execution of romance, however, is also subjective.

What romance requires is: 1.) at least one of the characters desiring the other, and 2.) at least one of the characters willing to sacrifice for the other. Sacrifices don't have to be big, either. They can be small and cumulative.

Canonically, Loki fulfills both of these romantic requirements for Sylvie. (More on Sylvie below).

Subtextually (that is, not canon as defined above), Loki and Mobius fulfill both of these requirements for one another.

I'm gonna soap box for the next two paragraphs, so you can skip over this if that's not your jam. Both romances, canonical and subtextual, can exist concurrently without erasing the existence of the other. Even if Loki and Mobius had miraculously become canon in S2 (it's Disney, this never would have happened but let's explore the hypothetical), that doesn't erase Loki's former romance with Sylvie in S1. To erase that history is bisexual erasure, which isn't okay. Likewise, quashing the importance of queer subtext in order to "kill the other ship" isn't okay either, as it reinforces optical heteronormative romance in mass media and is also a form of bisexual erasure.

What's more important than either ship "winning" is the positive portrayal of a bisexual character. This means a character who demonstrates genuine love and devotion to people of more than one gender. If we accept the canon AND the subtext (we don't have to like it; Sylki's not my cup of tea personally, but I accept it as real), Loki fulfills positive bisexual representation, however restrained that representation may be. The social goal is to get to the point where a media juggernaut like Disney allows its franchise characters to experience relationships with more than one gender canonically and positively. We're not there yet and I'll probably be dead before Disney ever gets there, but Loki can be seen as a historical stepping stone distinct from Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens) and Steve Bonnet and Edward Teach (Our Flag Means Death).

(NOTE: Polyamory is a whole separate subject matter, which I'm won't get into here.)

ON SYLVIE

There's fan dispute over Sylvie's interest in Loki. I've previously written meta on Sylvie's sexuality and how she responds to Loki's romantic advances here. In S1, while she starts off frustrated, I think Sylvie slowly develops interest and was cautiously hopeful that she and Loki could figure out their futures together. Loki has been consistent about wanting to be with Sylvie and supporting her up until the necessary plot conflict of the series midpoint (S1E6; the S1 finale). This midpoint is the root cause for why Loki and Sylvie's relationship becomes strained. Again, this doesn't mean that the romance never existed--the plotpoints are there--but it does mean Loki's character development got in the way.

So let's talk about the series' midpoint and the interplay of Mobius, Loki, and Sylvie's mutual impact. The three are so deeply entangled that it's worth untangling their cause and effect on one another.

THE SERIES' MIDPOINT & THE THEME OF BETRAYAL

I keep stressing in my other metas that the series' midpoint (S1E6) is the most critical. Structurally, midpoints are where the story turns. Midpoints occur on multiple scales: at the episode level (typically in acts 3 or 5, depending on how the screenwriter divides their screenplay), at the season level, and at the series level. Midpoints are what provide the overall narrative and character arcs with movement.

As a whole, there are 3 key midpoints in the entire series:

1.) S1E2/E3 - When Loki betrays Mobius for Sylvie (midpoint of S1)

2.) S1E6 - When Loki betrays Sylvie for the "bigger picture" (midpoint of the whole series)

3.) S2E3/E4 - When it's revealed HWR betrayed Renslayer; Victory Timely is brought into the mix, and Sylvie reluctantly joins the TVA (midpoint of S2)

There is another betrayal that runs near-concurrently with #2, which is Mobius's betrayal of Renslayer (it begins in S1E4 and continues into the S1 finale). Thematically, we can take Loki's betrayal of Sylvie and Mobius's betrayal of Renslayer as mirrors of one another because these are the only betrayals that are motivated by good rather than selfishness. The selfish betrayals of #1 and #3 bookend betrayal #2 to highlight the beginning Loki's readiness to become a hero in S1E6. Where S1 focuses on Loki exploring who he is, S2 focuses on the hero Loki will become. S1E6 therefore serves as Loki's turn, his launching point to get to where he lands in S2E6. The story is really well-structured!

The poetic irony is that Loki's S1E6 betrayal was not an act of villainy, but an act of character growth.

There is plot set-up for Loki's betrayal of Sylvie, and that set-up is 2-pronged: 1.) from Sylvie's end, her misinterpretation of Loki's intentions, and 2.) from Mobius's end, the provision of unconditional friendship. Building up to these prongs are S1E1 - S1E3, in which Loki's self-interest and impulsivity are emphasized. S1E4 pivots Loki from self-interest and impulsivity to consideration for others and caution. Sylvie did not bear witness to Loki and Mobius's interactions in S1E1-S1E2 and S1E4 in the time loop chamber. She has no context for why Loki would hesitate killing HWR. I'll discuss this more under "Prong 2".

PRONG 1: SYLVIE'S MISINTERPRETATION

In the scene below (S1E5), Sylvie makes an assumption about what Loki wants and Loki admits via subtext that ruling a timeline actually won't make him happy.

Sylvie smiles in response, implying she understands what Loki means, however Loki often speaks in double-meanings (he cannot be trusted) and Sylvie has doubts (she cannot trust). From Sylvie's point-of-view, Loki has discussed the desire to rule with her 3 times (writers' magic 3s again). Above is the third. The previous 2 are:

1.) In their first confrontation in S1E2, when Loki offers Sylvie the opportunity to be his lieutenant. (Can't find the gif of this. Grr ...)

2.) On Lamentis (S1E3) in the scene below:

By S1E6, Loki has no interest in rule.

He's honest when he says he's worried about the greater ramifications of killing HWR. Sylvie doesn't believe him. The question is how did Loki arrive at this point in his character arc? Why slow down now? Why worry about the consequences now?

The answer is in S1E4.

PRONG 2: MOBIUS'S UNCONDITIONAL FRIENDSHIP

It's established in S1E1 that Mobius knows Loki better than Loki knows himself and consequently better than Sylvie knows Loki. A lot of Mobius-haters despise Mobius's cold confrontational tactics but it is those same tactics that force Loki to self-reflect. And to be clear, Mobius uses cruelty in S1E1 because 2012 Loki would not believe in, let alone listen to, softness and compassion. Cruelty is a language 2012 Loki understands, therefore Mobius communicates with him on that level to get him to listen and start thinking about the answers to the hard questions.

Not exactly the gif I wanted, but close enough. In this scene, Mobius wonders why Loki, who "has so much range", wants a throne. He then asks Loki, what's next? The implication of these questions is that Mobius knows Loki will never be satisfied. He knows, deep down, a throne is a poor substitute for what Loki really wants: love, acceptance, and companionship.

Mobius's tone is mocking, his note that Loki has a wide range is complimentary, and the question is serious. Further, and this important, Mobius gives Loki respect in conjunction with his cruelty, his compliments, and his seriousness by acknowledging Loki's intelligence ("I am smart"; "I know") and his potential to be more than a villain ("That's not how I see it"). Understandably, this strange, dizzying mix of seemingly contradictory truths puts Loki off-balance.

Their tenuous allyship becomes a friendship in Mobius's eyes near the end of S1E2. Mobius is practically squeeing about Loki's multiple breakthroughs and how well they work together to Renslayer:

And Loki genuinely looks excited to help Mobius. Look at that fist-pump. Mobius doesn't see it, he's ahead of Loki, so his enthusiasm isn't an act. The seeds of mutual trust (rather than doubt) have been planted.

Unfortunately, Loki's poor impulse control and need to hedge his bets out of self-interest lead him to betraying Mobius. Both Sylvie and Mobius take Loki's betrayals poorly.

The key difference is that Mobius cannot resist the desire to trust Loki, to want to be his friend. This desire creates Mobius's doubt in Renslayer, which in turn leads to his betrayal of her.

Forgiveness isn't easy. It requires the ability to accept disagreements and another person's shortcomings. It requires good will, faith, and a willingness to move on. It requires compromise and, at times, letting go entirely.

Mobius torturing Loki with the Sif memory loop was awful. His personal hurt is directly tied to the below admission, which informs Loki what Mobius thought of their relationship:

And that revelation startles him. It forces him to evaluate his actions that led to Mobius saying such a thing (impulsivity; self-interest). Loki, who doesn't want to be alone, desires Mobius's friendship.

So when Mobius returns to Loki with an olive branch ...

Loki offers Mobius an olive branch of his own by affirming the friendship Mobius believed in but felt betrayed by.

Thus, Loki and Mobius accept each other's olive branches. They forgive each other and repair their relationship from there. This is critical thematically because Loki and Mobius each extend olive branches to Sylvie and Renslayer respectively, both of whom reject those olive branches more than once. Sylvie and Renslayer represent opposite ends of the chaos versus order ideology, for which neither is willing to compromise. Loki and Mobius also start out at opposite ends before meeting in the middle.

Sylvie unfortunately does not know anything about Loki's interactions with Mobius and how those interactions have impacted Loki's motivations. She doesn't know that Loki wants to "slow down and think about this" because the last time he acted on impulse, it turned out he almost threw Mobius's friendship out the window without realizing he had his friendship in the first place.

For her, the seeds of doubt have already been planted: Loki betrayed the TVA to pursue her, Loki expressed shock at Sylvie's desire to "walk away" rather than taking advantage of the "ultimate power vacuum" once the TVA is destroyed, he expresses the desire to rule 3 times. Therefore, it's perfectly reasonable for Sylvie to assume Loki would betray her for power even though she had hopes to the contrary. Romantic tragedy? Absolutely. Believable? Depends on who you ask and what your personal taste is.

There must be some kind of sentiment on Sylvie's part, however, because she chooses not to kill Loki. Instead, she kisses him goodbye and throws him through a time door.

Mobius's friendship is therefore the catalyst for everything that unravels between Loki and Sylvie in S1E6 (the series' midpoint). I think it's safe to interpret Sylvie's tearing into Mobius in S2E4 as not only due to being in the TVA and having all her traumas brought to the surface, but also due to experiencing jealousy. This level of anger matches Mobius's outrage about Sylvie in S1E4! Note, however, that this interpretation of Sylvie's interaction with Mobius is subtext. Subtext goes many ways!

THE SUBJECTIVITY OF ROMANCE

Are Loki and Sylvie a believable romance? It depends on your taste.

A fictional couple's overall successful reception by the audience (which is rarely if ever 100%) is contingent on a few things:

1.) Character development

2.) Story execution

3.) Chemistry between the actors

Reception and interpretation of the above are all subjective. In addition to these elements, another important factor is couple trope. Depending on your preference, some tropes might be nope while others are yum. You might even like most tropes but the actor chemistry, character development, and/or plot are just not doing it for you.

Loki and Mobius follow the tropes of:

Opposites attract/Complementary set

Sunshine and cynic

Enemies to allies to friends to lovers

Sherlock and Watson

Slow burn

Ride or Die

Loki and Sylvie, on the other hand, follow the tropes of:

Exceptionally similar but with key differences/Matching Set

BAMF duo

Enemies to allies to lovers

Bonnie and Clyde

Fast and passionate

Ride or Die

Loki and Sylvie's romantic dynamic may be compared to the following couples in other media:

Batman and Catwoman

Jack Sparrow and Angelica Teach

Benedict and Beatrice

If you notice, they all have very similar personality traits. They also fight and fight a LOT. It's part of their charm and can add to their chemistry.

Personally, I didn't feel any chemistry between Loki and Sylvie, I didn't feel like there was enough warmth between them, and I really wanted Loki to be loved by someone who makes an effort to understand him rather understanding his core traits off the bat by being the same entity. Loki and Mobius hit all the right story beats for me. Tom and Owen's chemistry as actors is remarkable. I'm also a sucker for ball of sunshine and cynic dynamics.

But that's just me. That doesn't mean I don't see what the creators tried to do with Loki and Sylvie in terms of plot, character development, and couple tropes. Some people felt chemistry between Tom and Sophia, others (like me) didn't. Whatever the case, the canon exists and the romantic tropes are there. I just feel the subtextual romance between Loki and Mobius is stronger and that, again, is my subjective judgment.

#loki #lokius #mobius #loki series #loki season 2 #loki meta #my meta #asks #sylvie #loki analysis #my analysis

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thefirstlioveyou · 3 months

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about queerbaiting

this is a byler doubt free post, don’t worry. i’m gonna dove into queerbaiting itself to prove why mike will be confirmed queer.

if byler isn’t canon, the ship as a whole wouldn’t be considered queerbait. however, the fact that mike would be confirmed to just see him as a good friend and is straight is considered queerbait.

byler itself is considered ship teasing due to the fact there’s confirmed feelings on one side already. ship teasing can happen with any type of ship, especially when there is a love triangle involved. ship teasing is done to grab an audience of any kind to watch the show. for example, them liking melvin comments is ship teasing as much as noah’s byler comments are.

because of the fact will byers is confirmed gay and in love with mike, the ship itself could not be qbait… that doesn’t mean the show doesn’t get away with no queerbaiting allegations though - mike wheeler by himself would have been what the queerbait was.

he is so heavily implied to be interested in will, giving will the eyes, how he speaks to him, how he treats him vs his girlfriend, how he cherishes him. outside of byler, he is also implied to not have any attraction to girls. he is the only other boy besides the canon gay boy to show distaste for girls when theyre put in a romantic/sexual light, the comments from his father, the imagery, his s4 bedroom, how he looks at el vs will, intereviews.

all this for him to be confirmed in love with a girl and not into boys in the end and that will’s just a really good friend to him, THAT’S queerbait as well as horrible writing.

however, let’s put ourselves in the shoes of producers and showrunners who do queerbait for a second…

“i want money and publicity. i also notice there’s hardly any queer content out there, i see how desperate the gays are. but.. if i dare even giving them what they want, that can lead to backlash and angry fans who drop the show, causing the viewership to go down, which can lead to the show being cancelled. but at the same time, if i give the gay part of the fanbase what they want that fanbase can grow bigger, which means a growing publicity about my show and ultimately more money for a bigger budget for another installment. but, i also don’t want to lose fans by doing this…. i have an idea! i’ll go 50/50. i’ll hint at a potiential queer characters and by the end of the show, once i got everything i wanted and needed, i’ll tell them they were just good friends or leave it up for interpretation, that way nobody drops the show and the homophobes stay happy. perhaps the gays will be mad, but i doubt they would drop the show. they’re too desperate and will take anything because there’s little to nothing for them anyway. i’m sooo smart, and a pussy!”

(sounds incredibly evil huh? it is.)

now, apply this to stranger things. there is no actual benefit they get from queerbaiting if we’ve already got two confirmed gay characters. they’re already taking the backlash they got from making will gay and from introducing robin in s3, yet… they don’t care. as they should.

think about this… why leave only ONE heavily implied gay character amongst canon ones just to debunk it afterwards to pander to homophobes, when you’ve already pissed them off with said canon gays?? there’s no sense in that. like. at ALL.

noah could’ve just said will’s sexuality was up to interpretation and left it as that. in the end, they had confirmed it later because they wanted to save the audience from spoilers. that’s the same thing happening for mike. him being queer and in love with will is a spoiler and plot twist, they’re not gonna reveal it now, even though it’s blantly obvious.. the same way it was obvious will liked mike.

these big hollywood people queerbait because they BENEFIT from it viewership-wise and ultimately fincially. if stranger things already features canon gay characters with a coming confirmed gay relationship between two girls, they get zero benefit with not falling through and not confirming mike queer, only pure backlash, nothing more or less.

never forget:

they’ve straight baited the audience once no problem, they’ll do it again if they really want to. as they should!

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #mike wheeler is gay #stranger things #rambling

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penvisions · 13 days

Text

the melting point {chapter 18}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (exEMT! Reader)

Summary: Time moves and so does your world.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: references to canon typical violence, gun violence, reference to previous injuries, recovery, physical therapy, therapy, anxiety, medical jargon, description of injuries (not detailed), mention of surgical scarring, reader has limited mobility, reader uses a walker, reader uses a wheelchair, reader uses a cane, panic, depression, anxiety, reader is self-conscious in her body, a lot of emotions, body modification, reader gets some, pet names, a lot of emotions! reader has described as having specific color hair and tattoos

A/N: it's not the best, but it's a good step toward the end of this lovely little series. happy frankie friday, y'all!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Frankie was pacing, the envelope opened, and the contents laid out.

Aggravated assault.

Child Services have been contacted.

Will was the first to be called, in order to get an attorney through the VA.

Pope was the second, because he had been witness to the incident in question.

A call interrupted the list of immediate people who needed to be reached out to. Child Services calling to confirm Frankie’s residence and let him know an officer would be conducting a home visit in the following days. Frankie’s mother, Isabella, had said she would stay the night beforehand, to ensure the house was in order and to talk to the officer on her son’s behalf before whatever appointment was set. And that she would be staying that night to help work through anything needing her help.

Benny was called third, because he had been there when Frankie had begun to deal with his anger issues and attended meetings with him where he spoke about it early in his recovery. To vouch that the man had never been violent outside of small outbursts and never in front of his child or in public.

Morgan was fourth, to question of she knew the man Pope had claimed frequented the bar across from Brass Knuckles.

It…it was a lot on top of an already overwhelming situation.

“Frankie?” You called as you tried to inch the feet of your walker as close to the threshold of the back door. The panel of the sliding door had been closed but the man wasn’t in any of the other places you had looked after waking from your slumber. It was the next day, a hectic one to be sure as more paperwork and things needed to be in order. His mother and daughter were upstairs, busy with the child’s few hours’ worth of homework to ensure she stayed on point for school when she returned after the winter break. The first half of the school year being done in the comfort of her own home, to help her handle the aftermath of what had happened.

That had been a conversation you hadn’t been a part of, something Frankie had admitted to you. The decision needing to be made while you had still been unconscious and in the hospital. Between his parents and his friends, trying their best to gauge the outcome of each option and what was best for Lex.

The clatter of glass falling and cracking was loud, spiking your heart in your chest. You called out for him again, worry dripping from you.

“I’m okay, querida! Just trying to fix this sun catcher and I accidently dropped it.”

“Is it okay?”

“…no.” His sheepish admission came from around the corner of the house.

“Fransisco!”

“It was an accident!” He appeared from where he had to have been messing with the charm hanging from a tree in the yard, bare feet hushing across the grass before they met the wooden stairs of the deck. He couldn’t hide the wide smile taking over his lips, delighting in the sight of you trying to hide your laughter.

“So…”

“Alright, alright, lemme get changed.”

“You didn’t even give me the chance to say anything yet.”

“That’s your ‘I have errands’ voice, sweet girl. Heard it enough times when we were trying to plan our first date.”

“Hey, I don’t wanna hear that. You essentially got me with that one date, so-“

“That’s not-“ His mind tried to supply him with other instances but it was the only one that was official.

“We hung out enough for you to fall hopelessly in love with me!”

“But not on official dates!” You giggled, feeling heat creep up your neck from your chest at the words.

“Then lemme take you out to one tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splaying across your lower back.

“But…child services is coming tomorrow, we’ve got to focus on that…”

“We’ll both need to relax after that, I promise it’s okay.”

“Frankie…did,” You pulled back a little to gaze into the amber of his eyes lit up by the morning sun. “Did you really attack him?”

His forehead rested against yours, his eyes clenching shut and hiding them from your searching gaze.

“Yes. I did. Pope and I went down to the station to hear his statement and he was…he was saying all kinds of awful things about you and Lex and I just snapped.”

A hand to the back of his neck and your face pressed to his chest helped to calm him down. Shifting together, he helped you back into the house and into a new set of clothes to leave the house.

The shop was bustling, a line out the door and your dedicated employees working hard to fulfill each customer’s needs. Pride swelled up, a large smile pulling at your lips as you moved past everyone and toward the back. It had been easier to come in through the front door than deal with the two steps up into the back of the building. You could hear footsteps up above, signaling that Taylor was moving about.

He must be on break, running the shop for you while you recovered no doubt taking a lot out of him. It wasn’t his profession of choice but he knew enough to help out where it was needed. You really hadn’t wanted to shut down the shop for months on end, especially after the nearly two it had taken you to wake up and get clearance from the hospital to leave.

Business was booming, the city showing an outpouring of love and support for you in the wake of what had happened. You were grateful, even if it felt like you were doing something bad sneaking in to steal some supplies for tonight’s family dinner.

Alexia had wanted to decorate cupcakes, something she mentioned a few days ago as you both fell asleep in the middle of the day with a cartoon movie on the tv, her anti-anxiety medication and your pain management ones getting the better of you two as Frankie was out in the garage tuning up the truck.

Will and Benny had stopped by for lunch, the gym being run by the staff allowed for the two of them to run around town and organize the fight night events that had been delayed a bit because of the shooting. They were debating the pros and cons of hiring a food truck for the event or getting a caterer to set up a spread in the front of the gym.

“I can always just cook for you?” You suggested as you carefully shuffled up from your seat on the couch, wanting a cup of tea to take the next dose of medication. “That was you don’t lose those earning or have to budget for it in the first place.”

The brothers shared a look behind your back, unsure of how to react. You were never one to offer something if you didn’t feel like you could handle it. But cooking for an anticipated crowd of over a hundred people would have you on your feet for quite a while. And while you were moving around with a little more ease, you were still keeping your walker close by. Frankie insisting on a wheelchair for the store and longer trips from the house.

A clatter had them both on their feet in a heartbeat, moving toward the kitchen to see you straining to reach the kettle on the second shelf of a cabinet. You had one hand on the counter and the other was stretched up, causing the fabric of your shirt to ride up. The shining skin of the scars from your surgery caught their eyes and they quickly jumped in to help. Will’s front was warm against your back as he gently swatted your hand away to get the kettle for you. His arms came around as he lowered it to the counter. Gasping at the flare of desire from the feel of a strong body against you, you froze.

“You okay, mante? You didn’t hurt yourself did you?”

“N-no, everything’s fine.”

“Honey, you’re burning up,” Will placed a hand on the back of your neck, gauging your temperature as best he could. Your head hung between your shoulders, both palms flat on the counter’s surface. When he shifted to reach for the med kit, he brushed impossibly closer, and you let out a charged sound that tapered off into breathy sigh.

Everyone froze.

“Mante?”

“Just, drop it.” You were shuffling away, prying yourself from the small space between Will’s body and the counter.

“Honey, you know you can talk to us.”

“No, it’s embarrassing. Frankie would be…mortified if I talked to you.” You tried to fight the heat rising to your face, clothing too tight all of a sudden, the air in the kitchen stifling.

“He’s not touching you, is he?” Will asked softy, voice holding sincerity. He’s seen this type of rift open up between people and couples in recovery. He had multiple pamphlets and brochures for those who approached him asking for help. He was the sole source of information, of course he knew what was going on. But he mentally berated himself for not seeing the signs of it sooner.

“He wouldn’t like me talking about it…with you.”

“That doesn’t matter, do you need to talk about it?”

“I have- a little, with Morgan but…I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“He’s probably just worried about hurting you, Mante.”

“But he is, hurting me. I-I don’t even really care all that stuff right now, I’m too tired and sore all the time but…it would be nice to know he still wanted me like that.”

“Does he help you change?”

“Y-yeah, yes.”

“Does he help you bathe?”

“He asked me not to unless he’s in the house.”

“Sweetheart, he’s probably worried about pushing you. I mean, not to be too crass, but your hips are kinda important for sex.”

You huffed a laugh, panic and anxiety waning at the guy’s well-meaning intentions.

“Isabella and I haven’t either…since it happened.” Will confessed with an open demeaner, not wanting you to think it was just you or just Frankie. That it was a normal response to traumatic events, to reassure you. And of course, you would know but being so weighted down with everything he also knew how hard it was to think rationally about it all. “It’s normal, nothing it wrong with you, okay?”

The officer regarded you curiously. Eyes downturned to the ring on your left hand.

“Now, we have no mention of you on any legal paperwork regarding Mr. Morales. And your official address is listed as the place of your business, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s correct.”

“You were the recent victim in the shooting that occurred on….” The date of the last summer farmer’s market was rattled off. “Where you were the one to run to the aid of the child in question, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Now, can either of you tell me why Mr. Morales wasn’t within range to do so himself?”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr. Morales, please, let’s all keep calm here. It’s a simple question.”

“Does allowing his daughter to go off with one of his friends during an open market make him a bad father? Because that’s what your question seems to be getting at.”

“Ma’am, please. It’s a routine question.”

“I was yards away from her when the shooter decided to open fire in a public space.”

“And yet, you didn’t run to her aid.”

“I did, the second the first shot went off and the crowd began to panic, I was looking for her.”

“So you didn’t have eyes on her.” The officer made a note on the file open in her lap. You bristled at the uncaring demeanor, unable to hold your tongue as she talked at you and Frankie instead of with you.

“I would like to speak to the child in question.”

“That can wait a minute, excuse me.” You leveled her with a focused look, not willing to roll over and show your stomach to this woman who was supposed to be conducting an interview. But instead she was taking everything and twisting it to the narrative she was trying to depict in her notes. “Frankie had eyes on her. He always knows who she’s with, where they’re going, for how long and ensures he’s the one dropping off and picking up or it’s someone he trusts with his daughter. He is a good father. I don’t think the focus here should be whether or not he reacted fast enough to a shooter scenario but the fact that there was a shooter scenario that you are trying to twist in your favor.”

“I am merely asking routine questions, the shooting response is only one of the areas in which I am concerned. The other would be your sudden presence in this house. How it affects the child in question.”

“You’re not even using her name. Her name is Alexia. She is a very real, very traumatized child who doesn’t need anything else upsetting her. I get that you may not understand the dynamic Frankie has with his friends and how they care for his daughter as if she was their own. Or how I’m “affecting” her presence by being in her home that previously only contained her and her father. But you’re going to sit there and ask us questions and listen to what we have to say.”

“What is your relationship with the child?”

“I’m her-“

“She’s my fiancé, she intends to sign the guardianship papers to share legal responsibility with me.”

“And…is it because you think it’s too much to handle on your own?” The officer looked less tense, at least. Nodding her head along as she looked something over in her file. “It states here you never reached out for resources that are available to you. Can I ask why that is?”

“No, ma’am. It’s because she asked me to. We have a beautiful bond and she wanted to make it a little more tangible and it was a way for Alexia to feel included once the wedding rolls around.”

“And as for the resources, I served and did my time. I make enough money for us to live comfortably, and I have a good support system. I didn’t want to take away from those resources should there be a child in a worse off situation.”

“Okay, thank you.” She closed her file, looking up at the united front you and Frankie made on the couch across from her armchair. “The rest of my questions are for Alexia.”

“She’s upstairs with my mother at the moment, let me go fetch her.”

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll see myself up the stairs if that’s alright with you?”

A curt nod from Frankie was all he could manage, knowing that this wasn’t going well. It wasn’t going well at all.

Nearly an hour later, everyone was gathered around the kitchen table as the officer went over her notes for the visit.

“Based on the conclusion of this interview, I do not deem Mr. Morales a bad guardian nor someone who appears to have present day anger management issues. He had no prior history of assault and if everyone else we reach out to that is a part of this family’s circle corroborates the same narrative, then there will be no further investigation. Thank you for your time, have a lovely rest of your day.”

The snap of the thick folder in the officer’s hand startled you, head ducking and hands coming up to cover it. She at least had the decency to look apologetic for the action, not thinking of what the sound would do to you.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” A nod paired with her words, and she was gone.

The rest of the day was spent talking to the attorney Will had found that was more than willing to take on the case. A court date had been established for the end of the following month.

No sooner than the door closed behind her and you all took a collective breath, was there another knock at the door. Three long strides led Frankie back to it, opening it up with a pinched expression. He was trying to remain calm, but he was shaken beyond belief. One small moment of instinctual protective anger and he had created this whole mess not sitting well with the man. But it wasn’t the officer returning, it was your nurse, picking you up for a scheduled physical therapy appointment.

“Hi, yes, of course. Lemme get her bag and she’s all set here in the living room.”

“Pastel! Can I go with you?”

“Oh, um, Lex, I’m not sure.” You looked to Frankie as she descended down the stairs, Isabella moving to slow her speedy approach as you pulled yourself up from your position on the couch with the walker. “You have to ask your father.”

“But you’re gonna be my Mama Pastel, you can say yes now!”

“…That’s technically true, but your father has final say, mija.”

“Yes, mi amor, you can. Papa needs to take care of some things, but it’ll be good for you to get out of the house.” It was the first time she had asked to leave since the shooting, surely a good step that she wanted to go somewhere, even if it was to the rehabilitation center with you for something so routine.

Three months.

Three months since your entire life was upended for the second time.

Frankie’s court date had last month, postponed to today. Not an official trial, due to the plaintiff being sentenced to a maximum facility. His case had been open and shut, no way of getting out of serving time. He had deliberately carried an automatic weapon into a public space and opened fire. Even if he hadn’t pleaded guilty in the hopes of garnering a deal, no one was siding with him or cutting him any slack. No lawyers had been willing to take him on as a client and he had denied a state-appointed one, knowing full well the consequences of his actions.

He had entered the courthouse a walking mess of anxiety and worry. A man concerned about the future he could provide for his daughter, for you, for his family. If he had been deemed an unsatisfactory guardian with notations of anger management issues, his job would be on the line. Tourism bringing so much to the city and the company wanted to aid Vets in any way they could. But would surely draw the line as such an accusation and paper trail.

He had emerged from the courthouse light on his feet with a grin on his face. Stopping at the shop to check on things for you, purchasing a bouquet for you and Lex on his way home.

Then had been Lex’s birthday, where she wished out loud as she blew her candles out that she wanted to go back to school. Frankie had a long conversation with her therapist, and they agreed she would return to school after the winter break. The first half of the school year done at her own pace but well enough at home to allow for her to seamlessly integrate back in.

Taylor had returned home with a promise to come out three times a year. The guys had one last night out with him along, having bonded with him over the course of his time here. Morgan helping to make sure they didn’t over indulge and that they all got home okay. And another night with everyone involved when Morgan had a night off of her own. Though Taylor wasn’t her focus, having gotten together with Santiago, she was sad to see him go along with everyone else. You missed him, his presence and calming demeanor. The way he had brought home to you in such small ways you hadn’t known you had missed until they were right in front of you. But you had left for a reason and he had a life and a kid to get back to.

Will and Isabella were official and he has asked her to move in with him, prompting Benny to search for a place of his own. He was working on convincing the new assistant he hired to let him take her out, but she admitted to you one day when she came into the shop that she liked how hard he was trying to get her attention. You both laughed, lamenting over the eager attitude he possessed. But ultimately you had turned serious and said he was a good man who would do right by her. That she should give him the chance to show her how much he cared.

You had gone back to working in the shop, though you needed a cane to help you get around. It was a part of who you were now, spells of numbness and healed injuries aching long after recovery. But you were stronger than you had been, able to stand on your feet and do what you loved best. The shop was to be featured in a second article, praising your bravery and return to work, the same writer from before presenting you with a ‘best local bakery’ award from the open poll the magazine holds each year.

But now….now you were running late.

Cursing under your breath, you carefully moved down the stairs of the apartment and down to the ground floor. The cats had been moved to the house forever ago, but there was a stray that came around the back door and you wanted to put a better dish out for them to have food and water. It had run from you, but you hoped it would come back for the fresh food and new bowl.

Locking up, you loaded up into the truck and carefully took off across downtown.

The twinkling lights strewn up were beautiful, reflecting off the large windows and glass bottles of the bar and you leaned over to press your lips to his neck over his collar. Though he didn’t turn to face you, in deep conversation with the people across from you, his arm moved around you and pulled you close, hand caressing your hip over the fabric of your dress.

An engagement party, curtesy of Pope’s determined mind and the help of the magazine editor. She had been delighted and more than happy to help cover the costs for the celebration, she had pulled you into a hug when you arrived arm in arm with Frankie. Everyone posted around the bar, the one where you and Frankie had your first official date, and cheered as you entered. You had been sure it was closed, worried that Frankie had mixed up his days for the reservation, but he had said Santigo had made it for him.

It had been an amazing surprise, tears of affection threatening to spill over your lash line at all of your friends and favorite people in one place. To celebrate your and Frankie’s love.

The food was amazing, the full menu available to order and you made sure to get a serving of crispy brussel sprouts that were too spicy for Frankie. He had smiled fondly at you as you inhaled them, taking delight in how the simplest of things could bring a smile to your face. Just as you popped the last one in your mouth, he was pulling you out of the booth and up on your feet. When you reached for your cane, he gently took both your hands in his and guided you to the middle of the floor, where people were dancing.

“Fransisco, if I recall correctly you said you don’t dance.” You teased, hands going around his neck as his went around your waist to settle on the small of your back.

“I don’t, sweet girl. But for you, I’m willing to try.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, eyes taking in the way your long curls framed your face. How the auburn of them was complimented by the dark green almost black of your dress, the ink on your skin crystalline from your glittery lotion Lex had coerced you into buying for the guest bathroom.

“You’re perfect just the way you are, mi amor.” You allowed him to gently sway your bodies back and forth, small words of affection flowing between you as the music lulled into a soft medley of strings and horns.

“I’m so glad Pope pestered you everyday, what I wouldn’t give to have seen him get shot down the first time.” Frankie chuckled, chest vibrating close and warming you up from the inside out.

“He took it in stride, I think. He likes a challenge.”

Off to the side the man in question was seated at a booth, his tie loosening and his attention on his best friend and love. His heart full and his mind working in overtime to try and figure out how to top this for Frankie’s bachelor party. His attention called back to the present as a small figure bounded up to him with a fresh new fizzy drink.

“Tio Santi! They had strawberry syrup!”

“That’s amazing, mi corazon. Muy delicioso!” He reached out to lift her up, settling her in his lap as she caught sight of her dad and soon to be mom dancing together. Completely caught up in each other in the best way. She smiled, happy.

“Are you excited to go back to school, mi corazon?” Santiago bounced her on his leg, the layers of her dress floating in the air with his motions.

“Yes, but I’m also nervous.”

“It’s okay to be nervous.”

“My friends will all have new friends, I’m afraid they won’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Nonsense, everyone is gonna crowd around you and be so excited to see you again.”

“I hope so.”

“I promise you, it’ll all be okay. You’ve come so far, mi amor.”

“Pastel too! And Papa!”

“Them too.” Santi looked toward where you were still softly swaying with Frankie, slow music playing over the speakers. The backdrop of the flowers and warm string lights strewn over the ceiling lighting up your features enough to see the soft smiles you shared with each other. Frankie’s hands were around your waist, helping to support you while you own were wrapped around his neck. Whispering sweet nothings to each other as the night continued on.

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 2 months

Text

To Hell...: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: A man intentionally admits to murdering ten people he didn’t kill all because his sister is missing. The facts take you to a pig farm where a world of horror is waiting for you.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"If there were no hell, we would be like the animals. No hell, no dignity." - Flannery O'Connor

Two weeks have gone by since the Anthrax attack. For two weeks, Spencer has been in recovery. This is the first day he gets to come to work after getting out of the hospital. Everyone is inside the bullpen and their respective offices while you're outside in the empty hallway. You need a moment to yourself to calm your racing heart.

You're still not over almost losing Spencer. He's fine now and has been cleared by the doctor but the fear of losing him is still in the back of your mind. Things like fear, panic, and sadness hit you harder than any other emotion because of how strong they can be. They hate being alone, so they try to take as many people down with them as possible.

"Hey, there you are," Spencer says from the double glass doors. "Are you okay?" You shake your head and refuse to look at him. If you do, you're scared you'll never stop crying. "Darling, I'm okay now. There's no permanent damage."

When you don't look at him, he puts two fingers under your chin and lifts your head so you're forced to look him in the eyes.

"Did you know your love consumes me? It's passionate and intense and it hurts sometimes because I'm so in love with you. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, so when you get hurt, it's ten times more difficult for me because I'm an empath."

Spencer cuts you off by placing his lips on yours. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. You can't ever get enough of his lips, his touch, or his love.

"Just know I'm not going anywhere," he whispers. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. "I still need to marry you and have your kids."

This time, you smile a happy one and kiss him again.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," JJ clears her throat. You and Spencer part from each other to look at her. "The meeting's about to start."

"Yeah, we'll be right there."

JJ leaves and you reach up to fix Spencer's hair.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"Not possible," you grin.

"Yes, possible."

You two cut your cheesy moment short and join everyone in the briefing room so that JJ can get started on the case. She starts by putting a video on the screen for everyone to watch. On the Canada Border, there are a lot of cars getting checked before going through, but there is this one that draws the attention of some of the officers.

One car passes through the checkpoint but stops right as he does, and officers gather around to tell him to move. Instead of complying, he drives his car right through the barricade, turns around, and rams right into one of the checkpoint booths.

Officers from all over get their guns out and remove him from the car, and they slam the man down on the ground face-first. They handcuff him where he lays, pull him to his feet, and he looks up at the camera.

"His name is William Hightower. He claims over the past month, he's picked ten people off the streets of Detroit, killed them, and dumped their bodies across the border in Canada."

"Has he given up the dumpsite?"

"He said he'll only talk to the FBI."

"Do we have confirmation these people are even missing?" Spencer asks.

"Two were reported missing by family months ago, but they all appear to be transients. We're having a hard time finding any information on them."

"Garica?"

"Like a bloodhound, sir," she says and leaves the briefing room to find information on the ten people.

"So, what do we know about Will?"

"Up until two months ago, he was a Sergeant in the Us Army that did two tours in Iraq. He lost his left leg in a roadside ambush. He was discharged with a purple heart and a commendation for Valor."

"The Royal Canadian Mounted Police are requesting our help?"

"They don't have a lot of choice."

"If he manages to get away with ten murders, why crash the guard post?"

"It could be an attempted suicide. Maybe he was trying to take as many people with him as he could," Emily theorizes.

"It could also be a case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Do we think it's legit?"

"I think it's too many bodies to take chances. Wheels up in thirty."

Hotch is the last one to leave the room, and before he can go on his way, you stop him.

"Hey, I just want to apologize for yelling at you two weeks ago. I shouldn't have done that."

"I understand the stress you were under. Honestly, I would have done the same thing if I were you. I hope you and Reid are doing okay."

"Yeah, we are now."

Hotch pats you on the back and leaves your side. Everyone meets on the plane and the pilot starts the three-and-a-half-hour flight to Windsor International Airport in Canada. JJ looks through the files containing the claims Will made about the murders.

"He documented them all in detail with names, photos, dates, and locations of where he took them."

"He has a Military background, so he's bound to be organized. He definitely doesn't have a type. The only consistency is that they were all abducted in the same area."

"Yeah, what do we know about that?" Emily asks.

"It's called the Cass Corridor. It's right here." Spencer points it out on a map. "It has an extremely high concentration of drug trafficking, prostitution, and homeless people. All high-risk behavior."

"Maybe for Will, it's more about opportunity than victimology."

"Morgan and Prentiss, when we land, I want you to head straight to Detroit and see if you hear anything in the whisper stream. I want to make sure we have a crime before we get too deeply into this. The rest of us will meet with the legal attache before we hit the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

"Actually, sir, the officer in charge said that his team was part of a fellowship the BAU gave to train police forces in profiling," JJ says.

"That was the first one we ever did. His name is Jeff Bedwell."

"You know him? Is he any good?"

"He better be. I trained him," Rossi smirks.

As soon as the plane lands, your team splits up with you going with the majority to the police station. Jeff Bedwell eagerly greets Rossi when he sees him.

"Jeff, how have you been?"

"You mean besides having serial killers trying to take out our border agents?"

"Jeff, these are Agents Aaron Hotchner, Spence Reid, Y/N, and Jennifer Jareau."

"Thanks for being here. I've got a victim board and timelines set up on monitors in the conference room. Anything you need, you've got the run of the place."

"We appreciate it."

"Don't thank me, thank the unsub. He's the one that put you all in charge."

You walk into the conference room and see all the missing victims on the board.

"I need to go talk to Garcia and see if she had any luck locating the family members. I'll also check records for multiple border crosses and see if we get any hits for the days the victims went missing," JJ says and leaves the room.

"Do you believe he killed all these people?" you ask.

"It fits the profile."

"How so?"

"He's got recent physical trauma that could be a stressor, wide disparity of victims, no bodies, possible border cross, and two entirely different terrains. To pull that off, you'd have to be smart, organized, mobile, and physical. His Military background gives us all that."

"It appears as though he clusters his victims into men, then women, and then back to men again."

"What does that tell you?" Jeff asks Spencer.

"At the moment, nothing."

"Has he contacted his family?"

"No, and he refuses a lawyer."

"Is he here in interrogation?"

"Yes."

"This guy is from the US Army who demanded to talk to the FBI. He's not gonna want to talk to anyone but the person he thinks is in charge."

"Of course. I'll take you to him."

Rossi and Spencer stay in the conference room while you and Hotch follow Jeff to where Will is being held. You can see him through the two-way glass and notice his anger. However, it's not a rageful anger but a calm one. He's staring at the window as if he can see right through it.

"Has he been agitated this whole time?"

"He hasn't even flinched."

"Does he know that we're here?"

"Yeah, we told him. Are you not gonna interrogate him?" Jeff asks.

"If I go in now, he's in charge. If I wait and gather information... It's my interview. Let's see what we turn up in Detroit."

Derek and Emily noticed something strange when they got to Detroit. Not a single person isolated themselves from everyone else, and they've all set up camps. People on the streets don't usually care about safety in numbers unless something scared them into changing their behavior. Drug deals are happening in the daytime and prostitutes seem to be working in groups. If Will did kill ten people, he couldn't have done it without witnesses.

Emily asked the girls while Derek stuck to the homeless population. Derek talked to someone who seemed to know who the last victim was, and his name is Charles who was a junkie. He's been gone for two days, and it wouldn't have been weird except that a lot of people have been disappearing.

When they do, they don't come back.

It's normal for people to leave and not come back, but this guy has never seen anything like this before. Derek showed him a picture of Will and asked about him, and the man says that everyone tries to avoid Will. He's got a gun and no one wants any beef with him. He keeps asking about everyone who's gone missing, when they went missing, and just about everything he needs to make it look like he's the one who killed them.

Before Hotch goes in, you put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Can I take the lead on this one?"

"What are you thinking?"

"That he didn't kill anyone. Don't worry, I won't choke you."

"Alright, let's see what you've got."

You and Hotch walk into the room and Will gives you a stone-cold look.

"I'm Agent Y/N and this is my boss, Aaron Hotchner, the Behavioral Analysis Unit Chief of the FBI."

"Are you here to analyze me?"

"No. I'm here for your confession, and to find out where you've dumped the bodies."

"I gave you names and dates."

"Not dump sites. You didn't give that information because you don't know where their bodies are, do you?" Will stays silent, and you get the impression that he's desperate out of love. "I know you were a Sergeant that led troops, and you've probably lost some men along the way, right?"

"A few."

"How would their parents feel if they didn't know whether their sons and daughters were dead or alive?"

"Don't lecture me on notifying families," Will angrily says. He takes a deep breath and composes himself. "No one cares about those people. Why should I?"

He got angry when you mentioned the word "families".

"You didn't kill those men, did you?"

"What makes you think I didn't?"

"Because you were out there every night showing people their photographs and checking their names off in a notebook. You'd only do that if you were looking for someone. Who are you missing, William?"

It's the kindness in your voice that causes him to break down crying. You look at Hotch and he encourages you to continue.

"You intentionally made sure everyone was out of that checkpoint booth before hitting it. You never wanted to kill anyone, just like you didn't kill those ten people. Now, I believe you when you say these people are missing. Is that what you wanted? To make us investigate so we'd find whoever it is you're missing?"

"Yes," he cries.

"Who is it?"

"My baby sister, Lee. When I got home from Iraq, the first thing my mother told me was that Lee was on the streets. She asked me to find her. I managed to find her once and brought her home. We fed her, got her cleaned up, and I let her wear my dog tags for good luck. Two weeks later, she slipped back onto the streets."

"Will, you provided so much information on the ten victims, but you didn't give us anything on Lee. Why is that?"

"I hid it in my spare tire. I needed to wait until I was sure that you were on board."

"What can you tell us about Lee?"

Will gives you everything he had on Lee, and you found the file he gathered on her in the spare tire in his trunk. He even gave you his phone that has a voicemail she sent to him right before she disappeared. You leave the interrogation room with Hotch and turn to him with a smile.

"Did I choke you?"

"You did a really good job. I'm serious. Keep up the good work."

"Thank you," you grin.