#and everyone else has no fucking problem taking the grape juice out of its little holder hole thing

[spikeyjo]

ignoring the trans gay and traumatized reasons for hating church.... bro it is just a sensory nightmare in general. you get a cramped pew, you have to sit and stare at one person the entire time, the women in the choir sing at a pitch that could break glass, the preacher is going apeshit and yelling, youre getting in trouble for drawing instead of listening, youre wearing uncomfortable shoes and clothing, and theres a baby sitting in front of you that stares at you for two hours straight

[lazarettta]

I’m Not A Witch

Characters ( Cordelia Goode, Misty Day, and Reader)

Word Count 3k

Warnings (Minor drug use 💨)

You don’t have a bad background, in fact your life is pretty cushy but not without its problems namely...you being able to do things with your mind but you have no control. Thankfully, Cordelia and Misty scoop you up before you head down a path of self-destruction. Platonic af but there could be something if you squint I think 🤔

~~

New Orleans was a world different from New York. A world different. You were born and raised in New York—it was your whole life, and you never really thought about a life outside of the city that never slept. Why would you want to leave the city that everyone wanted to be apart of? Well that's what you thought for twenty-three years.

You lived a comfortable life your entire existence, you didn't have to struggle nor were you ever afraid of your future. Your parents always made sure that you were well taken care of, nothing but the best for you and you knew how fortunate you were especially being a foster kid. You were born to Mr and Mrs Hawthorne, a wealthy couple who couldn't have a baby of their own so they went with the next best thing that money could afford—surrogacy.

It had taken your parents months to find the perfect candidate as Mr. Hawthorne, your father, would use his own semen (yikes dad). But that was all that you knew, you had no idea the identity of the woman they hired to carry you for nine months other than she was the nicest young woman your mother has ever met.

It wasn't a topic that could've been avoided as you got older and noticed that your complexion was a few shades more than theirs. But thankfully your parents were always open and honest with you, even at a young age. Of course you had a nanny growing up, both of your parents were lawyers—their time was always stretched far too thin, but you weren't a neglected child nor were you ungrateful and they loved you so much for it.

Which was why you never told them about your newfound skill when you hit your sweet sixteen—everyone thought the candle that nearly melted your entire birthday cake was a fluke incident but you knew that it wasn't. You had felt the heat of the fire as you watched your father set the tip of the match against the wick of the candle. For a brief moment you wondered what would've happened to your cake if it was on fire, you thought it would look pretty badass. You hadn't exactly expected it to actually happen! But it did and thankfully no one was injured just thoroughly freaked out.

Your parents laughed it off, quite nervously, but you never said anything about it to them and they never really brought it up again anyway. Unbeknownst to them, of course they were always at work and the penthouse housekeeper wasn't required twenty-four seven, you were able to fool around with your newfound hobby with relative peace in your room. Well until you nearly set the place on fire twice in the same month, after that you just went to the roof and googled meditation practices on google.

You only ever couldn't control the fire unless you were an emotional wreck. For two years, you kept that secret to yourself and if you didn't have friends before you sure as shit didn't then. No one really liked you anyway, your parents were richer than most of everyone else's and your parents actually gave a damn about you and not just about how you were going to make them look in the future.

They tried to bully you about your height but you weren't a punk, so that was short lived. Students envied you but that was okay. They didn't have anything to offer you, that's what your mom always told you anyway. Besides there was nothing wrong with being short, it just meant you had more to offer. Of course.

When you turned eighteen, you discovered something else about yourself...and you weren't exactly sure what you wanted to call it but you could always tell if someone was lying to you if you listened hard enough.

You weren't sure how it worked but you never took any real notice to it until your ex girlfriend, and your only girlfriend, lied to you and you felt a bit of a...you wouldn't say it was a jolt but your insides felt the same type of tingle when your foot fell asleep or something.

That's how you figured out your first love (high school, right?) was cheating on you...you hadn't dated anyone after that. How could you when all people did was lie?

And the minute they learned that you were a Hawthorne...it was done. You saved yourself the heartache and just focused on the future. You managed to graduate college a year early and you didn't go to jail for arson, yet.

The older you got and the more you learned about how shitty people could be, meditation and yoga stopped working so well for you and you ended up joining a gym. No martial arts or anything like that, you didn't have the time for it, but you hired a trainer and five days a week that’s what kept you grounded.

Presently...

You weren't currently working, well not anymore. Less than a month ago you were a nurse at Mercy hospital as a CRNA. It was a late night already and an unruly patient was brought in for a gunshot wound. Somehow he managed to slip out of his bonds and before anyone could stop him, the bastard had his hands around your throat and you'd...you just fucking panicked and he ending up burning to death from the inside.

No one knew how it happened they couldn't even prove that you had even done anything, but you were fired on the spot anyway...and your parents had to shovel out a good amount of money and blackmail to keep your name from the papers.

You hadn't searched for a job after that, what was the point? Your name may not have been dragged through the papers but you sure as hell weren't gonna be working at any hospital anytime soon. At least...not in Manhattan.

But after what happened...what you did to that man, the cruelty of it? Why would you? You'd been high strung after that and you picked up a habit you ditched after you left college.

It just helped you regulate your emotions better and to think, plus you just liked the way it made you feel. It also helped with the nightmares that would plague you every night, and the scene was always the same. He was always on top of you screaming to a pain too gruesome for words.

Your parents tried therapy but you were stubborn besides your medicine was better than theirs anyway.

Your father didn't know about your newfound hobby but your mom did, and she wasn't going to tell him either. She was just thankful that it wasn't crack or cocaine—she could deal with her daughter turning into a weed connoisseur. But she would not support an unproductive one.

That was exactly why she was on her way back into the city to your penthouse with two guests in tow. Doing her best not to cry in front of these two women who have proven to her that they could not only help you but take care of you in a way that she couldn't.

But she knew when your birthday cake went up in flames...she had been watching you the entire time, and in that moment...every warning and tale that your birth mother told her came to light. But she made a promise to love you like you were her own, because you were, and she'd love every freaky little tic that came with you.

As a mother it was hard for your mom to accept that this wasn’t something that she could do for you. But she was woman enough not to stand in the way of her daughter's success...whatever it was that you chose to do.

~~

You were sitting out on your balcony wearing your black robe with nothing else on except a pair of panties and your Prince tank top that you should've gotten rid of years ago but it was still one of your favorite—holes and all. You'd been blissfully in your own little world for a few hours now with your iPad sitting in your lap with some Stevie Nicks playing in the background over the speakers coming from inside your penthouse.

It was just the right volume that it wasn't too loud but the city noises didn't drown it out either. You'd just polished off your fourth bowl, something grape...whatever, you were just enjoying your time. You went back to drawing, head bopping softly and you were so lost in your own little world you didn't realize that you were alone in your penthouse. There were three different sets of high heels that you missed though you just about jumped out of your skin when your mother came into view via your peripherals.

“Oh!” you smiled bright and wide, eyes a tad bit low, “Hey mom, what are you...um...who are they?” you sat up quickly, unaware that your robe fell open with the movement and your mom nearly facepalmed. You set your tablet aside, doing a double take at the blonde with the curly hair that was lowkey dancing to Fleetwood playing in the background. You looked at your mom, your smile morphing into a confused frown, “Mom?”

“Sweetheart,” your mom soothed back a long strand of dark hair and cleared her throat softly which worried you even more because your mom was never one to be nervous, ever, “This is Cordelia Goode and Misty Day.”

Subconsciously you reached into your robes pocket and pulled out a bright orange stress ball you got from the bodega for a whopping five bucks. (You had to have been high as fuck not to argue that price down but whatever.) You squeezed it softly, licking your dry lips, “Um...hi? Did I do something to you guys too? If I did I'm so sorry, I—”

“No, baby, no,” your mother sat next to you, quickly fixing your robe and your messy hair and Cordelia's brown eyes shot to Misty, who had immediately stopped dancing, “Just...are you hungry? Orange juice maybe?”

“Mrs. Hawthorne?” you looked up at the blonde woman came up behind your mother with a soft smile, “If I may, in my experience it is always better to just rip it off just like a band-aid.”

“Rip what off?” you pulled away from your mom, scooting away and hated seeing that hurt look on her face but there was something going on, you were not that paranoid.

“Honey, this is just a little intervention and—”

Laughing, you scooted away from your mom again, “What? Mom, it’s just pot—”

Your mom waved away your comment with a roll of her eyes, “Honey, I don’t care about the grass—”

“Then what…”

“Zip!”

You quickly shut your mouth when your mom said that and have you that look, it was one you knew quite well growing up. It baffled you how it was still working on you.

Your mom sighed, “It's just for a little while and I'll make sure that this place is well cared for.”

“Wait what?! You're sending me away??”

“(Y/n).” the blonde, Cordelia, pulled your attention from your mom who was crying, Cordelia sat on the edge of your coffee table carefully while Misty continued to hover in the background curiously, but prepared in case you got jumpy, “We just want to help you, okay? We're not here to kidnap you or harm you in any way.”

“I can't be helped,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes even as the tears spilled over, “I—I don't know what you think you know, Miss Goode but...”

“I know quite a bit, (Y/n),” Cordelia held out her hand and suddenly your stash box flew past your head making you flinch but Cordelia caught it just fine and you stared at her wide eyed, “You and I? We aren't so different and at Miss Robichaux's academy for exceptional young ladies...we teach young witches such as yourself how to survive in the modern world.”

“Witches? You think I'm a witch? No way, mom c'mon...the...the stash box trick was cool and all, but witches? Mom! Mom please, you're not buying this are you?” but even as you questioned it, you knew that they were telling the truth and that's what scared you the most. “How do you know they're not trying to use this for your money?”

“We're not, I promise! We don't need your family's money, (Y/n). All we want is to help you.”

“Listen to her, honey, this is for your benefit, okay? And...these women are very nice people, so don't give them trouble, not that you would, right?”

You looked over your mothers shoulder at Misty, the woman offering you a smile and a playful wink.

You exhaled heavily, your eyes sliding back to your mom, “...and you're not getting rid of me right? Because of...what I can do? Or what I've done?”

“No! Absolutely not, it was an accident! If anything it was the faulty bonds they put that monster in! Honestly,” your mother huffed, “your father and I still have half a mind about suing that hospital…”

“But not without having to drag my name through the mud.” You mumbled, sighing heavily.

“I love you, (Y/n), so damn much. Yes, we would’ve gotten millions but you’re worth much more to your father and I, don't you forget that,” Your mom reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing gently before standing and quickly gathering her Prada bag, “and...don't worry about your father with all of this. I'll break this to him myself but baby...promise me that you will try?”

You bit your bottom lip, nodding slowly and holding her hand tighter almost painfully so before surging up and hugging your bother tight, and even though she was in high heels your slight frame made it easy for her to catch most of your weight. She hugged you back just as fiercely, kissing your forehead twice before letting you go.

“And here—for emergencies and whatever you might need, honey.” your mom pushed her black card into your trembling hands, the weight of it denser than you expected it to be and it made you laugh, of course your mom would shove money at you. It was her love language, you stopped questioning it a very long time ago but you never took advantage of it. “I love you so so much.”

Cordelia watched the entire exchange silently with an ever curious eye, even daring to risk raising an eyebrow when she saw your mom push that unmarked card into your hands before skirting off. Your mom reminded her a bit of her own mother...money was Fiona’s love language as well.

But your mom was much more pleasant, her love for you blossomed like a rose rather than a thorn bush.

You exhaled shakily, hands fidgeting in front of you, “I...what now?”

“Now we get down to business,” Misty smiled at you, stepping into the space your mom once occupied and took your hands in both of her own, “Your mama is resourceful, she tracked us down and everything, but it wasn't like it was all that hard since Delia and I were lookin' for you too.”

“You...you were?” you looked over your shoulder at Cordelia still sitting on your coffee table, “Why?”

“We heard about what happened to the man at the hospital and even though you weren't named, it wasn't that hard to track you down and we happened to cross paths with your mother.”

“Figures...” you nodded, sniffling again and you quickly pulled your hands from Misty when a breeze hit your skin—reminding you how indecent you were among two strangers.

You fixed your robe again and quickly sat down and Misty followed you down, bouncing slightly almost a little too close—your high was completely worn off at this point, “Earlier you said that you were helping wit...people like me live in the modern world? What?”

“Yes, we help witches such as yourself avoid situations like the one you currently experienced.”

You raised an eyebrow at her wording and she smiled at you when you met her eyes. You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest—appearing unbothered even if you were still sniffling, damn. Your mood swings were going to give you whiplash one of these days.

“You don’t really expect me to go around calling myself a witch do you?”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed a fraction, “What I expect, (Y/n), is for you to actually make an attempt. There will be rules and the sooner you drop the attitude, the easier this will be for all of us—you especially.”

You opened your mouth to argue back but then you quickly shut your mouth, your mom's words bouncing around in your head to stop causing trouble. Along with the promise you made to her.

Misty was sitting still next to you, and though you couldn’t see it—her eyes were darting back and forth between you and Cordelia with a bit of a grin trying to break free.

“Right, and um where is this school of yours again? If I even agree to this at all?”

Cordelia gave you a look that you couldn't really decipher, “Miss Robichaux's academy is in California.”

Your eyes flew back to hers immediately, “I don't wanna go around calling you a liar Miss Goode, I only just met you...but you and I both know that's not true.”

“Ah, so it is true...you do have some form divination.”

She led you right into a trap and you couldn’t even be annoyed by that, Cordelia was proving to be a lot more than she appeared. “Divination? What is that? Is there anything my mom didn't tell you?”

“Well, she didn't tell us ya favorite food.” Misty supplied unhelpfully, attempting to break the building tension with poor humor. And you couldn't hold back your smile, deciding that you liked her a lot.

“You're a walking lie detector, dear. That's quite handy in today's world.”

Misty chuckled before one of her arms came around your shoulders, “Oh yes, and Madison is just gonna love you!”

“Don't worry, you’ll fit right in.” Cordelia chuckled, still sitting directly across from you and there was a bit of a twinkle in her brown eyes, she knew you were going to be trouble and that she would have to keep a close eye on you. But if there was one thing that Cordelia enjoyed, it was a challenge.

~~

I dunno what I’m doing for real lol it’s 1am and I’m in my garage on a tablet 😅😅I thought this was fun

[lovelyirony]

morgan doesn’t have to be a hero. she just has to know the family that was. 

(or me ignoring everything about infinity war and endgame) 

Thinking about how Tony doesn’t tell Morgan everything about Iron Man. There are books, of course. A couple of children’s authors and illustrators thought it would be nice if the kids could see heroes on something else other than a news source that also talks about casualties and how much they actually lost. 

It’s nice for Tony, too. 

No one saw the wormhole. No one illustrates him falling out of the sky, body plummeting and seeing what the future would be. 

It’s Morgan’s favorite book, seeing the team defeat the “mean aliens.” Her eyes follow each hero. She likes Hulk the best. She likes tracing along the pages, asking “whozat” every two minutes or so. 

She finds the old armor in the garage when she’s in her “investigation” phase, and correlates it to the book. 

She doesn’t think that Iron Man is that cool. She wants the armor to be pink and green, so dad loses out on “cool points.” 

She finds the armor that he’s building for Pepper, because he’s still paranoid and worried and he wants her to be safe. 

He survived one house of his falling, and he’s not sure he’ll survive another one. 

Morgan asks about the picture at the kitchen, the one where Tony and Peter are posing for Peter’s official internship. 

“That’s...that’s your family,” Tony says, because he can just picture how excited Peter would be at having a little Morgan around, crawling everywhere. “His name is Peter.” 

He never refers to Peter in the past tense. He doesn’t know if it’s for Morgan’s benefit or his own. 

He tells her all about Spider-Man. “Spidey” becomes easier to pronounce, so they go with that. 

Sometimes mom finishes those stories while dad goes to get juice pops. 

(And look at the photo for a bit too long.) 

Morgan asks him where Spidey is, once. More than once. But the first time it was...it was painful. 

“Where is he?” Morgan asks. 

“He’s...” 

Tony doesn’t know what to say. He’s not gone. No, fuck that. Peter isn’t gone. But he’s not here, and Tony doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know where anyone is. 

“He lives far away, so he would have to take a long time to get here,” Pepper says, smiling. “But now, we are going to travel for the kitchen for lunch! The menu today is carrots and celery with hummus, and some fresh fruit and a sandwich. What do we think?” 

“Is the fruit seasonal?” Tony asks, voice thready. “Points off if it’s out.” 

“You’re a nerd,” Pepper says. “Yes, it’s in season. Would you mind turning the washer on? I forgot to.” 

Tony nods, and Pepper grabs his hand, squeezing. 

He was so lucky to have her in his life. 

- 

And then the Avengers are reforming. Scott Lang, aka Ant-Man, aka the weirdest superhero name he’s ever heard, has a theory. 

About time travel. 

He said he didn’t Back to the Future think about it, but he totally Back to the Future thought about it. 

The problem is that it works. 

That’s not the real problem. No, it’s not a real problem at all. He thinks about everyone returning and it’s happy and good again, and- 

He’ll have to leave. 

He hasn’t forgotten Strange’s statement. 

Only one situation where this doesn’t fail. Where we don’t fail. 

And it has to be him. 

You don’t come back from something like that. 

Usually, anyway. 

Tony’s determined that he’s coming back. That everyone is coming back. 

The whole plot of Back to the Future goes as such: Marty’s life sucks, his parents’ lives are boring, and they’re not supposed to change the future. 

They do anyways. 

And it works. That’s the thing. Out of every single “time travel is dangerous” trope, Back to the Future still shows that sometimes some changes don’t affect the future badly, it just changes it. 

Tony knows that that can be done. It has to be done, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to leave Morgan. He already pinky-promised her that they’d make a picnic for her fifth birthday, and pinky-promises are the most binding contract he’s ever been a part of so far. 

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it can’t be done. 

- 

He has to go with Steve to get a stone. He doesn’t necessarily like that because neither of them are subtle and they’re going to see his dad. 

Which is just gonna be a ball of a time. And Tony looks like Howard, just a few slight changes, but it’s undeniable. 

As long as no one connects the dots, he’ll be fine. 

They’re both like bulls in china shops. Neither has ever been out of the spotlight, and neither have been trained very well in the art of subterfuge. 

“What, SHIELD just decide to set you loose?” Tony hisses as they’re making an escape. 

“Oh and you didn’t have any time to learn?” Steve snaps back. “Let’s go.” 

- 

Natasha almost doesn’t return. Almost. Tony’s terrified to think of what would have been happened had she still been there. 

“Dumbass,” Clint mutters. “Thinking you could jump and we wouldn’t have done shit about it. You’re stupid.” 

Natasha just has a graceful smile on. 

“You’re not allowed to be the stupid Avenger all the time, Clint.” 

“Okay I accidentally blew up a microwave one time and suddenly-” 

Tony laughs. 

Genuinely laughs. 

It’s been a while since they’ve functioned like a team. Been a longer time since they’ve been one. 

- 

They get the stones. 

Hulk gets everyone back. Bruce gets everyone back. 

He’s confusing. 

But there he is, Peter. 

Tony hugs him, and he tears up, and god he’s so glad that Peter’s back. That everyone is back. 

It feels nice. 

But they still have a fight to finish and a glove to play hot potato with. 

- 

Thanos is still formidable. He’s still skilled, still has an entire army. 

Well...they’re not outmatched for long. 

Dr. Strange opens portals, leading a whole new mass of people to help. And Tony sees Danvers, which he has yet to talk to Rhodey about. God, Rhodey had been right about her being alive. 

But that’s not important. 

- 

He’s fighting one-on-one. 

Thanos is confident that he’s going to win. 

See, that’s the thing about Tony: he may not have been trained in subterfuge, but he knows all about flouting expectations. He knows that everyone had expected so many things of him that when he did anything out of the ordinary, no one paid attention. 

This is just like that. 

Thanos snaps, only it’s not enough this time. 

It’s not going to be like last time, with Peter panicking and people screaming and tragedy lining the news for years. 

No this time? It won’t work. 

Because this is the time where the hero wins against all odds and there’s a happy ending. He’s going to make it so, no matter how much of a toll this takes. He’s getting back to Morgan and Pepper no matter what it fucking takes. 

- 

Thanos is gone. His army dissolved. 

And he is satisfied. He’s tired, but happy. And he’s fairly sure that the glove has taken its toll on his body, but he hopes to god that he’ll be okay. 

Pepper is running her hands through his hair, telling him it’ll be okay, and asking anyone for help with transportation. 

There’s one person important that didn’t get blipped, and luckily, she’s a personal friend: Helen Cho. 

Sure, it’s time-intensive. 

Yes, Morgan is mad that daddy can’t read her a bedtime story. 

But...she gets to meet Peter, torture him with forty questions a minute, and Tony gets the use of his arm back. 

So it equals itself out. 

- 

The world, for now, doesn’t need a lot of superheroes. Everyone’s still settling down, no one wants anything but normal. 

This means a lot of superheroes have no idea what to do. 

But Morgan does. 

When dad gets back and is up for playing again (which took forever), Morgan asks to see the team. 

If dad is Iron Man, then it only makes sense that he knows all the other ones. And she has a lot of questions. 

The Avengers are a...a team. God, that’s about the only thing they can call themselves now. They used to be a family but everything’s changed and stilted and awkward. 

Morgan knows none of this. 

So ergo, she decides the most amazing thing ever for her fifth birthday party is to have a picnic with the whole team. Writes them invitations and everything, makes her mom trace out the words she wants to write so that it looks “extra fancy.” 

Tony’s never been one to deny Morgan something she really wants. 

“You sure you wanna handle this? You and Steve aren’t exactly on the best of terms, and I don’t think the team has actually talked.” 

“Well, no time like a five year old’s birthday party to get to catching up.” 

- 

It’s...something. 

Morgan is blissfully unaware and everyone makes so that she stays unaware. 

This involves some...awkward conversations. 

But mostly just making peace with the fact that life happened. 

And Natasha finally has another niece, even if she’s not named after her. 

“You still should’ve,” she jokes. 

“We were thinking about it, honest,” Pepper remarks dryly. “But hey, thanks for coming. Morgan’s very excited to learn how to ‘be a spy’ in her words.” 

Natasha grins. 

“I’ll have her taking out government officials in no time.” 

“Or just teaching her how to disarm dangerous people, thank you very much,” Tony says hurriedly. 

“Didn’t peg you to be the helicopter parent, Stark,” Clint says. 

“Oh trust me, he barely left the house when she was born,” Pepper says with a laugh. “And he would check everything. I had to convince him that Morgan did actually need to sleep in her crib.” 

“She would’ve been fine by us!” Tony defends weakly. “And besides, you said you did want an office space!” 

“Working in the sunroom is fine enough,” Pepper says. “And you forget that you offered to build me one, which is an offer you still haven’t done.” 

“I saved the world, you know.” 

“Oh, did you?” 

Tony grins, popping a grape into his mouth as he sees the scene unfold. 

Morgan’s having great fun showing everyone her little hideout, and where she goes on walks. 

She’s made friends with Peter and introducing him to her stuffed animals. 

Yeah. 

Life is good. 

[neshabeingchildish]

Poly Wanna? Ch.3

A/N: Anonymous Guest - If you’d like to have a chat about these things, say it with your chest, and I’ll say my part. We’ll have an exchange. If you want to use the space set aside for reviews without identification or giving me the opportunity to reply to you personally, then I have to give you the two cents here and everyone has to be subjected to it. It’s an M rating story, so I’ll presume you have your big girl panties on and can take a reply and for anyone else around, in case they have some confusion about my stand on these things, this applies to all.

I just want to remind everybody that this is free labor and if you want somebody to do anything on your timetable, you oughtta go ahead and fund them. You don’t? Cool. Take wtf they’re willing to give you. Or leave it. None of us have to be here. If you’re here because you would love to read a story that I am currently writing, I’d love for you to stick around and will give you the best story that my skills have to offer, free of charge and therefore not obliged to demands. If you’re here to be an executive producer with a production schedule, you made a wrong turn at the intersection of Fuck You and Pay Me. Thanks for your time. I understand if ours together has come to an end. Read what brings you what you want to see and feel, and I’ll write what brings me that WHEN I write it! 

I will abandon this and delete it before turning over authority on what happens here to anybody, or subjecting myself to being treated like a content mule. Juneteenth happened, Sis. You don’t have no slaves here. In the immortal words of my mama, and many-a-Black-mamas, “I’m not one of your lil’ friends.” You better approach me like you got some sense if you trying to ASK ME to do something for my consideration. Peace and many blessings. And now, my update…

@adorkable-blackgirl  @chenoahchantel @cactus-con @up-the-tube @riebellion  @itsyaapollochild@oof–musicals @lesbian-so-what @woahjusttakeiteasy-man @meadowstryingtobepretty @imma-sensitive-btch @okaygal21 @midernacht @divinereign4ever @xoxoemille

A Very Henry Morning

Henry generally woke up in just enough time to blend some juice and watch the sunrise over Swellview, the city that he fought everyday to protect. It was a lasting ritual, from whenever he was with Charlotte. She would always get up super early for yoga and meditation, blend them some juice, then, he’d get up and watch the sun rise with her. The first time, she tapped him to wake him and said, “Sorry to wake you, but you’ve gotta see this.” He quickly rushed out of bed, wondering if a Swellview emergency was underway. This was more important! She went to the balcony of their apartment, cute body clad in her yoga gear and just stared at the rising sun, in awe. “It’s like whenever the day starts anew, not only is it another chance to get things a little more right, but she really brings the day in, in style.” Charlotte was smiling as the morning got gradually brighter and staring at the lifebringing star until it became too bright to behold. Henry was looking at her.

He wanted to ask her if she really thought that was worth waking him up this early, knowing that he went to sleep late at night after crime fighting, but just the way she drank it all in and the way it became a little brighter and a little warmer as he drank her in… Instead, he’d said, “Tomorrow, wake me up earlier! We almost missed it,” and gave her a kiss on her cheek. Presently, he had been doing this without her now for 6 years. “She really brings the day in, in style,” he would say out loud to himself, every time. For years, he did it hoping that Charlotte was somewhere out there, doing the same and that for that moment in time, they were connected again. He would imagine her in whatever her current form had been from (cyberstalking her) and he would recall the way that she looked whenever they first did this.

When he was with Jasper, he didn’t share that moment with him. It seemed unfair to Charlotte, even though even being involved with Jasper was another betrayal of sorts, the sunrise was holy. It was set apart. It was a part of he and Char that was too big, too bright for anybody, even her to ever be able to take away from him… and he was too selfish to share it with anybody else, even Jasper.

Now, his internal clock was set to make the juice and go to the terrace. He watched the sunrise and then, and only then was he willing to begin his day. Henry usually finished off his juice before the sun rose fully and put the glass into the wash when he came back in. He grabbed his watering pot and went to water all of his plants that needed it and simply check in with the ones that didn’t. “The sunrise was beautiful today. Forecast is that she might scorch you if I let you outside, but I’ll definitely let her in, so she can kiss you all on your little faces,” he said. He himself kissed flowers. He himself touched them lovingly, talked to them, asked nothing more of them than for them to be healthy and flourish, but sometimes shared his life with them. Henry had a therapist, but he knew whenever he spoke to his therapist that he was speaking to a therapist and he, as a therapist sometimes worried about whether he was handling his own therapy properly, or if his fears got into the way of his needs. Speaking with his plants helped him to figure out when he was being unreasonable, irrational, or counterproductive. Because, the way that he spoke with them was like one would a child that they love with their whole heart, explaining things for them to understand, and being honest and realistic, but protecting them from one’s own problems. Accountability mattered when you spoke with someone you loved. You would honestly do whatever you could to make sure that they don’t see you differently and make the declarations to better yourself to them. He did that with his plants, then shared the genuine portions that he walked away with for therapy. They kept him honest.

He kept a 3 foot garden statue of Blodeuwedd in his home and had various depictions of her flowers form in artwork all over the place, along with other deities, myths, legends associated with flowers. He’d keep statues nearby the plants to “protect them,” in that way that a dad looks underneath the bed and in the closet for monsters. He’d collected Flora, Khloris, Hegemone, among others but, Blodeuwedd was his favorite, for some reason. Unless you counted Dionysus! Now, one thing about that guy was that he was known mostly for his partying, yeah? Wine, fertility, ritual madness… People generally thought orgies and drunkenness… which… make no mistake, Henry was not opposed to and would even call himself a fan, but Dionysus was also, among these other fun things, god of the grape harvest… He was a god of fruitfulness and vegetation! Henry felt like it was unfair to simply see him as a wild hedonist when he was to thank for fertility and cultivation. Henry was pro-fair… And maybe, just maybe identified with the demigod, just a little bit. 

Folk rarely saw the portion of Henry that loved as hard as he did when he experienced the sun saying good morning to all of nature and made his first moves of her arrival an offering to those who could not live without her. Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Henry Hart is no mystic. He doesn’t worship the sun, the plants, or any of the gods and goddess spread around his home for the aesthetics. But, whenever he spent time with these plants, whenever he gave love to his flowers, he believed in something greater than himself, and that was all of the faith that he needed to go out and protect this world everyday.

People were fine, or whatever… but also they were human. They were the threats to nature, to the earth, the environment, and all that the sun shone on everyday. Mister Feelgood never had to fight an animal. It was always people that did the evil that required his life’s work to exist. Many moons ago, he had fought a bear, but since then wondered if other steps might have been taken. Captain Man was not one to really do the sensible thing in a fight scenario. 

As he got older, Henry tried to figure out ways to best avoid a fight. He was fast approaching 30, probably would reach it before he knew it, and he was in great shape - the best shape of his life, but he also knew that this vessel expiration date. He wasn’t Captain Man. He wasn’t indestructible, and some of his peers were already discussing that the warranties on their knees had lapsed. A few years ago, he might have replied, “RIP to them, but I’m different.” But, he was showing signs of power failure, himself. He became sore more easily than he did as Kid Danger, well, since the early days, at least. He was sore all of the time from ages 13-15. He thought it would never stop. That his body would ache for the rest of his life. 

By 16, he was accustomed to his hypermotility, trained to perfection in its usage and skilled beyond his wildest thoughts in fighting technique. He didn’t have a single pain for almost 2 years. Then, Rick Twitler stripped him of that. The soreness increased, as he spent more energy to get used to things, but he adjusted pretty quickly and became just as trained and skilled with his normal Henry body. It worked out for him for years, in and out of that outfit. But, by 25, he started getting a little more tired than usual. 

He worked on his diet and regulated his energy levels better. Within another year, he started feeling like he needed more sleep at night. He began a vitamin regimen and looked into some natural remedies for fatigue and sleep deprivation. Now, even his libido was changing. Pre-Charlotte Henry kissed strangers, made out with hot villains, hooked up with any cute flavor that would give him the time of day. That seemed to be normal teenage behavior, in his mind. Post-Charlotte Henry was a little more reserved for a while. He’d had this life changing relationship, failed at it, and wanted to proceed with either extreme self destruction, or instant carnal gratification. There was no in between. He either was a hermit, or a hoe, for months after they broke up, and only tried to moderate that whenever he began seeing Jasper.

Unfortunately for Jasper, Post-Charlotte Henry was still suffering when he picked up what they had, so… while he was truly trying, he still had the tendency to accelerate from hubby to harlot goals in a heartbeat. Unfortunately for Jasper, Henry had not yet gotten to the point where he could honestly and objectively take a look at his own fuckery and see where he messed up and he certainly wasn’t about tackling sorting through his own heartbreak so that he wouldn’t become one of those hurt people who hurt people. Unfortunately for Henry, Jasper was a keeper, and he was still so heartbroken that he lost the one keeper that he could acknowledge back then, that he lost ANOTHER. How the fuck did you throw away two keepers, you egotistical, emotionally stunted, self-centered, sex crazed… He stopped himself. Speak about your mistakes in the same way that you would speak to a friend about theirs. When you have no friends that you can think of, though… Speak to yourself like you would speak to the lost ones. To Charlotte. To Jasper…

He grabbed his hygiene bag - it was like a tactical control bag, but full of his facial and skin care, dental products, and his cleansing and fragrance supplies. The bag was full of things that he used on a daily basis, and also his weekly and monthly care. Henry took care of himself. His hair, skin, and teeth were always a priority that he was sure rubbed off from Char, too. Hell, they were together the first 4 years after graduation. Those were formative years for him. He used to wash his face and body with the same damn soap, his face with his hands and his body with a loofah that he always kept until it fell apart. He used to brush his teeth within 40 seconds. His hair took the most time of everything he did and all he ever did was wash it with a shampoo and conditioner 2 in 1… and if he ran out, the same damn soap he washed his face and body with!

Charlotte got him into separate cleaners and applicators. Like, whenever he washed his face, he didn’t even do so in the shower, because he had an entire process to make sure his face was well cared for and the shower wash wouldn’t be timed right for it. Usually, he did wipe his face in the shower, because of washing his hair and the water and steam, but he didn’t really wash it until he did his face after the shower. The shower itself, he would  wash his hair, let conditioner set in it and then wash his body, some of his parts had different cloths, ALL of the cloths went into the laundry when he finished washing up. He always moisturized his damp skin, and put on his deodorant before his facial routine, which was kind of extensive, but had him looking better at 27 than he had at 17, meanwhile… not to say that Jasper looked bad, but… He definitely hadn’t aged as well as Henry and Char had and perhaps she’d help him, like she helped Henry. 

Her influence had helped him become the casanova that he dreamed himself to be when he was younger. Though lately, his desire had been limited. He didn’t even get off on the thrill of the chase anymore. He was super focused on this television project, so he thought maybe that might be affecting things. He wondered and worried if throughout recording that he might have to play up his sexual conquests so that his life would look more like it had looked for the past few years, or if the show would simply redefine him, or worse, make him look like he was faking for TV, since he didn’t seem to want to go on any dates at the moment. He always went on dates. People knew that. If he wasn’t on a date, he was at a party and he was coming home with somebody’s date.

He had family game night at his parents’ neighbors’ house a couple of weeks before and whenever they were playing word association games. Someone said Henry, and every member of his family said one of the following list: Slut, sex, and STD. He didn’t want to say who said what but at the same time that he told Piper, “I have never once had an STD. I’m a sex therapist for crying out loud!” his mother was asking his father, “Why would you say SEX?” And his “I’m a sex therapist for crying out loud!” Conveniently replied to both Piper and his mom. But… he was still a little embarrassed. Nobody said gardening or flowers. Nobody said therapist. Nobody said even the word that he had been to them for 27 years, 21 for Piper - son, brother, dude who lived with us? He sighed. That was worse than that time that one of Piper’s friends referred to him, not even as Piper’s promiscuous brother… “What was the point of the adjective?” he’d asked.

He wasn’t embarrassed so much as hurt, a little bit. Because all throughout his adolescence, nobody knew him outside of being a friend to hometown faves. Charlotte Page, the smartest girl in town. Jasper Dunlop, a hero and an activist against unjust laws. Ray Manchester, the longest running most handsome man in Swellview. Piper “the Queen of Harts,” child commercial actress and self made public figure/influencer. And someone actually told him, “Honestly, I don’t think anybody would care how many chicks you banged if you weren’t Piper Hart’s brother. You’re a sex therapist and probably a sex addict and you have a sister who began the Holdin’ Out for a Hero chastity challenge.”

Little did that person know, that challenge got Mister Feelgood as much ass as Henry Hart. But, now, for some reason, he couldn’t even think about doing that. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him until today’s shower. Up until then, he just presumed he was getting old and tired of it. Like, dating was exhausting sometimes and parties seemed louder than they used to. Sex? Still awesome. That could never change, but… whenever he had the chance for any, he would prefer to pass. 

He had a date the night that he asked Jasper to speak with him about the venture. “I wanna ask Charlotte, as well, but I still have no access to her,” Henry said, casually. There wasn’t a hint of sadness in his voice or even in his heart at that moment, because it had been nearly seven years and Charlotte being out of the loop and out of his life was commonplace, now.

“Does it pay, because I can probably get her to entertain the thought, if it does?” Jasper asked.

“Who are you talking about?” Henry heard a voice ask in the close background… Like real close… like.. Either hovering right over Jasper’s shoulder, or sitting in his lap close.

“Shhh. You,” Jasper said. Like… their voices seemed to be coming from the same place.

“Don’t you SHHH me!” She snapped and it was right in Henry’s ear! Like she was holding the phone. Even with her being loud and angry in his ear, this was one of the sweetest sounds Henry had heard in years. Her actual voice. She sounded different, older, but pretty much the same. Her language and tone definitely brought back memories. All he had was old footage of her at different times. This was more than he bargained for whenever he called Jasper’s phone. He didn’t even know that they were in communication with each other and they sounded… so close…

She and Jasper were fussing and sounded like tussling, probably Jasper trying to move the phone away as he softly said, “Henry’s asking me about meeting up with him at the old spot about some business.”

“Oh,” she said, and then her voice faded into the background saying, “Well, yeah, I’d talk to Henry for money, I guess.”

Jasper whispered something to her that Henry couldn’t hear, then it sounded like he kissed her? Then it sounded like she giggled. Henry… felt… so odd in that moment. Jasper returned to the call and said, “Sorry. Charlotte knocked me off of the bed,” he laughed.

“The bed?” Henry repeated, halfway in a daze, halfway like he didn’t understand the word or phrase the bed was what you said about your bed. Was he and Charlotte in this bed together?

“Yeah,” Jasper seemed to read his mind. “You.. haven’t seen any of my posts tagging her?”

“No, she has me blocked on everything.”

“Yeah, but I don’t.”

“She actually went into the programs and made them to where Schwoz can’t hack her, so I’m sure she’s got a way for me to not even be able to see her through someone else’s feed.”

“Oh… well…” Jasper laughed a little bit uncomfortably. He had thought that Henry knew, but he could tell that he was just putting it together, “We’re a couple now!” He cheered. “It’s still new, but… yeah..”

Henry wasn’t quite sure which of the multitude of emotions would wind up taking over for the night, but in that moment while he let a silent tear fall, he cleared his throat, put on his happiest voice and said, “That’s awesome for both of you! You two deserve people like each other. Bring her along to the brownstone for the meeting, then. That’ll be good..” After he hung up, he cancelled his date. He didn’t want to put his mixture of emotions on anyone else tonight. That night, he opened a bottle of wine that he was saving for some special occasion or another… He never really had special occasions, so mostly wine that he saved for special occasions either remained right where they were, or rarely, there were nights like that night, where the occasion was that he found out the love of his life and the person he regretted hurting the most were together… and he didn’t know which one of them was which, even as he contemplated that fact. Both of them were, in their own ways, the love of his life. Charlotte had been his first love. Jasper had been his second chance. He didn’t fully grasp either of their importance until their presences were snatched away. Neither of them are that foolish. They’ll recognize what they have in each other and it will last forever. His lost ones. The ones that got away. They’ll have a great love. A beautiful love. A strong love. And… he might not ever be able to witness it, if he can’t charm Charlotte into putting up with him, but maybe worse, he’ll be able to and have access to her, then he’ll see it take place and mourn from the outside that they had (what they deserved) without him. He drank the entire bottle and fell asleep on the daybed on the terrace. He hadn’t felt sexual since then.

But, after he met up with Charlotte and Jasper, something happened. He grabbed his hygiene bag, like we covered before, he went to prep and recalled how Charlotte helped him step his game up, then he was thinking about when they used to share showers. She liked that. Sharing showers and stories in the steam, washing each other’s backs and each other’s hair, kissing, touching, oiling each other up to nourish the skin… everything else. 

He wondered as he was washing off if she was doing that with Jasper now… Making him hotter, cleaner, flawless, while engaging in conversations that bring them closer together and just being sexy AF in the process. If they were in the shower, kissing, touching… everything else and before he knew it, he definitely was feeling sexual again. His libido had not failed him after all. It was the shower, so he made quick work of handling his business and moving along. However, when he got out of the shower, and prepared to do his face, he saw that he looked refreshed. He looked happy again. He at least looked like he was himself, again. So… Maybe he wouldn’t be on any dates any time soon, but fantasizing about Charlotte and Jasper wasn’t harming anyone and seemed to help him a lot this morning. So, that was what he would do, if he needed that. 

[pinksweatergettingbetter]

warning, the following has mainly snarky (and possibly furious) opinions on Spirit of Justice. Reader discretion is advised.

alright. part two, here we go

-

“she’s safe”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me”

the words ‘maya’ and ‘safe’ do not go together in phoenix’s dictionary 

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...Phoenix’s phone has caller ID??

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ooh a phone vocal-blip. cute

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ok fuck you how is the Benefactor keeping tabs on them?? Did Atishon use his One Phone Call to report to headquarters or something???

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“I admit, I didn’t see that coming”

well spoilers guys I know who the benefactor is, and they have to be pretty fucking stupid not to know that a spirit medium is needed for this.

-

“its your friendly neighbourhood dragon”

no dhurke, youre not cool enough to be spiderman.

-

“you cant lay a hand on maya fey, and i mean literally”

>foreboding 

-

[sighs deeply]

guys. just. fucking call edgeworth. he’s chief prosecutor of america and his sister is part of INTERPOL. call edgeworth and just. fix the fucking problem. right now.

-

“No time to explain”

ggghhghghhghghgh

-

...oh. there’s edgeworth

...............now watch him be completely fucking useless

-

.......ARE YOU KIDDING ME

PHOENIX /DID/ CALL EDGEWORTH THE MOMENT MAYA WAS KIDNAPPED AND HE STILL WENT THROUGH HIS FUCKING “DUHHH BETTER DEFEND THIS OBVIOUS CRIMINAL” SHIT??

-

oh edgeworth. you and your chartered planes.

whenever he does that i like to imagine he hired MJN air.

-

Edgeworth...

A) Why are you letting Dhurke be involved? Just cut him out, send Franziska and Lang in with a team of guys and kick the shit out of the enemy

B) You don’t need to conceal someone on a charter jet. You chartered it. You can do whatever the fuck you want with it. Besides, Dhurke got into the country p easily, he can get out the same way.

C) Dhurke is a criminal. Depending on what he’s done as a rebel, he could be as guilty in your country as his home country. Why are you acting like he’s innocent? Aren't you kind of by-the-book?

-

oh yeah and despite the fact that they’ve updated Phoenix’s sprite, Miles still looks like a frozen plank of wood. Thanks :\

-

Apollo: Sorry Trucy, guess you have to hold all the unnecessary evidence and hold down the fort and be LEFT BEHIND FOR A CHANGE AAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

-

oh. this is a really nice garden.

the drama theme is kinda harshing the mellow tho

-

o hai rayfa

-

um. what the fuck. that mask must make it pretty difficult to do shit pal

-

Garan, whilst ordering her henchmen online: drama queen or king preferred 

-

UR DIARRHOEA, GAH-RAHN

cool theme, love the use of the royal “we”. 

-

“what about those guards over there”

“ohh, just prepared to fuck shit u–– iii mean help you haha.”

-

yeahhh... I'm not buying her super calm “my husband is a kidnapper” attitude. 

-

UIGSFILGFLIS DHURKE YOU FUCKING MORON

god he’s such a useless piece of shit. unless he’s trying to get taken so that he can be taken to... idk, wherever Maya is held in some sort of Gambit, he’s a real moron for just up and outing himself like that.

-

BAAAAARBED HEAD. YOU HAVE SOME SPLAAAAAAAAININ TO DOOOO

-

man why do they even give us other options if we can’t use them???

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“Dhurke... I sure hope he’s alright”

hey apollo wanna hear a secret

i dont 

-

Phoenix externally: Patience, Apollo, patience.

Phoenix internally: we are so screwed at any moment the queen could be all “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD” and i’ll never see trucy or maya again jesus holy mother buddha help me

-

i love that Garananana is kinda just chilling with them. You got more important shit to do, queenie. like being evil 

also open your goddamn mouth once in a while, sheesh

-

Apollo: I hope no one gets hurt

The entire series of ace attorney as a whole: oh honey

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wait ... INGA HAD A RATTAIL?!

-

ohhh yesss listen to those punches

why couldn’t they have animated it too ;w;

-

phew. im glad Maya’s ok. 

-

yeesh... poor Rayfa.

-

i love that even apollo’s like “fuck dad, you didn't kill him, did you?????”

its a beautiful contrast to how adamant he was about Trucy not killing Manov. 

-

um, soundtrack, now is not the time for Grand Revival. I know Edgeworth is on screen but the shit he’s saying is far, far from uplifting.

-

“it seems prosecutor sahdmadhi has grown quite fond of her”

nooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

-

“they’ve almost become a team of sorts”

ok so mark Ema down on the list of AJ characters who will never be seen again after this game.

fuck man i’d even take Klema over this 

-

can you imagine if they'd split up Apollo/Phoenix  Edgeworth/Athena instead

i really wonder how Athena and Edgeworth would interact. Athena’s spunky enough to be a bit like Kay I suppose, so maybe similar to that.

-

again, Kooraheen’s detention centre theme is really quite pretty

too bad i have to look at Dhurke’s face while listening to it

-

...a tasty... hash house

i

oh apollo’s up for that

well tbh if i was him i could use some hash after all this shit

-

yEAH YOU TELL’IM APOLLO

SMARTEN THAT BASTARD UP

-

god apollo he’s not worth it. i’d say leave the fucker to his fate but i guess it is important to find the real killer... sigh

-

apparently queen Amara liked insensitive fuckbags with masculinity issues

oh well. to each their own.

-

>:( don’t compare Dhurke’s story to Phoenix’s, Apollo 

-

“you ran?! but why?!!”

oh i dunno, athena, maybe the fucking death penalty?????

-

hang the fuck on

are you telling me that Dhurke started making trips to his shitty abandoned law office via sewer... while Apollo was still with him?!

Like what fucking reason would he have to drag him down there?! The place is an archive/resistance base, but Apollo and Sadmad lived in the mountains as children; why the fuck would he take his /kids/ into town at the risk of having them all arrested at once?!

WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM, DHURKE

-

that orb better be a fucking laser or some shit cause I'm really tired of hearing about it 

-

oh......... hi sadmad..................... what a pleasure to see you........... again................

just as fucking pleasant as ever

-

i love that Dhurke is like “what happened to fighting the man, son??”

like even if he is a double agent he can’t very well just be like “psst I'm still on your side!!!!” in front of the fucking guard 

i hate that dhurke’s face is so placid during this too.

“Son, why did you betray me? Also how was the sports game?”

-

“The Nahyuta you knew exists no more”

yeah sure sadblackworth, whatever you say

-

oh well that was abrupt 

meh, onwards to the tomb

-

“No, that’s the holy mother. She’s the one who brought spirit channeling to Khura’in”

oh so you mean Ami Fey.

-

oh ema... i’ll miss you while youre off being Sadmad’s lapdog 

-

“You mean His Ephemeral Holiness?”

Yes, Ema, fight it!!! Fight it!!!!!!

“But when he manages a smile and compliments my work, it’s hard to say no.”

...nuts. 

-

wait what do you mean the defendant is someone you know

you met Dhurke like once a day ago 

-

aw apollo took the locked-room-mystery words right out of my mouth. i love him so. why are they going to take him away?

-

 alrihgt back to this shit after like a 3 month hiatus or something 

-

i love how chill everyone is talking about Maya’s kidnapping 

“oh yeah he brought her here to the tomb so nobody would see. sensible thing to do. oh also maya almost died but i guess that’s nbd”

-

casually opens a tomb

casually opens the sarcophagus hangings  

casually tries to open the sarcophagus when told there’s a mummy inside

apollo, you're contracting douche-itis from everyone else. this old family of yours is a bad influence.

-

...we’re gonna yeet this sarcophagus arent we 

-

i love that Amara’s just kinda. depicted standing there as she’s burned to death. i mean i guess theyre trying to preserve her beauty and dignity in death but it also makes her look like an idiot who didnt try to escape the flames. 

ooh i like that last one though

-

pff thats a pretty well-equipped corpse line

-

“Where’d the other three bullets go?”

“Maybe Dhurke ate them?”

if he did they'd better have a VERY good explanation 

-

“the poor guy”

EMA

HE WAS HOLDING MAYA HOSTAGE

-

“the cuffs of justice”

love it

-

“just one of those traditions people do and they dont know the reason why”

“like rolling up your sleeves?”

“or your psychology, if we’re going there” HE FUCKING WENT THERE

OOOOOOOOOOO I LOVE YOU APOLLO

-

“he said grape juice has something in it that helps you relax”

are we going into grape juice lore here

"Really? ...Um, are you sure he was talking about regular, plain old grape juice?”

Yes, actually, Athena. It’s canonical that it is /actual off-the-vine welsh’s good ol’ sippy cup grape juice/. It’s not a metaphor or a censoring for kids, it’s just juice.

Of course, this is written by the DDSOJ staff. And considering the intense, dark n’ gritty action makeover the series got, I wouldn’t put it past them to retcon the juice into the... “fermented variety”. thanks Athena.

Yayyy not only do they write shitty dads, but they have to retroactively en-shitten Phoenix as an alcoholic father. Gosh, I sure do love these guys.

(obviously this isn’t a dig at anyone who head canons gj as wine, there’s a difference between head canons and malicious retconning.)

-

hmm interesting mechanic for this chair. i guess since you can’t stuff it in your inventory you cant do the ‘look all over’ thing. but on the other hand, they REALLY wanted to impress you with that hidden blood.

-

Ema: [performs a blood test in 2 seconds] I didn’t get a match!

Well probably not in that time, babe

i have to commend them on the little cutscene though that was nice. 

-

again, i guess Amara really liked emotionally stunted fuckwads

the devil horns are a bit much, though.

-

oh damn.

thats a nice ass pendant 

...oh thats blood

well, it sets off the pink and gold quite nicely. and its a butterfly... seems like something Dahlia would wear

-

“speak of the devil...”

speak of the devil indeed. hiiiiiii sadmad... its been a while.

-

oh ok he didnt say anything 

also i find it funny that apollos like “Wait!! wait!! damnit, after him!”

and then you just. go back into the talk menu with Ema. bit of a moment killer, there.

-

“why does everything have to be so difficult with you?”

cause hes a prosecutor, apollo. thats just how it is on this bitch of an earth 

-

“the law is the law. placing personal feelings above it is beyond reprieve”

ah but placing religion above it is totally fine. gotcha yuts

-

“And the winner is... prosecutor Sahdmadi!”

helpful, athena

-

“it’s like he’s trying to cover something up with his pretty words!”

oh did you mean the inevitable reveal that he's actually a good guy and we have to forgive him for being a shitwad? 

-

oh wow. that joke post about sadmad developing generalized anxiety was actually based on a legit thing that happened 

is it ok if i hate him even more for it? i mean how did he figure it out? he didn’t let apollo use it in court so where would he have gained the knowledge? unless he knows about Thalassa’s abilities...

...also, how /is/ he doing this? the way Perceive works isn’t just “i can sense that you’re uncomfortable”, it’s that people who can use it have extremely good eye-sight and see tiny little movements in other people. If they’re smart about it, they can tell that the movements mean the enemy is lying. Apollo just happens to get tense when he notices this, most likely because he’s kind of straining his eyes.

But then again that brings up the fact that his power would act up CONSTANTLY, either because EVERYBODY FIDGETS, or Apollo himself could just be stressed and making the bracelet squeeze on its own.

So thanks, SOJ. Not content with ruining Apollo’s canon, you’ve also got to ruin his cool lawyer power. Gosh, you’re just the gift that keeps on giving, aren’t you? 

-

“Powerless in the face of the Holy Mother’s blessings”

SOJ team is now nicknamed the Holy Mother. Or possibly the Unholy Mother.

-

“Looks like your power won’t work against Sadmadhi. Guess we’ll have to try something else.”

“Yeah, let’s ask Dhurke...”

Yeah. Because you obviously don’t have someone with you RIGHT NOW who ALSo has a special power. You dont even have TWO POEPLE with you with a special power. Guess we’d better talk to the man who birthed this shiteater.

-

“I won against Mr. Wright”

yeah in a completely rigged trial where losing would be the worst option. thats not really something to brag about, you know.

-

“...doomed to be reborn as something lower than a bug or a vegetable”

you heard it here first folks Sadmad hates sustaining agriculture and the bees.

-

>Lang’s scrolls and dickfuckery

>Edgeworth’s by-the-bookishness

>Franziska’s catchphrase

>Blackquill’s backstory twist

These were the ingredients chosen to make the perfect prosecutor. But the SOJ writers accidentally added an extra ingredient to the concoction: BAD WRITING 

THUS UNINSPIRED ASSHOLE WAS BORN!

-

apollo you don’t matter to anyone anymore youre getting the boot. do as your foster pop said when you were a drowning 5 y/o and suck those pussy baby tears back into your skull.

-

welp thats it for part one of investigation day 2. now (i think) we’re headed over to the delicious pandering of Phoenix and Edgeworth, back together. Will it bring me solace despite being an obvious ratings grab?

good god, i hope so.

till next time.

[moonraccoon-exe]

No one can tell me that GladNis isn't canon coz Gladio was ready to slap Noct around for getting Iggy hurt. Like, Gladio's dad died, along with Regis. His home's been taken over by enemy forces! He didn't seem bothered much at the time. I mean, his outward appearance didn't look to be shaken, ya know? But when Iggy loses his sight, Gladio's ready to pound Noct into the ground! The very guy he's sworn loyalty to, to proctect! C'mon now! GladNis is def canon!

*sips from grape juice**clears throat**puts glasses on*

Okay, you all buckle in because I SO am about to type this 

Post on Gladio’s psychology post-chapter 9

*cracks fingers*

[There’s a Keep Reading line ahead, for those using the mobile app that can’t see it. Sorry]

Dear anon, thanks for dropping by! I too strongly believe in the canon-icity of Gladnis because the chemistry is there! Nobody can deny that, like holy shit. Even with the stupid ‘girlfriend’ issue, I’m not buying that. Come on, the chemistry is THERE, it’s impossible to deny! It’s so clear in chapter 10 and on their own small journey when they separate from the guys on chapter 13. It’s EVERYWHERE. 

Bbbbut, I don’t agree on the WHERE you see it, anon. I’m not rejecting what you offer, but I do would like to clarify or to give away my opinion on what Gladio was feeling, thinking, and why he acted like that. This is, of course, if you don’t mind. I just really like the psychological side of any story I read/play, and while your entry had me smiling and nodding, I can’t fully agree with the overall view you’re offering. And not that it’s wrong; I just see it from many other angles that make it a bit wider.

I don’t think Gladio snapped out at Noctis and raged at him for what happened to Ignis (which wasn’t Noctis’ fault, let’s comprehend). At least, not only because of that.

That Gladio shows to stay cool and not bothered at the events you list doesn’t necessarily mean he doesn’t care, or that it doesn’t bother him enough to make him snap out, or that they were less bad than what happened in Altissia.

That you don’t react to something in the same second it happens doesn’t mean you don’t care, sometimes it just means it’s hurt so deep inside you that your mind literally can’t finish to understand it happened at all.

Or, simply, that you’re not letting yourself feel it.

Imagine you have spent 23 years of life hearing everywhere and from everyone’s mouth that your only task is to serve the guy that’s your best friend and brother of other blood. That you live for him. Imagine you’re asked to escort him some place, and then find out he’s in danger.He’s your priority. He’s the only thing you live for.He’s priority from over your own feelings and choices and needs.

Gladio knows his job. Despite how playful he can show himself to be, he’s incredibly mature and he knows what his duty asks of him. He dared face a god of war only to become better in what he does in life, only for Noctis’ sake. 

Gladio knows his homeland and the place he loves was taken over and destroyed and that he’s probably not ever going back. He’s slapped in the face with the understanding that his father died. There’s the doubt of whether his sister survived or if she’s currently a pile of ashes or a corpse. And he knows war is lost.All at the same time.

He learns ALL OF THAT at the same time, at the same second. Imagine you receive those news. The shock must be unbearable. The shock must be so great you may possibly not even react at all because it’s too much to be real. That’s why the guys need to go see it themselves, it’s just too much to handle.

Now, we see Noctis break down at the news and rage and get depressed and flail all over the place….Because he can.

Because, even though he knows his duty and role in life and what he has to do, he doesn’t serve anyone, like his friends do. 

Ignis, Gladio and Prompto must have been as hurt and desperate as Noctis, but there’s a difference never told but still understood: they all are meant and literally tasked to aid him, and he’s only tasked to go marry someone. Whether we like the sound of it or not, Noctis is a prince that’s served and the guys serve the prince, that’s how the world goes. They do it proudly and happily but they still serve, int he extent of the word.

I dare say Gladio must have been the one to handle the news much, much, by far much more heavily than Ignis or Prompto.

Ignis seems to only have his uncle for family, and while Prompto does have his parents, his relationship is poor with them. So their affectation is mostly on Niflheim taking over Lucis. Gladio, on his side, has THAT affectation plus the complete, full awareness that his dad has died. The king never dies before his Shield. And Regis is dead. Which must have hit Gladio like a bolt: Clarus is dead. Dead. His father. His only father. His family. His dad.

And to that point he still doesn’t know whether Iris survived or not. Handling losing your homeland in a war is heavy, then add losing your beloved father, and add the possibility of your dead little princess, my god. 

…but then he decides to bottle it all up.

Gladio knows his job, I repeat. He’s mature. He knows very well what he has to do. And that is to aid Noctis. To help him become stronger and much more aware of what he has to do. Guide him. Protect him. The situation desperately needs for the three of them to guide and push and hurry Noctis on his task, on his destiny. 

Right now the only thing that matters is Noctis. Not his feelings.They are obstacles.

We know they’re not, but that’s how Gladio sees that, how anyone in his position and with his knowledge must see. Ignis does that, too. Even Prompto. They all never show themselves bothered not because they don’t care but because they know that mourning right now is useless and that the only thing that’s important is to continue the journey and do something, work, fight and win. Not mourn; that can wait. 

So Gladio just bottles it. Except I think, for the things listed above, that he has quite some particular reasons to be upset. But he bottles it and bottles it.

And he insists on doing that to the point the glass is already full but even then he goes against logic and doesn’t let it spill because he can’t allow himself to feel and let it all out, not when his king needs him.

But then Altissia happens.

Imagine that you’ve spent 23 years of life training and working every single day of your life, every…single…one…just to be the strongest and the best on your duty that’s literally protecting somebody else. Imagine you’ve spent 23 years with the only purpose in life of protecting someone. Literally.Imagine you went through a trial of a GOD and defeated him only to become better at your duty, that is, again, only and literally protecting somebody else.

And then find out that your best friend was majorly injured and lost his sight. In the same battle you were in.

And then go through a day in which the person you sworn to protect was barely found alive and is in a coma state, that the important Oracle is dead, that half the country was destroyed, and that the man and friend that understands you best was found barely, vaguely alive, unconscious, bleeding, agonizing and with this huge burn/injury on the eye and wakes up goddamn fucking blind.

Imagine one of your dearest, if not the dearest friend (Noct is more like a lil bro) goes through that….

While you came out of the fight entirely unharmed.

Dude, I want you to imagine how it must feel. To know you did your best, yet this was the outcome. All your friends harmed, one dead, the other barely alive and waking up to become only half-a-life (we know it gets better in the future, but in the immediate present, Ignis IS losing a major/huge part of himself, seen as half/all the things he used to do/enjoyed were all related/needing of his sight).

There’s a bottle already past full of rage and sadness inside him, this was the very, very, very last drop to spill it. Problem is, it was not a drop, it was a FUCKING CASCADE.

Gladio’s strong, but he’s a human, too. And he, like any of us, has his limits. And I think that,by this point of the story, he’s gone further the limits of his limits, already. And he…as the human he is…merely exploded.

I’ve shared this in other similar posts and I repeat it here: in psychology, in school, I once learned that anger is only a mask for sadness, which, at its time, is a mask for fear.

That Gladio snaps out at Noctis is not necessarily Gladio blaming Noctis for what happens to Ignis and raging over only that.That Gladio snaps out at Noctis is only Gladio’s excuse.

You know these moments when you bottle something up, somebody does or says something, and you snap out at them maybe a bit unnecessarily?

Like, maybe the boss fired you, the bus was late, it rained on you, they robbed your clock and wallet, and when you finally get home, your mom accidentally moved your computer from this room to the other…And suddenly you’re raging over that last fact.

And you’re maybe snapping out at your mom, and you go nuts because “how could you do something so stupid, you know I like my things to be where I leave them, it was connected to the light because it was on and now it’s off and blah blah bla”. 

It’s stupid. You’re raging over a stupidity, a small thing. But you can’t stop. You know why? You’re not raging at your stuff being moved.You’re raging at everything that happened earlier, all the major stuff. The last event is only your excuse. You’re taking the first thing that maddens you to scream at it and to yell at it and to cry at it not because THAT caused it, only because THAT is offering you an excuse to let all the previous things out.

This is the very same thing with Gladio.

He’s not raging only at the fact that Noctis can’t stop being sad or that he’s “not showing any care about Ignis”, he’s raging at EVERYTHING. Everything, from Insomnia’s fall and his dad’s death to Ignis’ injury and almost death, added the more self-centered fact that Gladio let that happen to Ignis when he had worked so hard to become the best Shield ever.

Imagine you’re meant to protect people, yet somebody you love almost dies in front of you while you’re completely unharmed.Gladio’s not only suffering Ignis’ injury, he’s suffering some sort of personal break of his idea of himself.He knew himself something, but the events at Altissia could or not may have had him take the blame to himself. Imagine you know yourself the best Shield ever, then look behind you and see all this death and your dearest people injured and bleeding and barely breathing, and you’re standing there…like, the enemy didn’t even pay attention to you, like you’re useless, like you’re not there and just went past you and killed them all.They went past him. Like he was not there.Like he’s an intangible shield.A shield that is not a shield.A shield that isn’t there.And realize that if a shield isn’t there when YOU are supposed to be one…Then what are you?

I don’t deny that chapter 10 and ahead and the treatment Gladio offers to Ignis all over it is partly to blame on why I adore Gladnis and see it as almost-canon. 

But I don’t think that it’s what happened to Ignis what made Gladio rage like he did. 

Of course, I’m not saying that Gladio doesn’t care about Ignis. It’s most obvious he does, even during the events of the past traveling with a healthy 22 y.o. Ignis, Gladio’s constantly showing how much he particularly cares about him. Sometimes it even feels like he talks more about Ignis than he does about Noctis. The events of Altissia must have made him completely rage, but I don’t think it was only THAT. 

It’s not that Gladio prefers Ignis over Noctis. It’s that Noctis was Gladio’s psychological “drop of water that spilled the glass”, and Ignis’ injury only happened to be the nearest major event, the closet chronologically to Gladio’s outburst. Gladio knows Noctis comes before anything else, but he’s a human, and he simply could not help but finally explode after bottling up months of major event after major even after major event being crowned by not only having your dearest friend majorly injured and eternally handicapped, but to most possibly have also seen him almost die. 

…-deep breath-

Phew.

….

Still, I can’t deny that I love the way Gladio behaves with Ignis post-Altissia. It’s overprotective and so careful. I love it, hahaha. Nobody can tell me Gladnis isn’t canon, either, the chemistry is always there no matter which point of the game you’re playing!