#any verse where they actually GET this is so precious to me

[victoriousfidelity]

WHEN DO YOU GAZE AT YOUR SOULMATE?

when they're getting ready for the day.

this is all you've ever wanted. you and them and the promise of a future. you should be getting ready too. but you lay in bed for a moment, still feeling the traces of their warmth on the sheets, their scent on your skin. you watch how carefully they choose their outfit for the day. you watch as they pair the colours. you memorize that face they make when they stand at the mirror checking every detail. you savour how routine it is. you savour it because you both earned it. there is something precious in the domesticity and you vow to never take it for granted.

TAGGED BY: stolen from @emeraldxphoenix ❤ TAGGING: @asprinkle, @defenseonly, @inblueroses (for jet!), @grownsideways (for anyone!), and anyone else who'd like to do it!

[narcjsistx]

𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐂𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 | reo, isagi, kaiser (part one)

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

— reo mikage

✶ don't even remotely expect to lift a finger in his presence. the princess treatment in his relationships is MANDATORY, he simply loves to do the things that the people he loves want. it would be something like "I know you can do it, but I'm your boyfriend, so let me do it for you"

✶ I think one of the things he loves most about his partners is when they are dressed in shades of purple or maaaybe white, in clothes given by him. do you want to bring him to his knees? do as I tell you, trust me!

✶ kind of guy who would post you everywhere, like: his ig profile feed is made up of 80% of posts with you or dedicated to you, the remaining 20% ​​are photos relating to soccer. he loves to show you off, and above all he does all those trends (even the cringe ones) like posting your girlfriend with a certain song on a certain day

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ his concept of family is quite normal, sooner or later he would like to have a family, actually, the idea of ​​getting married has never displeased him. as a child, being the only heir of the Mikage, he had to bear all the expectations alone... therefore, his idea would be to at least have two children, not that he wants to share the expectations between them! simply as a child he suffered a lot from being the only child

✶ jealosy level: 4/10 (he's not the jealous type! he might only be more so in cases where he sees someone trying with you EXTREMELY too hard)

✶ flirtiness level: 6/10

✶ pet names: "babe" / "precious"

—————————————

— isagi yoichi

✶ even though on the field he seems to have bipolar disorder, isagi is literally one of the most possibily boyfriend in the entire verse in my opinion. he's just a chill guy who takes soccer a little too seriously, but hey, you love him for that reason right? yeah, absolutely yes

✶ he's someone who would be embarrassed by a kiss even after years and years of being in a relationship. at the beginning of your story, he had to take a lot of his courage just to ask you if he could hold your hand, but over time he got used to it. with kisses, well... he still gets embarrassed, even though he's often the one who initiates them. he's just a sweet coward in this things

✶ he is someone who, in my mind, cares a lot about gifts related to the phases of the relationship, such as those for the first month together, the six months and so on. not huge gifts, he keeps those more for more important dates, but gifts like letters, stuffed animals or bracelets found at random moments of the day and which immediately reminded him of you for some reason that only he knows

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ his concept of family is actually based a lot on what he had. he doesn't exactly have a preference on the number of children, one or five would be fine, he just knows that he will love them no matter what. getting married has never been a thought he's actually spent 5 minutes thinking about every now and then, but now with you he's pretty sure that asking you to spend your life with him is a great excuse to see you in the white dress

✶ jealosy level: 2/10

✶ flirtiness level: 3/10 (more in private, but absolutely not in public, he just can't do it)

✶ pet names: "cutie" / "y/n chan"

—————————————

— micheal kaiser

✶ your relationship is certainly interesting, maybe not one of the healthiest, but you can't say you don't care for each other. Kaiser definitely has some problems related to trusting or in any case "letting himself be discovered" by other people, but surely you are the closest person to him at the moment, hell, you are literally the emperor's girlfriend!. micheal knows very well that he is not a simple person and just the fact that you continue to not let him go, and he wouldn't blame you, means a lot. will he ever admit it? no, obviously not, because he also has a problem, or perhaps more than one, with expressing himself

✶ Ness, one way or another, will have to worship you too. Ness probably just wants to strangle you because you stole the little attention Kaiser gave him, but if Kaiser says he has to worship you like he would him, Ness will do it without a word. Kaiser doesn't even minimally accept someone saying anything remotely comparable to an insult to you, let's say his love language is to protect your respect. he wouldn't mind throwing a punch at someone who even called you "stupid", it's something he can't stand

✶ even if you are not cheering for him at the stadium when he plays, which is quite strange because you are there all the time, you already know beforehand that if he scores a goal, it will obviously be dedicated to you. it's something he always found beautiful when he was little, when he saw videos on public screens in Berlin: seeing then-famous footballers dedicate goals to their girlfriends seemed so exciting. he's the emperor now, right? he must repay his empress somehow for always being so good to him

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ well, we all know that Micheal didn't grow up with any concept of family, or rather, he never actually had one. having children actually scares him, and the same thing happens even if he just thinks about getting married. he is simply afraid, and indeed he is sure, that sooner or later everything would turn into what he experienced in Germany with his father. it would take a LOT of reassurance, and maybe therapy, to eventually have children and get married. he actually wouldn't be a bad father, because he knows what it's like to live in a toxic house with someone who doesn't really love you, and he doesn't want his heir to go through the same thing he went through when was a kid. Kaiser is not like his father, and never will be, and just the thought of being like this with his kids makes him vomit

✶ jealosy level: 8/10

✶ flirtiness level: 9/10

✶ pet names: "schatz" / "mein liebling" / "doll"

[hitchyboi]

Dating Havik Headcanons #1

Y'ALL OKAY THIS IS FOR MEEEEEEE XD I NEED MORE HAVIK AND GOD DAMNIT I'LL PROVIDE IT IF NO ONE ELSE WILL!

Oki thank you~

Content Warning- It's Havik. Gore, Blood, Violance, Self Mutilation, one small NSFW bit, Swearing (That's just me)

Cuteness aggression to the max. He can't help it, his partner is so precious when he's hugging them all he can imagine is squeezing them until their ribs break and pierce their lungs. If he's caressing their face, they can feel the way his fingers twitch, itching to dig his nails into their soft flesh.

He chews and bites. A lot. After Scorpion burned his face off he realized his ability to just straight bite things got easier without skin in the way. Will hug his partner from behind and chew on their hair cause he likes the texture. Cuddling? Random bites the entire time and they range from light and playful to you think he's genuinely trying to eat you sometimes. He isn't, kinda. Just likes biting.... Sometimes he may be trying to take an actual bite. Romantic Cannibalism.

His name has become a confusing mix of a disgust and comfort. If anyone ever calls him Dairou he gets insanely mad, remembering his life in Seido in the lowest caste and all the dictatorship over his life. Yet when his partner calls him his name... its almost like a comforting blanket he's never felt being wrapped around him. He doesn't have to be Havik, Cleric of chaos and symbol of anarchy. He can let himself relax for a moment, his worries can drift away for another day. With his partner... he can just be Dairou.

Surprisingly he is a good cook. Now his method of cooking may be a bit... unorthodox. You don't really know what he's cooking with. Or how he even got it in the first place. But give him some meat, herbs and spices and a fire. He'll be able to roast up a good tasting meal.

Has issues with monogamy. Not being faithful part but more the idea of having fidelity forced onto him? He doesn't like the idea of rules or societal norms re-shackling him after he's gained his freedom. If his partner is fine with polyamory or having an open relationship, great. If his partner isn't comfortable, communicating it as a personal preference and comfort level would gain more an understanding reaction from him rather than telling him he needs too.

Man's comfortable as hell in his relationship and partner. Would never tell his partner what they can or can't do or wear cause fuck that shit. You wanna go to a club wearing a sexy ass outfit and show yourself off? He's your hype man. Go out nude, he'd support it.

Will kill a man if someone messed with his partner.

Has killed a man for messing with his partner.

Has a habit of mutilating himself at the most random of times. Almost like the habit of cracking one's knuckles he starts to feel stiff and really uncomfortable if he hasn't snapped or torn a part of his body for a while.

His partner will have to force this man to put on a shirt if they are going out in Earthrealm. He doesn't understand the social norms of Earthrealm and frankly... he doesn't give a shit to learn. He'll eventually put on a shirt if his partner insists for their own comfort

Has tried to fight police officers, many times.

Getting this man to properly bath himself is a hassle on its own. He grew up in a way where bathing was a luxury few could afford so self care isn't something he's well versed or keen on. If his partner insists that they'd join him in the bath or shower then eventually they'll be able to pull his grimy ass into the water. Once he is in the water however, good luck getting him back out.

Lil NSFW~ Any marks his partner makes on his body during night time fun will always be saved on his body. He'll never fully heal them up, scars are like a badge on honor to this man. Now he gets to walk around with more scars and scars that his partner placed on his body from how well he was fucking their brains out.

[avocado-writing]

Hey 👋🏻 i just finished rewatching both seasons of good omens 🥲 can i request an ineffable husbands x r with an established relationship? after a night out they go back to the bookshop and r is pissed drunk so aziraphale and crowley tries to help them get comfortable and get settled but r keeps saying “back off i have partners.” and things like that because they’re too drunk to recognize the two which amuses them both. i read something similar online and thought it would be funny with the husbands. thank you so much ❤️

notes: put this once again in tltdatsib, hope that's ok! also yall: anyway nightingale is drunk / me: YES lmfao

pairing: crowley x reader x aziraphale

rating: T

notes: excessive alcohol consumption; gn reader but one reference to them being a primadonna; tltdatsib-verse

You’re all quite drunk.

The three of you are all impartial to a glass of wine or six after a nice day. Usually you can hold your liquor quite well, but you underestimated the vintage, and now you’re absolutely off your face. Crowley and Aziraphale are happy to sober up the miraculous way, the alcohol returning to its bottle, but you absolutely despise it happening to you and they’d never do it without your permission. So there you are, head-lollingly, body-flailingly drunk on the sofa in the back of the bookshop.

“Come on love, let’s get you to bed,” Crowley says, attempting to heave you into his arms. You push him away and make a low noise in the back of his throat. 

“Did… did you just growl at me?” he asks, both delighted and bemused; torn between actually trying to help you or recording this on his phone so that he can tease you mercilessly tomorrow. 

"My love - " begins Aziraphale, but you glare at him the best you can while barely being able to hold your head up.

“Oi! Back ‘ff sunshine,” you say, holding your hand up and wiggling your fingers, “‘m married! My husbands—spousesssss—won’t be too happy ‘f you chat me up!”

Aziraphale and Crowley exchange a look. You’ve not been this drunk since the three of you were invited to the Diamond Dogs release party in the seventies. Your hangover had lasted a week. 

“Darling,” says Aziraphale with a patient sigh, “we’re your husbands… spouses… oh, look, it’s us!”

"No-oo-oo! Lies! Won't be taken in by handsome strangerssss!" you cry, a primadonna of a show only you can see. You try to launch yourself across the couch for safety but get your foot stuck between two seat cushions.

"'Handsome', eh?" Crowely asks, grinning very wide indeed.

"Yessss, handsome! Very! But 'm TAKEN."

Aziraphale sighs, both wanting this charade to be over and charmed that even when you're too blotto to recognise them, you still find your husbands attractive.

"Look, let me show you proof, darling."

You squint, suspiciously. 

“Eh?”

Aziraphale reaches into his coat pocket to bring out his wallet. It has no cards or cash, nothing that one would actually need a wallet for - but he keeps it for one very particular reason. 

He flips open the leather and holds it out for you to inspect. It has a photo in it: a polaroid, taken for you by a kind passerby on the day of your wedding. It’s of the three of you, arms around each other, all smiling the widest in any photo where you are the subjects. You take it from his hands, scrutinise it, then cringe.

“Oh god, ‘m ‘n idiot…”

You collapse back into the sofa, letting your arm remain in its place so Aziraphale can take the precious wallet back safely. 

"It's alright nightingale. You're just a bit tipsy is all, my love."

"You're so kind to me even when 'm bein' silly..."

"For better for worse. For drunker, for sober...er," Crowley reasons.

“Should go t’ sleep…” you mutter, and before they can help you up, you turn over to face the pile of pillows and immediately make good on that threat. They cover you with a blanket, and Crowley does tease you the next morning.

-

@angiestopit @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster @lxsm2 @clarina04 @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @mrgatotortuga @wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke @kimqueenofhell @chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t @am-i-obsessed---maybe @bakerstreethound

[goodlucktai]

a song to bring you home

one piece word count: 4k written for the its pirates server sake exchange ! my giftee was @portgas-d-aroace who wanted "anything asl" and gave me an excuse to write the most self indulgent fic of 2023

read on ao3

x

“Again?” Sabo whispers, trying to sound mad. Whether he sounds that way or not doesn’t actually matter, since he’s already lifting his blanket in silent invitation.

“Sorry, ‘Bo,” Luffy mumbles thickly. He wastes no time crawling onto Sabo’s thin mattress, and Sabo pulls the blanket back down around them both, tucking it tight to keep the chill away. 

Luffy attaches himself to Sabo’s side like a barnacle, tiny fists curled in his brother’s shirt as if he’s afraid something is going to swoop down and try to wrench them apart. Sabo huffs out a breath that fogs in the air and lets him. 

“Nightmare?” he asks after a moment. He keeps his voice quiet in case Ace is still asleep, even though his twin is the lightest sleeper on the planet. 

Luffy nods once, face buried against Sabo’s shoulder. He’s not trembling, but the way he’s holding himself completely still and silent is its own red flag. 

It’s easy to forget that Luffy is not actually as spoiled as he acts. He whines and cries and pouts like any other privileged little master, he’s bossy and clingy and demands to go where his brothers go even though they all know he won’t be able to keep up, and sometimes—oftentimes—it grates on Sabo’s very last nerve. 

But holding someone like Stelly up to someone like Luffy is like holding an orange up to the sun. There’s literally no comparison. 

If Ace were actually as annoyed by Luffy as he pretends to be, then he wouldn’t be the first one to roll his eyes and throw up his hands and stomp back to collect their youngest when he falls behind. If Sabo actually meant all the mean things he says when they have to waste precious daylight dealing with a stupid scrape on Luffy’s stupid knee, then he wouldn’t suggest the pilgrimage down to Makino’s bar because she has those colorful bandages that always make Luffy smile. 

Luffy is as much an orphan as Ace is—as Sabo pretends to be—and he was so desperate not to be alone that he was willing to die for their reluctant, backhanded friendship. He would run after them until his arms and legs gave out, and then at that point he would probably crawl, just so they don’t leave him behind. 

Stubborn, selfish, stupid Luffy. The unwanted little kid that Ace and Sabo have begun to shape all their days around. 

Something in Sabo’s chest hurts to know that Luffy is afraid. He tips his head and adjusts his arms so that the smaller boy is tucked more securely under his chin. Stars pinwheel slowly across the sky, winter constellations that Sabo will teach his brothers how to find once they manage to get their hands on a halfway decent telescope. There are clouds forming to the east, low and gray, that promise snow. 

“Sing,” Luffy mumbles petulantly. 

“You’re such a brat,” Sabo complains. But he doesn’t make Luffy go away, and it’s only another moment before he starts humming. 

Sabo doesn’t know a lot of music, having successfully dodged his piano tutor for the last two years straight, but there’s a song he overheard on the docks a few months ago that stuck. Some sailors were singing it while they worked. Sabo didn’t catch all the words, so he made up the rest.

He made the mistake of singing it within his little brother’s earshot only once, but once was enough. Now he may as well be a performing monkey, because for every birthday and campfire and boring afternoon and bad dream, Luffy requests the same thing. 

“Now you've got the chance to travel oceans,” Sabo half-says, half-sings, letting it settle somewhere between a story and a lullaby. “I hope the world’s as wide as you were hoping…” 

Luffy sighs, a slow, satisfied thing. The fear-frozen shape of him softens with every word. He’s asleep again within one verse. Sabo sings two more, just in case. 

—

Two weeks and five escape attempts after he nearly died at sea, Sabo is finally allowed out of the infirmary. It’s slow going, and the doctor isn’t thrilled with him, but stepping into the fresh air out on deck is worth the man’s grumbling and sidelong looks. 

The whole left side of Sabo’s body is pins and needles and every breath feels like it burns, like the fire that almost killed him is still ready to snatch him up if he’s not careful. 

But it’s worth it. It’s so worth it to see the open ocean, stretching out forever under a sky vivid orange and blue with dusk. There’s enough sunlight left in the early evening that it cascades across the surface of the water so brightly Sabo can’t look at it for very long. 

This is freedom. And it’s important, so important he’ll cling to it with tooth and nail. So important he would set out by himself in a barely-sea-worthy boat to claim it. He just doesn’t remember why . 

Sabo knows his name. He knows he left something horrible behind—he dreams of running desperately through a place that glittered and gleamed to hide the rot underneath, of begging cold, lofty faces for help that never comes. He knows that he should be happy to escape whatever left that impression on his brain. 

But there’s a pit in his chest. A gnawing emptiness where something important is supposed to live. Part of him is so desperate to go back to where he came from that he would swim there if he had to. 

With time, that feeling would fade. He would overlook it so often that it would become second nature to pretend it wasn’t there. Time and distance would soften the frantic edges, years stacking on top one after the other until that little voice wailing I want to go home! was too muffled for Sabo to hear. 

If it was important, he wouldn’t have forgotten in the first place, he would reason to himself. Right?

But today, Sabo wins the contest of wills with the doctor, and he steps out onto the deck, and there is someone by the bow humming a familiar song while they work, and the whole world stops. 

“Hey,” the doctor says, alarmed, and a bracing hand lands on his shoulder, and that’s about when Sabo realizes he’s crying. 

His damaged eye stings horribly, and he’s making a mess of the bandages on his face, and he can hardly get enough breath in his lungs to say, “Take me back where you found me. I have to go back.”

The concussion makes it difficult for him to form new memories right now—his brain was rattled pretty hard. So he thinks the faces that peer at him in confusion and concern are the same ones that have surrounded him since he woke up on this ship in the first place, but they all swim together. Names are impossible. He knows the doctor by the cross on his shirt, and he knows the broad, looming shape of the man who saved him, and he turns to those two in particular. 

“I know that song,” he babbles, hysterical. “I made up the lyrics so I could sing it to my brothers. What if Luffy has a nightmare while I’m gone? Ace doesn’t know the words. I have to go back. Take me back.”

They take him back. 

The air smells faintly of smoke and melted garbage and burned meat even as far out as the beach. It turns Sabo’s stomach. His brain is topsy-turvy and confused and he wobbles so badly that the doctor has a pinched, pissed-off look on his face that gets darker with every step Sabo takes. 

But his feet know where to go. They’ve walked this coastline a thousand times. The sand gives way to grass, and he has to use his hands to make it up to the top of the hill, but finally he spills out on his back where the earth beneath him and the sky above him are utterly familiar and takes deep gulping sobs of air. 

“I’m here,” he says nonsensically to the man who followed him. The man who stayed a step behind in case Sabo fell but otherwise let him fight his own way back to the place he needed to be. “I’m home.”

The man studies him without speaking, his tattooed face impossible to read. Sabo’s thoughts are all swimmy, but he hopes he remembers this guy. He hopes he can find him again someday. His vision greys a few times, and at some point the man isn’t there anymore, but there’s a strong wind blowing in from the sea—steady and unrelenting, just hard enough that the nearby tree boughs start to bend. 

Someone says, “My hat!” 

Someone else says, “You and your stupid fucking hat—hurry up, it flew this way!”

Sabo is humming to himself when they finally find him, and falls asleep somewhere in the middle of those voices shrieking his name. 

Now he’s home. 

—

“I can’t even look at him,” Ace grinds out, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “That reckless little asshole.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sabo replies mildly. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, carding one hand through his little brother’s hair. “I wonder who he takes after more.”

“Shut up, ‘Bo! You’re just as bad as him!”

“If you children can’t get along, I’ll separate you,” Luffy’s friend, the extremely unsettling Surgeon of Death, says in a tone that suggests that he has both the means to make good on his threat, and also the absence of any god-given good sense to try it. 

Sabo, ever the peacekeeper, smiles at Trafalgar without teeth. “We’ll be on our best behavior. Thank you again for being there for my brother.”

The supernova cuts a sharp glance at him, dark eyes unreadable. His gaze travels to Ace for a long moment, and then finally drops to Luffy in the bed between them. There is something in his face—something more than the spite-and-caffeine-fueled monster of a man he would like the rest of the world to believe he is—something not quite so old, not quite so burdened, that looks down at Sabo’s little brother and sees someone who deserved to be saved.

But all Trafalgar says is, “Would’ve been too boring to let him die now.” He leaves the room after that, the door shutting behind him solidly. 

“Didn’t Nami say that guy only met Luffy once?” Ace says, bewildered. “What the hell is he doing risking his neck for a stranger?”

“Sometimes that makes it easier,” Sabo says. “A stranger could be anyone.”

Ace wrinkles his brow, an uncomprehending twist to his mouth. He has come leaps and bounds from the hateful little boy he used to be, but he has always clutched his brothers closest and kept everyone else at arm’s length. 

Since forming the Spade pirates, that tight-knit circle in his heart has inched wider. Ace thinks the world of Deuce, even if he will literally attack anyone who implies as much like a rabid coyote. Masked Deuce, who has actually referred to his captain as a rabid coyote on more than one occasion, within his earshot and to his face, would kill for Ace indiscriminately. The rest of the Spades are equally as long-suffering and entirely devoted. 

Secretly, Sabo believes that Whitebeard is going to get through to him one of these days. The last time Marco and Thatch came around with a recruitment pitch, Ace only set them a little bit on fire. 

Maybe some people would call it selfish to put you and yours first, but Sabo doesn’t think so. As long as Ace wants to live for his brothers and his crew, he wants to live. He’ll endure prison with gritted teeth, he’ll fight the guards every step of the way to the execution scaffold, he’ll never, ever go gently. 

That’s all Sabo asks of him. Hang on for one more minute. Survive one second longer. 

It was no grand fleet or sprawling armada that spread across the horizon to retrieve Fire Fist Ace from the hands of the World Government, but the Revolutionary Army was hardly going to stand by on this one. Not when it was their Chief of Staff’s beloved twin brother at stake. And so the war began long before the battle had a chance to start. 

Half of the military forces meant to be stationed at Marineford never arrived, picked off ship by ship in the week leading up to the execution. All radio frequencies were jammed the day of, transmissions in and out of the island blocked universally, and the media blackout of what was promised to be a globally-televised event had people talking. 

The only thing available on every channel was music—the tone dial recording of a skeleton musician bowing a familiar song on his violin. Looping on every station, every monitor, every snailphone. It drowned any attempt the soldiers made at communication, and more importantly it irritated the hell out of them, but it had a secret third purpose as well; if Ace heard it, he would know exactly who was coming for him.

(Ace heard it. The morning he was slated to be killed, a harried guard ran from one end of the cell block to the other with a malfunctioning den-den in hand, and the music echoed off the stone walls like it was trying to make a point. 

It wasn’t his brother’s voice, but it was his song. Ace knew it like he knew his own name. Shackled as he was, he couldn’t reach his fire—but for the first time since he was captured, he didn’t feel cold.)

In another world, his execution was overseen by all three admirals and most of the warlords, the military rightly assuming that they would need to meet the full weight of Whitebeard’s infamous protection head-on. 

But in this one, Ace is a powerful pirate captain of a relatively small crew, rising in fame and bounty, but attached to no great superpower. Still the demon spawn of the Pirate King, still an example waiting to be made, but there was no way Sengoku could have anticipated the battlefield Marineford would become. 

The Spades, the Strawhats, the Revolutionaries and the handful of ships sailing in Whitebeard’s name to fight for that cocky young captain he was so fond of brought more than enough of a fight with them. The Red-Hair pirates’ fashionably late arrival was kind of an overkill. 

Sabo made sure to say so. 

“What, so I should just sit back and watch?” Shanks laughed as they made their retreat, one newly liberated prisoner folded safely into their ranks. “No way. I’d like to be able to look Roger and Rogue in the eye when I meet them in the afterlife, thanks.”

“Is there a reason you’re covering your eyes?” Ace asked hoarsely, sounding a little bit like he didn’t want to know the answer. 

“I’m not allowed to meet Luffy again until he’s become a great pirate,” the man replied cheerfully, jogging down to the wharf blindly with his hand clamped over his face. Deuce, glued to Ace’s side for the foreseeable future, traded a long-suffering look with Benn Beckman.

After the clusterfuck that was Sabaody, Kuma sent the Strawhats safely to Baltigo one by one. When an RA mole within the Marines brought news of Ace’s execution, half of Luffy’s monsters went back to retrieve their ship, and the other half forged ahead with the rescue mission. 

So it’s the Thousand Sunny they made their getaway with, the cheerful little lion ship an extra special fuck you to the Marines that made Sabo feel warm inside. 

The team has since scattered, the Revolutionaries and Red-Hair pirates breaking off to lead the Marines on a very merry goose chase. The Whitebeard pirates don’t go away without first passing Ace along yet another offer to join their ranks—to their credit, they seem amused by the whole thing, as if Ace spitting sparks in sheer annoyance and the Spades’ prickly, proprietary offense are all part of the game. The Polar Tang is nesting abeam the Thousand Sunny while the Heart’s captain consults with the Strawhat’s very young doctor, something that seems to put the little reindeer at ease. 

They’re in the aftermath. Sabo takes a deep breath for the first time in what feels like weeks. 

Luffy collapsed the second his feet hit the grassy deck of his ship, his body crumpling beneath him like a puppet with its strings all cut. It would have been horrifying, if he hadn’t been snoring loud enough for Sanji to hear it from the galley and come out to investigate. Zoro scooped him up and Nami held the door open to the room she and Robin share, what would have been the captain’s quarters on any other ship, and Luffy was deposited carefully in a soft bed. 

“He needs a bath,” Nami said, nose wrinkled in a way that did nothing to disguise her affection as she combed his dirty, sweaty hair away from his face with her fingers. 

“It’s laundry day anyway,” Usopp replied, coming through the door with his arms full of someone’s well-loved blanket. Sabo smiled to see his spoiled little brother tucked in by his friends. Some things never changed. 

“Glad you’re okay,” Sanji said to Ace, the last one to linger in the room, keeping the door propped open with his hip. “Ghost pepper chicken curry for dinner,” he added, which was Ace’s favorite food, and the final straw for Sabo’s twin brother. He sat there blinking wetly at his own hands, at the bruises the sea-stone manacles left on his wrists, finally letting himself feel the weight of what he had survived. 

And now Sabo pats the bed beside him. Ace glares at nothing for a moment longer, before he gets up to join his brothers. It’s inevitable, like an act of gravity. The mattress gives beneath him and Luffy mumbles crossly in his sleep, turning toward them without waking. 

“Brat,” Ace all but whispers. Then he says, just as quiet, “Thank you.” 

Sabo says, “Nothing exists in this world that could have kept us away from you.”

Ace puts his head on Sabo’s shoulder, this wild young thing who doesn’t know how to want to live for himself yet. It’s okay. He’s figuring it out. He’s getting closer and closer. Someday soon he’ll understand that his siblings and his crew—his family—wouldn’t go to the ends of the earth for someone who wasn’t worth all their love. He’ll realize how deserving he is of all that. Until then, Sabo will believe it for him. 

“I’m on your side and you can call me and just like that,” Sabo sings under his breath, “I’ll sing a song to bring you home.”

“Hey,” Ace protests when he stops, muffled against Sabo’s shoulder. “Keep going.” 

So he does. 

—

Sabo is twelve, almost but not quite thirteen, and he’s much too old to cry. 

He had been sneaking through the market, ceramic festival mask on his face and hooded cloak hiding his hair, pockets full of those hot cinnamon candies his brothers love so much, when he glimpsed them. 

His parents. They were strolling along the decorated streets, arm-in-arm. Stelly was walking at Outlook’s side, talking importantly and waving his hands. And on Didit’s side, holding her hand, was… 

Sabo had to run away before he did something awful, like show weakness where one of the rich monsters might see it. He ducked into a side street and started running the second he was out of sight. His heart didn't settle until he was weaving through the familiar dingy corners of Edge Town and picking his way over heaps of trash in the Terminal. 

Even when he makes it into the forest, and the trees shelter him on all sides and the owl monkeys make their racket in hello, even when he’s headed in a straight line toward the place he feels safest in the whole world, he still hurts. 

They replaced him. Again. With a little girl this time. She had blond hair and brown eyes, as if her whole little person was spun from gold. Her pinafore dress was cookie-cutter perfect. 

Sabo wonders which noble line they adopted her from. He wonders if they even told her Sabo’s name, or if Stelly is the only brother she’s aware of, or if she would care one way or the other. He wonders what kind of person she is—if she’ll fit in, or get eaten alive. 

He doesn’t care what his parents think of him. He doesn’t. He is certain in his heart that they’re the worst sort of noble—they’re selfish and shallow and don’t know the first thing about what it really means to be a human person on this planet. He knows all that. 

He was unbelievably lucky to fully escape his family, to be presumed dead in their eyes, and he’s never going back. An act of god couldn’t drag him back. 

But there’s this awful pressure behind Sabo’s eyes and nose, and his face feels hot and prickly, like there are needles poking at him. 

He doesn’t love them. 

It’s stupid, so stupid, that there’s a tiny part of him that still wants to be loved by them.  

Sabo climbs the ladder to the treehouse with numb hands, easing the trapdoor open carefully so the hinges don’t squeak. 

The ancient camping heater Makino gave them glows a steady orange in the corner, clanging occasionally as it works against the December night air. 

It’s early evening yet, but Ace has been pretty sick, and Luffy has subsequently been glued to his side. Even with the noisy fireworks down on the beach from the end of the year festival in Goa, they’re both sleeping soundly, curled up tight together like leopard cubs. 

There’s a pile of quilts folded messily on the other mattress, waiting for Sabo when he comes home. The sight of them causes a sharp pain in his chest that he can’t explain. 

He takes off the mask, climbs out of his boots and cloak, and drags the extra blankets over to his brothers. One by one he adds them to the nest, layering them neatly and tucking in the edges, and then worms his way in next to Luffy, because Ace doesn’t rest well if he feels stuck or boxed in. 

Sabo’s parents replaced him for the second time, two years after he was, to the best of their knowledge, blown apart at sea by their precious Celestial Dragons. Had the ink on his death certificate even dried before they brought their new daughter home?

Sabo’s brothers saved him blankets, the best ones without any holes, even though they could have used them. Should have used them. Even when he wasn’t here, they were thinking of him. They didn’t want him to be cold. 

The sob takes Sabo by surprise. He stuffs a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears. He sobs again, as quietly as he can.

He doesn’t notice when Luffy wakes up, but he feels it when clumsy fingers land in his hair, pawing through it as his baby brother hums a familiar tune. A well-meaning mimicry of every time Luffy’s older brothers have done this same thing for him. 

“So you can keep me somewhere out of reach but if you need me,” Luffy’s voice warbles like a sweet little bird, “just hum these memories and you can feel me. I’m always standing by.”

If Sabo opened his eyes, he would see that Ace is wide-awake, scowling up at the sky; their tiny family’s stalwart protector, standing guard even when he has a fever and he’s buried under a small mountain of quilts. 

And he would see Luffy’s sleepy, scarred face split in half by a smile, beaming like he was trying to put the sun out of a job. 

But Sabo keeps his eyes shut, and buries his face a little further for good measure, that tiny part of him that wants to be loved crying I am! They do! It’s such a big feeling he doesn’t know how to hold it. He wants to just sit with it for a bit longer. 

“Ace, sing,” Luffy breaks off to scold loudly. 

“Don’t even dream of bossing me around, Lulu,” Ace snaps back.

Ace’s voice sounds hoarse and sore, but he joins in anyway. Of course he does. Only Luffy gets some of the words wrong in every verse, and it sparks a scathing argument each time—the two of them alternating singing together and shouting over each other, putting their rowdy owl monkey neighbors to shame. 

It’s the best thing Sabo’s ever heard. He’s laughing too hard to cry anymore. 

[tina-mairin-goldstein]

I personally think that the Hannibal fandom gets a lot of things wrong about Hannibal and Will and their relationship (omega verse often showing this), as proven by a conversation I had with some friends.

Examples of non-Murder Husband behavior:

If Hannibal was an omega, he would not be a tiny, whiny brat.- Me

Will Graham is NOT a submissive omega. He CAN be an omega, but he is not a pathetic baby who needs cuddles and a baby in his womb.- Me

(About murdering people) "N-no Hanni please d-don't hurt them pleas-e 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺"- Yeah, no. Friend 1 has it right. That ain't happening.

In reality, he'd be smiling in the corner like a maniac.- Friend 2, also correct.

He'd be participating.- Friend 1, again correct.

Like yes Will has moments where he's broken down and whimpering and shit BUT HE HAS OTHER CHARACTER TRAITS FOR GOD'S SAKE.- Friend 3, ✔️

"Hannibal, I need protection and a dozen babies. Stick your dick in me now. 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺"- Me, ranting about omega verse. Will is not like this, people. If anything, this is Hannibal behavior.

These men are in the top of the FBI watch list they don't need protection they aren't 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺.- Friend 1, 100% correct!

Will and Hannibal are NOT LIKE THIS. Will is not going to be pathetic and submissive to Hannibal, omega or not, and if he is an omega, he isn't going to be begging to be protected and be bred constantly. If Hannibal is omega, he is NOT going to be physically smaller than he actually is and cling to Will in a non-Hannibal way (whining, crying, screaming if Will so much as gets out of the car or goes in another room). They can be protective of each other, but they are NOT going to be begging the other to protect them. Will is not going to cry and whimper about Hannibal killing people. He's either going to do it with him or wait at home and reap the rewards, but he's not going to make Hannibal stop.

They are not 🥺. They are lethal. They are deadly. They are MURDER HUSBANDS. They are not pathetic babies who are going to submit to other on a whim, and by submission, I mean OUTSIDE the bedroom. This also includes Will getting rid of his dogs/never adopting any again because Hannibal 'doesn't like them'. Will has other, and frankly better, character traits than being a whimpering, broken down, and wet-cat looking. Hannibal isn't going to put Will under his protection because he loves the darkness and the monster inside Will, and he wants to see it. They murder for each other. They would not need to protect each other. They are not precious little 🥺 babies, even if you stick them in an omega verse setting.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk on the subject.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Hi, I hope you're having a blessed Good Friday and Holy Week. I have a heavy question that may be difficult to answer but I'm hoping you could provide some insight.

How do I lean on Jesus to keep me strong in an abusive situation? I am a closeted trans guy living with alt-right conservative family. I am doing my best to escape the situation but for now I'm stuck. It feels impossible to stay strong knowing these people already hate me, and would hate me even more if they knew my true and actual self. They're supposed to love me, we're family, but they never have. I want to be like Jesus and love them no matter what, and I want to forgive them, but I don't know how. I feel like I can't forgive what they do when it's continuous and they are not sorry. Can you point me in the direction of any verses or lessons that can help me stay strong in the face of pain and hurt?

TW: unaccepting family, conservative family

Ach, so sorry I didn't see this till now. My heart aches for you in this painful situation. I will be holding you in my prayers; may God enfold you in love and courage to get through this time, and send support your way to help you out. If there is anything I can do to help you get out of this current living situation, please let me know.

The fact that you want to show forgiveness to people who have failed to give you the love and care you deserve shows what a big heart and courageous spirit you have. It's a powerful thing to go through hurt and still seek grace even for the ones who hurt you. That kindness is a rare and precious gift; hang on to it for the future, when there will be people in your life who are actually open to receiving and responding to your kindness.

In the meantime, you are correct in pointing out the impossibility of forgiveness when the ones who hurt you are still hurting you, probably have no plans to stop any time soon, and haven't shown any remorse. Despite how mainstream Christianity has watered down the concept of forgiveness into an abstract statement, to a one-off, simple "forgive and forget :)" attitude, that is not actually the kind of forgiveness that Jesus instructs us in.

Mainstream Christian culture has warped forgiveness into a weapon against the wronged, pressuring them to "just move on" so we don't have to live in the discomfort and challenge of dismantling the kind of power dynamics that allow for harm to take place.

Meanwhile when Jesus taught forgiveness, about reconciliation between a wrongdoer and the one they've wronged, his challenge was to the wrongdoer. It was up to them to show remorse and seek forgiveness, to show they'd actually changed by lowering themselves to an equal field with the one wronged so that the harm can never happen again.

In this post, I talk more about Jesus's idea of forgiveness, and discuss how one might "love one's enemies" as Jesus instructs even when forgiving them is not possible.

One thing that has stood out to a lot of people is that when Jesus was going through his greatest agony, being tortured and murdered on a Roman cross, his words of forgiveness are not "I forgive these people who are in the midst of murdering me" but "Father, forgive them." When we are unable to forgive for any reason, that isn't sinful or a sign of weak faith or any such nonsense. It's recognizing the complicated realities of relationship, where reconciliation isn't the responsibility of the person being wronged. And we can let go of any sense of burden on us to do the forgiving — ultimately, that's not our job, but God's.

___

As you survive this difficult situation, I think about Jesus' fraught relationship with his own biological family. His situation was much different from yours — we know his parents did love him, as did his cousin John, and presumably other family members as well. But they didn't always understand him, and they didn't always accept him. They wanted him to be what they expected him to be, not live into who he truly was.

In Mark 3, as Jesus is gaining steam as a teacher and healer, some of his family gets worried about the fame he's gaining — they say, "he's out of his mind!" and seek to "seize control of him." They think what he preaches is some kind of mental illness, and they're either embarrassed of or scared for him. Jesus, come back home! What will people think?? Don't you know what they're saying about our family??

When people tell Jesus his mother and siblings have arrived, he retorts,

“Who is my mother? Who are my siblings?” Looking around at those seated around him in a circle, he said, “Look, here are my mother and my brothers. Whoever does God’s will is my brother, sister, and mother.”

Jesus recognizes that family is much deeper than blood; that family is about who supports you in your God-given identity and gifts, and helps you grow into the person God created you to be. When biological family fails to do that, your family becomes anyone who does not fail you.

Jesus knew, at least to some extent, some of the pain you are going through in being misunderstood by your own kin. I pray that one day you will be surrounded with an outpouring of love, with people who celebrate all that you are. For now, know that God is that supportive presence holding you close, even when you can't feel Them.

As the psalmist in Psalm 27:10 says, "Even if my father and mother left me all alone, Holy God would take me in." To me, that whole Psalm can be read as a message of encouragement to those currently in the closet — the psalmist experiences God giving them shelter in God's own dwelling place, tucking them away "in a secret place in God's own tent."

One day, you'll be free; for now, I hope you take comfort in knowing God is with you in the closet.

Sending you love and solidarity, anon. May you find moments of joy in the midst of this pain; may God lavish you in love and courage until you're able to leave. <3

[quitealotofsodapop]

Grandpiglets ahoy!

Pigsy I hc is super protective of MK no matter the verse, so he wasn't exactly as welcoming as the other dad-figures when spicynoodles became a thing.

In the canonverse, Pigsy is still calling Red Son a "no good punk" and grumbling whenever the relationship is brought up.

The canon and au freenoodles pairs just sitting around having tea, noodles, having old man time.

Then a tiny black-haired bespectcled grandpiglet (Yinghuo aka Spicynoodles baby #7) waddles up with a very important request.

Yinghuo, holding up an empty bowl: "Gran-dadsy. Noo-dals please." Au!Pigsy: "Sure thing, little sous chef. Do your big siblings want any?" Yinghuo: "Umm... no." /lie Au!Tang, knowing: "I think he was hoping you wouldn't ask." Au!Pigsy, laughs: "I'll take that as a yes. I'll stick on a fresh batch and call you and the others over when it's ready k firefly?" Yinghuo, disappointed that his plan for a personal pot of noodles failed: "Ok." *Cicada chirps! and waddles away* Au!Pigsy, knows whats coming: "...let me guess. No grandpiglets yet?" Canon!Freenoodles: *both nod heads in stunned silence* Au!Tang, smugly: "You may fawn." Canon!Tang, taking a deep breath: "OOOOHH SWEET BUDDHA! He's so precious! He's like a little me!! Canon!Pigsy, still in disbelief: "Was he wearing a little chef's coat?" Canon!Tang: "How is he even related to us?!" Au!Pigsy: "MK and Red Son." Canon!Tang: "What?! How- then again Iron Fan does have the same luscious black hair I do ." Canon!Pigsy: "Wait... where did he get the cicada noises from?" Au!Tang: "No idea. Wukong thinks he copied it from me. Same thing happened with Pigsy when the eldest two were born. You'd swear they were actual piglets from all the snorting they did." Au!Pigsy: "Think I have a video saved on my phone of it... see?" Canon!Freenoodles:

Canon!Pigsy: Why does that no good bull punk make adorable kids?!"

[anamericangirl]

Hey there, I have a question.

First off, I used to self h«rm a lot and attempted suic!de multiple times. When I finally decided to talk to the social worker at my very Christian school, the first and only thing she told me was that what I did was a sin, and that I had no right to do it, since my body only belongs to God. Don’t get me wrong, I’m Christian too, but what she told me really damaged my faith. When I told her that I am bisexual (that wasn’t the main topic, it just came up), she told me that for that, I deserve to be kille?, and that it would’ve been better if my attempts had succeeded.

I tried dot educate myself on the topic of suic¿de in the Bible, but I couldn’t really keep doing that since it only triggered me and I couldn’t keep doing it. But I feel like you really know about the Bible, and so I wanted to ask what you know about that topic.

If you don’t want to answer this, that’s completely fine, I can understand it‘s a sensible topic.

Have a beautiful day, you deserve the best.

Wow, I'm so sorry you've had such serious struggles and the social worker would tell you such things. Some people really shouldn't be put in positions where they are supposed to be a trusted source of advice and counsel and she sounds like one of those people. Those are incredibly damaging things to say to someone who was in the very vulnerable state you were in. I'm glad you were able to keep your faith in God and made attempts to study the issue yourself even though you had an experience that understandably made both those things more difficult. Like if she actually told you it would have been better if your suicide attempts were successful that's very suicide baity and I hope she's not still in that position.

I'm very honored you feel like I know the Bible pretty well. I have been studying it more in depth this past year or two so I definitely know more than I used to but there's still a lot for me to learn!

The Bible doesn't explicitly address suicide and say not to do it, but we can get a very solid understanding of what God thinks about it by reading and studying his word. We know that God is the creator and he has given us the gift of life. And he makes it clear in the Bible that all life is unique and precious to him and he does not want us to take it upon ourselves to end our own lives.

There six or seven people mentioned in the Bible who committed suicide and several more who had suicidal thoughts but overcame them by putting their hope in God. Elijah, Solomon, Jonah, Job, even Paul all hit the point where they wanted to give up on life and some even asking God to end them, but instead of going through with these desires, they ended up putting their trust and faith in God and he pulled them through, which is what he wants us to do whenever we have to the point where we are in so much despair the only things we can think of to distract ourselves or end our troubles is self harm and suicide. In Acts 16 Paul even explicitly stops a prison guard who was about to kill himself after thinking a bunch of prisoners had escaped and tells him not to kill himself.

There are many verses in the Bible about coming to God when we feel at our lowest.

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." - Isaiah 41:10

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." - Jeremiah 29:11

"Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken." - Psalms 55:22

"Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death." - Romans 8:1-2

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." - Romans 8:38-39

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. The righteous person may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all." - Psalms 34:18-19

Those are by no means all the verses, but it is a small sampling that shows that God wants us to come to him with our despair, sorrow and grief so he can give us healing and hope again.

Speaking theologically, suicide would be a considered a sin. It goes against God's commandments and disrespects the gift of life he has given and disrespects the fact that God is the giver and taker of life. Life is not ours to take. Not from another person and not from ourselves. God created us special. In 1 Corinthians it says “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.” This pertains to far more than suicide, but suicide is definitely a way to disrespect our own body.

God does tell us not to commit murder and suicide is technically self-murder. So while suicide is a sin, it's not unforgivable and it's not something you deserve for anything else you do or are struggling with and it's completely unbiblical for anyone to say you should be killed or your suicide attempts should have been successful.

I am very glad you made attempts to study for yourself instead of just accepting what that woman told you and I hope you have found healing and I hope I was able to provide a somewhat satisfactory answer for you.

Thank you for your kind words. I hope you are doing better and have a wonderful day! God bless!

[blindmagdalena]

hii, not extremely well versed in all your writing (yet), but so far w what ive seen w the cannibalism fic & how u write homer (lol), i must say i love how beautifully u intertwine his violence w romance, w how u write him, it's like his egotistical macabre nature & need for love r making out lmao! feel free to ignore this part bc praise shouldn't feel like you owe the praiser anything, but id love to see something from you, anything of any length, w homelander x a y/n who loves how creepy & macabre & scary he can be! like, they're gothic romantic sorta? like "oh, you can hear my heartbeat? tell me if the gushing in my arteries differs when i am around you! go into grave detail please! i want to peel the skin off your body and claw around inside of you too to see what makes you tick!" lol, maybe he sees them in black & is all "wowie, finally decided to kill me and you're getting prematurely ready for my funeral? well, nobody can say you're not a multitasker! how very feminine of you!" "no because if you died id want to be buried next to you!" "oh, i see!" "even if i was still alive! :D" "wow! well, morticia/gomez, you're... intense! i like your... prep! your... uncolourful enthusiasm!" lmfao. he tries to return it by trying to give them weird compliments in turn that fit w them; "don't you look like the most dolled up, prettiest corpse in the mausoleum in all that black make-up!", he sees them blushing or something & he's like "look atcha, blooming up likeeee... a bloodied bouquet of rose!trying to make my heart stop or something? least you'll be sittin real pretty on my grave huh?" he's like that meme that's like "my hot witch girlfriend" & him in a summoning circle like "me doing whatever tf she wants" but he's also a freak just a blonde one. dude is the star-spangled superman & a celeb who should be dating models and yet he's like hiding a heart shaped necklace under his suit that's like a preserved vial of their blood lol. i feel it'd stroke his ego in a different way where they also love how weird & freaky he is, yet in contrast they're not violent or harmful w their love for gore or whatever themselves, for them it just bubbles up into a deeper way to express love & their own self expression. i also wanna recommend "the horror of our love" by ludo if u dunno it, feels sort of fitting for how you write him! "i want you stuffed into my mouth, hold you down & tear you open, live inside you, love id never hurt you. but ill grind against your bones until our marrows mix, i will eat you slowly"/"the awful edges where you end & i begin, inside your mouth i cannot see, there's catastrophe in everything i am touching as i sweat & crush you. & i hold your beating chambers until they beat no more, you die like angels sing" :p 🖤

first of all. calling him homer made me scream. 😂 second, thank you! this is so many words and they are all very kind and fun. I think currently the fic I've written that's closest to this premise is Don't Fret, Precious (I'm Here) which features a reader that's ultimately pretty into his whole deal, and fairly deranged herself.

I definitely want to write more macabre readers though, and I love this gomez/morticia angle you're talking about. I've had a WIP in the wings for ages where the reader herself is a serial killer that Homelander catches, but ultimately decides to cover for because he's intrigued by her bloodlust. it's very much a yandere x yandere. it doesn't fit into the idea that the reader is harmless, but... fiction is fiction, right? no one's really hurt! lmao

also, Ludo is one of my favorite bands!!! I actually almost named this fic "The Horror Of Our Love" but ultimately decided "The Horror Was For Love" suited it a little bit better.

as you've accurately deduced I definitely love mixing elements of romance and horror. you have very much inspired me to step up my game and return to that serial killer fic, and maybe something new featuring more of an oddball reader that really throws Homelander off his game.

thanks again for the lovely message. 🖤

[elletromil]

Okay, this is very specific but I saw #4 and all I could think of was the fics where Fo Ye and Ba Ye were deaged to toddlers, so maybe something there, if inspiration is cooperative?

Let's just not talk about how long that ask was in my askbox or how long the half-written prompt was in my drafts. Let's just cheer the fact that i'm apparently on a writing spree today :D

Little bit of context: so this is set in a 'verse where something happened to Ba Ye at one point and he came back not quite right. And then some undetermined time later, him and Fo Ye got de-aged somehow.

I hope you enjoy this :D

4. “Don’t mess with me, I’m a big boy now and I’m very scary”

Rishan knew it was a mistake to leave the safety of the manor. But after a week of constant anxiety and worrying, his judgment had definitely been impaired.

Even if it had started off with good intentions.

He might not have the first clue about how to take care of toddlers, but he can recognize when someone is getting antsy with boredom. Especially Fo Ye and Ba Ye. And that's without mentioning that with them being much younger versions of themselves, they are even easier to read than usual.

It's not like he had been worried they would cause him any trouble either. Yes, they are playful as children, especially once Tiezui had managed to coaxed Qishan out of his stoic shell, but they are also very obedient. And since whatever has reverted them back to toddlers also seemed to have an effect on Tiezui's singular condition, he didn't even have to concern himself with what potential mayhem would result from him having a tantrum.

Not that he seems inclined to fits of bad temper at all. He is a sweet child and even as an adult, Tiezui is rather well-behaved all things considered. It's just that with this new condition of his, it is nearly impossible to stop him once he starts losing control.

But that's not a problem with Tiezui as a toddler. His main reaction whenever he has been displeased with something had been to pout. And if it has indeed convinced Rishan a couple of times to give into whatever he wanted over the week, well, he would dare any man to resist those puppy eyes, especially when Qishan starts copying him too.

Nevertheless, leaving the manor had been a bad idea. Even with Er Ye's manor being his intended destination and how much he trusts him implicitly with their safety, actually going there comes with its own risks.

Even now that the war is over, Fo Ye still has enemies. And only a fool would think they have managed to keep his currently vulnerable state entirely secret.

But Rishan had been confident he could protect them easily against any threat, especially under the cover of the fog that had risen over the city. And maybe in usual circumstances he would have been right.

But defending two grown men who knew how to get out of the way is very different from defending two very scared toddlers.

He has been doing a decent job so far keeping their attackers away from the children, but there are simply too many of them. Rishan is a good fighter, but even he has his limits.

He takes his attention off their attackers for a precious moment to tell Qishan to grab Tiezui's hand and run. Qishan might not be able to help him fight right now, but he is still a Zhang. Even if he is so very young, Rishan is painfully aware what his childhood has been like. If Rishan can give them a good head-start, if he can distract their attackers long enough, then they've got a chance to get away and hide.

As much as it breaks his heart that Qishan doesn't hesitate a moment to obey Rishan's order, he's grateful to see them disappear into the fog. They're gonna be safe. He'll make sure of it.

Not that he can spare them any more thoughts after that.

He can only fight and continue to try to thin out the number of his attackers.

Unfortunately, he's been outnumbered since the beginning. It was only a question of time before exhaustion and pain slowly got the better of him.

He's too late to block a blow to his temple and he feels himself tumble backwards, losing his balance, knowing he'll fall.

It's that, more than the pain that makes him wince.

Once he's on the ground, it's over. He won't be getting back up and he knows it.

Except he never does fall.

Instead he feels his back make contact with a strong chest, two arms coming around his waist to hold his weight easily.

"I've got you Rishan."

Now, Rishan had never truly lost hope that he would get Fo Ye and Ba Ye back to their adult selves. But given the circumstances, he can certainly be forgiven that hearing Fo Ye voice again has him this close to weeping in relief.

But relieved or not, Rishan is still ever the protector and if he knows that Fo Ye is safe at his back, that doesn't tell him where Tiezui is. If it was any other time, he wouldn't worry, because Fo Ye wouldn't be so calm if he thought Ba Ye was in any kind of danger, but this is not any other time. Who knows what Fo Ye remembers of their current situation.

Even as Fo Ye is backing them away to safety, fear starts rising in his throat unbidden, as he tries to ascertain through the fog that all their attackers are still in front of him and none has managed to sneak past somehow.

Sudden terrified screaming from behind lets him know that at least one man had gone after the children when Rishan was making his last stand.

But this is not Tiezui's voice abruptly cutting off in a disgusting gurgle.

The few men left standing are clearly getting nervous now as they very well should be.

It's a well-known secret something happened to Ba Ye some time ago and he came back slightly different. Most people assumed it was trauma.

Those who have ever learned otherwise never lasted long enough to let anyone know how wrong that assumption is.

A body flies past them a few seconds before Ba Ye emerges from the fog, his teeth bared in what no one in their right mind would think of as a smile. It's not even a threat. It's a promise.

Still, he doesn't attack at once, instead stopping by their side, something that could be worry flashing in his eyes as he glances over Rishan's body. Whatever it was, it's soon replaced with cold fury.

Ba Ye turns his attention back to their attackers and usually Rishan would at least try to stop what he knows is coming next. It's hard to muster the energy to care now however. And it's not even because he got hurt. He's never really cared about that.

It's because they've tried to come at defenceless children. And they nearly succeeded in it too.

Now, they get to deal with a grown up Ba Ye. A different Ba Ye.

And if Rishan knows anything about him, it's that he won't even let those men have the time to regret their attack today.

[tulipanthousa]

So Tumblr is being weird and not letting me send an ask from my nsfw blog for some reason. I was wondering, for any of your verses, what are some terms that characters in relationships use for each other that don't leave the bedroom (if you know what I mean)?

-Kytia

you cant send an ask from sideblogs, only your main, an issue we've been complaining about for ten years

Pieces verse

Logicality - theyre very switchy and they do this kind of teasing, sweetly condescending brand of degradation. Logan's not a slut he's PATTON'S adorable slut who he loves very much, and vice versa. however Logan would absolutely never use or enjoy these outside the bedroom (even if patton wouldnt care, he cares about logans boundaries)

prinxiety - okay so Roman does get in bratty moods for Virgil sometimes but its so aksjhaskjdh just precious kinda of bratting. pouty boy. feet stomper. the worst he ever gets is a "brat" dripping with fondness, and its saved for when theyre alone.

Dukeceit - most of them lol. they both talk a big game about exhibitionism but Janus is mortified by the actual vulnerability of it, so they are always at least mostly alone/at most will be overheard.

LAOFT

okay so the thing about dirty talk in laoft is that roleplay and degradation are a bit difficult for virgil and logan, who cant lie. Virgil first heard most deragatory names used during sex by humans in the context of people flinging it in slur form at greta, which pretty much irrevocably stored them in the "insults" part of his brain, so he's a no-go Logan is a little more complicated, because he knows they dont have to be insults, but he could still never manage to say them because he believes they're insult, mostly do his own hang-ups about being polyamourous leftover from when they were teenagers.

however i do have like 15% of an idea where io and remus (who have none of the above stated hangups) joking call each other whores all the time (because the entire reason io exists is because me and remus have the same sense of humor lol) and logan and virgil are Scandalized but it makes them re-examine their positions

and also so i can write the silver foxes fucking nasty

[nightcolorz]

18 >:)

HEHHEHEH THANK U SM FOR SENDING THE PROMPT KATE ILY, SORRY I TOOK SO LONG!! This ask is following an ask game where u can send me prompts from here: https://www.tumblr.com/nightcolorz/735473060637016064/drabble-challenge-1-150?source=share and I’ll write a Drabble!!

this Drabble is about Louis and Lestat book verse some time around the pl era.

18- Get over it.

The following silence was thick, in that old cliched way. Those eyes were dark, pupils pointed, looking into me. I’d never felt he’d looked at me so intently, like he actually saw me. And he was furious. “Excuse you?” I spluttered, like a plain idiot. It didn’t bear repeating, of course I had heard him. I felt that if I heard him say those things again I’d simply die. “Get over it.” He summarized his earlier statement. “Get over it soon, or I assure you, you’ll find me as lost to you now as I was then.”

I was thankful that I didn’t laugh. “Get over it? Louis.” It was condescending of me to explain. “My darling boy, my precious Angel. Be serious. You watched me be killed and did nothing. You even helped the killer discard of my corpse! Forgive me if I have a lingering bitterness. I should be the one forgiving you! Actually, I have, remarkably, given you an infinite amount of grace. Is that not enough for you, my love?”

He said nothing, only glared at me with a coldness so severe I felt a chill go up my spine. After a beat he spoke, quietly, with a commanding force behind his voice strong enough to take me back. “The killer…” he echoed. “Don’t you mean Claudia? Our daughter? The little girl you ripped from her mother’s arms and forced into a life of damnation, tormented an innocent to our hell, then caged so utterly to you that her only mode of escape was to murder? That “killer”, you speak of? That killer who would have never killed if you had not raised her too! Against my will? And you dare be surprised that I tell you to get over it. You dare resent me when I could not save you from the consequences of what you had done. You blame me? You wonder why I chose that innocent over the devil who’d stolen her soul? You should be thankful for how I have chosen to be with you now, after it all. Is that not enough for you, my love?”

I was stunned. I knew somehow, deep down in my ignorant soul, that he was right in his reasoning, right to tell me what was what, as I was being rather petty and cruel with my blatant passive aggression concerning things so firmly in the past. I’d been taunting him, needlessly, implying his inadequacy for allowing my murder all those years ago. And he had fought back, so fiercely eloquent. This is what I thought on, how far away all this business was, and how removed the man in front of me was from the boy who had stood helpless and cried, as if capable of nothing else, while I begged for him, bleeding out on the floor. I expressed this. “You’ve changed.” And as the words left me I realized that they were not what he wanted to hear. 

“Haven’t I?” He affirmed. “Are you surprised that I don’t sit silently any longer and take your abuse?” I shrugged. “A little.” I said. “I don’t know why I am so awful, to you and in general. It’s like there’s something within me that compels me to be cruel and spiteful when all I really want is to be with you and to love you and for all of it to be forgotten and alright.” 

We locked eyes for a moment, simply and honestly, without fury. “I just want you Louis. I don’t care about the past, I don’t know why I choose to be angry. I am just, you’re right, a devil.” Louis frowned patiently. “No.” He said, to my surprise. “I don’t know that you are. We are only…we are both half stuck in that draw of the past, and we must free ourselves, because we are different now.” I was enamored with his words, their unusual optimism, and the apparent love he felt for me. It was so precious that this was how it was now. I almost wondered I was still bleeding out on that floor, and that this was some fantasy I’d conceived as my spirit fired off its last sparks within my preternatural body. If only I could stop disturbing this bliss with my inherent awfulness.

“You are not that devil who took Claudia’s life any longer.” Louis continued. “That creature would’ve yelled or stormed out and hit one thing or another at my words. No.” He almost smiled. “You’re something altogether gentler and easier to love.” I wanted to weep. “And you are” I began “You’re not my fledgling any longer, if you’d ever been so at all. You’re the vampire I could never be. And I’m honored to be permitted to stand by your side.”  He fully smiled now. “And I’m sorry…” I tasted the word on my tongue, sorry. “I’m sorry for how it used to be. For Claudia, for everything. I want it to be better.”

“Lestat?” He asked after a bit of contemplative silence. “Yes, my Louis?” My response was immediate. “Could you pass me that please.” He requested, gesturing to a lighter sat unassuming and domestically on a nearby table. “Of course.” And so I passed it to him, and he took it, only to ignite a candle that he used to light the words on the pages of his very worn addition of John Keats. I watched the flame flickering safely by his side, saw those green eyes reflected as I have many times, within the flame, and I wondered if creatures such as ourself were truly ever capable of change—or if rather we got very close before we inevitably repeated the same cycles in unending loops for all of time. “I’d be content to watch this fire burn forever.” I thought rather insanely, before I went towards him and took my place in the red velvet arm chair by his side. 

[sucrosette]

★— ⋆｡˚ [04. A Life as a Writer (and a Barista)]

For Day 21 of Carry on Countdown 23, Begin Again. @carryon-countdown

Basil is a writer in dire need of a starting line. But where the bloody hell is he going to find it?

Rated T for Basil being a Smut Author and Simon being a Smut Enthusiast.

This is a series of snapshots of different Simon Snows and Baz Pitches in the greater multiverse. You can find the other "lives" here: [Day 3: Alternate Universe][Day 19: Sci-Fi][Day 20: Flowers]

⋆｡˚

The hardest part of starting a love story, or any story really, is the bloody first line. No matter the environment, the characters, the whole setting, that first bloody line’s always the hardest. Basil’s been sitting on this one for three and a half weeks now. He’s been in bars, dive bars and class acts both, libraries, cafes, parks, even secluded little psychic shops. Nothing seemed to do the trick though. Basil’s remained just as wordless as ever, no matter where he goes.

Lately, though, he’s been haunting this one cafe in particular, with a little disaster of a barista and, he thinks, baker. He hasn’t actually been here early enough to see whether Simon does more than put the pastries out, but he’s always got a bit of a flour smear on his cheeks and his apron’s always a bit of a mess and it just sort of adds up to him being a baker, at least as far as Basil can tell.

He wouldn’t actually know, he’s never been a baker.

Right now, he’s not looking to be much of a writer either. He’s got to at least start this thing. Basil’s got a deal and everything, publishers and editors and such waiting on him. He pitched a damn good plot too and had a decent cast of characters. Now he just had… to bloody do something with it.

Resorting to staring down his empty document just seemed the obvious ‘something’ to do. The cursor blinked threateningly back at him. The cursor was unfortunately, undeniably winning.

Another cup of coffee slides itself in front of Basil, the prior empty one skillfully whisked away to Simon’s tray of dirty dishes. “Still no luck on your start?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve noticed,” Baz groans at the barista, glancing over to him out of the corner of his eyes and sipping his coffee even despite the apparent call-out.

“You’ve been in here every day for the last week,” Simon shrugs, “That doc remains as blank as when you came in the first day.”

“And the coffee?”

“Two hour mark.”

“Well, thank you then,” Baz says with another long spit of coffee, “I just don’t know where to start.”

Simon looks around the cafe, seeing it all but empty except for Basil, and plops himself down across from the struggling writer. “Well, what is it you’re actually trying to start?”

“It’s…” Basil pauses for a moment, assessing Simon with a little more scrutiny before shrugging. He worked in a cafe, there was only so much straight in anyone who works in a cafe, “It’s a romance. I’ve a contract. It’s a supernatural, enemies-to-lovers, witches and werewolves story with all the bells and whistles and underlying fairy tale elements except it’s a bit more future based than middle ages based. Oh, and they’re gay, but you probably could’ve guessed that.”

Simon blinks. “I still have no idea what that’s about.”

“Ah,” Baz lets out an awkward little laugh, “I can give you the proper pitch? I’ve got it all outlined, mostly, it’s just starting it.”

“You got a contract without a manuscript?”

“It’s a sequel, sort of. Like. Same verse, different characters. So yeah, I’ve a contract,” Baz confirms, “I just need to get it rolling.”

“Well, what’s the first one?” Simon asks, precious and innocent.

Basil sighs, supposing if he’s this far in he may as well unmask himself, hopefully Simon just didn’t know what the book was. “Prince of the Drowned.”

“Oh my god,” Simon leans over onto the table and closer to Basil, “That was so smutty… you look so respectable though.”

“Thank you? I think,” Baz snorts out a small laugh. “I guess there goes any hope of you not knowing who I am.”

“I’m not sorry. In fact I might be a little too proud. I don’t read a lot, but that book was hot. So is your next protagonist as much a rake as the last?” Simon, apparently, knows all the romance tropes.

“Well, not as much,” Baz wavers his hand a little bit, “This one’s more a like. Life-long obsession come to fruition sort of vibe. Unhealthy attachment, codependency in all the wrong ways, probably some sick and twisted fantasy fulfillment. You know, not exactly ‘clean’ stuff.”

“Ohh~” Simon bites his lip as the door opens to a new customer, “Okay I’m getting this, but I say start it with a fight. If they’re going to be messy like that, start it with a nasty fight.”

Basil takes a moment as Simon walks away, thinking it over. It works with his rough outline and it fits the vibe. Thank you, random cafe boy, you have truly helped a drowning man out. He puts the first words to page.

And ends up writing three thousand words in a single sitting. It’s a start, he might change it later. He might scrap it entirely later, or put it somewhere else in the novel, or in a different novel altogether, but it’s a start, and that’s better off than he’s been in over a week.

He doesn’t leave without Simon checking in again. “Hey, you’ve got words,” Simon half-sings from over Baz’s shoulder, and Baz immediately tabs away from his work.

“I do,” Baz twists in his seat to look at Simon properly, “And no spoilers for you.”

“That filthy already?” Simon teases and Basil only shrugs.

“Suppose you’ll have to read and find out, won’t you?” Baz smirks a little bit at Simon’s obvious curiosity, “Since you’re obviously a fan and all.”

Simon sighs, “If I bring my book in tomorrow, will you sign it for me?”

Baz can’t quite tell if that’s a tease or not, but he may as well take it for a genuine request. “I feel like that’s the least I can do for someone who helped me at least get a start going.”

“So generous,” Simon sighs, leaning just a little on the back of Baz’s chair, “Your boyfriend must be lucky though, I bet he gets previews of your smut.”

“Ah, well,” Baz shrugs, “If I had one, maybe he would.”

Simon’s lips form a precious little oh, terribly unsubtle for half a moment before leaning off Baz’s chair just as Baz closes his laptop entirely. “So what do you look for in a boyfriend… if you’re up to sharing?”

“That’s incredibly unsubtle, Simon,” Basil fixes his face in an unimpressed sort of look, but Simon’s clearly not buying it.

“So was asking you back tomorrow– and you already agreed.”

Baz let’s Simon have half a smirk and shrugs, “Suppose that I did, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Simon grins back wide at Baz, knowing somehow he’s already won, “So is Basilton you’re real name or…?”

“It is,” Baz answers as he packs everything up, shoulder bag neatly in place, “If I do decide to show up tomorrow, though, you can call me Baz.”

It’s no surprise at all when Basil shows up just as invited the next day. It’s even less of a surprise when he signs his name in that book with his phone number alongside. ‘For the Unsubtle One with a spicy little mind,’ it says in neatly curled silver script. What’s least surprising of all is how quickly Simon calls that number, Baz’s phone ringing before he even manages to leave the cafe.

[sinkableruby]

the shiori ED in owarimonogatari ge kills me, but theres a very specific part of it that really gets my attention

right before the first verse there's a little flash in this box that shows an object relating to the arc character

its interesting to see the items for each of them. mayoi's bag is there, and the first thing you notice is that she's not. her bag feels almost synonymous with her, so it almost gives the impression she's left it behind, possibly for a new stage in her life (as it were). hitagi's apartment building is shown, and what i think might be araragi's house next to it. but they're so small that they look like models more than anything, which i feel relates to how these homes are things that are precious to her, they are things she wants to protect. maybe theres something to be said about the home as it relates to family too, and family being very much a big thing to her arc. and maybe theres something to be said about mayoi's thing being "something to protect" too

whats the object in ougi dark, then?

oh. hi ougi

guys im so not normal about this. putting ougi in the same room where the other two had objects that were important/synonymous with them. its because ougi darks ED is for ougi BUT its also for araragi (and shinobu, its about all 3 of them), so its araragis "thing to protect/that is important to/synonymous with him."

but also like. this is also like the only time in the show that we see ougi in any state even approaching nudity, and not just that, ougi is actually naked here (except for the sleeves). and that coupled with the kind of huddled pose really makes this feel like a very vulnerable moment, and a very very significant thing. its saying many things at once. it's saying conception, it's showing you the big bad but not so big and not so bad, its showing you the weakness in a character who has rarely shown anything like vulnerability or weakness, who is still haunting araragi (see the sleeves and the like "gonna get you" hands lol) to the bitter end.

and like if you look closely you can see a little smile which is standard for ougi but like. the hollowed eyes (more ghastly now when theyre white). the inward hunch. the lack of clothes besides the sleeves, that are stylized to look jagged like claws. this is a creature born with a purpose, a creature born to hurt. but this is also obviously a creature who is alone and feeble and Should Be Helped Not Killed for fucks sake lol.

and not just a creature but a person! ougi is armored in layers of separating clothes all the time but this shot is kind of groundbreaking bc it showing that like. she is really just like anyone else. the fronting is very much a front. she, the fake, has Substance. there's a very real person underneath those big sleeves.

and also since the shot is really only for half a second, ougi fades away very quickly. its very much a blink and youll miss it. but that fading away really feels like a flash of vulnerability before she fades away Forever. as in, it's a parallel to her almost final moments. but the fading away in particular feels ghost-ish. not to mention later in the ED shes even wearing like a ghost outfit.

and. god. if that isn't just.

idk. something about. being alive but not really. being a ghost. not long for this world and resigned to it. being so resigned to it you wear it and use that to represent yourself. making it a part of you. and then later being given a life. becoming able to live. idk yk. idk its just , yk its just ,

[princelydisaster]

I have the inexorable urge to rant about a character I’m obsessed with that much of the fandom hates

Anyway fuck it.

I understand that a lot of people dislike Charles Quigley (for good reason) but I keep getting burned by finding fanfics and posts tagged with the character that only feature him to make fun of him or something

Honestly if you are writing a fanfic in the Harlots ‘verse and don’t want to include him, there is no shame in writing him out. (Or any other character for that matter.)

Have a throwaway line where someone says he went to visit a friend for a month or something.

That could also introduce things like more tension because Lydia might be more stressed / worried about having her precious baby mid 30s boy out of the house. Maybe she’s more prone to lashing out. Maybe she’s distracted and her rivals like Margaret get more bold about taking action against her.

It introduces a lot of interesting things that could work for a number of fanfic plots.

…Okay that’s it for people who don’t want to include him in fanfics, I’m gonna discuss things I think could be explored in fanfic below.

Note that because this show has a lot of interconnected characters I also talk a lot about Lydia, Emily, and Nancy for some reason.

TW: discussions of abusive relationships, incest, sex trafficking, kidnapping, murder (stuff that’s in the show)

I’ve seen someone say before that Charles is one of the few straight male characters on the show who’s important because of his part in fleshing out female characters via relationships.

I can see that. I think the nature of the show means that he as a man - a passive one at that - wouldn’t get a lot of screen time.

The point about him being important relationship wise is really interesting. Tbh, the early-mid season 1 interactions between Emily and Lydia remind me of the trope of a dad running to chase away his daughter’s boyfriend with a shotgun.

There’s that gender flipped part where women aren’t usually given as much sexual agency in tv/film etc, but also I like that it’s not played off as a kinda quirky “overprotective” parent thing, but the show recognizes how toxic this dynamic is.

You can argue in the gun toting dad example it’s sometimes bc the daughter is underage, but still, there’s often that undercurrent of a parent being threatened by their child getting a romantic partner and “replacing” them.

This is a big part of the Lydia and Charles relationship imo. I would characterize it as a nuanced depiction of an emotionally abusive relationship with elements of covert / emotional incest.

Emotionally abusive because she tends to manipulate him - isolate him from others, like potential partners.

When she feels he “replaced” her by choosing Emily - she immediately replaces him with Charlotte, a surrogate daughter.

Note: covert incest is not actual, literal incest. I do Not think their relationship has an actual sexual / romantic component to it. (but idk if you think that would be interesting to explore in a fanfic, go right ahead.)

I’m referring to unhealthy parent/child relationships where the child is expected to take on a role similar to the parent’s spouse. Such as where the parent expects the child to comfort them emotionally (even from a young age), or to prioritize their relationship over other forms of relationships, like friendships or dating other people.

I can definitely see that, especially with Lydia’s line to Rasselas in season 2 after he talks about losing his partner to an unknown disease. He says something like “I lost my precious boy”.

And she says, “so did I”.

This is due to Lydia being self centered as fuck, sure, but remember how she reacted to Charles nearly dying of an OD because of Emily? She was nowhere near this mopey about it.

(Ofc she had to make sure he was safe but once he was in stable condition she immediately struck.)

In that case at least she could react with violence and use Emily to boost her own standing.

In the case of Charles moving out to live with her, she’s kinda screwed, her old methods of dealing with a situation by attacking others to her own benefit don’t work.

It’s not really actionable. She can’t just go after Emily at the moment.

Lydia is finally stuck having to deal with the idea that her son - who she’s made part of her identity, especially if it means she can say she’s a Good Mother so she’s winning at Patriarchy - maybe chose someone else over her. Or doesn’t want to be close to her anymore.

—

Okay yeah I have talked about the relationships a lot but I could also talk about Charles himself.

Again, he’s a very passive character in a show about very active - or even aggressive - women.

I think his scenes in the show serve an important role of providing some levity or respite from the more intense drama (ie kidnapping, psychological torment, etc). It kinda breaks things up so you can fully digest how awful the other scenes are.

Not to say that he’s a totally innocent guy.

He’s still a shitty person, very self centered and privileged and willing to take advantage of others for his own desires.

I feel like sometimes I’m tipping the scales in his favor too much, as Charles is a morally grey character who likes to think he’s a good guy, but… it’s much easier for him to continue being awful or allow others to suffer for his benefit.

I think there’s a lot of interesting stuff at play with him, the ways Lydia’s parenting makes him see her as a role model and also a negative role model.

He starts off wanting to follow in her footsteps, to impress her. When Lydia starts intimidating Margaret for Emily coming to her, he backs up Lydia by remarking that Emily’s pretty bangable.

(Which is… kinda a stupid thing to add, but it still has an effect on Margaret, which is what they want.)

But once Charles starts to get into what it really means for Lydia to be a bawd - and him by extension - he doesn’t want to continue in the same way.

It’s not just, maybe he can keep Lydia from lashing out at the girls, or maybe if she does he can help them out by sneaking them food.

Once Emily nearly kills him via OD to escape, he doesn’t feel like going after her. Maybe he has a realization from that near death experience. Maybe he’s just too passive to want revenge. Maybe he knows that if he tried to get revenge Lydia would just take it to an eye for an eye levels of intense.

Maybe you could argue that he’s got some kind of guilt around what he did to Emily.

He seemed to almost have a moment of self awareness when (iirc) he told her he’d want to move out some place without Lydia, where she wouldn’t have to have sex with anyone… except him. Oops.

I think the relationship with Emily - because she’s a lot more pro active than he is, and she’s willing to talk back to him despite the power he has over her - forces him to realize his role in things.

And the development with the whole kidnapping people and giving them over to sadistic cultists to murder thing gets him firmly off Lydia’s side.

(Well, that and the line where iirc Nancy says something like “you can’t be on everyone’s side”.)

I think also there’s a lot that could be said about Nancy’s role in nudging him in the direction of a redemption arc in season. Maybe more like pushing him, idk.

Nancy is one of the only people who’s really patient enough to help Emily, even when she lashes out because she feels vulnerable.

She’s one of the first people who really treats Charles as an adult now that I think of it. Like even when Emily rocks the boat, she still plays into his childish side to keep his favor.

I think it’s largely because he’s the exact kind of guy Nancy is used to seeing - a rich dude who wants a dominant woman to take care of him and guide him - and the added history with his mother helps.

You could also argue that while Lydia fits patriarchal ideas of the ideal mother - being nurturing (unless you piss her off), delicate, feminine, lacking her own romance / sex life in lieu of caring for her child (usually) - Nancy is more like the reverse of all these traits, but she actually cares for and guides the people she takes under her wing.

When Emily lashes out at people she thinks are condescending to her, Lydia just doubles down on punishing her, but Nancy gives her the benefit of the doubt and offers her aid.

Was this post a Trojan horse for Nancy birch?? Maybe??

I think that the contrast is also interesting, with Nancy lacking all the conventionally feminine things that make Lydia appear to be a good person on the surface, but actually nurturing and wanting people to grow and providing good coping mechanisms and a shoulder to cry on. Often at the expense of herself.

(So basically Lydia is cloth mother and Nancy is wire mother? Yeah)

I realize I went way off the mark here but I think there’s a lot of potential in exploring the relationship between Charles and Nancy too.

Like he’s more used to seeing women who try to fit into social roles men place on them (whore, virgin, mother, crone etc archetypes) so seeing a goth butch lesbian who tells him to get his shit together… kinda breaks his brain.

It’s a really interesting dynamic I wish we saw more of.

—

There’s a lot more I could say, and maybe will say at a later date, but I’m getting kinda tired of writing this post. I tried to focus on the stuff that was touched on in canon + my own interpretation of it. Or different ones you could run with.

If you got this far… thank you for reading! I give you a sugar pig (whatever that is) for your efforts