#because even short lived that fucking hurt and i was spiralling

[louisferrignojr]

but in all seriousness? i took it really fucking hard that a person i considered a friend, that i actually hang out with + made vague plans to meet up again, blocked me out of the blue without a word, on tumblr *and* whatsapp and i had no way to even reach out and say "look im sorry for whatever it is i did that upset you" (eventually i used my old blog to send an ask, even tho it feels a bit like a dick move, but for my conscience and all)

and then to learn that this person went on to block OP + other of their own friends/mutuals who reblogged that post calling out the "athena or hen are not buck's mothers" headcanons circulating in the 911 fandom because it's fucking racist

and concluding thats the reason they blocked me too - for reblogging and agreeing with OP, and for saying (in our private DMs) why i agree i.e. its not an isolated incident in fandom to make the black character(s) caretakers of the white character(s), and OP is not wrong for calling it out, and, they're not - get this - doing it "for brownie points" because im actually friends with OP and i know their character and that's not what's going on. (and while i didnt comment on this, because i didn't want it to turn into a full blown fight with my then-friend, to suggest that because OP is a white man they can't speak out on the anti-black racism in fandom? like, what?)

and then to learn that other blocked individuals are also upset/hurt by this behaviour. yeah, it was a funny moment. it's a relief. good riddance. stay in your white comfort echo chamber bubble and away from me. no hate.

i feel so much better! im not a terrible friend and evil person! yay for me. and as always, better sooner than later. good riddance.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[user211201]

I Was Just Being Ironic, Bro

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

That’s how it started, you see. With irony. With a joke. A joke Daniel made about grabbing em by the pussy. Jared said it was kinda offensive, man. Daniel doubled down, saying he was just being ironic, explaining how he’d never be that misogynist, obviously.

Jared did end up laughing, just not wanting to be rude more than anything. I mean, they were friends and obviously Daniel didn’t swing that way.

But one joke turned into another joke, days later. And another. And the ways things were spiraling, soon the two roommates – they lived in a shared house of four – were joking about it all the time. Pretending to be alt-right. Pretending because it was fun, it was funny, it was something to do, a way to make fun of guys who acted like that while simultaneously getting to feel what it was like to be that sort of guy themselves.

They were pretty regular guys. But it became funny to pretend they were jock studs, too. “I dare you to work out, bro,” Daniel goes one night. “I fucking dare you. If you can do 100 pushups consecutively, I’ll even let you grab me by the pussy,” Daniel goes, grabbing his own cock and balls through his shorts for emphasis, which wasn’t hard since he was freeballing that night.

“Oh yeah?” Jared said, “Watch this, bro.” He only made it to fifteen, laughing, but they kept up their dare. Jared was building some pipes on those arms. And months later, after a few shots of whiskey, he hit one hundred pushups for the first time in his life.

“Dude, if I’m gonna grab you by the pussy, I want to see you wearing those Old Glory shorts.” Yeah, the shorts Daniel bought to be ironic. Jared knew those.

And he did grab Daniel’s cock and balls through the shorts, holding onto them tight, laughing, squeezing. “Ouch, dude, that fuckin’ hurts,” Daniel said. It was hilarious. They were so drunk.

But then it was Jared’s turn to dare Daniel, saying he should get as pumped as he was, that is if he could ever catch up. “I’m working on 120 pushups, bro, and look at you. Fuckin’ puny. Little Daniel. I dare you, bro. You can grab me by the pussy if you ever catch up.”

Daniel wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. And soon his guns were just as big, if not bigger. Their jokes were becoming almost infamous in the house.

“Drop and give me 20, Daniel. ‘Merica!” “Come on, tiny hands, let’s see if you can beat me at arm-wrestling.” “Aww, so hot, bro. You and that MAGA cap. I bet you’ll be able to score all the pussy you want if you wear that out to the bars.” “Lock her up, lock her up!” Daniel said to Jared when he was drunk off his ass, trying to tie him to his chair with rope. The guys loved horsing around.

Jared and Daniel both had American flag shorts, now. They had flag tank tops, t-shirts, hats, even MAGA caps. They were getting to be pretty buff guys. Acting like right-wing jockbros had been ironic, but now they looked pretty convincing in the part after working out so much and buying the gear they bought. Vocal inflections, ironic at first, now sounded more and more legit as they got their impersonations down pat. Sometimes they’d go out and hit the bars, ham it up, see who they fooled, which was pretty much everybody.

They were good at this. It was fucking funny and fun as hell.

Drunk one night, Daniel found himself confessing to Jared that he thinks it’s really hot when Jared acts like a MAGA guy. “Yeah bro?” Jared said, “I think it’s hot too. Makes me feel hot. It’s like everything I secretly want to be when I’m like this.”

“Yeah bro?” Daniel said, “I think that’s so fucking hot, man. You look great as one of those guys. I almost feel like I could grab you by the pussy for real, bro.”

“Why don’t you do it then, bro,” Jared said, “When we’re home. I fucking dare you, bro. Get those tiny hands on this big cock of mine. Bet you don’t have the balls.”

But turned out Daniel did have the balls, and when he took Jared’s cock in his mouth behind that locked bedroom door, all Jared could say was, “Fuck, bro. MAGA, bro. That’s so fuckin’ hot, bro,” before he came, five minutes later, flooding Daniel’s mouth with white hot cum.

[irisbaggins]

This episode validated me so much. I left a comment on one of the shorts on YouTube, and I fucking clocked it. I was right. K and Evan worked together on helping people after Magic Broke, and after Evan left K felt like they had to do everything on their own. I'm just gonna attach my original comment below (everything bolded is to emphasise what I feel very validated on due to the new episode):

YES. Exactly! K and Evan are, fundamentally, very similar in their complexes around others vs the self, aka how they view themselves and how their value is tied to their usefulness. I don't know why they broke up, but my money's on the fact that both Evan and K were drowning in guilt for their actions relating to the breaking of magic, and that put a strain on their relationship. Especially as both K and Evan started to become self-destructive (or, even more in Evan's case) in their attempt to "fix" their mistake. I have an inkling that their breakup was more due to them drifting apart because of their Atlas Complexes (taking the world/their family on their shoulders) rather than an explicit Wrong having happened.

But yeah, Evan is fully in the right about his bodily autonomy and K having ignored that. However, what this clip doesn't include is K's actual reasoning and mindset around this. They wanted to "fix" Evan the same way they've been "fixing" magic as Itsy, and they thought they could do it all on their own; do a massive task that should have been done by a community all by themselves. K attempting to heal Evan and then proceeding to royally screw it up was just the natural progression of K's spiral; they were going to create an explosion at some point if they continued to act as they were. It was just, unfortunately, Evan's arm that got blown up, and not their van.

I am just. I called it. In a YouTube short's comment. I called that the reason for K's erratic behaviour was due to their guilt and sense of responsibility, and K nearly spelled it out when talking to Jammer. And with this confirmation, I feel even more bolstered in saying that I genuinely think that K didn't think through their actions when attempting to heal Evan; they saw that Evan had been hurt and scarred after their breakup, and most likely felt guilt over that. They weren't there for him, which led to him being hurt and having an injury heal wrong. K's a healer at heart, someone who tries to help and fix things, and here's living proof that they weren't enough. That they weren't there for Evan because of their own complexes. They just...hadn't considered what it means to heal an already healed bone, especially when magic is less "whimsical" and a lot more realistic right now.

I could go on and on about K and how their character is amazing, but I'll leave this here for now and bask in the feeling of having my analysis hit true. It's really helping my confidence which I need, oh no I have so much to write for my thesis

[sugar-omi]

Dilf!Cove spicy headcanons… crumbs for the masses please… 👀

HELP I SPIRALED THIS IS SO LONG.... THIS AINT CRUMBS ITS LITERALLY A WHOLE MEAL

but no bc why did this actually get outta hand.... um. anyway.... may or may not fix the format bc there's a lot going on but.. enjoy :)

tags : NSFW, DILF!cove, headcanons, multiple choice dialogue, dilf!cove is just frisky okay you just gotta read it, bit of bottom/switch cove, lots of service top cove

synopsis : nsfw dilf!cove headcanons

big. big man. big, beefy, squishy, thicc man with PROMINENT VEINS IN HIS (BIG) HANDS and he KNOWS ITS HOT and he ABUSES IT BC HE KNOWS YOU LOVE IT

constantly grabbing you, rubbing your thigh and back and shoulder...

can't drive properly unless he has a hand on your thigh or your hand in his

don't be afraid to smack his hand away, because thats how you end up giving truck drivers a show on the highway bc your nasty ass husband is fingering you or jerking you off until you're sloppy

like i think a few truckers know you by now....

he's so bad for yalls reputation</3

also you can't pay him enough to button his shirt up all the way.

minimum 3 buttons undone.

usually has 4-5 buttons undone and when he bends over you can see his (pierced) nipples and all the bite marks n hickeys you left behind last night

sleeps in less and less clothes

remember how someone (on twt i think? maybe it wasn an anon tho) said smth about why does cove wear long pants n shirt when he doesnt like layers?

well he had that epiphany too

and at first it was pants and tank top, or long sleeves n shorts

then tank and shorts... then just his boxers....

but now, he'll sleep full on naked

ofc if you're uncomfortable with it, he won't.

but who doesn't want their sexy husband to sleep naked?

it leads to interesting mornings too..

cove's hard length pressed up against you because he can't sleep without holding or being close to you

and for weeks, the morning starts with lazy hand-jobs, frisky blow-jobs (especially when he's sleeping, something you surprised him with when he said he dreamed about that yesterday)

and then it ended up with you or him on top of the other, your/his hips never too far away and you're lazily kissing..

or cove cuddling you in the morning, and you slip him inside you or he slips between your thighs.. cove loves it when you do that, pushing your ass back on him and he can just hold you while you fuck yourself on his cock

loves to take you on vacation or lil getaways

you're kids are grown and you're empty nesters, even if theyre still at home for college, they dont necessarily need you now

so if cove takes you away on a beach vacation, surprising you with a boat for a week. thats great!!!

and you promise to send your family pictures, but please be careful...

because that picture of the view through the window? you can see your naked husband in the reflection

that picture of you laying in bed with breakfast? you can see his soft cock laying on his thigh...

besides those photos, maybe think twice before sending the 'safe' ones or prepare for comments telling you to get a room (or your kids sending sick emojis or something bc cove is being touchy in the photo)

bc cove is either grabbing your butt, chest, his face in your neck, and/or he has you on his lap, and you can basically see the nasty thoughts in his head or his look of satisfaction or his hand is (once again) in a dangerous spot...

everyone jokes abt you 2 having the time of your lives over there, especially away from the kids

kid: please leave the sexual tension at the door BEFORE YOU GET HOME!!!! ✋️✋️

which they'd be right abt, because that selfie of you guys using the mini-bar in the backyard?

cove bends you over the mini-bar and sucks you off / eats you out until you complain abt the surface hurting your back and then he picks you up and brings you inside

that selfie of the two of you or one of you in the infinity pool, both of yall in your cute new swimsuits you bought for this trip, having a drink?

after that picture, cove has you leaning back on your elbows, the water splashing and clapping between you as he fucks you

or you'll be trying to take a selfie and he swims up behind you, and fucks you from behind.. your body squished between his body and the wet tile as he tells you how good you look in that swimsuit...

yeah definitely fucks you in the pool or hot tub several times.

while sitting in the hot tub, he has you in his lap and he's thrusting up into you, your arms wrapped around him and he's sucking on your chest

that picture of you guys in your formal wear, about to go to dinner?

you were so late that your table almost got given away, all because cove begged you to let him give you head after you got ready and dolled up

and you aren't even gonna mention how he stopped in the middle of getting ready himself to fuck you over the bathroom counter after you got out the shower

yeah, everyone sees you guys absolutely glowing when you come back, and there's definitely a mark or two on each of you that isn't hidden

mmm this is why I can see cove buying a boat

sometimes you can't afford to take a whole trip abroad or outta state

so why not spend the day on the boat, and maybe.. just maybe... you can sunbathe, sip mimosas, let cove give you head.... sounds like a great time <33

omfg surprises you with lingerie

buys himself something risque and lays out a trail of petals to the bedroom from the front door, and there he is, on a fluffy bed with more petals, laid/sat up all pretty

surprises you with toys too

even if its more of a gift to him, it benefits you <3

who wouldn't wanna pleasure their stressed husband after a long week, using whatever vibe, dildo, plug, or fleshlight that he picked out for you to use on him

even begs you to fuck / peg him, he really just wants you to take care of him

or if you let him, he'll fuck himself on your cock (or your mouth) until he feels better

also does it for you

buys you cute lil toys to use on you alongside his mouth or cock

no matter what, loves to pleasure you, especially with his own body

constantly using his mouth or fingers on you, he lives for it

also buys you lingerie if you'd like it

but mainly buys you clothes. be it formal, casual, or whatever

likes to dress you up period, especially for dates

ofc there's always a surprise in there :)

which always leads to you rushing home or sneaking into the bathroom at the restaurant n one of you tugging at the others clothes

omfg nudes and taking pics/videos...

by this point, cove will send you a cheeky nude or video while you're at work just to make you rush home or call him on your lunch break

loves it if he gets to come to your work and you ride him in the parking lot, growling about how dirty he is

if you send him a nude or video while he's at work, fuck he's in pieces

needs you to come fuck him or suck him off, or even let him get you off (he'll definitely jerk off while giving you head)

sometimes he just can't help but wanna take a picture of you and/or him during sex

you just look so pretty; covered in sweat n hickeys (and his cum<3), stuffed with his dick, or your head thrown back from pleasure when he's going down on you.

or his fingers stirring up your insides until all you can hear in the video is your sloppy insides, loud moans, and occasionally cove's dirty talk n babbles about how good you are for him

also wants to commemorate you or him looking pretty in lingerie

poses all pretty for you, shows off his fat ass in his lacy undies... he's just so cute

so not only do you guys have a lovely memory of a spicy anniversary (or random tuesday) night, but you also have material for the spank bank

because when you're away long enough, you can expect a naughty call from cove in the middle of the night

someetimes he sends you a text to please call him, he needs to hear your voice... or you catch him in the middle of reminiscing

he's all breathy and panting, tries to act normal but after the first few times, doesn't even bother trying to pretend his not rutting up into his hand or fucking himself on one of his favorite thick dildos<3

[ourflagmeansdemise]

Just saw a physically disabled OFMD fan making a post claiming that Izzy Hands's death wasn't at all ableist, and that everyone claiming that it is must be able bodied and I want to be fucking sick. They said not to argue with them in the comments or reblogs, so I won't.. I'll make my own goddamn post. Let's talk about it. We were shown a man losing his limb. Attempting to end his life in the aftermath of that loss. Surviving. Even if he never asked for it. Spiraling into depression and alcoholism and self loathing. LITERALLY CRAWLING ON THE GROUND. Before he's given new purpose- A new leg, a new place in the world! We see him learning how to accept and live with his disability, and for a short blissful time we had representation of how life can go on! Of how we can recover against the odds! Of how life is worth living even if our bodies fail us! We get to see the whole crew working together to show Izzy that he was still worth loving, worth helping without making him feel weak or useless, worth making their figurehead! The spirit of the ship!! Something meant to protect them! Guess what! I watched all of that as a physically disabled OFMD fan, myself! I saw that, and I felt so strongly about it- Because before the finale, this season had given me one of the most powerful representations of disability I had ever seen and it resonated so strongly with me, as someone who struggles with my own sense of self worth due to the limitations of my own body.. I watched every time Fang or another member of the crew physically held Izzy up or supported him in some way. I watched him wear his queerness openly and sing his heart out to the crew that love him.. I watched him get just a taste of the life he could have lived, as someone valued by his community, even despite everything he'd lost.. And I watched him die. It was cheap, and it was rushed. Pointless. They killed him, and no one said anything at his grave. Except that he was a fucking nightmare. They buried Izzy, a lifelong sailor, in their yard like a dog instead of giving him a burial at sea... And they REMOVED HIS PROSTHETIC LEG FROM HIS CORPSE, to use as a headstone. Stripping him of his dignity. Of his role as the figurehead. Of the love that he was given by his crew.. Everything that stupid fucking horse leg represented was taken from him. Watching that finale left me gutted. For days all I could do was cry. Everything that they gave, and subsequently stole from Izzy Hands, they gave and stole from me as a disabled person- And I CANNOT be the only physically disabled OFMD fan to have been devastated by this loss. In fact, I KNOW I'm not, because I watched this season alongside my partner who is also disabled, and I held his hand in mine so tightly throughout the last episode that it hurt by the end of it. Then we cried ourselves to sleep, after. Now I get to read posts on tumblr.com saying that Izzy Hands's death was not ableist, and if I think it was that I'm some able bodied idiot using disabled people as an excuse to be mad about a character's death.

[badkitty3000]

You Can't Go Home Again

Chapter 7 (Final)

Link to Chapter 6

Link to Chapter 5

Link to Chapters 3 and 4

Link to Chapters 1 and 2

All Five wants to do is rest. But when yet another apocalypse threatens to doom them all, he doesn't have that luxury. This time, the only solution for the Hargreeves to try and save the world is to unite Five with another, alternate version of himself.

Five starts to spiral when he is faced with the alternate life that he could have had, if only he hadn't gone and ruined everything. But maybe, just maybe, there's still time for him to obtain the happy ending he deserves.

An alternate season three rewrite for a request I received.

This is the final chapter! Thank you everyone that has been following this story!

Warnings: None

Chapter Seven: The Idea of Happiness

The three men appeared out of the portal, stumbling into the living room of the house. There was a collective sigh of relief from the other siblings when they saw Five and Klaus were still in one piece. Marie gave a short shriek of surprise from them appearing out of nowhere, but as soon as she saw her husband she started to make her way over to him. She stopped as soon as she saw Reginald’s pistol that was still in his hand.

“What are you doing with a gun, Five?” she asked warily.

Her Five’s eyebrows drew together in confusion until he looked down and remembered he had been holding it when they teleported out of the Academy.

“Oh, shit,” he said to himself. “I’m sorry…it’s…”

“Here,” Five said, taking it out of his hand with an exaggerated eye roll and shoving it in the back of his pants.

After the gun was put away, Marie approached her husband again, looking at him curiously, as if seeing him for the first time. She stared into his eyes, her own filling up with tears again.

“You left,” she said, her voice barely audible. “You left us.” When he went to take her hand, she pulled it away with a shake of her head.

“Marie, I’m sorry. I was just so angry, I felt like I had to do something to –” His apology was cut short when his wife slapped him hard across the face. The rest of the adults in the room cringed and let out a collective “Ooooh.”

“That’s gotta hurt,” Klaus whispered to Lila.

“What I wouldn’t give to smack either one of these wankers across the face,” she responded, not quite as quietly as Klaus. “She’s got good form, though, I’ll give her that.”

As the other Five was recovering from his slap, Marie’s anger started building. “You selfish bastard! What were you trying to prove, huh?”

“I’m sorry. But I wasn’t leaving you or the kids, I promise. That was the whole point. I had the watch, so I was returning right away.”

“But you didn’t even tell me! Where the hell did you go anyway? And why do you have a gun? I demand some goddamn answers, Five! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?”

Until now, Five had assumed Marie was a sweet, soft-spoken woman that never raised her voice. But as soon as he saw her losing her shit, he had to smile. Of course his other version would be married to a woman with some fight in her. That only made sense.

Five didn’t really want to piss her off anymore, but he felt obligated to step in. “Marie, he wasn’t going to leave you. That’s the truth. We would never do that.” She and her Five both looked at him in surprise because he had used the word we. “I understand what he did and why. The urge to protect your family at all costs is a strong one.” Five looked around at his siblings. “Sometimes it makes you do stupid shit like getting them stranded decades in the past, or in a completely wrong timeline.” He turned back to Marie. “But I can assure you it was all done out of his love for you. Because that’s what we do.”

Klaus put a hand to his heart and was about to say something about Five being a big softy after all, but Lila clapped a hand over his mouth.

“All of that is true,” the other Five said. “And I can explain everything to you. But right now, I think our guests need to get going.”

As if on cue, another kugel wave shot through the house, accompanied by the thunderous sound of the row of houses across the street breaking off and disappearing, leaving a giant chasm in its wake. The universe was collapsing at an accelerated rate, with whole sections of the earth cracking off into the void.

As everyone gasped, Five nodded. “It’s now or never.”

“Wait!” Marie cried, hurrying off to the other room.

While she was gone, Jack suddenly blinked out of the room, as well.

“Where the hell is everyone going?” Five’s other self asked before looking down at Maddie. The little girl just shrugged.

In another second, Jack was back, blinking into the living room again and directly in front of Five. He held out a small plastic baggie with cookies inside. “Blinking makes me hungry, so I figured you probably get that way too. So, in case you need a snack, here. They’re chocolate chip.”

Five reached for the bag and inspected it. “Chocolate chip is my favorite kind. How did you know?”

Jack laughed. “Cause that’s my dad’s favorite, too!”

Five chuckled and put the bag in his back pocket. “Thank you, Jack. You keep an eye on your sister and keep practicing those blinks, ok?”

The little boy nodded before throwing his arms around Five’s small waist, pulling away again before Five could react. Then he was gone across the room in a flash again.

At that moment, Marie came hurrying in, carrying a garment bag on a hanger. She shoved it at Five. “Here. I cleaned it as best I could. The dry cleaner was destroyed, so I had to improvise. But I figured you’d want your own clothes when you got back home.”

Five took the suit from her with a shy smile. “Thank you, Marie. That was not necessary, but I appreciate it very much. And thank you for letting us invade your home.”

She nodded. “I’d say come back anytime, but that would probably mean disaster for all of us if you did.”

The rest of the siblings gathered around, thanking Marie for her hospitality and the other Five for helping them get out of there. Allison hugged the kids, getting misty eyed with the thought that maybe she’d get to see Claire again soon.

Five turned to his doppelganger. The two men regarded one another, not knowing what to say. What was there to say? Thanks for letting me get wasted and have an existential crisis in your basement. Thanks for talking me out of killing our father who’s not really our father because of my childhood trauma. See you at the next fucked-up family reunion!

After a few seconds of pondering, they didn’t say anything. It wasn’t really necessary, anyway. They were the same person, just slightly different models. Their thoughts were essentially the same. They knew what the other would say if there was more time or if either of them had more emotional capacity.

Instead, they just nodded at one another with small smiles.

Five programmed his watch and stood in the center of the room while his siblings and Lila gathered around. With the earth cracking loudly outside the home and a fiery glow coming from the windows, they each put a hand on one of Five’s shoulders or arms, like spokes off the central hub of a wheel.

With one more look at his other self, Five put his finger on the activation button. “Let me know how this turns out.” And then they were gone.

*********************************************************

Falling onto the floor in a groaning heap, the seven of them pushed and rolled off of one another, trying to get their bearings and stand up again.

“Gross…get off me!” Viktor whined as he tried to shove Lila off the top of him.

Lila smirked and climbed off, ruffling Viktor’s hair in the process. “You’re welcome for that.”

“Ow, get your boot off my face!” Allison yelled at Klaus.

“Well, get your face off my boot!”

Five tried unsuccessfully to pull his leg out from where it was pinned under Luther. “Get off my leg before you snap it in half, asshole!”

“Oh shit, sorry, Five.”

“Everyone move…I’m going to be sick again!” Diego moaned as he tried to scramble away from the group on his hands and knees.

“It’s ok, honey, there’s a plant in the corner over there,” Lila said with a sigh.

With more groans and grumbles, the group finally righted themselves and took a look around.

“I think we did it,” Luther exclaimed after seeing they were once again in the Academy foyer.

“Don’t assume anything,” Five said warily as he started casing the room, looking for clues as to what date, and more importantly, what timeline they were in.

Allison picked up the newspaper on the front table. “Ok, this is a good sign.” She held it up for everyone to see. “March 24th, 2019.”

Five snatched it out of her hand and started rifling through the pages. “Reginald Hargreeves is dead. The Umbrella Academy and all of our names are mentioned. No sign of the Sparrows. Ok, yeah, this could be good.”

The sound of high heels clicking on the floor caused all of their heads to jerk up in unison. No one said anything as Grace appeared in the doorway, wearing her pink polka-dot dress and usual cheery smile.

“Oh, there you kids are! I’m sure everyone is hungry after the funeral, so I’ve put dinner in the oven and it should be ready shortly.” She looked over at Lila with another smile. “And it seems we have a guest! How lovely. I’ll be sure to set an extra place.”

“Mom?” Diego said weakly from the floor next to the potted plant he’d just barfed into. “You’re ok. And not…weird.”

“Of course I’m ok, silly. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Mom? Do you know anything about the Sparrows?” Luther asked.

Grace hesitated for a moment. “Sparrows? Well, we certainly get a lot of those brown little creatures at the birdfeeder every day. They do like to make a mess with the seeds, though.”

Everyone let out a sigh of relief and Grace smoothed her skirt down. “Alright, then. Dinner is in fifteen minutes sharp.”

“This is good, right?” Klaus asked Five, who was still reluctant to declare things safe just yet.

Before he could answer, more familiar footsteps could be heard approaching. This time they were accompanied by the tap of a cane on the floor. The siblings stiffened for a moment before Pogo came into view, looking not so thrilled. He paused in the doorway and took everyone in thoughtfully, his gaze landing on Lila for a moment, but not saying anything. Then he turned to Luther.

“Master Luther,” he started before addressing Diego on the floor, “Master Diego. I am greatly disappointed in your behavior at your father’s funeral today. I expect you two to clean up the courtyard and repair your brother’s statue that you desecrated with your childish antics. And I expect you to do it without further incident. Is that clear?”

The two brothers were instantly cowed by the remarks and they nodded their heads guiltily. “Yes Pogo,” they both said meekly.

“Good,” said the chimp with a tap of his cane for emphasis. “Now, I would love to have a nice dinner with the entire family here before all of you children return to your lives. Can we do that?”

“Yes Pogo,” everyone said with a nod.

“Very good. I shall see you at the dinner table, then.”

As Pogo shuffled away and out of sight, the siblings were left standing and staring at one another in shock.

“I think we did it,” Five finally said.

“If this is the day of Dad’s funeral, that means I haven’t met Leonard yet. I won’t destroy the moon,” Viktor said.

“And I haven’t gone to Vietnam or met Dave,” Klaus said a little sadly.

“Claire!” Allison cried with a smile before rushing off to use the phone in the hallway.

“Patch is still alive.” Diego looked at Lila and grabbed her hand with a squeeze. “I’ll explain some things.”

Luther shrugged, looking around the room. “I guess I’m back from the moon for good.”

Everyone’s eyes fell on Five and he suddenly felt very exposed. They all had lives to return to and resume like normal. All of them except for him.

“What are you going to do, Five?” Klaus asked.

He shook his head. “I’m…I’m not sure.” Then he cleared his throat and grabbed the hanging bag with his clean suit from off the floor. “Shower and change for one. And I advise you all to do the same. You smell like shit.” Then he was gone in a blink without another word.

******************************************************

Back in his old room in the attic, Five sat on the edge of his bed. The extra-long shower he had taken had felt good, but he was still anxious. He had fixed it, he thought. So far nothing had appeared out of the ordinary from when they had left a couple of weeks ago. But that didn’t mean something horrible wasn’t lurking around the corner, ready to pull the rug out from under them. There was something else gnawing at him, though. And that was the fact that even if things were completely back to normal, what did that mean for him?

Five ran a hand down his face and glanced around his room. Everything was how he remembered it. This time there was no manic math on the walls and Dolores wasn’t there with him. His first thought was that he should go out and find her, just like he did before. But so much had happened to him since then, and something just felt wrong. He had let her go once before. He needed to do it again.

When his eyes landed on his desk, he noticed something that had not been there before; a bottle of what looked like whiskey. Getting up to get a closer look, Five saw that it was the exact same whiskey that he had polished off in his other self’s basement a couple of days ago. Next to the bottle, written on a piece of paper that had been lying on the desk, was a note in his handwriting.

“Everything restored. Life is good.”

Five picked up the note and then looked at the bottle. With a slow smile creeping over his face, he shook his head. “Asshole had to show me up again.”

*********************************************************

As Five stood in front of his wardrobe mirror, fixing the knot on his tie and straightening his suit jacket, there was a knock on the door.

“Five, dear…dinner is ready. Are you coming down?”

“Yeah, be right there, Mom,” he called, catching himself off guard by the automatic response to something that hadn’t been said in decades.

He paused, his hands still at his tie, as he heard Grace’s heels click back down the stairs. He stared into the same thirteen year-old eyes that he had looked into in that very mirror so long ago. He always was the last one of the kids to arrive at the table; always blinking in at the last second right before Reginald would come striding in. Five always had more important things to be doing other than joining his family for meals and being forced to listen to whatever bullshit their father was “instilling” in them that day. He had physics to study, and books to read. He needed to sneak out of the fire escape just to get out of the house and breathe for once. He needed to work on his spatial jumps. Anything but spend time with his family.

With a hard swallow and one more adjustment of his tie, he grabbed the whiskey bottle off the desk and took a swallow. He had already helped himself to about a quarter of the bottle so far, and he expected to have it finished off before the night was over. But right now, he was still relatively sober, and he set the bottle back down before blinking away to join his siblings at the table.

Dinner was loud and lively as everyone talked over one another excitedly, passing dishes and laughing. Pogo sat in their father’s seat and looked on with an amused smile, just happy to have his children all back in the same house again. Lila sat in Ben’s old seat, which she had initially felt very awkward about, but everyone assured her it was ok. She was family now and Ben wouldn’t have minded. Grace moved in and out of the room, bringing in more platters of food and refilling glasses, all with the same beautiful smile plastered on her face. She patted Diego on the shoulder on her way past and he smiled up at her with a mouthful of food.

As everyone chattered away about how they were going to restart their lives in a more positive way now that they were offered a second chance, Five sat in silence and ate his food slowly. The longer he listened to his siblings’ plans, the better he felt inside. He had done it. He had finally accomplished what he’d sworn to himself to do 45 years ago. His family was safe and the world was in one piece. Even his other self in a completely separate timeline was presumably happy and with his family. Five smiled as he looked out over the table.

“What about you, Fivey?” Klaus asked, pointing a fork at his smaller brother. “You going to go back to school or something?”

Five frowned. “Why would I do that?”

Allison leaned forward to talk to him. “Well, you’re welcome to come stay with me and Claire in L.A. I have plenty of room.”

Five shook his head. “No…thank you…I…I’m not sure what I’m going to do just yet.”

“Well,” Luther started, looking a little nervous. “We were talking earlier…all of us…about maybe, you know, helping you out a little.”

“Yeah,” Viktor added. “We want to make sure you’re ok. You’ve been through a lot and you haven’t really been dealing with it that great.”

Five’s initial reaction was to snap back and tell them he didn’t need any of their pity or their help; that he was doing just fine. But, of course, that wasn’t true and he just didn’t have the energy to fight with them anymore.

“I appreciate your concern,” Five said. “But you can’t help me.”

Lila groaned. “Oh, come on, you little shit. Don’t be such a martyr.”

“Thank you, Lila, and also, fuck you,” Five stated plainly before turning back to the rest of his siblings. “I’m not trying to be a martyr. I can admit I’m not doing great. But you can’t help me. None of you can.  

“Master Five, you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you like. The Academy will always be your home,” Pogo interjected.

Five nodded. “Thank you, Pogo. But I can’t stay here, either.”

Diego spoke up. “But where are you going to live or work? You’re a kid. Or, you know, you look like one anyway.”

“And the drinking…” Luther added.

Five held up a hand. “I know, I know. I admit, it doesn’t bode well for me. And I promise to get a handle on the drinking. But for right now, I need to figure some things out on my own.”

There was silence around the table and then Five laughed. No one had ever heard Five laugh without it being followed by a snarky remark that was usually aimed at one of them. They exchanged nervous glances.

“Really, guys, I’m going to be ok,” Five insisted. “At least, I’m going to try and be ok.”

“We just want you to be happy, Five,” Viktor told him.

“I know,” Five said with a sad smile. “I’m not sure happiness is in the cards for me, Viktor, but thank you for saying that.”

************************

As the sunlight filtered through the grimy window of his bedroom and spread across his face, Five stirred. After drinking down the rest of the whiskey the night before, accompanied by Jack’s cookies, Five had tried to come up with as many solutions to his problem as possible. He was smart, he could figure out a way to live independently in this body; he just needed to think.

Stumbling up from the bed where he had passed out on top of the covers in just his suit pants and undershirt, Five made his way over to the desk again. Squinting down at the notebook where he had been listing various ideas, he noticed how his writing had gotten less legible the drunker he got. He also noticed how the ideas became increasingly dumber.

“Join the circus?” he said out loud before flopping down in the chair. “Jesus, I’m an idiot.” With a sigh he looked over the rest of the list. Nothing written there was actually helpful or made much sense. Which was exactly what Five had been afraid of. “Fuck.”

There was only one real answer to all of this, and Five had known it as soon as they had come crashing back into the mansion yesterday. He’d know it longer than that, actually. It had always been in the back of his mind; he just hadn’t wanted to admit it. But there was no getting around it now.

Unless he wanted to live the next five or six years in the custody of one of his siblings, Five was going to have to go back to being the person he hated the most. An assassin for the Commission.

He had thought about staying there at the Academy, maybe for a couple of weeks, almost like a vacation, and to maybe try and dry out a little. But that was just another dumb idea he had. The longer he put it off, the harder it would be. And he was fooling himself if he thought he wouldn’t drink himself half to death if left alone with nothing to do for days at a time.

There was another very real concern, too. And that was that he was fairly sure it was just a matter of time before they started looking for him again. They had returned to the beginning, and a gang of angry Commission agents were probably on their way right now to find him and drag him back or kill him. So, it was best if he just went willingly this time. If he couldn’t spare himself, he could at least spare his family.

Five had decided, though, that if they wanted him back there was going to be some changes. He had no idea what state the Commission was in at the moment. So many timelines had been fucked up in his little journey through space and time that he wasn’t sure if the Handler was dead or alive, or if AJ was still in charge, or someone else. Either way, Five knew he was their greatest asset, and he wasn’t going to come slinking back with his tail between his legs.

He had specific demands and allocations that he was prepared to negotiate for. He was no longer going to be one of their drones that worked for them unquestionably until he was killed in the line of duty. No, he knew his worth. If he was going to walk back into that building again, things were going to be different. Five was a fucking Commission legend, and it was time he was treated like one.

He wanted his own apartment in the real world, not in Commission headquarters, so that he could visit and keep tabs on his siblings. He didn’t want to be tracked wherever he went, so no microchip this time. He wanted to be able to pick the jobs with full power to turn them down for any reason.

He would sign their five-year contract, but if those additions were not added, then there would be no deal.

If they had a problem with that, then, that was going to be their big mistake. Because Five had no problem fighting and outrunning them for the rest of his life; using up their precious resources and all of their best field agents in the process. Bring it on. He had nothing else to do.

After another shower and change back into his Academy uniform because the suit was pretty ripe by now and the clothes Marie had given him made him feel somehow younger, Five stood at the top of the staircase. He could hear his family down there, laughing, talking, and arguing. The sound of clinking silverware and the smell of his mother’s cooking was drifting upwards. He could even make out a soft chuckle from Pogo.

There was that moment of panic again. Five could feel it, reaching up from his guts and wrapping its hand tightly around his heart. He reached up to loosen his tie and tried to take in big breaths of air. He wanted to join them. To walk breezily down the stairs, grab a plate and sit down at the table to join in their conversation. He wanted to chat with Pogo about some of the interesting physics theories he had studied up on during his alone time in the Apocalypse. He longed to sit quietly at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper while Grace went about her chores, listening to her hum her happy little tunes.

But he couldn’t. Despite what Pogo had told him, this was not his home anymore. It hadn’t been in many years. Five needed to move on, no matter how hard that was. He wasn’t a stranger to hardship, so for him this was just another kick in the nuts that life was throwing at him. This time, though, he wasn’t going to stay away. He had survived and saved his siblings for a reason, and he wasn’t going to throw all of that away now. So, he would come back from time to time. He would keep in touch and hopefully watch them flourish and have families of their own.

And who knows, maybe Five would luck out. Maybe down the road he could knock off the booze and meet someone special to share his life with. Maybe he could have his own home and family one day. His other self had shown him he was capable of it. Five doubted it, but maybe he could find his own happiness with the right person.

Nothing was impossible.

If anyone is interested in my other works, here is a link to my Masterlist ❤️

@kaybreezy3000 @lunalovesangst

[moonshynecybin]

short fic (1.6k) continuation of @kingofthering's forced coming out au where i read what they say and my brain immediately spirals ! context here... this is my take on the resolution where vale is god's guiltiest little motorcycle racer

Vale looks him square in the eyes, shakes his head like he can’t believe Marc doesn’t get it. He takes a sip of his beer and shrugs. Like it’s nothing.

“Marc, it’s my fault.”

“What? No, it isn’t.” Marc replies, instinctual. He had been the one on his knees. The one everyone could see in that photo. Vale hadn't needed to— Vale had done this because of him, the Honda PR person had said. He could’ve denied that he was even there that night, the way Yamaha had wanted him to.

Vale laughs bitterly. “It is. I asked you to do that. I told you to— I found you, that night.” Vale breaks off again, lip curling. He’s working through something, face uncharacteristically serious, and Marc knits his brow. Vale’s never like this, always quick with a joke, a comment, a deflection. Anything but the pain of the truth. Show. 

Vale tilts his head, tries to find the words. “After Sepang I wasn’t going to—"

Marc folds his arms. He doesn’t know how Sepang has fucking anything to do with this.

“You broke it off.”

Vale’s face twists, he tugs on his earring, jitters his leg. “I know,” He says, quiet. Continues: “I was. I could see myself.” he takes a big breath, looks up at the sky. Marc keeps his eyes lasered on him, on the long line of his neck. The hinge of his jaw. The narrow spread of his shoulders. Marc inhales, draws his anger tight around him. He deserves an explanation.

“I should’ve been able to stay away from you.” Is what Vale settles on, with conviction. As if he hasn’t said the most confusing thing possible.

“What?” Marc says, caught out.

Vale scrubs a hand over his face, through his hair. Makes eye contact with the ground. He speaks slowly, like it’s hurting him.

“After Phillip Island. last year. I think— that I told myself that I had gotten too… invested. In you. In us. It didn’t make sense to me. I thought I couldn't be with you and win at the same time.”

Marc feels that hit him. Blinks fast. He curls his palm to rest over his elbow, digs a nail into the skin there. Flashes of that press conference imprint themselves on his memory, as tangible as touch. The waxy texture of the table, the flash of cameras, the sweat on the back of his neck. The sickening confusion, like a black hole in his stomach.

“Is that why you said what you said?” He asks, keeping his face blank, his voice even. He feels like live bees are thrumming under his skin, frenetic and disordering. He remembers the last time they’d fucked— not in the alleyway, but at Philip Island. How Valentino’s fingers had trailed over his back after he’d come. Gentle. How’d he’d been gone by the morning, the bed cold. “In Sepang?”

Vale looks at him, finally, and Marc inhales sharply. He's never seen him like this, with this precise expression on his face. He looks— vulnerable. Nervous. Scared even. Vale bites at the nails on one hand. Stares at the label of his beer bottle. Comes to some sort of decision.

He nods.

“And that night?” At the club, Marc means. In the alleyway.

Vale nods again, huffs a weak laugh. his eyebrows jump a little in an ironic expression. “I wanted to see you. If i hadn’t—“ He waves a hand through the air, a small gesture for such a huge, alien concept. “Then we wouldn’t be here. Doing this. It's me. My fault.” 

Marc digs his nails harder into his elbow for just a second, then releases, a disbelieving spasm. HIs pulse is racing. He leans forward, putting his forearms on the table, until Vale looks him in the eye.

“No.”

“No?” Vale asks, looking confused and just a little miserable.

“No.”

Marc pinches the bridge of his nose. Takes a second to process.

“You want me?” He says, and it still feels like a risk, enough adrenaline coursing through his system he might as well be on track. It focuses him a little, like it always has. Simplifies things.

“Marc,” Vale starts.

“No, no. This is serious. Not just for sex. Not just for— all this,” What we’ve been doing, he means. The pretending. The show. How he’s been kissing Vale any chance he gets in public and then going back to ignoring him in private. Engineering ways to be seen together, just on the off chance he could get Vale’s hand on the small of his back. And how Vale, Marc is realizing, has been matching him every step of the way. Has been finding him in the paddock just so he can trail his fingers over the inside of Marc’s wrist, can kiss him good luck before a race. He had been the one to make the first move at the club, Marc remembers. Had been the one to find him in the alleyway. “For real. You want me?”

“Yes.” Vale says, after a moment eyes soft, the low light turning his curls bronze.

Marc thinks he means it.

He closes his eyes, breathes deep. There's other things he wants to talk about, that they need to talk about, but that’s something. Vale wants him.

“I was there too. That night. You—“ Marc swallows, “You were awful to me. For months. You made everyone hate me. I lost sponsors, I lost you. and I was still there. With you in that alley. You asked and I came. It’s not just your fault.” Marc says, and Vale shakes his head.

Marc leans forward, grabs Vale’s hand.

“When those pictures came out,” He says, “Did Yamaha give you a choice? To ignore it or to come forward?”

Vale takes a second to respond. “Yes.”

“And you wanted to come forward?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

And the silence breaks, Vale laughing that laugh of his, the one Marc used to do anything to hear, big and loud, like Marc’s said something insane. Something ridiculous.

“Marc. I don't know how many more ways I can say it.” He says, and Marc’s heart is racing in his chest, eyes meeting Vale’s like a lifeline.

For me, Marc thinks. Turns over in his mind until it feels like it might be the truth. He did it for me, to protect me. To make sure I could race. 

Because without Vale, Marc doesn’t know if that would’ve been allowed— too big a PR risk after Sepang, especially with the way he rides. MotoGP is ruled by money, by advertising, and Marc as the only gay rider on the grid might’ve put him over the edge. Made him too much. It's harder to sell energy drinks after you’ve been photographed with a dick in your mouth.

But Vale had stepped forward too, spun the narrative. One of his best talents. One of his worst. But he’d flipped here, done the exact opposite of what he’d done in Sepang, and Marc and him had suddenly been something for people to root for— not an outlier to be exiled, but a team. The two biggest names in MotoGP much harder to get rid of as a unit than as individuals.

Vale had made sure Marc could get on his bike again. And that’s— that’s everything.

“Those photos…” Marc says, remembering what they were talking about. The whole reason why Vale felt he had to do this.

“You know, I don't actually mind the photos!” Vale says, his impish nature poking through a bit, sensing something from Marc and breaking the tension like he always does. He’s allowing himself to flirt, visibly assured by Marc’s hand on his, by the possibility that this conversation might be going well. “You looked very good on your knees. I might make copies.”

Marc closes his eyes, can’t help but smile. “Vale.”

“I might get them framed!” Vale toasts his beer, eyes crinkling at the corners. “In some ways, it’s our anniversary.”

“Vale!” Marc laughs, then taps him on the inside of the wrist, gets him to pay attention. There's one more thing he wants to know. He bites his lip. “Without those photos, what would’ve happened?”

Vale thinks, tilts his head to the side and shrugs. “I don't know.”

Marc nods, waits. He can tell Vale has more to say.

Vale raises a finger. “But here is what I do know: I love you. And we should do this, for real. No more pretend.”

Marc puts his head in his hands. Thinks about the last year, how awful it’s been. About how all the worst parts have involved Valentino. About how all the best parts have involved him too. About Vale deciding to do this with him. About that night at the Gala in June, when he’d thought Vale was going to kiss him, just the two of them, and how badly he’d wanted it. About Vale pulling him closer under his arm in that first press conference, and deflecting all of the worst questions like it was nothing, protecting Marc. About the precise shape his hand makes when it curves around Marc’s hip. About how he makes him laugh. 

Marc smiles.

He picks his head up, laughs and feels a little like crying. Feels a little like flying. His brain won’t stop whirring. “We’re going to have to tell the factories. Honda and Yamaha.”

“Oh that’s easy! We find an alleyway—“ And Marc pushes him, doubles over laughing. Warm down to his toes, happy in his bones. This is going to work. They were always going to end up here. “What? It worked the last time.” Vale says. 

“I'll think about it,” Marc says, still giggling, and feels Valentino’s ankle press against his under the table.

“I would enjoy that.”

“Mmm, I’m sure you would.”

“And in the meantime, I have those photos to hold me over.”

“Vale!”

[cultofdixon]

Trapped

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Terminus was a hell for everyone that experienced it. But you were the only one out of them all to have lived there and you saw EVERYTHING. Even lost a part of you to get you in line. That when the next community opened its doors, you were the last one adjusting • ANGST/SFW • TW: Canon Violence / Cannibals / Missing Appendage / Injuries / Scars / Anxiety Attacks / Claustrophobia / PTSD / Nightmares

Requested by: Anon

The explosion took all of their attentions away from what was about to happen. The two butchers behind the four kneeling men looked at Gareth for answers while he left in search of them.

“Should we continue?”

“I’m not sure—-hey” One of them got distracted leaving Rick’s window to be open but when he heard what’s next— “You’re not allowed in here. Where did you—-“ the gun fired making them all flinch and turn around quickly to find Y/N. Y/N…

The gun in hand was Rick’s, and it was handed to him after said retired sheriff broke loose taking out the second butcher as she took care of releasing the three still tied. Daryl didn’t hesitate to bring her into his embrace holding onto her for a short while relaxing every negative thought from the time apart. Glenn noticed her hands on Daryl’s back and quickly made the two part so that he could get a better look at the missing pinky and ringer finger of her right hand.

“How long have you been here?”

“Who the fuck did this to you?!”

“Y/N. What are we dealing—-“

“Cannibals. Fucking human eating human beings!” Y/N snaps handing Rick back his gun as he took her hand to see the damage himself. “I’m not gonna like what you’re plotting am I?”

“You know where our stuff is being held if you had my gun. We can find a lighter”

Y/N helped her group get their weapons back, along with anything else they might have taken. Resulting in the next actions being Daryl holding Y/N’s body still as Glenn held her hand for Rick to heat up his knife and pressed the heated material against the stubs where her fingers were to stop the bleeding and start the healing process.

“You know I’m a doctor right?”

“Would you do this in the green zone?”

“As a last resort” Bob states grabbing a left over bandana and wrapping it around their wound securely and temporarily. Until they find actual medical supplies. “What…did they do to your…?”

“You don’t wanna know” Y/N frowns as her words made Daryl tighten around her for a second before the small group had to retrieve the others and leave this shithole.

The reunions made the pain hurt less. But there was still something lingering there…that got triggered by the downhill spiral they all endured.

The cannibals finding and eating part of Bob

Bob dying

Finding out Eugene was useless

Finding out Beth was alive…but dead when reunited

Tyreese dying

Starving themselves

Almost dying to a herd trapped in a barn

Then the stranger that promises a safe haven, and going to such with hesitation. Y/N kept to herself as the group followed the stranger named Aaron and his partner Eric. She found herself lingering to the back watching the place come to view with more guards, another fence, and most likely another set of rules with harsh consequences. At least that’s the state of mind she’s going in with.

“Hey…come on” Maggie pulls her out of her thoughts wrapping her arm around her and walking inside the place with Y/N. “We’ve got yea. I don’t think anything bad will happen here…”

“And if it does?”

“You’ve got us” Sasha reassures joining the two as they made their way into Alexandria.

Daryl kept his attention on Y/N the entire time since they first entered Alexandria. She has Sasha and Maggie currently but it’s always nice to have another set of eyes as long as he doesn’t stare for too long. He was making sure nothing overwhelmed her or triggered her because she hasn’t sit still since arriving.

“Y/N is staying in the first floor bedroom” Carol informs Daryl who didn’t want to be inside the homes for too long in case anything happened. But he also wanted to make sure Y/N stayed in one place to avoid the worrying of where she’s at. “The surgeon here patched up her hand, what Rick and you guys did was a bit much but he would’ve done the same if he were you”

“The son of a bitch doesn’t look like he’s stepped out of this place since the beginning”

“Regardless. Y/N hasn’t slept since the fall of the prison and if you’re not leaving the porch to yknow take a much needed shower or to scowl at one of the pretty boys…if anything happens, Y/N will need you.”

Daryl knew this already, but Carol knew a part of him was still hurting. Blaming himself for Beth’s death. Beating himself up for not finding Y/N and having her suffer the horrors of that place the longest. He wasn’t going to leave his spot unless something bad happened.

Y/N sat up in her bed to be met with a dark room, only light was on her. She felt her fingers seeing that they were there, until a hand came into view grabbing her wrist and yanking her forward.

The woman fell out of bed on her hands and knees as the light only followed her. She gasps to the sudden pain returning to her ribs as she fell through the floor landing straight on her side.

As the prison fills into the world surrounding Y/N, she looks at her person finding the damage from the fall of the prison littered on her body. Weakness from recovering from being sick…and the bruised ribs from an explosion knocking her off the second floor to the first in A block.

Need to get out

Need to get out

Need to get…

Y/N found herself sitting up in restraints in a cold building. Felt like a freezer of a warehouse. She scans around the once dark again room as footsteps echoed in the darkness. Revealing Gareth who held a nutcracker behind his back.

“You stumbled in our community, and killed one of our own”

She couldn’t speak.

“You’ll suffer the consequences…and then work for me. Unless you’d want to lose another finger” Gareth smirks as Y/N suddenly screams in pain to find one of her fingers missing. “Just. Cooperate…and you can live here.”

Suddenly Y/N was on her back gripping onto the set of hands gripping her throat staring up at one of the butchers who had enough of her attitude. Gareth appears beside him watching the light in her face but right before she passed out, he made the man let go.

“Another”

The sudden screaming caught Daryl off guard as he stops talking to Glenn about the asshole sons of Deanna to rush into the home. Glenn of course followed in case something worse was happening but as he joined the scene watching Daryl get swatted away from Y/N’s fetal position in the corner of the room. He quickly grabbed the back of Daryl’s vest pulling him away causing a bit of a fight.

“The hell are you doing?!”

“She’s still having the nightmare” Glenn points out the fact that she’s never opened her eyes since he arrived and given when Daryl first entered she didn’t know instantly that it was him. “You need to be more careful”

“Right…Fuck” Daryl frowns taking it slow and approaching Y/N’s curled position grabbing the blanket off the bed.

“It’s okay. Y/N…you’re not where you’re at” Glenn whispers approaching along with the archer in case she retaliated. “You are in a house…that you share with Carol…and Daryl…in the new community. That is scary…and full of new people…”

“But we’re here…” Daryl states watching her body relax slowly. “You ain’t alone like back at Terminus……we reunited. We’re safe. You are safe”

The two stopped when her body relaxed enough for Daryl to bring the blanket around her without any freak out. When she woke she retracted a bit making Daryl back off and Glenn shoot out reassurance until she relaxed again but conscious.

“You had a nightmare”

“That triggered sleepwalking or I don’t know what you’d call being asleep but acting the nightmare.” Glenn sat on the bed as Y/N curled up with the blanket around her with Daryl keeping his hands on her knees. “Uhm. I know the timing is terrible but what happened in the nightmare?”

“Felt more like a night terror…but uh…I don’t really want to talk about it”

“That’s fine. Just know you’ve got us whenever you’re ready to talk about it” Glenn got up from the bed. “Do you want anything before Daryl can—-“

“I’m okay…thank you Glenn”

Once he left, Daryl got up from the floor to help Y/N off the ground. He directs her back to bed sitting on the edge once she got in entirely covering herself more in the blanket.

“Imma ask, if yea need anything before I grab assumptions”

“…my hand hurts”

“Pain meds it is” Daryl pats her knee getting up to grab what she’ll need leaving her alone for a moment.

Y/N brought her knees to her chest covering her entire person with the blanket Daryl wrapped around her shoulders earlier. She wanted to make herself small for just a second to find some sense of calm…even when her heart was still racing like it did when she was in Terminus.

The night of the party came and Daryl wasn’t going to go. Because he hates that shit and wants to be there for Y/N, who hasn’t left her room since receiving it. He kept to the porch as he smoked to clear his mind of the mental toll she could be experiencing when Aaron walked by.

“Not going to the party?”

“Nah, I’ve got shit to take care of”

Aaron nods thinking about his next response before just going for it. “Want some dinner? I wasn’t gonna go because of Eric so we’re staying in”

“I uh…” Daryl turned toward the house expecting Y/N’s bubbly self to come out but that was taken from everybody. “Y/N hasn’t left the house and—“

“You don’t wanna leave your partner. I get it” Aaron smiles. “But if you come by. For just. 15 minutes. You can eat…grab a plate for her” he offers and left on that note.

Fifteen minutes…

And he didn’t have to worry about it one bit. Daryl came back actually past fifteen minutes to find Y/N in the kitchen in fresh clothes and grabbing a glass of water. He joins her at the kitchen island setting down the bowl of spaghetti he brought for her from Aaron’s.

“The party?”

“Nah. Wouldn’t go to that shit without yea. Just went to Aaron’s for dinner” Daryl watches her inspect it. “I had two plates. It ain’t poisoned.”

“Thank you for bringing me dinner…” Her smile returns to her as it always brought a sense of warmth to Daryl.

Daryl brought himself beside her while she ate her dinner in the comforts of his presence. Y/N finishes her dinner and put the bowl in the sink to wash later…feeling Daryl come up behind her wrapping his arms around her torso resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry you were stuck there…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Dar…we’re safe now” Y/N rubs his forearm gently. “Right?”

“M’not leavin’ anymore. You’re stuck with me now” Daryl smiles listening to her laugh that he missed so much.

“Good”

[likesomanywrecksdo]

ALRIGHT LET'S FUCKING TALK ABOUT THIS EPISODE

what i think happens

Blitzø and Millie get recruited for a job in the human world, investigating paranormal activities and its pays a shit ton of money. They arrive at the venue (which is a undercover D.H.O.R.K facility probably a hotel) and meet an off-putting receptionist. Now there are theories that this is Leviathan but i personally feel it is a right-hand man or devout believer in Leviathan's rule over the Envy ring. I feel that this receptionist is a hellborn demon, undercover as a D.H.O.R.K employe (a position that allows him to remain covert and not ever be suspected).

So the receptionist lets them do their thing slowly luring them with short hallucinations (mostly auditory) of their deepest fears (eg: Millie's guilt over not having time for her family or Blitzø's seeing Fizzarolli in the hospital). These small moments set the tone for when Blitzø and Millie get seperated. Millie get lured away with the voice of Moxxie in trouble and Blitzø with Stolas' voice (hallucinated Stolas is likely angry at him). The receptionist exposes Blitzø with the chemical that causes the acid trip (which he knows is efficient because of Agent 1&2). The receptionists attempts to pick off Millie by shapeshifting into Blitzø and get her to hurt her friends and people she loves.

Blitzø

Stolas' voice lures him in and away from Millie and suddenly he's in his van or car or wtvr outside Stolas' house and the scenes of him being angry at him and sarcastic from the trailer ensue. The reason I think this is because the clip of Stolas smiling sarcastically (above) is JUST before the full montage of everyone he's hurt in the past, so I think this whole "stolas is pissed" (makes sense since the last ep literally had Stolas singing on a stage that had 'Blitzø Sucks' on it) plays out until he says the infamous, soul-ruining line; "do you feel any remorse for what you do" . Let me explain my reasoning for this segment a bit. As of the event of the music video 'Look My Way', Stolas understand why Blitzø is closed off and he has these (literal) walls around him that prevent him from opening up ("the walls you conjured up to live, is this what you feel? scorned by a realm that cannot comprehend, what you are.")

So saying this NOT EVEN ON THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON where emotions are high and you can get caught in the heat of the moment (which would make more sense) would make ZERO character sense for Stolas. It's not that I don't want to see Stolas snap it's just the line honestly just seems like a manifestation of Blitzø's self hatred and not an actual line Stolas would say.

So after the Stolas scene, Blitzø is at the circus fire, then he's at the hospital, then Ozzie's while Verosika is singing. Everything is happening so fast he can't keep up. Then, it all stops at the sight of one person. His mom. Blitzø is his teenage self again, the braces and everything, crying in his mom's arms and her telling him everything will be alright and that he's not a bad person. Just as he is starting to snap out of his acid trip. The receptionist pulls him back in with seemingly real footage of her getting really badly hurt by some version of Blitzø. He's spiralling again, this time with Millie and Moxxie in his hallucinations but not for very long as once Blitzø sees Millie come to break him out, he calms down enough to snap out of it but his emotions are still running high which leads to a real-life breakdown in front of Millie (below).

and that's our acid trip guys. sorry if it's badly written, just needed to get it out of my system.

THIS ENTIRE POST HAS MADE ME REALISE HOW HARD IT TO SPELL HALLUCINATION UGH

[vashsmunch]

I'll be here.

Vash x GN! Reader

Synopsis: you're spiralling, and someone comes to help

Warnings: mentions of self-destructive thoughts, allude to suicidal ideations

A/N: third one i've made of these self-indulgent comfort shit LMAO, but don't judge me.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

Suffocating. Stifling. Drowning. 

Your hand flexed, fingers curling in on themselves to try and distract from the feeling of your chest concaving. 

In and out. In and out. 

Rhymathtically and almost robotically, in hopes that it would quell the darkness approaching you. Everything it touched withered away like death itself had grazed them with its bony claws. It was terrifying, at least it should've been. You couldn't help but feel like, at this moment, "death" wouldn't be so bad after all. A graceful ending to the turbulent turmoil that was the hell you were living in. Even purgatory would've been more desirable. 

God, it hurt. It was the type of pain that settled deep into the crevices of your soul, the kind that lay in wait for the day you just gave up. It's a quiet predator, one that doesn't care how long it takes. Patient, deadly, and counting the seconds until your eventual demise. You couldn't even find it in yourself to give a single fuck. 

There comes a point where the pain, the agony, just becomes routine. It becomes as regular as waking up to scroll on your phone, as simple as brushing your teeth. It doesn't hurt as badly as it did before, but you can't help but feel that you'll die with it clutching on for dear life. Maybe you deserved this. Things like this only happen to bad people, right? What are you, if not the most horrible person to ever exist, if this is the kind of pain you were experiencing? 

"Hey... Hello?"

Suddenly, you couldn't breathe. The darkness was closing in, and it was draining every single breath of air out of your lungs. Tears started to build up in your eyes and stream down your cheeks as you shook in fear. It wasn't fair. You were just trying your best. Why does this happen? Why does this always happen? Was your best not good enough? How much longer would you be forced to cycle through this barbaric game the universe decided to play with you?

"Look at me... Please look at me."

You shut your eyes and let out quiet sobs as you felt a shadow overtake your body. It was getting tougher for you to tell what was real, and you couldn't even feel the sharp sting of pain from digging your nails into the flesh of your palm. 

Someone... please. Save me. I can't... I can't keep doing this. It hurts. This hurts.

PLEASE. SOMEONE PLEASE.

A calloused hand wraps around yours, squeezing gently. An instant burst of heat radiates throughout your arm, warming every cold crack that had been seared into the skin.

"Hey."

You look up to see cerulean irises boring into yours, accompanied by a tense expression on the person's face. 

Vash.

The two of you stared at each other as the salty streams continued to pour down your face. You couldn't be bothered to wipe them, to hell with your decency. It was funny, though, with him, you never felt the need to be anything more. Maybe that was a bit selfish because, with you, he was nothing short of perfect. A bumbling idiot who always did his best to comfort you even when his own demons were clawing at his back. But who was the idiot now? The one who said nothing as he took you into his arms, or the one who clutched at his jacket, crying until there was nothing left? You felt him rub your back as he whispered into your ear, and you couldn't even decipher the words. It just felt so good. 

There weren't any words exchanged for a while; whether it was minutes or hours, you couldn't tell. Vash silently picked you up to cradle you in his lap, nuzzling his head into your neck. Slowly, the darkness started to fade away and unsink its claws from the flesh of your shaking body. He seemed to get impossibly closer as you melted into his touch, just craving some feeling of stability. How you wished you could have this all the time, just this comfortable silence. 

"I love you."

You didn't flinch, and one would think you hadn't heard him if it weren't for the way you held him tighter. Because with him, it was never too much or too over the top. Everything always felt right, and that's something you'd treasure for as long as you could. It was Vash the Stampede, after all.

"I love you too."

[mancer-in-the-abbey]

hi mancer!! so i was just perusing my own alpha ghoul tag and came across your soulmate au ficlet (that i ADORE) and was wondering if you had any more soulmate headcanons or thoughts for the other papas or ghouls. only if it itches your brain, of course!

♡- @ghuleh-recs

HOOOOOOOMYGOD I am so sorry this has taken me so long to get to 😭 I was completely out of the fandom there for a hot minute but I’m back now that I have the time to write again. Thanks so much!! I’m so glad you liked it, that means the world to me, genuinely!

Part of the reason this took so long is because ohhhhhh boy, let me tell you, the story of Copia’s soul marks is a train wreck since I am a DIEHARD for Copia x Polyghouls. Here’s a link to the original concept for those interested, this got a bit long so I’m putting most of it under a read more :)

Now anyway:

Copia, unlike Terzo, was not born with any soul marks. In fact, he lived the majority of his life completely blank, no sign of any soulmate to begin with.

This, while certainly uncommon, isn’t the most unheard of. Sometimes people just… don’t have a soul mate. This is an especially prevalent phenomenon amongst The Clergy, who celebrate a lack of soulmate as a sign of being favored by The One Below, a true freedom away from fate as written.

And this is all well and good, but for Copia it was just one more difference between him and his brothers, all of whom have soul marks. I mean, even Secondo had a soul mark! Secondo! And HE doesn’t?? Feels a little personal. Imperator tries to comfort him on the subject in her own way, but phrasing it as having “no distractions from your duty as part of the church” really just makes him feel more alone than anything.

Be that as it may, Copia spends the majority of his adult life under the impression that he has no soulmate. It hurts some days more than others, but it is something he learns to accept over the years.

Until one day, after a completely mundane shift at the treasury, Copia strips off his Cardinal uniform to find his entire right forearm almost completely black, with trails of galaxies and stardust spiraling up from his wrist before petering out at the elbow.

So Copia quietly freaks the fuck out because “unholy shit what the fuck is this I’m never going to be able to wear short sleeves again” but eventually he puts two and two together to realize this must be a soul mark, which must mean his soulmate was either JUST born (ew) or was just summoned from Hell (much more plausible and much less ew.)

And Copia is utterly ecstatic! He has a soulmate! Praise Satan! Dude spends the rest of the week giggling to himself about it, so much so his brothers think he’s got an honest-to-Asmodeus crush on someone and all of them are desperate to know who their favorite little rat has got their eye on.

At their behest, Copia promises to show them what exactly he’s been so excited about at their next game night. On the night of, he strips off his uniform and rolls up his sleeve-

Only to find more patterns bleeding up his elbow where there once was blank skin.

Taking off his button-up shirt reveals that the spiral of stars and nebulas had grown into drops and rivulets of water, creeping up his right arm like rain on a window and spilling into a pool on his deltoid.

Copia, nearly has a fucking heart attack while the rest of his brothers stare in awe at the art, holding his arm this way and that so the patterns are visible in the dim light of the game room. As they start to brainstorm who the tattoos might match to, however, Copia cuts in, not wanting to rush into finding his soulmates.

For one, if they really were freshly-summoned ghouls like he thought, they’d likely not be familiar with the concept and starting out the gate with such a proclamation would scare them off. For another, while Imperator might have a soft spot for Copia and is much less the monster some make her out to be, she would still likely have opinions about her little Cardi suddenly being cosmically tied to a bunch of lowly ghouls.

So, it was decided that Copia would be patient about things, opting to hide his soul marks under his uniform till the day came where they lit up into color on their own. He didn’t care how long it took; just knowing there were two special people out there cosmically meant for him gave him more private joy than he’d ever had before.

It was another year before anything new happened, and when it did Copia was so busy that he didn’t even notice until someone pointed out a weird shape poking over his clavicle.

It was an awkward affair, angling himself just right in front of the mirror as to get a view of the full mark, but sure enough, a new pattern wound it’s way up his right shoulder, across his upper back and collarbone, and down the left. This time, the mark took the form of angular tree branches decorated with leaves and flowers.

This tattoo, unlike the others, did not remain a mystery for long, as Copia was very enthusiastically introduced just a day later to Primo’s new assistant: the single tallest earth ghoul he’s ever seen, with muddy brown hair, a sharp but sturdy build, and antlers that branched in a way not unlike the wood etched in his skin.

It may not have been love at first sight, but something deep inside Copia told him that this was the one, that this ghoul was one of the ones he would share his heart with. He wanted to start off strong, say something smooth and flirty that might entice the ghoul in front of him to seek him out in the future.

Instead, of course, Copia stared and stutterd like a broken steam engine. He left the encounter thoroughly embarrassed and Mountain left thoroughly confused as to what about him had this higher clergy member so frazzled.

It wasn’t the greatest of introductions. But it would get better, right? They were soulmates, it would HAVE to get better eventually.

Still, it left Copia even more reluctant to take any action. After all, his track record with social interactions was almost famously lackluster, and with that introduction being as bad as it was, it didn’t exactly give him much confidence.

And so the months started to slip by. Weeks of work and bureaucracy flew past as he and his brothers grew older, as Secondo was forced to abdicate the position of Papa, as Terzo rose to take his place, as Copia’s career stagnated with no clear aim forward. Weeks on top of months stacked into two whole years of watching the world turn, sneaking the occasional wistful glance at that tall, proud figure toiling in the garden and the green house.

There was a minor shift in the monotony after the incident with Alpha and the remaining band ghouls of the previous era. With most banished back to the Pit and the lucky few remaining forced into retirement, the Ghost project was in need of new faces if it wanted to survive. For the first time since Ghost’s revival in the mid 2000’s, auditions were open to all branches across the globe, with specific summonings reserved in the case that no satisfactory replacement could be found. Copia, though not related to the project personally and already burdened with a SUPREMELY busy schedule, offered his ear and opinion to Terzo throughout the process.

It was through this that he first came to know the ghouls named Aether and Dewdrop: not in person, no, but in the form of headshot photos and audition recordings.

Later, once both were hired onto the team formally and moved to the Italian branch, Copia got to meet the two in person, however the interaction was brief. Taking up a position as head of the Treasury in a desperate attempt to shake the monotony of a dead-end job left him with little time to spend around the Ministry’s crowning achievement. The most he could hope for was that he didn't embarrass himself too badly in front of these new ghouls, although why he cared so badly about the opinions of two strangers, he couldn't tell.

And so, another year passed. Copia found enough time to peek in on one or two of the band’s practices, but never long enough to speak after, never mind get any of the band ghoul’s names.

And then, very suddenly, Copia was forced to give the Ghost Project his undivided attention.

The days after his brothers deaths were a complete blur of anxiety, grief, shock, and the overwhelming need to keep going before anything else could go wrong. When it was time to summon replacements for the ghouls lost in the aftermath, he was barely able to pull himself together enough to perform the rituals correctly, and even then it wasn’t perfect.

One five-way hybrid ghoul, two ghoulettes, and a water ghoul later, Copia was drained mentally and physically. 3 summonings in rapid succession would take the wind out of anyone, but such unorthodox summonings to boot had him light-headed. Honestly, he was just thankful the last one was normal. If there would be a spectacle every time he summoned, he might actually vomit.

He barely even remembered taking off his uniform when he went to sleep that night.

The next day, Copia very blearily woke up and found he forgot to remove his glove from his left hand. He goes to take it off. And then is startled into jarring clarity when he finds his whole left arm looks like it was dipped in pitch black ink up to his elbow.

A mirror reveals the full damage: the complete black blurs and smears into a gradient of grey, going from dark to light the further up the arm it gets, interspersed with rays of light through water. Turning around reveals his back to be a collage of clouds, going from wispy and light trails at the top to large, fluffy ones hanging near the bottom.

Copia stared at the images on his skin for a long while, moving them this way and that. Then, with very shaky hands, he picked up his phone and made a call to Imperator, letting her know he'd come down with something and needed a sick day. He’s still recovering from such a stressful summoning, you understand. He'd be right as rain tomorrow. He just needed a day to process everything going on.

————————————————————

Meanwhile, with the band ghouls:

Swiss: Hey so like this new flesh suit came with a free rat skull tattoo? It's got some shit written around it about never walking alone too? Any idea what to do with that?

Cumulus: Yeah, me and Cirrus have one of those too! Except the words are different for both of ours. Hers is all about bewitching. Mine's... something, something, sun, moon, stars in the sky? Is that normal?

Aether, Dew, and Mountain, all making eye contact with each other knowing damn well what those "tattoos" are and that they all have similar marks too but not wanting to freak out these Fresh Out The Pit new ghouls: Yeah haha that's totally normal, don't worry about it too much :)

[kamiversee]

i'm losing my mind. FTL is for the Gojo girlies fr we're eating GOOD so far.

back in chapter 29 he mentions how he fell in love with our voice first and FTL opens up with the fact that the first thing he noticed about us was our laugh. my fucking heart omfg Kami WHAT.

the amount of references back to chapter 29 is actually insane. Gojo asking her if she even likes parties because he recalls seeing her less and less when he goes to them :(

i'm so curious to see if the mention of Satoru self-projecting is going to be consistent with this sequel. knowing you, it most probably will. omg my heart's gonna hurt i already know it.

the amount of parallels to us and Satoru is crazy. those last two paragraphs really caught my eye when i was rereading. assuming that the "monster" being mentioned is Sukuna, Satoru "never finding out" the reason why Sukuna decided to blackmail him directly relates back to how it felt like we'd never find out the reason why Satoru blackmailed us. omg.

the mention of how we were completely oblivious to how many guys have took an interest/watched us is crazy foreshadowing. the implication of Satoru noticing them and most probably writing them down in his journal, along with the theory of Sukuna somehow getting access to that journal and reading through it, could explain how Sukuna devised that list. AAAAAA KAMIIIIIIIIIII YOU'RE KILLING ME

sorry for the multiple, broken up messages omfg my brain is short circuiting from the anticipation

-☃️

Wanted to condense this message with the other ^.^

ANYWHO, yes yes everything connects very well 🙏 I’m trying my best to answer all plot holes as I go bc god forbid I finish ftl and there’s still unanswered questions (I’ll cry myself to sleep)

Aaand if u read chapter 29 you’ll also notice that the reader implies it was love at first sound instead of sight & now we know that thts almost exactly what it was :)) His curiosity sparked from the laugh & spiraled after that 😉

A lot of references will be made bc I gotta make sure everything makes sense! I want the story to end & everyone understands everything (if not, Im sure you’ll have another breakdown of tfl & ftl put together ^.^)

Oh and if you think Satoru & the reader have parallels, wait til’ you find out who Sukuna parallels to 🌚 (his parallels are a lot more tame tho… I think)

Lastly, the obliviousness was kinda a nod to Gojo’s infatuation in general (im trying not to spoil rn bc we will return to this point soon, trust me) like how he developed a crush & feelings despite never having so much as one convo with the reader!

It’s kind of a lil life lesson too, shows you how in life you’ll never really know if someone’s yearning for you unless they tell you & many people go their entire lives having had crushed on someone without ever telling them ;)

ANYWAY, IM EXCITED. YALL ARE EXCITED. LETSGOOO 🗣️

[killuachii]

Take my place.

Gojo x reader

Gojo pov

I wish you would take my place. I want to be someone else. Someone that is worth living for, someone that knows the pain but jumps through it. I want to be someone like you. You never crumbled, not even once. Never have I seen you cry and I wonder, if you would take my place would the tears ever stop flowing? Would you ever be able to be the person you were? Would you still taunt me?

I will watch you play the victim, every time. I'll just watch and say nothing because you've shown me that no matter how much care I show you, it will be met with nothingness. And every time, I'll wonder if you would ever take my place. I'm begging you. I want to be someone else. I want to be someone that is allowed to live, not the trash that gets thrown out every other day. I want to be a human for you, because with the way that you treat me, I'm starting to get jealous of a doormat getting stomped on.

How many "I love you"s does it take you until you finally believe in your words? How many times do I have to watch the two-faced lover, spiral uncontrollably, because nobody ever taught you how to be a person? Tell me how many lies will it take you until you believe that you are a fucking person?

You're trying to prove your humanity even when standing next to an inanimate object. But you gave it all up for your insecurities. You let the dark places of your mind win and I know how heavy they are. I know how they mess with you, I've seen it all. But even after everything I said, everything I've done, I always hear the same shit everytime. The same insults against me, that you use as compensation for your lack of human decency. And I'm asking you, look me in my eyes and tell me, what are you doing this for? Who are you helping through hurting me and hurting you? I truly wish you would take my place. So you would crumble at the spot. I would love to see you go down with the very same psyche, that you created.

Now you're looking paranoid? The person I once knew is getting scared? What gives you the right to? Why do you think you deserve fear? Because I don't think you deserve anything anymore. And I've known your antics for a while. You are a manipulator, a caricature of a person, you are nothing worth of my eyes to look at. So I'm giving you a warning. Tell no lies about me, unless you want me to tell truths about you.

I am not your lover anymore, I am the man that's left. The man that fell for your manipulations and lies. The man who thought you could do no wrong because you didn't had it in you. Or so I thought. Now I know the real you and I feel disgusted. I know the you that you keep away from everyone else, so why couldn't you keep it was from me too? I hate your insecurities, the way you think you're better than everyone, I even hate the way that you articulate, because I know you secretly look down on me. I know how much hate you carry in you, but you could never hate yourself, you were too perfect for that, right? Or was this another lie of you that you chose to believe in, while disregarding your humanity and the person within you?

I truly wish you would take my place, because I do not get paid enough for this shit.

∆∆∆

Short Gojo one shot! Thanks for reading!

[perfectly-intoxicated]

Hannah has control over every aspect of her life. The people she kills, the ones she fucks, how she looks, the amount she chooses to drink – no matter what kind of spiral she sends herself into next, it's always her choice, because everyone hates the feeling of being powerless.

That's why she hates Vincent Ansaldo. No matter what, it's always what he wants. She just happened to be exactly that.

"Mein diamant, what a surprise. What are you doing here?" Sturdy arms snake around her waist from behind, a sharply-accented voice dripping with his shit-eating grin cutting through the blaring music from how close he's made himself. "Did you not get enough of me yesterday?"

I got plenty of you yesterday. The words are right on the tip of her tongue, as cut-edged as a blade. She’s still got that bruise on her hip, the bastard, yet she swallows the spew of insults down. The grip on her gin martini tightens, her white knuckles concealed by the dim room.

"I'm not here for long." Hannah's voice is hard to make out through the blaring sound of the room, but she still is seemingly unamused. She can see his reflection displaying itself in and out of her glass thanks to the flashing lights above them. From an outsider's perspective, any woman would deem herself lucky of his attention.

Sandy blonde hair that reaches his shoulders just enough brush against her cheek, and she doesn’t need to look to know a pair of dark jade greens are staring down at her with unwavering attention. Charming, deadly, and smart, Vincent came from a long, powerful line of questionable family affairs and affluent descendants who took what they wanted, when they wanted.

She knew he frequented here. It was one his clubs, why wouldn’t he? She had just hoped to be able to get the information she needed and buzz off before he could spot her.

Obviously, hope was fucking useless.

“And why not?” His hand raises up to brush away her hair in favor of revealing her neck, and he leans down to press his lips to her pulse. It always stuttered when he was near, but not for the reason he believed. “Running off the moment you can before stopping by to greet me. I’m hurt."

“You’ll live.” Hannah brings the drink up to her lips for a short sip, and she tries not to think about how the arms around her tighten when she glances around for the target she'd been following. Alex Aguilar, a woman who thought it was a good idea to bring kids into her dirty work.

Now those kinds of people were the scum under her heel. At least she’d be able to take her sweet time with her once the right moment came around.

"Vince, I'm trying to work, so can you just–"

"Who are you tailing after?"

The voice next to her ear lowers, and it's not the kind of tone he uses when he's planning on dragging her off to fuck her. Someone is getting in the way of him spending time with her, and even though he's trying his damn best to make his question sound as nonchalant as possible, she's known him long enough to know when he's getting irritated.

The burn of alcohol when she swallows barely affects her.

Hannah takes a deep breath, forces herself to glance up at him with an easy smile. Just like he liked to see her. You’re prettier when you smile. She still remembers tears being wiped from her face with a deceptively gentle hand and his blurry frame hovering over her. “No one important. None of them are.”

That seems to please him, because he’s grinning down at her like a predator who’s decided to have mercy instead of one that’s about to attack. “That’s right, pretty girl.” Vincent sighs deeply, smile faltering but not disappearing just yet as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I trust you’ll come back to me later then?”

When does she not? When could she not?

Vincent walks away with a kiss to her cheek and a slap to her ass once he's had enough of her. The sound of his chuckle as he further distances himself makes her want to turn back around and smash her glass over his head, strangle him, lodge the pieces of glass into his throat and force everyone to watch his blood splatter and spill over the floors. That would be nice. That would be perfect actually. At that moment, she wouldn't care if it eventually got her killed.

He's a prick. He gets on her nerves. But all she had to do was do what he wants, and he'd eventually get tired of her. Not much she can do now except suck it up.

Hannah shuts her eyes. Takes a deep breath.

You're fine.

She downs the rest of her drink and goes back to her hunt. Maybe that would bring back the spring in her step and the bloodlust she needs.

[prismatoxic]

was there ever a moment where laios accidently hurt chilchuck, because that could happen when a very short person dates a very tall sometimes or maybe in their first adventures together (i havent finished the manga yet but i dont mind) - 🐿 anon (starting to sign my asks with this since i already sent some and dont want you to be uncomfy :[ )

dw anon i'm not uncomfortable!!! just kind of reeling about multiple people wanting to talk to me this way. like wow... is this what it feels like to be respected......

i do appreciate a signature though!! for context if nothing else :3

given that they knew each other for 3 years before the start of the canon story, i think there were a lot of opportunities for laios to not really appropriately judge his own strength relative to chilchuck's size. like, he traveled with dandan for a bit both when he started out and when he and falin started their own party, but i don't think laios and dandan ever got especially close. chilchuck, by virtue of being a party staple, was more likely to be interacted with physically.

in those first 3 years i'm sure he chewed laios out at least once for being a clumsy oaf and causing damage, but like... laios would be so upset. and once chilchuck made it clear that he wanted laios to fuck off, he'd go mope about being a bad person while falin healed whatever happened. so after one or two such times, chilchuck would realize just how deep laios's remorse was and begrudgingly be more forgiving. at the same time, laios would learn to be careful.

by the point of the canon story, chilchuck trusts laios, even if he doesn't tend to admit it. that doesn't mean it won't still happen, but laios is also so gentle when they have any reason to physically interact, so it's not usually something he specifically did that causes harm. (like in chapter 56, how laios himself didn't lay a hand on chilchuck even though his advice got chilchuck hurt.)

once they're in a relationship... that opens up whole new avenues of injury. laios is so gentle, but chilchuck kind of doesn't want him to be, and as it turns out he can take more than either of them might have thought, sexually speaking. still, if laios DOES go too hard, chilchuck really can't prevent the downward spiral that results. so it's less "you didn't do anything wrong" and more "okay, well, we know that's not gonna work now, so let's approach this differently going forward". and some mutual comfort.

hornybrain says chilchuck can take it all and take it rough, but even with a more realistic approach, i think he learns to be communicative about his comfort level and they both work out what feels good and what feels bad. and if chilchuck sometimes doesn't communicate because a certain amount of pain is fun for him, well, don't let laios find out.

other than that, living together invites opportunities for stepping on toes, getting trapped when laios rolls over in his sleep, affectionate roughhousing that needs to be adjusted for their size discrepancy... laios never stops feeling bad when chilchuck gets hurt, but they probably work out a system where chilchuck gets to smack him if it happens. honestly, it's more for laios--he feels less bad about it if they're "even". (and chilchuck really cannot damage him much unless he's trying VERY hard to.)