#being 'fixed' or trying to 'go back to normal'

[running-with-kn1ves]

An Elven Winter

CW: None! Arranged marriage, very cozy very comfy, winter nights, grossly affectionate moments

Synopsis: You’re late for dinner with your brawny elf husband, again. Is he going to scold you this time, and live up to his name as a heartless elf?

A/N: Your favorite boy Cirdan is back! Here's the OG piece I wrote with him if anybody wants some more comfort and cuteness.

Snowflakes whipped from the left across your face, illuminated by dampened yellow street lanterns with an icy blue tinge to their miniscule edges. The cold stuck to your eyelashes, to the tip of your nose, to the bottoms of your trudging boots. 

When was the last time it snowed this hard? Not in years, certainly. Not since you began to share your home with another warm body, waiting to welcome you home away from the chills seeping into the openings of your sleeves. You could see your home only two doors down now, the front bathed by hanging porch lights, a trellis covered with dead vines propped against the dark, unlit corner of the cabin. Everyday he’d water that thing, and everyday it’d continue to shrivel under the coldening wind.

Your face creases with concern for what your spouse's reaction may be once you make it home. He might fawn over every trickle of water that was once snow on your shoulders, fraught by the coldness of your fingertips in his palms. It wasn’t his worry that was exhausting, it was the fear of making him feel anything other than glowing warmth, of adoration for you.

Your feet slid over one another racing to the front doors in a jog. Another wave of guilt washed over you for the tenth time tonight for being, what was it now-- an hour late to dinner? How your lovely, saint of a husband worked endlessly to make your homestead full of comfort and homeliness-- and yet you couldn’t make it in time for a meal he had spent endlessly curating. You would beat yourself over the head if you had a moment to spare.

But there was nothing you could do to turn back the time, to slide any quicker on the glassy, frozen ground. Tripping to race up to the door, you fumbled over stone steps in impatience.

The delicately carved door handle was just as cold as the tip of your nose was, hardly putting up a fight as you pulled it toward you. The door opened with a breeze of thick comfort blowing against exposed skin unveiled on your body. Warmth and the smell of a working oven flooded to the points of your cheeks, the door’s creaky nature betraying you as it let the other resident of the house know of your return home. 

This would be the part where you shout “Honey, I’m home!”

But you’re given no time, no time at all. A crackling fire fills your ears, the sudden appearance of a dastardly large silhouette clouding your vision of the kitchen table, plates upon plates decorating a tablecloth you knew so well.

“It’s nine.” His voice relented, the emotion detected and yet hard to describe as you look up to read his face. 

His cheeks are tinted a slight red, as if he had been outside in the cold, waiting for you. 

“It is; I’m sorry, Cirdan. I really thought I'd get here sooner, we were trying to wait out the snow. And, well.. That didn’t really do much.”

His eyes were full of thought, expression in their hardened lids and watery irises. Being late for things seemed to be your specialty. It broke your heart into desperate pieces when you saw the look on his face-- hardly concerned with the cold food, but locked on to you to see what had gone wrong, if you were hurt, what he could do to fix it all. 

“Don’t apologize. I’m just.. So glad you’re home.” He genuinely sounded relieved, a rough stutter you hadn’t heard in a long time, if not ever before. 

His body, so untraditional to what elves were expected to be, came forward to hold you just as gracefully as any normal, lean and tall version of the creature would. But he was all brawn-- a hard and heated rock that snug itself tight against you. A thick hand made its way into your hair to press the top of your head to his pointed nose. 

His taut inhale was shaky, white strands of hair much longer than your own crowding your view. 

“I was nearly about to go out there and find you myself. It’s no place for you to be, out there in the snow. Cold and alone.”

It sounded as if he had scared himself with anxiety-ridden thoughts about where you were in your tardiness. 

“I know.” You muffled against his chest, the wool of his sweater smelling like sweet potatoes and rosemary. 

If it were anyone else you’d be embarrassed to press your head deeper, to lean into the touch so clearly full of desire. But you knew no other way to make up for all that you had done. Your briefcase bag fell to the floor, crumpled and forgotten. 

The affection was so tender you nearly forgot about the sensation of frostbite clawing at your fingernails and the aching in your stomach. It resounded out in the room with an acidic gurgle, forcing your body to go rigid with a mix of exhaustion and embarrassment. 

You could feel the soundless laugh Cirdan let out through the shake in his body-- his warm, scarred arms your safe space. Even the apron two sizes too small on him smelled of sweets. It  hugged him enough for you to feel the ridges underneath his sweater. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked, gently releasing you from his stroking bear hug. 

“You have to ask?” You mumbled, still somewhat embarrassed by your show of weakness. You were supposed to be the strong one, carrying out the toughness of reality and endless meetings between the human and elven realm, while your unconventional elf husband finally had a chance in his brutality to rest, to be easy and let his heart and scars heal. But you were only human. 

“I kept it warm for you, wasn’t sure when you’d be back.”

 Your chest ached at those words.

You were tempted to let out another ‘you don’t have to do that’ or ‘you should’ve just left it in the fridge’, but it would only serve to dishearten him even more. 

“Thank you,” Was all you could half-heartedly murmur, looking up to stare at him. 

His hair fell sloppy along his face, snowy locks hiding his grey, blinded eye. He had started letting it show in privacy, when scrubbing the stove oven or reading in his colossal wine-red chair, black specs you called his ‘old man glasses’ falling off his nose. You pushed the heavy strands behind his pointed ear, letting your hand slide down the curve of his jaw. 

Cirdan merely smiled longingly, crinkling at his eyes and gazing at you as if you were all the stars in the sky held in front of him. He leaned just slightly into your touch, its coldness offering a stark contrast to his warm, honey skin. 

“Go, sit by the fire. I’ll bring your dinner.”

You were again ready to protest, but an intensely soft fleece blanket was draped over your head, covering from your forehead to your calves. It was originally made for your husband, twice any human’s size and still long enough to cover his shoulders. Cirdan had turned to the loveseat beside him to grab it, leaving you to buckle under the weight of swarms of fabric as he moved toward the kitchen. Blindly, you made your way to the orange glow in the middle of the room, bright flames caressing freshly chopped oak.

The corners of your home closest to the outside world had a chilled air of ice, but within the middle was where the heat resided, beckoning you to the fireplace onto a small elk hide rug. 

Cirdan’s footsteps upon the soft kitchen floor came toward you, steam rising from the plate held in his hands. He seemed so relaxed, shoulders drooped and yet posture enviously perfect, an effect of having an elven spine and ruthless upbringing. His loose sweater was soft on his carved shoulders, reminding you of your shared cozy bed-- of his body radiating glowy warmth against you, rustling sheets tangled as you push deeper against the crook of his neck.

But your stomach was too insatiable for anything other than food right now, even warmth. The herby, peppery scent brought drool to your mouth, looking at the elf with wide eyes in hungry desperation. 

“It’s hot, let it cool off for a second.” Cirdan blows on the mouth-watering food as he hands the plate to you with a potholder on its lip, protecting you from the heat. He is quick to grab a pillow and place it in your lap, gently letting the plate rest.  “I kind of went overboard; something in me felt like cooking tonight... We can give the leftovers to the neighbors.”

“No!” You shout territorily, covering your plate as if he were ready to steal it from you. “It's mine to eat, I mean.” 

You don’t leave room for the conversation to continue, shoveling a forkful of well-seasoned vegetables in your mouth. The moment a green bean touches your tongue you realize your mistake. 

“Haw, hawt!” 

Your open mouth does a dance as you try to fan the heat, so eager to eat that you forgot to heed his warning. 

“I told you!” Cirdan exclaims, a laugh escaping him as he reaches for a glass of water on the table behind him. “I guess my intuition knew you’d try something like that.”

You take the glass with unheeded swiftness, letting lukewarm water settle in your fiery mouth. 

A hesitant swallow leaves your tongue numb and your hunger yet to be filled.

You reach for another bite, this time for a heap of buttery mash potatoes, soft and fluffy like the piles of snow outside yet starkly contrasted in their steamy heat. 

You know better now, blowing on the fork before taking a hesitant, small bite. 

Cirdan merely gives you a watchful, entertained grin. He doesn’t have the pompous smirk of most elves you’ve met with, but instead a full, close-lipped smile that reaches to his sharp eyes, his uncharacteristically full cheeks rising, his face slim and etched like the rest of his kind yet with more ruggedness and expression in it, remnants of a jagged past etched into his skin. 

“I’th really good.” You cover your full mouth, singing his praises with potato and sweet, savory bread in between. 

“I’m glad you like it,” The comment he passes hardly utters any attention to what you say, instead busy watching you consume like a ravenous animal. Cirdan brushes back hair that falls close to your plate, stroking just gently a thumb over your cheek. 

You swallow a few more bites before you feel the ache in your stomach subside. The intense way the elf keeps looking at you is not unforeign, but you still have yet to be comfortable with it. 

“Thank you for the food,” You wipe your mouth with your sleeve, hoping you weren’t too many levels of disheveled. “but, I have another favor to ask.”

“Hm?”

You witness in his eyes the willingness, eagerness to see what you desire. 

“Let me brush your hair?” 

Cirdan’s lips part in an ‘o’, before returning to the usual gentle hardness of his face.

“That’s all? I thought you were ready for dessert.” 

The elf lets out a stifled laugh, deep and bouncing off the small cabin walls in pure delight.

You shoot a self-conscious gaze at him, lips half upturned in a hidden smile; you’re not sure whether to laugh or bashfully tell him nevermind.

“You know you don’t have to ask. I was waiting until you were done to clean myself up--” He turns to the side, opening a stool compartment stuffed with a myriad of little things from nail polish to old lighters. His gentle hands searched for a delicate hairbrush, elven in the intricacy of its design and dwarven in its robusticity. The curving vines against the brushes ivory skin along with its weighty hold made it a piece of craftsmanship worthy of generational pass-down. 

 He takes your plate fit for kings off of your lap, moving it to the floor closest to the fireplace. In this house, everytime you attempt to do something, it seems to be done at-hand immediately before you can think to move. 

Cirdan wordlessly hands you the brush, tender fire under his palm gliding over the icicles you called fingers.

You attempt to scoot behind him, blanket nearly falling from your shoulders to do so, but the elf catches you. 

“I’m not letting you freeze to death on my behalf first,” He grunts, grabbing your hands in a chokehold. “You're practically frozen my love.” 

The tendrils of his fingers wrapping over your own were akin to hot coils, oddly welcoming and conflicting to your body void of warm blood. 

“Your behalf? I’m the one who suggested the idea!” You shake your head in mild disbelief. “Besides, being near the fire is warming me up. I’ll be unfrozen soon.”

Your airy voice is sarcastic and not nearly as teeth-chattering as it once had been-- yet still, Cirdan huffed over your fingertips, letting out heavy breaths to warm the parts of you that were yet to be anything but icy. 

“You aren’t going to win this fight.” He looked up at you, a serious furrow of his brows, “I won’t lose you to such simplicities of frostbite, you’re too precious.”

Oof. Right in the heart. Everytime you see his resting brooding face like that your chest lurches in worry--- but then he’ll say something so sweet in sincerity that you want to collapse into a puddle.

You open and close your mouth like a gaping fish, unsure what to say to beat, or even match that. 

The elf deeply exhales once more against your trembling fingers, letting silence float between you with the sound of crackling flames flickering in between. 

With a final heavy breath against your knuckles, he straightens your fingers out, placing them over his heated cheeks. Even with the ridges of bone and scar on his face, he was squishy and pliant like a human. Your thumb brushed against the healed tissue leading from the bridge of his nose to his blinding eye, relishing in the slow blinks he gave. He looked… tired, and yet full of comforting bliss. You break the silence with an anxious swallow.

“I can't believe this.. you should be scolding me, making me eat cold leftovers in a dark room for being late, once again. Instead you're welcoming with open arms and a full stomach? I just don't get you; I don't know if I ever will.” 

You smile a little sadly, grateful and mystified.

“Maybe you won't understand it,” Cirdan moves his lips to your palm, nudging it with a kiss. “but it's what I'd want.”

You did understand that. All those nights he laid in the cold snow after throwing himself against battalions as a living shield, coming home to an even colder room, eating alone and wondering if anyone was thinking of him. If he meant anything more than a body to be used. He wouldn't let you feel that way, if he could help it.

You nuzzled so hard against his face it made you both scrunch up your noses. 

“Oh I just-- wish I could stick you in my pocket and never let you go-- never let you feel anything but warmth and softness and love again.”

Cirdan grinned, his expression practically basking in the adoration. 

“You don’t know how good it feels to hear you say that.” 

You kiss him rough, not caring if the temperature difference sparks you both, making your noses tingle with electricity and your lips buzz. With gentle encouragement your hands holding his face might lead elsewhere, but tonight you wanted to show him the chaste devotion, the love he deserved in any way you knew how. Cirdan was fervent with his kiss, though he still seemed concerned with your warmth as his hands searched blindly for the blanket slipping from your back. 

You roll your eyes, letting your lips fall away with a warm breath. You're quick to get back to what you want, the task at hand.

“We're getting off track-- will you let me brush your hair now? I promise I won't freeze you with my icicle fingers.”

You drum your fingers against the sides of his cheeks, watching as he reaches for the forgotten brush on the rug, slightly dazed. You leave the tepidness of his face to snatch it with playful ease, ushering him to turn around.

“All right, all right, my love,” He concedes with a sigh. “Whatever you desire.” 

You grasp the edges of his messy hair as he faces away from you, pulling out the slipping black elastic band to let the rest of it fall; It’s gently knotted at the tips, but the rest of it still holds a sleek shine created from fine, thick strands and patient washing. 

“It’s my turn to take care of you..” You mumble, holding a fistful of silvery white strands with a calm stroke of the brush. The rhythm lulls you into a peacefulness, listening to the flickers of fire in front of you, the gentle snowfall from outside your little world of warmth and coziness. The blanket falls to your elbows-- you don’t go to fix it, so enraptured with the task at hand. 

Cirdan begins to hum just the slightest, his eyes shut in a stoney, calm expression that you can see if you tip just slightly sideways. It was a solemnly elven tune, and yet it slowed your heart so simply that you felt a wash of nostalgia and ease run through you. 

You would trade anything to keep this December night going, to have the man in front of you, held in your arms forever. Cirdan’s warmth was inseparable from your own, your bodies impossibly close for comfort. 

[angelpuns]

Leo’s hands were more sluggish than he would have liked. Definitely at least a baby concussion. It was hard to tell by himself, but he was usually pretty good at figuring it out before it got too dangerous. Like after- 

He swallowed thickly. He didn't need to be thinking of that right now. Especially in the med bay, surrounded once again by the sterility and the oppressive white walls that he'd spent way too long in. 

Leo quickly shook the the thought away and grabbed a scalpel. He didn't want to have to use it, but he couldn't afford to keep a tracker in him - if there was one.

He needed to at least get fixed up before they caught on and followed him home. He wasn't sure where he'd go next. Maybe the sewer tunnels? Bad for his minor wounds, but maybe the concrete would screw with the signal enough to give him a bit of reprieve. 

Then again, it wouldn't be a good place to be ambushed. There wasn't much of a way to escape unless he stumbled upon a hatch or something. He could always go further down the subway tunnel instead, but that eventually would lead to an active subway tunnel and he didn't really need to add ‘crushed by a train like a cartoon character’ to his issues today. 

He let out a huff and got to work on fixing up what he could. The brunt of the scratches were on his face, his nose slowly oozing blood. Probably not broken, but it still hurt like hell. If he were human it would've been a lot worse, so there was that at least. 

Leo worked quickly, not sure how much time he had left. He still didn't have a plan either, and he probably only had a portal or two left him in him. Maybe just the one with a concussion. 

Ideally, he'd just hunker down in the lair and defend it, but he was only one turtle with a couple swords and a dream ( and a big heaping dose of PTSD. And a concussion. ) so that wasn't really an option. 

He could try portaling away again, but it seemed like they'd always find him. He didn't necessarily want to try and cut the tracker out, but it seemed to be the only real option he had right now. 

He wasn't sure that would stop them either. They clearly knew where the lair was, and could easily just hide out here until he eventually came back… 

Leo sighed, rubbing his hands over his face with a groan. Why were all these options so shitty? Normally he was better at planning then this… 

 He supposed he'd have to fight them, but one on three was a losing battle and he knew it. Unless…well maybe he could trap them. 

Leo pocketed the scalpel for now. He had to get everything set up before they arrived, then he could worry about the tracker. He had plans for that too, now, and hopefully they weren't smart enough to figure them out. 

An hour passed as he worked to move furniture around and booby-trap as much of the lair as he possibly could. Nothing substantial, just little traps that would allow him to portal all of them into a big cage he'd fashioned out of bent up bars and that he'd soldered to the floor. He'd never been good at doing that kind of thing, so he hoped it'd hold up. 

He returned the supplies to the garage and hurried back to the med bay. They hadn’t shown up yet still, but he supposed them not being able to portal was a good sign. 

Leo checked his entire body for the tracker. He assumed it'd be like a movie and there would be some kind of little lump or something under his skin, or maybe an incision where it had been surgically implanted. The thought made him shiver. He didn't like the thought of those creeps in his room doing surgery on him. 

He didn't feel anything, though, in all the places he could reach anyway. 

He settled his now tired arms on the back of his neck, staring into the mirror and wondering what the hell he was going to do. 

Trapping those guys was a decent plan and all, but it wasn't a long term solution. Maybe he needed to move again. 

Moving after the Shredder had been difficult and all, but at least there hadn't been a looming threat of someone finding him. 

He groaned, arms brushing against the top of his shell as he gave a little stretch. He felt it then, something scratching and small on the upper lip of his shell. Just out of reach of running against his shoulder. He felt along the edges of it, the cool metal against his fingertips revealing that it wasn't just a mark. 

What a damn smart place to put it. 

He pulled at the thing, but it had to have been glued down or something. He put the scalpel he’d been wielding away and hurried to the purple room. He supposed whoever had lived here before had been some kind of scientist, because they had a ton of stuff. It had all just been here when he moved in, and occasionally he'd pop in to check that everything was okay and in its place….and to borrow tools. 

Something about the purple room was very comforting too. It had a familiar and nice smell, and he'd spent a lot of time after the invasion curled up in here, just basking in the comfort of it. The other subway cars were like that, too. Orange and Red and Purple bedrooms that Leo himself hadn't set up. They'd just been like that when he moved in. 

And yet somehow he found them comforting. He didn't know why, but it had sort of been like that when he lived in the sewers, too. 

Rooms he hadn't decorated, but a comfort nonetheless. Those too had just always been there. It wasn't weird because it had always been like that. So to find the same thing in his new lair…well it was nothing short of a miracle, really. 

He sighed and stopped basking in the comforting purple light, hurrying over to a cabinet and rifling through the tools there. 

If he could just find a screwdriver and mallet, he could use the as a chisel. As scary as that was in a place he really couldn't see, it wasn't too dangerous to try. 

He finally found what he wanted and hurried for the nearest mirror, which ended up being in his own room. He still hadn't seen any signs of the intruders from before, but he was confident in his traps. He'd at least hear them falling all over themselves trying to get in. 

Leo carefully positioned the makeshift chisel, pointing it away from y'know, accidentally stabbing himself in the neck, before he carefully began to work at the tracker. 

It took a few hits, the clunk-clunk-clunk of the screwdriver on his shell making his head ache. The vibrations weren't helping either, old shell aches flaring up with each tap on the screwdriver. 

Finally, the little metal bit broke off, the piece flying off into his room somewhere. 

He scrounged around on the floor to find it, finally spotting it under his bed. 

“ I've got plans for you, little guy,” he mused, flipping it over in his hand, “ you're going on a little vacation” 

---

More 50au!!! This obviously isn't like a completed fic or anything, but it is nice to write onto and I have some ideas I wanna do with it ( which is why I'm writing on it more this week, I had a really interesting idea I wanna try out )

So enjoy :)

Part 1 | Part 4 | Part 5

[doodler16]

man... after that episode idk anymore honestly what is going on.

summarized thoghts i guess?

>i feel like viv has just gotten lazy with the remaining sins' designs... like... why is asmodeus so incredibly different from the succubu/incubi but leviathan just looks like an envy citizen? all i thought when i first saw them was "oh thats the karen from the hospital and glitz or glam combined?"

>also mammon is the only fat character here so obviously that means food jokes..

>striker apparently abandoned his enitire character of hating the goetia/rich, which is so disappointing.

>so many confusing cramped designs which completely turns the goetias into a clusterfuck. why. if they did it from the start like this and didn't give everyone the impression that the goetias were entirely birds, it could've maybe worked. idk if they're supposed to mimic the court in heaven in the hh s2 leaks.

> andrealphus literally says everything about the blitz the fandom already does lmfaooo

> ofc stolas sacrificed himself 🙄

poor via, man..

That episode was ass. Nothing and something happened at the same time. 😂

This episode reminded me of final episode of Hazbin Hotel. Like for example, the tonal whiplash: one moment it’s comedic. Then another scene is dramatic, we the audience are supposed to care about what happens to the IMP gang as they cry and worry about each other despite previous episodes saying and showing otherwise.

The fact that Andrealphus similarly to the fandom accused Blitz of rape is insane.

It was so hard to take this court trial seriously because of the switching tones. Why was Vassago hyped to hell and back when he barely contributed anything besides being Stolas’ cheerleader. Why didn’t Moxxie or Millie mention Striker’s involvement in the attempted assassination, like cmon you guys were there when Stolas was the verge of death. Even better, why didn’t Blitz mention that Striker was involved when he finally got the chain off his mouth.

Ozzie didn’t do anything, he easily could’ve said more since Stolas has confided to him about Blitz and the grimoire. They did mammon and striker dirty, Anon. Leviathan’s design is interesting, she looks like glam sisters’ older sister.

Stolas “sacrifice” was so ugh. That “Master mind” song was stupid, it easily could’ve taken 5 minutes or less to explain his side. He unnecessarily insults Blitz multiple times during the song, like just admit you were wrong like a normal person and explain that Stella, Striker and andrealphus is in charge of the assassination attempt. Don’t need to make it all complicated.

Stolas sacrifice wasn’t even out of the kindness of his heart, fixing the damages he done. Dude literally regrets throwing away his freedom and privileges and mentions how he rather be dead than live life without Blitz’s side. So much for loving Blitzy. That scene was so corny “you’re my light 🤣, you’re my heart.”

The fact that Satan wasn’t even going to execute Stolas was the most annoying part, why should I take this trial seriously if you aren’t hold him accountable. If Andrealphus didn’t say anything, what would Stolas punishment be? Satan didn’t even try with Stolas and was like time for lunch.

Only Vivziepop somehow makes Stolas losing his powers and status a bad thing/point it in a sympathetic manner.

[darlingshane]

Dumb & Poetic

Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: Michael and you cannot communicate anymore without screaming at each other, but you've managed to keep that out of the workplace. Except for today. Your argument reaches a boiling point, and you have a big blowout in the kitchen in front of everyone. You end up apologizing to each other at the end of the day in the only way you know how to.

CW: +18, explicit, heavy angst, complicated relationships in the workplace, smut, vaginal sex, hate sex, making out, misogynistic comments.

Word Count: 2,2k

— Links: AO3 // Michael Masterlist

The kitchen is on fire, and it's not because everyone is working their asses off. It's only because of the heated argument you're having with Michael.

If your hands weren’t busy with the sandwich you’re making, you would definitely close your fist and sock him in the face. You don’t condone violence, but right now, he's earning himself a good punch. Breaking his nose could be the only thing that would stop him from relentlessly nagging at you while you work. There's fire in your knuckles already, itching to hit something. Anger is really starting to fester in your stomach as he keeps yapping in your ear about nonsense. You give him one more minute before you either swing your fist or quit altogether. It'd be pretty funny to leave him in the lurch with the show full of people anxiously waiting for their food. You're understaffed, overworked, and lacking better management. He knows it, you know it, everyone and their mother in the neighborhood knows it. And yet, Michael refuses to listen to reason. The only thing he loves listening to is himself talking.

If you had other options, you’d certainly drop what you’re doing and walk right out the door. It'd take you to be as much of an asshole as he is to just leave him stranded today. Unfortunately, you can’t afford the luxury of quitting this job.

Turning heads on your way, you yell at each other, going back and forth between everyone working tiredly on the tight kitchen space. It's not unusual for you to fight, but today there's a time bomb ticking that holds something inside more complicated than any of you can understand.

You knew mixing business and pleasure was a mistake. Yet you jumped, eyes closed. It serves you right, you're hitting your head against the bottom of the pool for not following your gut. You knew Michael was trouble, also your boss, and that didn't stop you from getting into bed with him.

Now everything is a mess. You can't communicate without screaming at each other. All the back and forth between being together and apart has burned the last bridge between you and Michael, and there's nothing you can do to fix it when he's not willing to do his part in helping you.

“Orders are piling up. You either move out of the way, or join the party. So help me God, Michael.” You throw your knife with disdain into the sink before you do something you might regret.

“You still haven’t answered my question. Why did you change the menu without telling me?”

“I tried! I called you ten times, and you never picked up. And I didn’t change the menu. I just added a special for the weekend to try it out. See, it’s working.” You use your hand to point at the kitchen window crowded by heads on the other side. “You said you were leaving for two days, and you were gone for over a week. You think that’s normal, to go on a bender and leave us to fend for ourselves? You got orders, bills, vendors to deal with… You're being fucking irresponsible. Has anyone told you that? ”

“Give me a damn break. You have no idea what I have to deal with. You've been working here two days and act like they own the place. Who the fuck you think you are?”

“I've been here two years, Michael! Two fucking years carrying your sorry ass around. You’ll be lost without me, asshole!”

“I'd be lost without you? That's rich.” He scoffs loudly. “I taught you everything you know.”

Now it's your time to snort. “You showed me how to make your stupid sandwiches. It's not like you taught me how to cure cancer. You should be grateful I care enough to do something about it.”

“It wasn’t your place! You added chicken to my menu. Beef. We serve beef.” He points at the logo on the shirt he's wearing. “Can't you read, sweetheart? If we start serving chicken, people are gonna get confused.”

You roll your eyes intently.

“I told you, it's just for the weekend, Mr. Beef.” You have to hold yourself back from throwing the wrapped sandwich in your hands at him.

“Yo, cousin, since when we do chicken specials.” Richie walks in, protesting, from the front of the shop.

“Ask the smartass here. Thinks she knows better than all of us.”

“Well, I don't know about smart, but she certainly has a good ass.” Richie laughs.

“Oh, look at your other half agreeing with you. What a surprise! That's sexual harassment, by the way, Richard. And you're late, as usual.”

“Take it to the police, sweetheart.”

You feel like you're the one who's taking this place more seriously than both of them. Perhaps you shouldn't even try anymore. If Michael doesn't care enough to make this place better, why should you? You're sick of busting your ass for nothing. You should just take a step back and let him drive this hole further into the ground.

Done with arguing with someone who doesn't even listen, you turn around and go start on the next order.

“Hey, I'm not done talking to you.” He, of course, follows behind you.

“Well, I am. Stop wasting my fucking time.”

“Not until you apologize for going over my head and changing things around without consulting me.”

You almost burst into laughter.

“The only one who needs to issue an apology is you, Michael. Not me. I've done nothing but bringing life into this fucking dark hole you've created. You're just too obtuse to see that.”

“You've got some fucking nerve. And who do you think is paying for all the chicken you ordered? Did you get a new vendor?”

“I know a guy. He got me a discount on the first order.”

“Really? Vendors I know don't usually do that. Did you have to suck his dick or something? Cause that's the only—”

He can't finish his sentence because before you know it, the back of your hand is swiftly flying across his face. All that vitriol that was boiling inside, begging to get out, ends plastered on his cheek that quickly turns red. Your knuckles hurt from hitting his jaw, but it was worth it.

Suddenly, you notice almost everyone in the kitchen is looking at the two of you, caught in the middle of the space in a standoff.

It takes him a second to tell everyone to go back to work. You can see him fuming, but he doesn't respond or retaliate to your aggression.

As much as he deserved it, you almost regret it immediately. At least you got him to shut up for the time being. You take a ten-minute break and finish the rest of your shift without more altercations or Michael pestering you, thankfully. You're not sure if you want to come back tomorrow. You're done with his shit. It's not worth it anymore. You'll have figured out something else, cause this is never going to get better, and today was proof of that.

Almost everyone is gone when you decide to have a word with Michael after closing.

“Hey,” you say, standing by the open door to his office as he looks up from the pile of papers on his desk. “I'm going to take a couple of days off from my vacation days.”

“Yeah, I think that'd be best.” He agrees.

“Are you going to fire me?”

“It has crossed my mind.”

“Well, are you?”

“Sit down” He motions at the empty chair while he stands up to close the door behind you.

“I'm not sitting down. I'm tired of arguing with you and I wanna go home. Just tell me, Michael. No hard feelings. We'll go our separate ways, and you'll never have to deal with me again. ”

“I'm not firing you, okay? Please sit. I have something to say.”

Begrudgingly, you sigh and sit in the chair with your arms crossed while he leans on the edge of the desk.

“Look, today got out of hand, and I'm sorry for my part. I shouldn't have said that.”

“It was way out the line. But I shouldn't have slapped you, either.”

“Did it feel good to slap me?” his lips pull up at the corners.

“Maybe a little.”

You both smile for a moment, but you know there's more to say.

“I appreciate you helping here, but you can't make decisions like that when I'm gone. You should have told me first.”

“You never listen, Michael. This isn't something new. I've been telling you for months. This place needs to change, or you're going to lose it. I thought it meant something to you, but hell, what do I know? But don't worry, I'm butting out from now on. It's your business, do what you want with it.”

“I highly doubt you can do that, sweetheart. You and I both know you won’t be able to stay out of it. You just love being a pain in my ass too much.”

No, you're done for sure. If he can't at least meet you halfway, you're done trying. You can't fix this place cause you can't fix him. And that's the main issue here.

“Believe what you want, Michael.” You stand up to leave, but he's surely not even close to being done with you.

“Wait, there's something else I gotta say.”

“What?”

He steps closer in your direction, and you almost flinch when he brings his hand up to touch your face. Sighing, you let him cup your face while he leans in to kiss your mouth. It's so puzzling the effect he has on you. It’s dumb and poetic. He keeps fucking with your head like it’s some kind of fetish, and you keep letting him for no reason other than you can’t help but caring for him. You wish you didn’t, but you do love him more than you’d like to admit.

“Your lips are moving, but I don't hear any talking,” you mumble against his kiss.

“Hm, I wasn't done yet,” he licks his lips and then the tip of his tongue traces the shape of your mouth before sliding past your lips to do his talking. You don't give in so easily to his dirty antics. He's going to have to earn it.

It takes you a moment to respond to the bidding of his tongue that moves slowly against yours, begging you to kiss him back.

You should know better by now that this won't end well. This is a path you've walked many times before, and every time you end up regretting ever stepping onto it. You should duck, run, kick him in the balls, but you’re far too deep into the mind-numbing rhythm of his tongue that casts an impossible spell on you to do anything but argue with your tongue. As the heat rises, the hunger of your lips locking becomes unbearably hot to handle. You can barely breathe when you notice his hands roaming all over your body, claiming it as if it was his.

“God, I hate you so much,” you grunt into the kiss, pulling slightly from his mouth to see the vicious red that has plumbed his lips.

“I hate you more, baby,” he huffs, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he presses his crotch between your legs. “That’s how much I despise you.”

“Not as much as I do.” You undo the buttons of your jeans before grabbing his hand and shoving it into your panties to make him feel how soaked you are already.

Dark eyes lock with yours as he viciously massages your whole pussy. Before you know, you’re turning your back on him, and bending over his desk, pulling your pants and underwear down so he can fuck you from behind.

There’s no time wasted, as you brace your elbows to the table, he smoothly buries his cock in your opening, collecting all your juices. He’s hard, and you're soft in all the right places for him to thrust firmly without hurting you. His hands grip your ass while the pace of his hips quickly drive you out of your mind. You feel every stroke and thrust rippling through your body, kindling a fire within your core. You glance over your shoulder to see him darkly staring at you before smacking your ass with his palm.

“How do you like that now, huh?” He snarls, slapping your ass a second time harder, earning a moan out of you. “Yeah, I know that’s how you like it, sweetheart.”

You then hang your head and let him drive you closer to the edge. You can feel his cock twitching inside you as you send one of your hands between your legs to touch your clit.

“What? You got nothing to say now?” He leans forwards to grunt in your ear. “Good. You look prettier with your mouth shut.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” you moan as his hand follow the path of yours to helps you take care of your clit as you both nearly touch that last final line.

With the help of his fingers, and those final firm erratic thrusts, you quickly come undone, letting your walls flutter around him, bringing him down with you. He spills himself inside, holding on to you as you and him are momentarily taken by that jolt of bliss that ripples from his body to yours and vice versa.

— credits: divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[catghoul31]

Mandatory Snuggles

Wade had to go on a mission for a bit too long, in Logan’s mind. For this terrible crime, he is sentenced to snuggle jail for 5,000 years.

(For @poolverine-week Day 6: feral behavior)

No CWs this time, besides light-hearted canon typical behavior

Read it under the cut or on ao3!

“Logan? I’m back! Just killed a shit ton of people so we can make rent this month!!”

Normally, Wade’s entrance would be greeted by at least some sort of acknowledgement from Logan. A grunt if he was tired, a once-over to check for injuries- at least, the ones that took longer than a few seconds to heal- maybe even a kiss? He was really hoping for that last option today, it had been quite the adventure…

Instead, he got Blind Al barely nodding at him, mumbling something under her breath about how she ever got herself into Wade’s fucked up life- but thanks for getting us money this time, sweetheart- and Mary Puppins jumping on his leg as she usually did. Wade welcomed both greetings, especially the latter as he scooped the wrinkly dog into his arms and let her lick the remaining blood off of him, but where was Wolvie? His precious peanut? The best mutant ever and the light of his life- he always greeted him at the door! Something was up today…

“Wolvie?” he called out, still to no response. Huh- maybe he’d fallen asleep. He probably should’ve thought about that, actually, it was quite likely… at least, it would be if this wasn’t an afternoon hit! Those were always risky as fuck, and it was Logan dutifully cooking dinner whenever he got home from one of those that always brightened his spirits afterwards. He was the best boy ever, always doing the most for him and their little family, and he’d take the claws in his chest every single time he reminded him- even when he was distracting him from said cooking- because it was true!!

An afternoon nap wasn’t out of the question, though. It wasn’t like Wade was mad at him for not cooking, he’d never asked him to in the first place! No matter how many times he told Logan that he didn’t owe him anything, he still worked as if he did… ‘Worst Wolverine’ my ass!! Still, though, this was a different routine, and that couldn’t ever mean anything good!! It could mean that his little honey badger was suffering, or worse. Logan… hated him? Logan wanted him to rot on the street now? After eight months of being his boyfriend?? What other reason would he have to not give him a kiss after work? Surely it must be true. Wade went to check their shared room, just to be sure, and-

Oh. Oh my god. He would’ve taken a picture of this if he could, but why did this have to be the day his phone broke??

In the middle of their bed was Logan, curled up and purring in a pile of Wade’s clothes. He was wearing a pair of his sweats to boot- and did I mention that the entire room smelled like Wolvie right now?? It was the best smell ever- to my nose, at least. If only AO3 had a scratch-and-sniff feature… Wouldn’t that be something? Anyways, he was purring away in the clothing pile, clutching desperately to one of his many plushies- it looked like Hops the Frog was the lucky guy today!- but he didn’t seem completely content. Or completely asleep, either. Poor Logan’s face looked all scrunched up, and he was writhing around trying to get comfortable- kinda like the first few nights they spent together! What was he doing? More importantly… how was his Wolvie feeling??

“Hey, baby boy,” Wade cooed innocently enough, but Logan’s eyes still shot open and locked with his, daring him to say a word. Or were they? He wasn’t moving from where he was- if anything, he’d pressed his face further into the flannel shirt it was next to, breathing deeply through his nose… Ohhh! Did his kitty miss him? Was that the problem? This would be a quick fix, then… if Wolvie would let him in without any claws right now, that is.

“I’m back! I mean, you can probably see me, can’t you? How… how are you feeling, Wolvie?” he asked in a much softer tone than he’d normally use in a situation like this. Logan let out a low, quiet groan, serving as his only response to that question… Wade took off his own mask, the slight dampness in Logan’s eyes now noticeable to him. Oh, poor kitty… He really hoped he didn’t worry him too much, with how long his job had gone today, but it seemed like it was too late for that now. Right now, Wade needed to help his scrunkly scrimblo pookie bear feel better… Did he know what any of those words meant? Nope! But they were all Logan nonetheless.

The sad ball of Wolverine on his bed turned around, trying his best to hide his face from the world, and especially Wade. He knew how this went by now, as Logan still thought this side of himself was weird and embarrassing to witness. When he’d told him that the first time, Wade laughed and kissed his forehead gently- he was the poster child of all things weird and embarrassing! Logan had absolutely nothing to worry about, especially not if his big, dark secret was this adorable.

“Aw, peanut- if you wanna talk about it, I’m always down for a trauma-dumping session! I can take a load of emotional release dripping down my neck and chest any day…” Logan huffed, turning around briefly to shoot Wade a glare before curling in on himself again. If only he knew how to talk to anyone like a normal person. “Or not! You can just sit there, all comfy like the big kitty cat you are, and I can go get us some chimichangas! How about that?” he asked, giving Logan a minute incase he wanted to respond…

Still nothing. Damn! Usually, calling Wolvie a kitty (y’know, because he IS!!) always got a response from him. Claws through his shoulder, a grumble of “stop calling me that” or “that’s not even close to what a wolverine is, Wade, doesn’t make any damn sense-“ it all depended on the mood, really. This afternoon, it didn’t seem like Logan wanted to do anything except bury his face as far into those pink-hearted pajama bottoms as he could. Couldn’t he do that while he was wearing them…? Well, not right now, he couldn’t. Because it was sad Wolvie hours, apparently. And it was all his fault, so if he didn’t want to talk about it or eat about it…

Wade leaned over the bed to touch Logan’s head, rubbing the hair there gently. “What does my little Wolvie want, hm?” he asked him, as though he was talking to their dog instead- just before two massive arms leapt forward and pinned Wade to Logan. “AHH!! Shit, Logi, you could’ve just asked!!” he yelped, trying to wriggle himself into a comfier position against the heavier man- to absolutely no avail. “Not that I would ever say no to you, of course…”

If Wade shifted his head just so- tilted it upwards as much as he could, with it being smushed against his shoulder by an insistent hand, he could see Logan, as cute and dangerous as ever. His expression was uncharacteristically soft, and how could Wade forget that gorgeous rumbling he felt against his own chest? His purring… so loud and deep today, it was like he’d been gone for a month or something! It always felt so good against his sore body, though, that it made him want to press up against a happy Wolverine until the end of time…

“There’s my Wolvie… Did you miss me? I know, how dare capitalism keep me away from you, but I’ll always come back! I literally can’t disappear forever, and you know it…” Wade yammered on with that same loving tone, going to scratch Logan’s fluffy beard once he got one of his hands free. His purrs only increased, leaning into his palm and rubbing his chin against it insistently.

Once his hand was acceptably covered in Wolvie scent, Logan pressed his face against Wade’s neck, rubbing against it over and over. Wade knew that Logan doing this was just as much to cover himself in Wade’s scent as to scent-mark him possessively, and his heart melted into a puddle every time he did it. Now that his hair was thoroughly within reach, Wade couldn’t resist playing with it, especially when it made Logan purr even louder… After a few seconds of them doing this- so much petting and nuzzling anyone could confuse this scene with the average hotel room of two AnthroCon attendees- the tension in Wolvie’s body seemed to loosen considerably, making Wade smile with relief.

He leaned down, kissing the top of Logan’s head several times in rapid succession. Wade’s heart could’ve exploded at the way they made Logan melt in his arms... “See? You are a kitty, Wolvie! So demanding of my attention… I wonder what would happen if I pulled away for juuust a second-“ As soon as Wade’s hand left Logan’s head, he felt a hand reach back to push it back down, claw tips sticking out and everything!! “Hehehe, yep, I knew it!! So needy… You couldn’t even wait for me to come back to smell me again?” Wade’s clothes were still strewn about around Logan, one of his shirts wrapped around his neck. Wade knew he wouldn’t be washing that one for a while...

When Wolvie pulled back, he held Wade’s face firmly with both of his big hands (paws!!) and kissed him roughly. Wade sighed happily at the rough show of affection, feeling the desperation in the way Logan licked at his lips and returning his feverish pace as they made out passionately. Usually, Logan would’ve been the first to pull away, but Wade had to push at the fluffy bastard’s chest after a long while to free himself. Maybe he could die of suffocation via Wolvie kisses another time!

What certainly wouldn’t do, though, was the look of shame that barely flashed across Wolvie’s face the moment their lips parted. Wade never wanted Logan to feel like he was being too much- au contraire, he could never have enough of him! “Wolvie, sweetie pumpkin, look at me…” He caressed Logan’s face as he did as he was told- good boy, such a sweet boy… Wade kissed his forehead, booping his nose with his thumb at the same time. “Love you, kitty,” he mumbled, and though he wouldn’t hear the words back for a couple more hours, the way Logan pressed himself to his chest told Wade all his heart needed to hear.

“Sorry for not texting back, by the way. My phone got smashed to bits by an evil landlord. Yes, I know that’s redundant, dear reader, but this one liked to curb-stomp puppies! Oh, it was bad…”

Logan just kept purring away in his arms as he spoke nonsense as usual, but in the distance, Wade heard Blind Al find the wreckage he’d left on the counter- “This is the third one this month, Wade! God damn it all…”

Much to her chagrin, neither Logan nor Wade could bring themselves to care right now.

[jellyskink]

A fish out of water. (Idk I wanted to make the title reference Stan's Cipher Zodiac symbol but I couldn't think of a witty way how. Is it even a fish?? Idk I see a fish lol.)

("Wherever we go, we go together alright bro?")

Light filled the room as Stan flipped the lightswitch to his condo. Soft white light filled the room, a mixture of trash and trinkets littered the room in front him.

(Right... I forgot I've been needin' to take care of that. Eh I'll get to it tomorrow. The twins won't be back here until a couple of days.)

Reaching up to scratch his chin, a sharp pain registered as his hand scratched his chin and lower lip.

(OW Ffff-french toast... Figures I'd forget about the number that guy did on the old kisser.)

Earlier that day another jerk had mistaken him for his twin. The usual routine, of course he made sure to return the favor with interest though. There's no way that guy would be seein' anything with his left eye for a good while after the mark he left on it.

(Welp, better get to trying to fix this up. Mabel and Ford'll definitely worry even more than usual if this gets infected.)

Saying that, the old man shuffled over to his bathroom, dodging the miscellaneous items that covered the floor.

(Aight let's get this over with...)

The bathroom was a little disorganized, but everything was more or less the same as it usually was. Still, it was a bit of an adjustment to get used to having Mabel (and to an extent Dipper's) stuff in the sink cabinet along with his own.

Searching through the wave of clutter in the cabinet, Stan eventually found the peroxide he was searching for, to his dismay he did find he was out of normal band-aids, so he was forced to use the box of band-aids covered with designs of puppies, kittens, and narwhals.

(Really hope Mabel doesn't mind I'm usin' one of her band-aids...)

Stan knew she wouldn't, heck she'd insist he use them, but Stan couldn't help but feel at least a little bit guilty for needing to ask for handouts from her, a kid.

Cleaning up the wound was about as fun as it could be, but it wasn't the worst. God knows he's had to clean up way worse.

After quickly slapping a kitten band-aid with the words "Paw-Sum Dude!" onto his wound, he found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror.

(Geez, I guess I'll never escape bein' pointdexter's shadow sometimes huh?)

It was to be expected with being a twin right? Especially if one was more famous than the other.

Although these days that "popularity" was more negative than positive.

(At least it wasn't the dog treats n' cat biscuits thing this time. I HATE when they do that.)

Geez what would Pa think with how they turned out, what would MA think?

Times like these he really wished he could literally beat some sense into people. If he could only make people understand Ford like he did, or at least, like he THOUGHT he did.

(Shoot, he started thinking like this again.)

Like a slideshow in science class, bits and pieces of memories of his youth flashed by in a blink of an eye.

Fond memories of their times on the beach, their first day of school, to the awkward start of learning to box.

To the less wonderful times, the fights between their parents or the family in general, times the two got hurt defending themselves from bullies, to all of the times the two fought.

...

"This was no accident, Stan; you did this! You did this because you couldn't handle me going to college on my own!"

(Crap, I'm dwellin' on this again? Why? It's been years since that dumb mistake!)

And yet it wasn't just a dumb mistake was it? It was THE dumb mistake. The one that cost Ford his dream college, the one that ruined their relationship for so many years, the one one that got Stanley kicked out onto the streets by their Father and was forced to survive all those years on his own.

(If only I had manned up and had told the truth about that dumb machine earlier, we probably could've fixed it. I could've prevented all of the junk that I caused to the family, I probably could've PREVENTED Ford from ever getting involved with that dumb triangle!)

But... was their any truth to that? In a perfect world where Stan didn't screw up once again, could he confidently say things would've been better?

(Why didn't he say anything that day? Why didn't he stand up against Pa that day? Did I screw up so much he hated me that much?)

The funniest part about that was he could'nt even ask Ford about it. If he did, Ford got this distant look on his face while havin' a 50/50 shot of either spacing out for a good while or freakin' out for what felt like AGES.

Stan began to feel a tight feeling in his chest, his throat starting to close as it started to become harder to breathe.

The very same man who had carried so much pride in himself and his work, that he was willing to leave Stan out to dry when Stan had screwed up his chances at getting into his dream school, was now a shell of his former self.

(You threw everything away for... for... some dumb triangle with an eye! Your self respect, your family, you gave it all up for what??)

Tears began to flow down Stanley's cheeks.

(Damnit, I shouldn't be crying. A man ain't supposed to cry over something as small as this!)

As Stan tried his best to try and rebottle his emotions again, something caught his eye as he looked out in front of him.

It was Ford. His spitting image stared back at him, looking just as upset as he was while wearing the same things as he did.

His previous sadness soon began to blossom into rage as Stan found himself grabbing the baseball bat he kept in the bathroom for emergencies.

"Y-YOU JUST HAD TO HAVE EVERYTHING DIDN'T YOU!"

*Crack*

"AND STILL YA GAVE UP EVERYTHING TA BE WITH SOMETHIN' THAT DOESN'T TREAT YA BETTER THAN A STRAY DOG!!"

*Shatter*

"I-I"

The words "Hate you" hung on the edge of this tongue. He wanted to say those words so BADLY. Wanted to believe em' too. And yet he couldn't.

The mirror in front of him was shattered beyond repair, pieces of it still hanging onto it's frame as the rest collected into the sink below it.

From those pieces, Stan was able to see the ball of anger that stood in front of him. Ford's reflection wasn't there anymore, it was him again, yet with the way he looked in the mirror, he also saw his Father's stern look staring back at him, his rage filled eyes reflecting back at him in the triangular piece of mirror that stubbornly held on to the mirror's frame despite what a majority of the other pieces did by just breaking off from it.

("All you ever do is lie and cheat, and ride on your brother's coattails.")

*Clunk*

The bat fell to the ground as Stan felt himself fall to his knees, tears flowing even stronger as he found his body doing the opposite of what his mind told it to do.

A bloodcurdling roar filled the night, similar to a hurt angry bear, the sound afterwards followed by sobs.

Stan would eventually get to collecting himself enough to clean up the mess in the bathroom, afterwards falling asleep at his armchair with the tv on as whitenoise. The framed pictures of his family watching over him as his only companions that night.

It was going to be "fun" to think up a lie to tell the neighbors the next day about the noise coming from his condo, but he was too exhausted to worry about that right now. Right now, he just wanted to sleep, hoping the cravings for certain substances would leave in the morning, he made so much progress for the twins already, he didn't want to lose all of it due to some "hysterical episode" of his.

Of course, when Mabel and Dipper called the next morning they'd be none the wiser of what ailed their Great Uncle, he'd be matching their excited energy as they told them what mischief they've gotten into lately.

Ford would still be none the wiser as he embraced his brother when they metup that afternoon, although he would find it strange Stanley had trouble looking him in the eye that day, although he'd be quickly brushed off when he'd ask Stan if anything was wrong and if he and his Muse could help with anything.

Stanley was going to make sure that nobody was going to see or know the fragile side to him.

Nobody was going to know that "Stanley Screwup Pines" was struggling with personal issue.

If luck wasn't on your side you kept trying until it was, even if you had to cheat your way to winning.

You didn't just accept defeat when you're knocked down.

If there was something wrong with a performance you just continued onwards, winging it and acting like nothing was wrong because the show must go on.

He wasn't ever going to cry in front of anyone.

Cause especially if he cried,

SHE would cry along with him.

And he wasn't ever going to let that happen as long as his lived.

In a way you could say this was the greatest con Stanley Pines ever did.

Convincing everyone, even himself, that he was infact, fine.

(HEY BESTIES! I totally lost some sleep writing this but after seeing the latest post my Jellyskink about Stan I knew I had to try writing some fanfiction for Stan!

The 14 year old girl that possessed me is happy to say it was fun to try writing more angsty fanfiction, especially since that's a specialty for the Gravity Falls Fandom when it isn't being silly or comforting lol.

I hope this turned out decently! As I writing this I was thinking of two Marina songs to recommend but I couldn't decide on one so I thought I'd share both of them.

"The Family Jewels"

"Teen Idle"

Both by Marina.

I hope I kinda captured Stan's essence! I always kinda thought he gave off the "Bruiser with a soft side" trope and stuff!

He's so bbg, I hope everyone enjoys the very girlypop and slaytastic fanfic I wrote for him! Geez I'm having too much fun talking like this lmao!)

THIS IS SO SADDD I LOVE IT 💔💔💔 POOR STAN!!!

(Pictured above: Ford's obliviousness has only gotten worse in his isolation from other humans)

(Also pictured above: the young twins are currently holding the family brain cells)

[n0vazsq]

Ice Princess | Pau Cubarsi x Reader

pairing . . . pau cubarsi x gf!skater!reader

summary . . . When you're scared about your upcoming competition, Pau makes it his mission to comfort you

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.3k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . ice princess is one of my fav movies of all time so ofc i had to make a fic out of it <33 also fluff bc i feel bad about all the angst ive written so yeah!! hope you guys enjoy <3

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . The arena was nearly empty, the distant hum of the Zamboni echoing through the cold air. You sat on the edge of the rink, nervously tightening the laces on your skates, the cold biting at your fingertips.

The competition was less than twenty four hours away, and despite weeks of preparation, anxiety filled your stomach. The stillness and shine of the ice mirrored your reflection, a still figure on the rink.

Pau leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on you with that soft, thoughtful expression he always had when he thought you couldn’t see. His presence had become a comforting, quiet thing you didn’t know you needed until it was there.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice low, filled with gentle encouragement.

You let out a shaky breath, meeting his eyes. "I think so…"

He grinned, the corners of his lips pulling up in a way that always made your heart skip a beat. "You always say that. And then you go out there and prove everyone wrong."

You laughed, the sound filled with nervousness. "This isn’t exactly the same, Pau. It’s not just practice. The regionals are tomorrow. I can’t mess this up."

He walked over, crouching down in front of you so you had no choice but to look at him. His hands found yours, warm and steady despite the cold. "You won’t. I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked for this. You’ve got this."

For a moment, you didn’t say anything, just held his gaze. It wasn’t just the competition that had your nerves on edge, it was the pressure you put on yourself. The long hours of training, the early mornings, the sacrifices.

Sometimes it felt like you were skating on thin ice, trying not to fall through.

"You’re not in this alone, you know," Pau said softly, as if reading your mind. "I’m here. No matter what happens tomorrow, you’ve already won in my eyes."

You felt the sting of tears, blinking them back. "You’re too sweet."

He stood, offering you his hand. "Come on. Show me one more time."

You took his hand, letting him pull you up onto the ice. The familiar glide of your skates steadied you, the world falling away as you moved. The cold of the air against your face, the sharp sound of your blades cutting into the ice.

It all felt like home.

Pau skated alongside you, a little clumsy but focused. He never minded how many times he almost tripped, just wanting to be there with you.

"You’re getting better," you teased, laughing as he nearly fell face first onto the ice.

He gave you a mocking glare, his eyes twinkling. "I’m just trying to keep up with the ice princess."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. "I still can’t believe you’re out here, freezing with me."

He shrugged, his grin softening. “I'm wearing layered clothes and a coat. You're in…this," He gestured to your skating dress, hands going up and down. "Besides, I’d rather be here than anywhere else.”

You felt the tension in your chest ease, the weight of tomorrow’s competition lifting just a little. You skated ahead, spinning into a perfect loop, the motion effortless, like it was normal.

When you landed, Pau was watching you, his eyes filled with something more than admiration. He skated closer, closing the distance between you. "You know, watching you out here… it’s like you’re flying. I can’t explain it."

You felt your cheeks warm, the compliment hitting deep. "It doesn’t feel like flying without you being my cheerleader."

He laughed, the sound beautiful and warm. "Then I’ll always be here, cheering for you. No matter what."

For a moment, the ice, the arena, the upcoming competition, all of it faded away.

It was just you and him, standing together in the quiet. The world outside the rink didn’t exist; all that mattered was you and Pau.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He smiled, leaning in, his forehead resting against yours. "You don’t have to thank me. I believe in you."

The cold air around you felt a little warmer, the ice a little softer beneath your feet. Tomorrow might be the biggest competition of your life, but in that moment, you knew you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

Pau pulled back slightly, his gaze lingering on yours. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a quiet strength that made your heart pound. "You know… I’ve watched you push yourself so hard for this. I just want you to know that, no matter what happens, it doesn’t change how amazing you are."

You swallowed hard, emotion welling up in your chest. "Pau…"

He brushed a gloved hand against your cheek, his touch so light, almost like a feather. "I mean it. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to win to be worth something. You already are."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he gently wiped it away. "I guess I’m just scared," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Scared of failing. Of disappointing everyone."

He shook his head, his eyes set. "You could never disappoint me. Not even if you tried, hermosa."

"You always know what to say." You laughed softly, the sound laced with tears.

"Only because it’s true," he said, his voice firm. "You’re stronger than you think."

You skated away from him, needing a moment to gather yourself. The ice stretched out in front of you, vast and empty, like a blank canvas.

You took a deep breath, then launched into a spin, letting the movement ground you. When you stopped, Pau was watching, his expression a mixture of awe and pride.

"You’re incredible," he said, his voice adoring.

You skated back to him, your heart pounding. "Only because I have you with me."

"Always." He grinned, pulling you close.

The silence stretched between you, comfortable and warm. Outside, the city continued on, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was the promise in his eyes, the unspoken vow that he would be there, no matter what.

As you stood there, the ice beneath you and Pau’s arms around you, you knew that you could handle anything. Tomorrow’s competition was just another step, another challenge. But with Pau by your side, you knew you wouldn’t face it alone.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching yours, filled with an emotion that made your breath catch. His hand, still gloved, cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down.

"You’re stronger than you think," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The world around you seemed to fade, the cold air replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the arena.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It was gentle, yet it held all the unspoken words, the promises, the quiet support he had given you.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. "No matter what happens tomorrow… you’ve already won in my eyes."

Your heart swelled, a mixture of nerves and comfort washing over you. "With you here, I feel like I have."

For a moment, the ice, the world outside, the pressure of the competition, all of it disappeared. There was only Pau, the steady beat of his heart, and the quiet promise of something more.

"I'll love you forever, and I'll support you no matter what, mi princesa de hielo."

After he said that, you knew that whether you won or lost, you'd have someone by your side.

And that someone was the love of your life.

[blackcatplushie]

Yandere in an Apocalypse

warnings: gun, blood, some violence

male yandere x reader

You run as fast as you can into the forest night. It's so dark outside you can barely see what's in front of you. Your feet hurt so much but you can't stop running, not while he's not far behind. It's colder outside than you remember. Or maybe it's because you're only wearing your pajamas. You didn't have the time to worry about dressing appropriately. 

Your lungs burn from running so hard. It's been a while since you've been so active. Hope springs into your chest as you see the fence come up on the horizon. You quickly throw your bag over and climb over not being aware of the jagged rocks behind the fence. You slip and slam your leg hard against a sharp rock. 

Blood oozes out and spills over your leg like a curtain. It's a large cut, from the middle of your calf down to your ankle. You whimper in pain and sit on the ground for a moment, cursing at the world for being so unforgiving.

Panic starts to rise as you look around for signs of any ghouls nearby. Zade went out often to "clean" the area and look for supplies but you weren't so sure about that anymore. The familiar groaning and stench of rot grows near as you struggle to get up.

You quickly try to wipe the blood away with your shirt but it's too late. They wander towards you with lifeless eyes and their jaws unhinging unnaturally, ready to devour. 

Your legs move before you can think. You try to run, ignoring the burning pain in your leg and the gush of blood that comes every step you take. You have to get to the edge of the forest no matter what. You remember seeing a motorbike rental shop there when you and Zade first came to this forest. It wasn't the greatest plan but maybe you could take a bike and get away from here. 

As you run, the smell of rot doesn't seem to go away leaving you confused. You realize too late that you're being surrounded by ghouls. They had been coming from ahead and behind you. They crowd around you hungrily. A crooked and manged hand shoots out towards you. Before it can touch you, a bullet whizzes past, shooting the ghoul in the head. 

You tremble and look behind you to see the man you've been running from. "Get down!" Zade yells. You get down and cover your ears. Bullets rain down on the ghouls taking them down quickly. You shake in fear hearing the gunshots. When did this become so commonplace? You wish you could go back to life before all this mess. When things were normal and you didn't have to spend everyday on edge. 

The bullets stop and you look up slowly, still trembling in fear. Not because of the ghouls but because now Zade is here and you know he isn't happy with you. His footsteps trudge towards you and you can't help but look down again. He sighs deeply before crouching in front of you and yanking your injured leg towards him. 

You yelp in pain and surprise which he scoffs at. "So fucking stupid. You did all this just to need me to save you. Do you know how pathetic that looks?"

You look away, not able to say anything. If he notices your fear, he doesn't mention it. Or maybe, he just doesn't care anymore. His rough fingers trace the edges of your wound. "Shit... I think you might need stitches," his eyes soften and the edge in his tone lightens after seeing the look on your face. "Don't worry, I'll fix you up as soon as we get home."

He pulls out a cloth and wraps it tightly around your leg. It hurts but you try not to let it show. He notices anyways. "It needs to be tight so you don't lose too much blood."

"I-I know..."

"You're so clumsy, how could I ever let you out?" he mutters to himself. "You could've died."

"What's that?"

"...Why can't you just let me go?" you mutter bitterly. 

"Why do I have to live like this? E-everyday I'm stuck waiting for you that facility for you to come back like some sort of dog... Or even worse I have to play nice and sweet so that you don't get upset and punish me!" you begin to sob, the resentment overwhelming you. "I'd rather die, but that's not allowed either! I hate you... I hate you so much!"

A unfamiliar expression appears on his face. At first it looks like anger and then guilt. He sighs, getting up slowly. "... Let's just go home. If you want to throw a tantrum right now, do it at home where the ghouls can't get you," he says. 

There's a rustling sound to the side of you and Zade. A ghouls stands up among the pile of bodies. Zade reaches for his gun, about to shoot but stops and looks back at you with a strange expression. "Huh, I guess I left one alive..."

He steps away from you leaving you confused and scared as the ghoul creeps near you following the scent of fresh blood. 

"Z-Zade? W-what are you doing? Hurry! It's coming closer!"

"Hm? Yeah... So what?" he says blankly. He tilts his head to the side smiling. 

"Please..! I-I'm sorry, just please kill it already!"

Your mind races, thinking about what he wants to hear. There's no time to think about being shameful right now. You want to get away from Zade of course but getting mauled by a ghoul is a painful way to go. Your pleading eyes dart frantically between the ghoul and Zade. In the end you spit out whatever you could think of, "Please help me, Zade! I'm sorry for running away, I-I just—Please I-I love you!"

"Hmm, okay, but only if you say what I want you to hear. I'm feeling a bit petty. You were just so mean to me." He puts his hand over his heart with and looks at you with a deep frown while wiping his nonexistent tears. You can't believe how annoying he's being right now. You're about to be mauled by a ghoul and he's sitting there joking around. 

In a swift motion, Zade pulls out a pistol and shoots the ghoul in the mouth right before it could chomp down on you. Its blood splatters on your face. You shake and sob, feeling tired and miserable from this whole mess. Zade comes down next to you and wipes the ghoul blood off your face with his sleeve. He's smiling down on you, a warm and satisfied look in his eyes. 

"Oh, you poor thing," he says softly, "Let's get you home, yeah? Get you a nice warm bath and some rest."

He picks you up and holds you tight for a moment. His brown hair tickles against the crook of your neck. You can feel him trembling a little before kissing your cheek and making his way back home. "I love you too... more than anything."

You lift your head slightly and see that the sun is starting to rise. Trails of ghoul bodies are littered across the trail. Ignoring the bodies, the forest looks beautiful in the morning. "Am I going to be punished?" you ask Zade tearfully. 

You sniffle, your cries easing into shudders as he carries you home. You can't help but feel comforted as he holds you. He's the only one you have left after all. The people you loved and the world you knew before has withered away into nothingness. You wrap your arms around him and cry into his shoulder. He pats your head softly. 

He laughs softly, his dimples showing. "Of course you are."

[everygayhere]

LOST IT

hey guys so... sorry about not posting much these days or these couple of months but i have a new story you guys might like.... as for the other on i have i've written a few pages of it. it's just not good right now so i need to fix them who know it might get posted after this chapter of the new story.

summary: Jenna and y/n meet while on set of Wednesday season two, from being strangers to friends to lovers. Taking a look into the past lives between the two of them. Y/N going through the turmoil of being in her present life and looking back on her past. will her future change or will it remain the same?

CHAPTER 1

The cold pelted against you as you stood out in the rain, chest beating, breath ragged. Slowly soaking hunched over feeling your tears run down your face. The only thought running through your brain was that she was happy, finally happy. Trying to ease your mind of the gut wrenching feeling of losing the love of your life. You stood in the open, vulnerable not paying attention to those who looked towards you or the feeling of pity stares.

Instead you focused on all the memories you two shared. All the love, the secret looks, the long night hangouts, the laughs shared, the inside jokes, the warmth of each other's bodies, the holidays spent together, being introduced to her family, birthdays, set days and just everything you experienced together. Collapsing to the ground, broken, feeling it inside and out. You lost it. Not far from the reason as to why you felt like this. You lost it. Everything that was bottled up hidden by a smiling face and happy persona. You lost it. 10 feet from people talking together, smiling a real smile, laughing with genuine happiness. YOU. LOST. IT. 

It didn’t take long for those who were already looking to stop talking and facing you fully, but still you didn’t notice. You sat there continuing to lose it in your wet shirt, buttons undone, jacket off soaked clothes, on the ground. Those thoughts of trying to reassure yourself soon changed to degrading everything you’ve done from the moment you started breathing. Why couldn’t I just be normal? What is wrong with me? I’m an idiot a dumb stupid idiot. I deserve to feel like this, nothing in my life has gone the way I wanted it to.  You couldn’t stop the spiral finally breaking free. Here you were feeling this pain that you thought was impossible. 

Standing in the cold you looked up from where you were back at the event. No one was looking back at you, no one who was there was noticing your presents. How could they, you weren’t really there, no you were 6ft under in a cemetery with your headstone covered in dried leaves and dirt. No one you shared those memories with noticed you. The only ones looking at you were the ones living in the same place you living in, the inbetween. Cursed to roam the world until they felt like leaving and if they didn’t in time they would be cursed to stay forever. You knew this, they knew this. It was ironic really that it happened to you. You just couldn’t leave her, not when she was sad, not when she needed you still. Even when she didn’t need you at one point you couldn’t leave your time was up. 

Here you were losing it having flashbacks of your past life the day you died it was coming back to you and you didn’t know what to do. You thought you had come to the relaxation you couldn’t change anything that life was life and yet here you are years later crying breaking down. Losing any relative thinking because the love of your life was getting married to someone else 10 feet away. If only five years ago from today things turned out different you would be standing there saying your vows and crying from the happiest you felt standing and watching the love of your life walk down the aisle. 

10 years ago

You had just gotten the biggest role of your life, you were finally going to make something of yourself. The feeling was amazing to be called by your manager saying you got the role. Was different after constant rejection, you had finally landed something. The best part was that it was with none other than Tim Burton himself.  You love all of his films. Since it was indeed the best call you could ever receive you decided to go out for a drive and get yourself an Ice cream. The night was so nice even though it was running and pouring down you thought this was the best drive you have ever had. 

The next day you were called for an online meeting since you didn’t live in LA or The United states in general. The meeting was so that they could cover the character you’ll be playing and the time you need to fly out to set and where you’ll be staying. So with slight nerves you got everything set up ready for your meeting. After 30 minutes you joined the meeting. 

“Ah Y/N thank you for joining the meeting on time. I hope it’s not too much of a time difference.”   The bright pixels showed Tim’s face as he spoke to you.

“Oh no not at all Tim. Thank you for the role.” you replied nervously. With a small smile.

“great , while let’s get right into huh? So let’s start with the character you’ll be playing. You’ll be a child of the afterlife really so that goes for death, god, the devil all in one. The concept is that you were crafted to create a stable life for those in the mortal world. You’ll be immortal and an adopted child, cousin’s with Ajax. you’re arriving late because you were needed in an undisclosed place before coming to Nevermore. You’ll have a few different abilities such as teleporting, strength, hypnotism, shapeshifting and going in and out of the realm of the dead as you please. It’ll be different from the one in beetle juice, you’ll have a dark obese with three doors for each realm, hell, heaven and of course the in between. Any questions on that?”

Tim looks at you waiting for an answer.

“Will my character have any weaknesses for them to be able to die?” you asked.

“Yes in fact they will be a weapon of some sort but you don’t need to worry about that as of now.” tim replied 

“Okay well that’s all I really have about the character.”

“Okay so let’s get into the arrangement of flights and where you’ll be living. So we’ll be filming in Europe, probably in Ireland and you’ll be living in the apartment complex with the other actors. The flight’s will be sent to you so you know the times of when to leave and be able to get here. Also set hours will be sorted when you get here since we still need to get measurements for your costumes. As well as introductions  with everyone else. Other than that… oh yeah your script will be sent to you online to read through and then you’ll have your real copy when you get here.” Tim says looking back at you 

“That sounds great. I'll make sure to read through all of it and get ready for everything.” you replied. 

“Perfect talk soon.” Tim says before ending the meeting. 

You were left sitting in your living room of the apartment you shared with your roommates. No one in your apartment knows about this so you’re happy that they were all gone off to work or at Uni to not be at home to listen to your meeting. Looking at all the emails that were sent to you for the set and where you’ll be going. You planned what you needed to do for the next few weeks before leaving. 

You sat at the living room with all the rest of your roommates staring at you confused on why you called a meeting. “So I won’t be living here for a while or maybe ever again so I have my share of the cost of the apartment in this envelope for 2 months and that should cover the whole time I'm still here before I leave. I just wanted to let you guys know so you can start looking for a new roommate.” you sat there smiling at all of them placing the envelope on the coffee table. 

“Wait so you’re leaving in 2 months? Why?” Abby, one of your friends asked, looking at you weirdly. 

“I swear if it’s you trying to U-haul yourself into another girl's apartment just think about it a bit more because you know what happened last time.” your friend Fred said, looking at you with concern. 

“Oh please don’t, look we know you're a hopeless romantic but the last time you tried it with your girlfriend Erica it didn’t go too well. I Mean you guys broke up after moving in for a week and you're lucky that when you came back the room was free and not only that but when you moved back in you wouldn’t stop listening to sad songs and crying for 3 months.”  Jess explained, freaking out. Jess was always looking out for you and making sure you were okay. She was like your mum. 

“Okay, first of all, yes I am leaving in 2 months. Secondly, I can’t say why it’s my secret.. Thirdly, I'm not u-hauling. Okay, I learned my lesson after the 5th time… Fourth, it’s nothing to do with me having a girlfriend. I don't even have one. You guys know that I've been single for 2 years now.” 

“Okay so why are you leaving? Did you find a better place without us? Are you getting sick of us right now cause look we don’t even barge in your room all the time… anymore. Okay look we’ll stop for real give you all the privacy in the world.”  Jess said, sitting in front of you holding your hands. 

“No it’s not that either okay. I don’t care that you come into my room unannounced… at least not anymore.” you responded whispering that last part. 

“Then what is it? If you don’t have a good enough explanation then we won’t let you leave.” Abby said, crossing her arms and staring down at you. She was easily angered when it came to not answering her questions or just ignoring her in general. 

“Okay first of all what do you not get by it’s my secret and secondly you can’t do that i’m pretty sure against the law.” Y/n said looking at her scared. 

“Well tell us and Abby won’t lock you away in your room tied to your bed.” Fred sat sipping his drink well looking at you. 

“Huh.. okay but i’m not telling you everything and you need to not tell anyone and I mean anyone, no random hookups fred, none of your uni mates Jess and no one at the bar Abby okay?” Y/N responded seriously, looking at all three of them in the room. 

“Hey it’s not all hook ups, I bring friends over.” Fred answered, offended. Everyone turned to look at him with raised eyebrows pointing to the fridge with the point system with all the men he’s slept with. “...you guys are mean,” he said, sinking further into the couch. 

All three of them scoffed at him. “Okay fine we promise to not say anything to anyone. Unless you're a secret agent and we didn’t know.” Abby responded with a smirk 

Y/n looked at her with a straight face then at Jess waiting for her to respond. 

“I promise to not tell anyone as well y/n/n.” 

Y/n smiled and looked at Fred. 

"Yeah yeah I promise the same.” 

Y/n let out a breath and smiled at all of them. “Okay so basically I've been doing some auditions and I haven't told you guys about it because I was scared, I was never going to get any roles and it would have been a waste of my time. Which has been happening until today. I got a call from my manager that I got a role and it’s a pretty big role. I can’t say anything else.” Y/n said looking at all of them both excited and nervous. 

“Omg y/n that’s so great!!!” all of them yelled while jumping up.

“Okay we can be quiet, you know we have neighbors and thin walls.”  y/n responded by putting her hands up and standing from the chair.  

“Holy shit our friend and roommate is going to be a star. Don’t you dare forget about us or else.” Abby threatened y/n. y/n gulped knowing that they all had some blackmail in their phones. 

“Of course I won't. You guys are the closest family I have.” y/n said looking up at them.

[stfu-im-thinking-abt-blorbo]

Game Devs force Local Artist to make their Agent OC come out of self-imposed retirement and design a prosthetic arm for them against their will. More at 8.

Bro is NOT happy.

[nomairuins]

i like overthink everything now it makes me feel so dumb. i used 2 be able to just talk 2 ppl but nowadays every single thing im like Is that actually going to make them hate me. Yes probably. and then i just dont respond which makes ppl hate me. this is how it is

[bludraws094]

love it when a characters just A Guy but either

is being dragged into Weird Shenanigans against their will

exists in a world where being just A Guy is considered weird as fuck

first is like "im gonna do my taxes" "no <3 fuck you <3 <3"

second is like "im gonna do my taxes" "what the FUCK are taxes"

anyways tag your blorbos idc. also when i say just A Guy i mean "normal person who wants to live a normal life". not like. the epitome of a suburban dad or office worker. im Exaggerating for the purpose of being Silly and Goofy

[socksandbuttons]

In the "a day in the life of eclipse" it wasn't the first time Solar's Moon treated him badly. Remember when Lunar first showed up in Solar's dimension, Solar told Moon that there's a dimensional traveler and he'll deal with it. And his Moon responded with "good because I don't care!" it looks like his Moon has been aggressive/treated him badly to him from the start. Sorry, I just didn't understand what you meant by you ignoring the lore from a day in the life of eclipse because it is part of the lore now

You're new on my blog which i frequently ignore things in my headcanons from time to time. And that canon changes from how its interpreted. Anyway, stems from Solar's explaining his moons situation. The lore SLIGHTLY changed. In terms of Moon, being slightly Glitched due to killcodes removal/memory loss. He never mentioned Moon being mean before that (at least not on the terms before he left his dimension). Not unlike things to be slightly aggressive from Moon tho, just it wasnt PERCIEVED moon was a jerk to Solar UNTIL Solar reveals this later on (after Lunars death). They didn't really develop his story until later a little more. So I'm sticking to my previous headcanon of Moon having a glitch, which is canon to s degree? SOLAR himself has mentioned he wanted to fix his MOON AND SUN. Which was forgotten/changed and turned into just sun then into Solar leaving forever.

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

I really hate the inconsistencies that exist just to make SB (and CF technically) work, but also how hard Petra basically simps for Edelgard to the point it deconstructs aspects of her character.

In Houses she mentions her siblings being in danger if she died, but in SB she just doesn't even make any mention of them in this situation. She's just willing to possibly die all of a sudden for someone who never actually treated Brigid like its people were independent (which she could've done at literally any time from the moment she became emperor). She was relatively vocally I guess you could say "good" to Petra, but the way the writing handles Petra's response to all of it feels like Petra's just been brainwashed.

Petra says she would always choose survival and makes a point to emphasis that, but in SB she's completely and carelessly willing to risk her life and possibly throw it away... for Edelgard? Who still has not actually officially freed Brigid? And if Petra were to stop being Edelgard's ally?

"Reconsideration". Because Brigid was never freed and now they're not going to be as long as Edelgard is in charge, because their queen is no longer bending to her will and fighting for her. If she was ever truly planning to free Brigid, Petra's decision alone not to fight for her shouldn't have changed that fact (especially since she supposedly gives her the choice in Houses to fight for her or not, and on non CF routes she does this by sending a letter, to which Petra refuses).

It should, of course, be obvious with this that everything is very not hunky dory between Adrestia and Brigid, but then...

...eh wot hooligans???

I mean sure, if you considered forced vassalage to be "peace" and not being a free people "peace" then sure. But like... it's not a peace her people want and she should know that, but the game tends to do this back and forth with this topic. I hate it though because it makes it come across as being forced into submission and not having the means to fight back is "peace".

I know this game has lots of issues with uh, if you're attacked or if you were defeated by another military force you should submit and be happy about being taken over, and when you can't fight back anymore that's "peace" because nobody's fighting... but uhh... why is that only an issue with the Empire? I mean, we know why - the devs wanted to walk with her and they admitted it! But like... they should still know when they're writing something reeeeally icky.

Duscur doesn't have this problem and they're not under Edelgard's foot. Anything under Edelgard's foot though is treated like they should be thankful for her control and/or invasion(s). That just overall sends a really nasty message. I don't know that the devs meant to do that as far as an Empire, but I do think it's because they went a little hard with the Edelgard bias and somehow forgot what it would look like to an audience playing the game.

It's like they know it's not a good thing but they keep pushing the "Brigid isn't actually free but it's still peace because nobody is fighting" narrative.

Like... I don't care how much you love a character you're writing. You can't tell me that oppressed nations would just call oppressions "peace" or that their leaders would be more than happy to fight and die for the leader of the nation oppressing them. It gets even worse when you get into the racial territory of it, but that's a topic I've already covered so I'm not gonna go over it again here.

[doctorweebmd]

so there's this post floating around about like, feeling like an outsider even in a group of outsiders and i almost reblogged it being like

'aha i do that'

except. like. i know exactly why that happens, and its 100% my fault

i just have trouble maintaining relationships because i'm a poor communicator. that's been the case since high school. i dont really initiate conversations or remember to text or call people. its not from a place of indifference or anything like that - i'm sincerely an 'out of sight out of mind' kind of person.

i can not talk to and not see someone for months or years but my feelings for them don't change. it doesn't bother me if people dont check in on me or don't hang out with me or don't text me. i still like them. unfortunately that is not how 99% of the population communicates. people (rightfully) assume that when someone doesn't initiate conversation or hang-outs or doesn't check in on you, that they don't care about you. for me, thats not the case at all. like if i like you and consider you my friend, you are ALWAYS my friend. i would do anything for you and would be more than happy to talk/see each other/support you/etc. its just the day-to-day communication that i really struggle with. but thats how most relationships form - regular, consistent communication.

i've gone through periods of extreme guilt for this where i sincerely try, and make new friends, and re-connect with texting and phone calls and hanging out more often but inevitably something happens, i get busy or i forget and suddenly all this time passes and people think i dont care anymore. unfortunately that's not the case whatsoever - time is kind of abstract to me and i dont understand that while my feelings don't change, others feel more distant or abandoned.

and i've really hurt people in my life like that. friends that i've known for many years from high school/college are a LITTLE more forgiving because they know i'm just 'like that' but still. it does hurt people. like i haven't spoken to my dad in probably at least a year - not because i dont love him, but because of that same reason. he doesn't reach out and i forget and it just steamrolls because he gets hurt, doesn't reach out because he thinks i'm intentionally 'ignoring' him, and i continue to forget, and its just this viscous cycle. i haven't talked to my grandparents in months. my mom knows better and texts me every week or so, but it still hurts her that she has to reach out so regularly. she also plays these games where she sees how 'long' it takes for me to remember to reach out. a lot of people in my life have done that. its like i'm being tested on something without ever being told its a standard test, ya know? i'm always destined to fail it because i dont know how long is too long. at which point will the time and distance be unacceptable? i still dont know the answer.

and i think it makes me come off as a really heartless and callous person. its made me kind of keep people at arms-length because i know i'm not capable of being a part of most people's lives. i have perfectly normal and pleasant relationships with my coworkers and all that, but i'm generally not close with them. and i can see the confusion, because we hang out and i'm pretty normal or whatever and we have fun and then they don't hear from me for months and they're like 'uhhhh.... okay? so i guess you don't like me?'

i do. i just have different relationship maintenance standards than others i guess. so i just overall avoid being around others just because i know i'll disappoint them. it is what it is but it really is sad, in a way.