#guys I think I might be having a depressive episode

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

Cleaned my stovetop for the first time in 5 weeks. And caught up completely on dishes. I’m meant to be finishing my ma thesis but at least this is productive procrastination even if I’m not tackling the important things on my to-do list that actually matter for my long term future and this is the low hanging fruit of productivity

[you-can-be-what-you-want-to-be]

I think the reason trans girl mob goes off so hard is because… the show is inherently about a kid who’s an outcast learning to be his best most happy self. Like people always say be yourself yeah but that usually doesn’t actually mean anything.

Mob psychos thesis statement is you are NOT special, and that is beautiful because it means you can be anything. Just because you’re a good artist and a shit singer doesn’t mean you should do art instead of singing, you should do what makes you happy and strive to be as good at it as you can, because mediocre is an achievement when you aren’t special, it’s about self improvement, not being the best.

And then you get a kid, who’s constantly terrified of his own emotions and how they effect others and is seen as naive, who doesn’t fit the stereotypical masculine world well (weak as hell, cares a lot about emotions, pacifist) and doesn’t fit the stereotypical feminine world well either (reserved usually, in the body improvement club, horrible fashion, not able to read a room) and you say part of being the best, happiest possible version of yourself is realizing your gender, and it’s not a sad thing, and it’s not about anyone else, it’s about being the best you possible.

I don’t think mob in show is trans or would be any better or worse at being a girl than he is at being a boy, because it isn’t about that. It’s about the idea that when people do the things that are important to them without regard for what other people might think and only focus on being who they want to be (not who they think they should be, not on who they are, who they WANT to be, who would be both a good person and make them happy) that that is the best, happiest, most successful version of them. And I think that’s beautiful.

[butchboromir]

sorry that i often post "online for the night" and then proceed to say nothing other than "12am hi". this is on account of I am an empty husk of a human being

[girl-bateman]

it sounds so obvious now, but im pretty sure my physical problems rn can all be traced back to the fact that my brain and body has been in a constant hypervigilance and cortisol overload for 3 months straight. the dizziness, the blackouts, the acne, the constant nausea, the giant eyebags and sudden crows feet ?? Like yeah, no shit thats what happens when ur every waking hour is the equivalent of that camille preaker crying gif

[alias-mike]

gamers i am so tired

[lolokouhm]

| Suguru doesn't eat, but tonight he's hungry | smutty smutty smut | tattooed Geto | depressed Geto | kinda poetic | Geto is young and beautiful and not crazy |

„You haven’t eaten, have you?”

No, Suguru hasn’t eaten.

It’s not like you’re surprised. He’s lost weight - nah, he’s been losing weight steadily for the past few weeks. People say that it’s hard to notice when you see someone regularly, but it’s not hard at all - especially in his case. You’re not sure what’s changed exactly. Suguru still looks relatively healthy, not underweight, but the dark circles under his eyes speak volumes.

You sigh and walk into his apartment. It’s surprisingly neat, to the point it’s a bit scary - so clean it gives an impression as if no living person could function there. And maybe that’s exactly how it is. Maybe that tall, handsome guy in black sweats that greets you is not a person anymore, but a ghost. It’s a question you constantly ask yourself in your head, but never dare to answer. Your heart would break. 

„I wasn’t hungry.” A smile appears on his pale face and you sigh again. 

You’ve been friends with Suguru since high school, but after your last year you went your separate ways, just to meet again years later - just a few months ago. He didn’t change much, at least not visually - except for his arms. He might have gone a little bit crazy on ink there, and that’s exactly what got the two of you talking again. Tattoos. You’ve never expected Suguru Geto, that sophisticated, awfully smart Geto would cover both of his arms in the most insane pieces of art you’ve ever seen. You’ve had your own share of ink under your skin, but your collection was quite messy and not that cohesive. You liked trying new styles, creating your own map of memories from different places and different artists, while his tattoos were definitely an artwork made by one man. You had a million questions, he was happy to answer - that’s how you ended up in his apartment for the first time. Soon you realised you had a million subjects to go through - politics, art, even God. It was easy, talking with him. It was fun.

And then it began - the movie nights, when the two of you were going through different eras of cinema alphabetically, also bringing snacks that would start on the same letter as the movie you were watching. A stupid idea that you shamelessly stole from „The Barbie Diaries” - the first movie you’ve watched together and the first one that left Suguru completely traumatised. 

„Luckily for you, today we’re watching The Notebook, so we’ll be having noodles. What kind of noodles do you want, sir?”, you ask, handing him an invisible microphone.

Suguru chuckles. 

„Spicy.” 

A few clicks later the food is already on its way and the two of you get comfortable on his huge couch. The projector starts warming up and you look around - it’s completely dark inside and if it weren’t for the fact you know Suguru well, you’d think he made the apartament that way so the two of you could watch the movie comfortably. Your gaze goes back to him - his body hunching over the laptop, fighting with Netflix again. 

The projector turns on and the movie starts, as the two of you hide yourselves under the blankets. Unfortunately, you can’t focus. You’re worried.

You’ve had some conversations about his depressive episodes before, so technically you know what he’s going trough, but honestly - you don’t. He doesn’t really talk about it, but if you could get into his head you’d understand how much he values your bare presence next to him. If you could get into his head, you’d know way more, but luckily for Suguru, you can’t. He wouldn’t like that. 

In normal circumstances, at least. Because tonight, he is hungry, he is frustrated, and he needs warmth. 

And you are anything but cold. 

So when he catches your eyes on him, he bets. If you turn away, he’ll let you go. If you give in, he’ll make you stay. 

Three seconds. That’s how much time it takes for Suguru to get closer to you and kiss you. 

It’s short, soft and sensual, but it makes his head go fuzzy, and when he pulls back he just hopes you won’t run away. Don’t run away. Don’t. 

You’re not running.

You’re sitting, legs crossed, just as you were seconds before. Your face is completely red now as Suguru’s eyes scan you carefully, desperate to see the future. Will you go? Will you slap him? 

„Why did you do that?” Your own voice doesn’t even sound like your voice. „The Notebook” in the background is now completely forgotten, the flickering lights on the screen keep on changing and throwing different shades on Suguru’s pale face. You didn’t expect that. Not that you didn’t want to or think about it, it’s just…

„I’m hungry” he whispers, and the way his voice sounds gets shivers sprinting down your spine. „And the food’s not here yet.” 

„Yeah. It’s not.” He still keeps his hands on your cheeks, right thumb gently brushing your skin, touch light as a feather. 

„What are we going to do about it?”, he murmurs, words are barely audible. He’s waiting. There’s another unspoken question hanging between the two of you, and you’re the one who needs to answer.

And that’s exactly what you do. 

Both of your hands are suddenly gripping onto his hoodie as you lean into him, lips crashing yet again, just with much bigger force this time. Suguru’s breath shakes as he finally comprehends that he won the bet and a smile crawls onto his face. You’re kissing him. His ray of sunshine. Well, maybe not his yet, but when he’s done with you, that’s exactly how you will be.

And that’s exactly what he does. 

His lips travel down your jaw, stop for a second under your ear and then go straight to your neck as your hands let go of his hoodie and find their way to his hair, gripping desperately on the black strands loosely caught in a bun. He groans at the feeling as he bites the skin of your exposed collarbone, his fingers playing with the hem of your blouse, eager to feel more and more of you. Suguru looks up and tries his best not to moan at the sight of your face, your lipstick completely devoured. 

„Can I?”, a hoarse whisper leaves his throat, but it’s not even a question. He’s begging you. 

And you let him. 

He takes his own hoodie of as you take off yours - and you can see them again. The artwork on his arms. You lean your body against the pillows on the right side of the couch and Suguru gulps. He’s been imagining that for a while now, but the reality, for the first time in fucking forever, was so, so much better. His lips go back to sucking and licking your skin and by the moment he reaches your breasts you whine. His hot tongue plays with your nipples, making you impossibly wet, and the bare sight of him shirtless in those awfully beautiful sweats is not helping at all. A part of you is relieved - his muscles are still there, tensing a bit with every movement. And when he pulls away for a moment, you notice it.

„You’ve got a new one.” A koi fish, on his ribs, drawn as usual in a traditional style, this time with a bit of colour. Red. Your favourite. Your hand is shaking, but you can’t help yourself. You trace the shape of the tattoo, his hot skin under your fingertips feeling like fire. You are in awe - even more when you look at him again, breathing heavily. A god. He looks like a god. 

And then he proceeds to make you feel like you’re nowhere but in heaven.

He’s not hungry anymore - by the time you’re completely naked he’s starving. His name escapes your lips when his grip on your thighs gets tighter, and then it hits you - his tongue finally making contact with the place you needed him in so desperately. Your hands find his hair again, pulling it relentlessly when he inserts two slender fingers inside of you, at the same time licking your clit. Suguru’s ravenous. You could be his breakfast, his lunch, his dinner, his dessert - everything. He could eat you out all the time, no breaks, no thoughts, no objections. He tries to control his own hips that have been grinding into the couch for a while now, but the feeling of you on his tongue isn’t making it any easier. 

„Suguru…” your voice comes back to you, a familiar feeling slowly building up inside of your stomach. „I’m so close.” 

You really are, and your clouded mind is making the sensation almost unbearable. Suguru groans yet again, happier then ever, and then you hear it.

„Come for me, baby.”

So soft. So simple. Not a demand, by no means. An invitation - to fall apart on his tongue. 

You take it.

His name leaves your lips as your orgasm blinds you, back arching as you pull his hair so hard he groans. Suguru doesn’t stop right away - he makes you ride it out, drinking you like holy water. You shake and quiver and he thinks that maybe that’s exactly what it is. Holy water on his tongue. 

And so you lay, completely fucked out under his perfect body, and when he goes up to look at you he’s almost sure he’s going to come right there, in his pants. You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect.

„Fuck.” It falls from his lips as he’s taking these damn pants off and you gasp. „I just… Fuck.” He runs his hands down his face, your arousal glistening all over him. It’s like he shines. You might be going insane. Fucking Geto Suguru, hovering over you, his cock impossibly hard, looking for words. „Can I…”

Before he finishes, you lean into him and bring him down, pulling his neck closer to you and diving into the kiss. He pants and you get scared - it’s not reality. It can’t be. Suguru leaning into your touch, Suguru groaning into your ear, Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. His name carved all over your body, all over your mind. 

He goes in slowly, trying his best not to come right away, but he’s more than determined to make you cum again, this time on his cock. He starts thrusting, diving as deep as possible and then reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. It feels so good. Too good to be true. He doesn’t fuck you - it’s way more than that. His lips move up and down your neck, leaving desperate kisses between pants and grunts. Suguru is in pain and you’re the cure. Suguru is the moon and you’re the sun. Suguru is the believer.

And you’re the god.

You asked him about it one night. 

„Do you believe in God, Suguru?”

He said he didn’t, but he changed his mind. He does.

His god is right there, under his fingers.

You come again, moaning right into his lips when you kiss, and the way you clench around him sends him to the edge. He hides his head into the crook of your neck and twitches inside of you, warm cum covering your insides as he pants, hips desperately bucking into you. You’re barely conscious, but you wrap your arms around him and hold him as he’s trying to catch his breath. His heartbeat runs through you and it kinda feels like you’re one person. Maybe that’s exactly what you have become. 

One. 

„Are you still hungry?” 

You can feel him laughing into your skin. Suguru moves his head up and readjusts it, so he can see the bite marks on your neck a little better. Like a tattoo. Another one to your collection.

„Starving.”

masterlist ❤️

[mulletmitsuya]

Tokyo Revengers Groupchat (Final Timeline)

Warnings: suggestive (i might have to change this warning to "mentions of sexual content" bcs it's too tame of a warning for the stuff that's actually in here), swearing, the word "pedophile" is mentioned, mentions of substance abuse

Desc: Everyone finds out Takemitchy and Mikey are time leapers, which leads to some...interesting questions

Mitsuya: so let me get this straight

Mitsuya: you're a time traveler, and you've lived dozens of timelines to prevent Hina from dying but she kept dying anyway but then when you got to one where she didn't die, Mikey was some deranged criminal lord and was miserable and depressed and tried to kill himself so you had to go back in time again to make sure everything was fixed but ended up dying while fighting Mikey but then somehow you both went back in time and rewrote all of our entire lives??

Takemitchy: yeah...

Baji: cap

Mikey: it's not

Mitsuya: so Mikey's a time traveler too?

Mikey: yeah it's crazy i know

Draken: do you guys have any way to prove this?

Chifuyu: this explains why i keep getting random visions of me in alternate universes. holy shit

Haruchiyo: weird ass prank

Takemitchy: i think it happened since you're close to me and we basically did everything together. i'm not sure

Inupi: we're just gonna believe this?

Koko: wait, i kind of do

Kisaki: this...defies all logic of anything ever.

Mikey: shut up Kisaki

Mikey: i'm sorry it's just that in ever other timeline you've ruined my life so it's difficult to be nice to you sometimes

Kisaki: so you don't like me because of something i did in another universe?

Takemitchy: *timeline

Mikey: yeah. my bad

Baji: i'm gonna entertain this cause i'm bored but what was i like in other timelines

Mikey: dead

Baji: ...all of em?

Mikey: yeah, it kinda drove me to insanity

Baji: damn

Baji: why?

Mikey: you killed yourself to save Kazutora

Baji: what was the context

Mikey: long story

Baji: there wasn't any other way?

Mikey: you're kinda pissing me off cause that's what i was wondering, actually

Baji: damn

Kazutora: thanks man. appreciate it🙏

Kazutora: i'll slobber on your meat later, as a proper thank you

Baji: i'd appreciate that. thanks homie🙌

Koko: what about me?

Baji: you wanna slobber on my meat? i mean i won't stop you. as long as i can call you kitten.

Koko: ...i was talking about me in alternate universe's😐

Takemitchy: i don't think we should go there guys. there's too many timelines, and not everything was exactly the same. and also in general it was a really traumatizing experience for me and i kind of want to end my life every time i think about it

Hanma: womp womp. what about me???

Mikey: murderer

Hanma: YESSSSS 😭😭😭😭😭

Hanma: THANK GOD, I KNEW IF I COULDN'T DO IT HERE, MULTIVERSE ME WOULD HAVE LIVED THE DREAM

Hanma: are me and Tetta-san together in every universe

Mikey: surprisingly, yes

Hanma: and he denies we're soulmates😔

Kisaki: i will not hesitate to get another restraining order

Hanma: a piece of paper won't stand in my way. let's get married

Kisaki: i will call the police

Draken: guys are we really entertaining this?

Mikey: you went to jail in one of the timelines and you were bald LMAO

Draken: sure

Baji: why'd he go to jail?

Mikey: these guys killed Emma and Ken-chin took revenge

Baji: respectable

Mikey: he was given a death sentence

Baji: that's tough fr

Ran: i'm kinda curious

Ran: humour me, what was i like?? was i famous?

Mikey: you were a criminal. killed people

Ran: sounds about right if i'm being honest

Ran: and Haruchiyo and Rindou?

Haruchiyo: leave me out of Takemitchy's psychotic episodes

Haruchiyo: i think you have a hallucination/delusion disorder or something

Mikey: but don't you believe me?

Haruchiyo: ...

Haruchiyo: Mikey, you're also pretty mentally ill

Mikey: says you???

Haruchiyo: i just have substance abuse problems and i'm getting clean so...

Mikey: GUYS I'M TELLING THE TRUTH I SWEAR

Mikey: I'VE BEEN GOING CRAZY KEEPING THIS A SECRET

Draken: when was the last time you slept?

Mikey: ☹️

Baji: guys just play pretend.

Rindou: what about me?

Mikey: same as your brother just uh, less gay and slutty?

Rindou: story of my life

Inupi: you didn't do Koko

Mikey: criminal

Koko: the whole time?

Mikey: yeah

Mikey: Inupi got normal at some point because he and Ken-chin got close and they fixed bikes together and had sex

Inupi: Draken????

Draken: you're really starting to piss me off.

Mikey: Akane died in the fire though like she was BURNT

Takemitchy: uh Mikey-kun...

Mikey: she was a crisp i'm telling you

Mikey: Inupi you had an ugly red scar on your face and no one wanted you

Mikey: Izana i know you're reading this, you were fucking insane dude like you killed Emma for some fucking reason then Kisaki shot you 3 times in the chest and you died while having a really bad mental breakdown. it was a major L on your part

Chifuyu: Mikey why are you leaving out the fact that the common denominator in every single timeline was that you killed every single one of your friends in the most brutal ways possible🤨?

Mikey: no comment

Smiley: how'd he kill me?

Chifuyu: uhhh

Chifuyu: Takemitchy help me out here

Takemitchy: i don't want to talk about it😐

Chifuyu: I REMEMBER

Chifuyu: backshot

Smiley: ...

Smiley: he killed me by giving me backshots..?

Smiley: i would NEVER take it from behind

Smiley: especially from MIKEY

Smiley: small dick having ass

Smiley: my bootyhole is not to be messed with

Smiley: i'm so pissed off right now holy shit

Smiley: how did i even die???? dick so good it killed me?

Smiley: i'm so angry

Angry: and i'm Smiley😂

Baji: 3/10 joke 👎, poor delivery, fell flat

Smiley: i hope you kill yourself, Mikey

Mikey: trust me, i've tried

Chifuyu: ???

Chifuyu: he shot you in the back with a gun?

Chifuyu: what's wrong with you

Smiley: oh my bad i though you meant like, he was taking me doggy style

Smiley: i'm no bottom

Ran: what is happening

Chifuyu: i'm moving on😐

Chifuyu: Hakkai was tied to a chair and burnt to death

Hakkai: wha-

Hakkai: WHAT DID I DO??

Hakkai: jesus 😟

Chifuyu: why am i getting all these memories, i'm freaking out

Hakkai: Mikey please tell me what i did to deserve that ☹️

Mikey: idk Hakkai i was going through a lot

Draken: have you been diagnosed with anything?

Mikey: i don't need a diagnosis bcs i'm fine now, you're all alive and i don't have any murderous intent!!! yippee🤗

Mikey: isn't this great Takemitchy??

Takemitchy: well, yeah no ones dead so that's great

Izana: this is obviously completely fabricated

Izana: are you guys that bored?

Senju: man for all that time traveling you sure are a shit boyfriend😭

Takemitchy: how????

Takemitchy: did Hina say that☹️??

Senju: it's an observation

Senju: you've had way too many coincidental close calls with other woman💀

Draken: yeah you pissed me off when you thought i was gifting you a prostitute. you had a whole ass girlfriend. shame on you

Senju: and you also almost slept with Emma and you "don't remember"

Smiley: Mitchy's low-key funny as hell because what do you mean you stripped yourself and another girl down to your underwear by accident

Baji: wouldn't Takemitchy be a pedophile then?? Emma was 13 dawg🤨

Mikey: he was 14 though😭

Baji: you're gonna ride Takemitchy's dick to defend him from trying to sleep with your 13 year old sister??? crazy

Baji: wasn't be mentally 26🤨?

Baji: bro i'm gonna beat your ass actually

Mikey: hmm

Mikey: you know what Mitchy, why did you do that 🤨?

Smiley: LMFAOO

Mitsuya: why did i come back to Takemitchy facing pedophile allegations, like what's going on right now

Kazutora: is it not enough that he changed the space and time continuum just to be with his girl?

Kazutora: cheating this cheating that, my boy deserves all the pussy he wants

Kazutora: he's been beaten, shot, stabbed AND killed

Kazutora: i personally believe he's the goat

Baji: ?

Chifuyu: goat is an acronym for "greatest of all time", Baji-san

Baji: what's an acronym

Chifuyu: i'll dm

Kazutora: bro you're so fucking stupid😭

Draken: i don't care if he was skinned alive by an orangutan, there's no excuse to cheat on someone

Rindou: i think being skinned alive by an orangutang warrants having more than one girl. idk that's just me tho

Ran: not the point that's being made rn

Rindou: what exactly is the point that's being made

Rindou: is this real. are we being serious.

Rindou: i don't think i get the joke

Haruchiyo: i think we should all stop talking now

Mikey: Mitchy we need to talk a bit

Takemitchy: i told you this was a bad idea

[forpiratereasons]

all right. i'm ready to talk about izzy.

izzy is a great character. in s1 he sits in this great position as an antagonist that's close to the main characters, and in s2 he sits in this great position as an antagonist who's gotten everything he wanted, and found that actually - fuck! - that's not it at all. the world changes enough in s1 that there's no satisfaction in izzy getting what he wants out of blackbeard. and it's not just ed that's changed, it's not just the crew, izzy himself is fundamentally changed too. even before s2, and that change continues to grow and flourish through the series.

in reality, death is cruel. and death is senseless. and death is unfair, and shitty, and it happens to the wrong people at the wrong time, too early, with too much to live for, who mean too much to too many. it happens.

maybe izzy's death is all of those things, but i don't think that's the point. it's not meant as a lesson in mortality; it's not meant as retribution for past crimes; it's not meant as a commentary on who deserves to live and who deserves to die. it's not about deserving. if anything, it's about the fact that deserving doesn't come into it at all.

the point is that izzy healed.

a lot has been made of the fact that izzy is the only character who bears visible scars from the kraken era - the scar on his head, as well as the leg. but i don't think they're meant as a reminder of the injury, or as a sign that izzy is "damaged" post-kraken era. they're representative of the fact that izzy healed. the scar is there to remind you that izzy survived. you see it heal over multiple episodes because that's the work izzy is doing - he's healing from blackbeard's actions, from his own actions, from his history, from his constraints.

it's not too late to heal. it's not too late to find your place. it's not too late to come out. it's not too late to let people in. it's not too late.

and all those things are worth doing despite the fact that our time here is limited. we are all going to die. but we are here right now, which means it's not too late, and it is worth it to free ourselves to be who we need to be regardless of who we have been and who we are now and what time we might have left.

izzy isn't suicidal in ep 8. he's healed from that. izzy isn't abused or depressed or alone in ep 8. izzy is strong, and competent, and respected, and loved.

and some folks have been disappointed it's not romantic love. i get that. but i think it's super important too that izzy's healing is worth it without romantic love. familial, platonic love is so fundamentally important to the queer community. found family. friends. solidarity. the look when some stranger sees you and you see them and you both know the other is family, that they're safe. the way we fight for each other - for our rights to love who we want, fuck who we want, to marry, to adopt kids, and also for housing, for jobs, for healthcare. for our rights to use the bathroom, for our rights to choose our own names and our own bodies and our own families. we're fighting for our right to exist and that, guys, it's not romantic. the foundations of our community is about - well, i'll let izzy say it:

it's not about glory, it's not about getting what you want. it's about belonging to something when the world has told you you're nothing. it's about finding the family to kill for when yours are long dead. it's about letting go of ego for something larger. the crew.

ed and izzy, following s2e3, interact and communicate on izzy's terms, and that's made clear. that's the last relationship for izzy to heal. when izzy finally approaches ed in ep 6, it's - not great. it's a start. you gotta start somewhere. he lets ed apologize, in their very closed, guilty way of speaking to each other, but then goes back to the crew, back to his safety.

he finally finishes his healing arc with the drag performance and la vie en rose, and then he and ed DO have good moments. he teases ed about stede. he directly reverses his previous actions in s1 and tells ed to listen to his good feelings. that's where djenks is getting this (imo, still a bit weird) father-figure business. the scene in the republic where ed's watching fishermen and izzy comes to say hey, it's all right, hey, listen to your gut. they don't need to directly come out and have some deep serious conversation about their relationship because that's just not like them, man. they're doing their healing their way. i think it would be nonsensical to expect these two to be open and honest with each other regardless of how they are with everyone else because their relationship is not like their relationships with anyone else.

until they run out of time.

and this, i think, is important. izzy controls this last conversation because it's what ed needs to hear, because izzy no longer needs to hear it. izzy doesn't need to hear that ed's sorry, izzy knows ed's fucking sorry. ed's whole arc this season is about the guilt he's carrying. izzy says what he says because he knows ed needs to hear it. ed, you weren't a monster all on your own. ed, i saw you. i saw you outgrowing him, and i didn't want that to happen because i was worried about what it meant for me, but i see now that it could have meant this all along - family. balance. something to die for, sure, but something to live for.

you could argue that ed and the crew don't think of each other as family. i think it's a bit more complicated than a yes or no on that one, but when izzy says, ed, you're surrounded by family, maybe it doesn't matter whether that's fact. maybe it's a statement of possibility. look at this family who can love you if you let them. look at this family who will forgive you even when you don't deserve it. look at all the ways you can still heal. look at how worth it it all is.

just be ed, izzy says, there he is.

he says it to ed because izzy already knows he can be just izzy. izzy already knows he's dying surrounded by family. izzy already knows that love and belonging and family are worth it, and he uses his dying moments to make sure ed knows it too because despite everything, despite everything he did and despite everything ed did and despite not being ed's romantic choice, he loves ed. it's worth it to use his dying moment to make sure ed knows this because izzy loves him.

it's worth it.

izzy is the stand-in for the stereotypical pirate, the villain - the representative of how repression and oppression work together, of how race and class and colonization interact with each other, of the lines between love and obsession and power and rage and fear blurring beyond recognition - and he heals. guys, the point of his story is not that he was all those things and paid that price. the point of his story is that he could grow beyond all those things and that growth and healing was all worth it despite the fact that yeah. our lives will inevitably end.

historically, israel hands is said to be one of the only major pirates who survives the golden age of piracy, and he doesn't survive it well - according to the contemporary account of "captain charles johnson" (almost certainly a pseudonym) in A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the most notorious Pyrates, published 1724, hands dies a beggar in london sometime between 1719 and 1724. it has been suggested by some pirate scholars that hands may have actually been the source for much of the information johnson is able to relay regarding blackbeard - and that johnson's apparent wealth of information contributed significantly to the legacy blackbeard left behind and his lasting fame. i had actually really hoped to see this play out in ofmd - izzy protecting ed and stede through perpetuating stories about blackbeard's 'death' (fake, i'd hoped) and legacy.

but i think - he is. in his way. he's there on the hillside, keeping watch. he's there to hold all the stories and all the memories of pirates and what it meant to belong to something, even as the golden age of piracy sets. he's there to show what it is to love and to be loved in return: eternal.

i don't like that izzy died. i think he's a great character, i think he's great fun to have in the ensemble, i think his dynamics with ed and stede are so fucking chewy and delicious. i think con o'neill has done the work of a lifetime on this character and, i hope, had and continue to has the experience of a lifetime with this fandom. my heart goes out to those of you who are devastated; i've been there in past fandoms, i know how achingly difficult that is. i'm so sorry.

but izzy's story is worth telling. izzy's story is worth celebrating. izzy is about making mistakes - bad mistakes! - and finding your way back to something better. izzy is about healing, and about community, and about hope that even when things are shit and people are shit - they can change. things can change.

and maybe - yeah. it's about the role stories play in our lives. about using fictional little scenarios to deal with our traumas. we're here. we're alive. we're coping. we will heal.

not moving on is worse.

[ssturniolo]

could u write something where reader is going through a sort of depressive episode where like trader just kinda feels hopeless and stuff and is pushing chris away and so he doesn’t understand why until matt like points it out and so chris then feels bad and comforts reader sorry if this is long😭

Everything’ll be alright

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Chris x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - request <3

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - mentions of depression, bad mental health, Chris being oblivious, not proofread

Everything in your life has just been going wrong. Or at least it’s felt that way. Simple everyday tasks have grown increasingly difficult to do and every waking moment is it’s own battle. You’ve had no contact with the outside world in who knows how long, not even your own boyfriend. It just seems as though nobody cares and that, along with everything else is slowly destroying you.

Only leaving your bed to use the bathroom and grab another bag of chips that will eventually be thrown to the side uneaten, has been how you’ve been living for awhile now. You’re filled with this overwhelming feeling of despair and it just won’t go away. At war with your own mind, and there doesn’t seem to be a light at the end of this tunnel. Just a dead end.

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

Chris lays on the couch, scrolling through Instagram while hoping that you’ll answer one of his million texts. He knows you’re pushing him away but he can’t figure out why. What did he do wrong? You’re his first girlfriend and he’s so afraid to loose you but he doesn’t know what’s wrong or what to do.

“Me and Nick are going to McDonald’s if you want to bring y/n,” Matt calls as he grabs his keys off the counter.

“No that’s ok, I don’t think she’d want to” Chris reply’s, not looking up from his phone.

“But I thought she loves McDonald’s? I haven’t heard from her in awhile, how’s she doing?” Matt asks, his voice laced with concern.

“I wouldn’t know” Chris mumbles, clearly hurt.

Every once in awhile you kind of disappear but you’ve never done it for this long, let along not talking to Chris at all.

“Did you guys break up?” Matt asks gently as he sits by Chris on the couch.

“No but she ghosted me” Chris starts, pressing his palms into his eyes. “She’s completely disappeared off of social media, and never answers my texts or calls even when it says she’s active.”

Worry is painted across Matt’s features as he watches his brother fight off tears.

“Chris I think you should go check up on her. Y/n wouldn’t do this without a really good reason and I think she’s really struggling right now. I’ll bring you on the way to McDonald’s ok?”

Chris never thought about that fact you might not be doing well, he was more concerned about you ignoring him.

“Ok, let’s go.”

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

You’ve been curled up on your bed, staring at the same spot on your wall for what’s seemed like forever. How long exactly? You have no clue. Your only telling of time was whether there was light peeking through the blinds, or if everything was just swallowed in darkness.

The creak of the door to your room opening startles you out of your dazed state, confused as you hadn’t heard anyone come into your apartment.

“Hey there princess” a familiar voice whispers as he shuts the door behind him.

Chris.

Without another word, he climbs into your bed, snaking his arms around you, holding you close against his chest. And that’s all it took for you to burst into tears, wetting his t-shirt as you cry into his chest.

“I’m trapped Chris, I’m trapped” you manage to cry out in between sobs.

“I don’t know what to do”

“Everything will be alright baby, we’ll figure this out together, I’ve got you” he whispers soothingly into your hair.

There’s a terrible pressure on your chest, you feel everything and nothing at the same time, and your whole life seems to be crumbling down in front of you, but Chris is there. Right besides you through it all just like he’s always been. The world could be falling apart and he’d be there, ready to hold you in his arms and tell you everything will be alright.

Right now, all you need is Chris and he doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for the request my love 🫶🏻

XOXO - Zoe

Tag-list ⬇️

@dwntwn-strnlo @soleilsturniolos @mbbsgf @gabbylovesreading @0-r-a-y-0 @sturn3g1rl @lvrsparadise @taylorssfilmsss @emssturniolo @ilovemattsturn @nickenthusiast @itsaaliyah2 @thetriplets3 @urfavstromboli

[daechwitatamic]

Vice;Grip || chapter 4 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose.  A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!!

//

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: language, recreational drinking, depiction of a panic attack, there is a quick moment where you can infer that reader thinks vernon might be actively su*cidal but that is not the case and this is not outright stated, nip stim, dirty talk, piv sex, reader has a high fever but no specific illness is mentioned, a (verbal) fight with some yelling

wc: 6700

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

5 months ago

Five texts went unanswered.

I’m sorry.

I was so fucked up, I wasn’t saying what I meant.

Call me so I can explain.

I’m really sorry.

Please, Vernon.

Each time, they delivered, but no response came. You thought you might feel better if he told you to go away. The silence felt too open, like nothing was settled. Like maybe you just hadn’t said the right thing yet. Like maybe you could - or should - keep trying.

Four weeks passed; you tried not to let it drown you, tried to tread above the rising water of the situation. You swam through guilt, your own anger, guilt again. The knowledge of what had upset him nibbled at your toes like fish you couldn’t see in the murky depths. You tried to pretend it wasn’t there, that it was only seaweed underfoot.

You tried to reason with yourself; you hadn’t done anything that bad. He’d been upset because you’d implied he’d get bored of you someday - even though of course he would - and he thought… you didn’t know, he thought that was an attack on his character?

(You knew that wasn’t why he was mad.)

Or, because you’d implied that he would leave, when you were the one who’d gone silent before? That was valid, you thought. You had been the one to make him chase, when your grey days swallowed you up.

(You knew that wasn’t the whole truth, either.)

You kicked at the fish, kept swimming on.

Three times, you found yourself on the brink of coming clean to Chan. The first time, it had almost escaped from your mouth, prompted by nothing but your own need to hear someone absolve you; you wanted to tell Chan I think I hurt him, so he could say, it doesn’t sound like it’s your fault.

Chan didn’t lie to you, though, even when you wanted him to. He wouldn’t tell you it wasn’t your fault, because it was. So, you tucked the words back in, zipped them up safely.

The next time, he’d asked - “You still… with that guy?” He’d made a vague hand motion that must have meant still seeing, or still sleeping with.

I messed it up again.

I think I liked him too much.

“It’s been like a month,” you said lightly, like it was no big deal. “We’ve been busy.”

His sideways look was scalding. Chan didn’t lie to you; Chan was used to you lying to him, knew all the signs.

He let it go anyway.

Maybe he knew those signs, too. Maybe he knew without you telling him that you’d let the bunny rabbit instincts win - that you’d hid, scared, the second your fragile, broken brain told you to.

The third time, you almost told him all of it, even that it was Vernon. Chan was having dinner at your apartment, helping you clean up after, when his phone buzzed on the table.

“Hey, hyung,” he’d answered, tilting his head to grip the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he ran water in the sink and started rinsing the plates. “Yeah, I’m in. I don’t know, probably in like twenty minutes? Fifteen if I make all the green lights.”

You listened absently as you picked up the rest of the table - napkins in the trash, utensils tight in one hand, now-empty wine glasses in the other.

“Oh,” Chan said, surprised. “Vernon, too? Nice. Should I stop for beer since there’ll be more of us?”

You dropped a wine glass. Chan helped you sweep, and then you ran the vacuum cleaner. Still, you kept finding errant pieces of glass for days. You carried them carefully to the garbage.

It felt fitting, that hearing his name had caused this.

Twice, you called and left voicemails.

Two days after the argument, you’d called on your lunch break. It had rang six times and then his voicemail picked up.

“Vernon… listen, I know I pissed you off. I’d really like the chance to explain myself when I’m not… you know. I didn’t say it how I meant it. Text me. Or call me, whichever.”

After the four weeks crept by and the rest of your texts went unanswered as well, you tried again.

It took almost a whole bottle of wine by yourself to work up the courage, and you hoped he wouldn’t hear the slur in your voice when you told him, “I don’t know why I’m even calling. It’s been a month. I hate that this is just… unresolved. I hate making people mad. I want to know that you know I’m sorry. I want to know that… well. I just… wish we were talking again. I don’t… I don’t know why I’m calling.”

You sat at the stool by your easel for the first time in years, tested your balance, tucked one foot underneath the way you used to. Your hands shook a little as you mixed a purple so dark it was probably actually just black. You covered the canvas, the color of nine at night in the summertime, and stared at it, watching it dry.

When you could, you switched brushes, used a rounder texture to form something that might pass as clouds along the mottled sky. Then, you painted a full moon; it cracked like an egg.

You liked this, you followed the idea, paintbrush hurrying to chase the inspiration, whites and yellows coloring in whatever it was that might leak from the moon like marrow.

The bottom half of the canvas became a moving, living ocean; the blues were eight at night in the summertime but they looked good together with the hour after. You finished with the moon’s reflective path, a jagged yellow streak that dipped and bobbed through the waves.

You walked to the bathroom and washed your brushes, leaving them somewhere to dry where the cat couldn’t mess with them. Then you went back to the canvas, staring at it from a few feet away, your hands on your hips.

You’d done it - you’d painted something you didn’t want to burn.

One painting, one tiny step back towards the life you’d lost - that you’d let yourself lose, that you’d definitively pushed away.

4 months ago

It rained for three days. You lit lamps during the day, suddenly craved soups even though it was the height of spring and the weather had been consistently warm for weeks. The rain just called for it.

It called for you to sleep, too, luring you into bed with a steady patter against the windows. You slept early, and deeply, the cat curled up near your head. The rain beat against the windows like a metronome, helped your heart rate steady, helped your thoughts slow and settle.

You slept deeply, the sounds of the rain pulling you under, and when you were startled awake a few hours in, it was with no concept of where or who you were.

Your phone was still vibrating, jarring; you scrambled to grab it from the nightstand and the cat scrambled out of the room.

Your mom, you thought wildly. Or Chan.

What else could it be, but an emergency? No one else called at three in the morning. Someone used to, but only on the weekend, and that person hadn’t answered you in over a month.

“H’lo?” you mumbled, eyes too blurry to see the screen. You closed them, pressed the phone tighter to your ear to hear better.

No one spoke, but you could hear breathing - ragged and unsteady.

“Hello?” you repeated, more clearly, starting to wake up a bit, starting to worry. You rubbed at your eyes, then pulled the phone away so you could see the name on the screen.

Of course it was him.

“Vernon?” you asked, like you didn’t believe the word on the screen, but you were met with only silence - even his breathing went quiet for a second, like hearing his name had caused him to hold it. Like he suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted you to know he was there.

You said his name again, like a question, and it sounded like maybe he tried to speak but the noise - choked and quick - faded quickly. Your heart started to race, and certainty settled into your bones: something was wrong.

“Hey,” you said, a little sharply, like maybe he needed to snap out of it. “Are you okay?”

Finally, a word. “Dunno,” he managed, his voice thick.

“I’m coming there,” you said, already throwing the blankets off your legs and staggering to your closet to pull at some sweatpants. “Don’t leave, okay?”

“No,” he protested, but the way he gasped the breath after it cemented what you already knew - he needed you.

Or, he needed someone, and you were someone, and you would have to do.

“I’m on my way. Stay there, okay? Wait for me.” You were hopping on one foot as you said this, pulling clothes and shoes on, frantically reaching around in the dark for things like deodorant and car keys.

When he didn’t answer, you stopped moving, stopped trying to find your things. When you spoke again, your voice came out softer, a gentle plea instead of sharp instruction. “Hansol,” you said, quiet. “Wait for me. Okay?”

He ended the call without promising.

You stayed tucked into the building’s doorframe until you saw the Uber pull up; the rain was coming down in sheets, and you had to run to the car, splashing through still water until you could slide into the backseat. Your feet were soaked.

You spent the first five minutes of the ride wiping rain out of your eyes and trying to wring out the ends of your sleeves; the fabric clung to your hands, wet and cold. Outside the car, the rain water ran down the windows and the windshield wipers ran on the fastest setting.

im on my way, okay?

[ ]

vernon you’re scaring me

When the car pulled to a stop, you jumped out as soon as it was safe, bolting through the rain a second time and letting yourself into the building with the code you knew by heart. You took the stairs two at a time, heart flying. You were at once both scared to death of what you’d find when you got there, and refusing to put the specific fear to words, refusing to consider that it could be an option.

“Where are you?” you called, as soon as you got his door open. The apartment was mostly unlit, but for the light above the sink, and a dim light from the direction of his bedroom. “Vernon?”

You were met with silence and you almost choked on your heart as it climbed up your throat. You slipped off your shoes and made your way inside, heading for his bedroom.

You almost threw up with relief when you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. The light you saw came from his bathroom - the door was closed almost completely, but light spilled out through the crack.

“What’s wrong, what’s happening?” you asked, inching closer. His hands were clenched into fists and bent back at an angle, veins raised along his tensed forearms. His breath went in raspy and came out in huffs, too quick to be productive.

You were pretty sure you knew what this was. You knelt in front of him, ran your hands over his tensed-up arms once, and then nudged under his chin gently with your forefinger, urging him to lift up and look at you.

He let you, his eyes faraway.

“Panic attack?” you guessed quietly. He nodded once, trying to tuck his chin back down, to look away and hide from the shame of this moment being witnessed - being recognized.

“If I put on my breathing app, will you do it?” you asked.

The sound he made was almost like a laugh. “I’ll try,” he muttered.

You opened your phone and set the app up, placing it on the bed beside him, the light from the screen tinting him pink. You heard the familiar, soothing voice begin to recite the directions, and you rocked back on your heels.

“I’m going to your kitchen real quick,” you told him, putting your hands on his knees to push yourself to standing. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll do the breathing with you in a sec.”

You shivered once as you stood with his fridge open; you’d been in his kitchen plenty of times, but never really perused on your own. Your gaze moved over beer and energy drinks, finally landing on juice. You slapped the bottle on the counter and rummaged in the closest cabinets until you found a glass.

Returning to his bedroom, you could hear your breathing app intoning hold… two… three… four… exhale slowly… two… three… four. It was hard to tell if Vernon was following - his head was still tucked, but his hands clenched and unclenched, like he was trying to return circulation after they’d fallen asleep.

You waited patiently until the breathing cycle ended, then nudged the glass into his hand. When he took it, you sat gently next to him, watching silently until he drank some.

“Where are you at?” you asked, and then started to explain what you meant.

Vernon interrupted; he’d understood the first time.

He usually did.

“Better,” he said, then added, “Not, like, better. But, better. Still buzzing.”

You knew the feeling - you tended to get buzzing in your legs first, then hands, and then it would crawl up your arms and into your chest if you didn’t shake it. When the attack receded, you usually felt it leave your chest first and then work its way slowly back down your arms.

“What usually helps?” you asked. “Is the breathing cycle better, or grounding?”

“Grounding, probably,” he said.

“Start by drinking some juice,” you instructed. “Then, can you tell me five things you see?”

“It’s dark,” he grumbled, but he brought the glass to his lips as requested. You rolled your eyes at his sass and walked over to turn on the lamp he kept on his desk. It cast the room in yellow, all the raindrops on the window suddenly catching the light.

“Now do it,” you said, coming back to sit by him again.

You heard him take a breath. He was better already - hands unclenched now, breathing still a bit quick but not raspy or gasped. “It feels silly to do out loud.”

“I’ll do it, too,” you said. “I see your laptop, your lamp, your cell phone, your dresser, and your very old and embarrassing Blink-182 poster. Literally, Vernon, is it 2003?”

He laughed, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re roasting me right now,” he said, voice still a little thin and breathy.

“Five things you see,” you reminded him firmly.

He huffed in mild irritation. “Hamper,” he recited, finally. “Shoes. Empty Red Bull can.”

You laughed.

“Cologne bottle,” he finished, then looked up at you. “Girl who came out at three in the morning, in the rain, after a month of not speaking, because she was worried about me.”

You spluttered. “I was not.”

He knocked his shoulder into yours playfully. “I have it in writing.”

You let out an indignant breath. “I should have let you suffer alone,” you muttered.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he admitted, then dutifully drank some more juice.

“Okay,” you said, remembering what you were doing. “Four things you can hear.”

He sighed. “Bossy girl,” he listed, and you whacked at his knee. “Rain. Aircon. Traffic outside.”

You finished the exercise together.

“Now how is it?” you asked, reaching to take his empty glass.

He flexed his hands in front of him. “Buzzing’s down to my hands,” he reported. “Think I’m past the worst.”

“How do you feel, otherwise?”

He grimaced. “Exhausted, honestly.”

You looked at the clock - it was after 4:30 in the morning, almost time for sunrise to begin.

“You should try and sleep more,” you said, starting to rise.

“Stay?” he asked, and you thought you heard a note of, well, panic in it. Like he was scared to be alone again.

Something inside you screamed and beat its fists against your insides, furious and terrified as it felt you melt into goo at his request. Something inside you knew that you were walking into a building on fire. But there was no way you’d stay outside, not now, not if he was in there.

“Of course,” you said, as if it was obvious, as if you stayed over all the time - as if this weren’t, in fact, a first.

He seemed to take in your appearance for the first time, the still-drying patches on your clothes, the goosebumps on your damp skin. “You’re cold,” he said, frowning, like you should have led with that as soon as you came in, handled your needs first.

“I’m okay,” you denied, but he rolled his eyes and leaned over the other side of his bed, coming up with a rumpled black hoodie.

“I promise it’s clean,” he said, a little sheepishly, and you pulled off your damp tshirt and tugged the hoodie over your head, instantly warmer and surrounded by his smell. He left for the bathroom, and when you heard the sink run and the telltale buzzing from his electric toothbrush, you got up and turned his lamp back off. When he emerged, you were under the blankets, huddled warm and cozy inside his hoodie.

When he climbed into bed, you draped yourself over him, a leg over his legs, an arm over his torso, your face pressing against his t-shirt. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you lay in silence for a while, listening to the rain, awash in relief that he was okay - that you two were okay, that he’d let you back in even after you’d fucked it up.

Just as you were starting to drift a little, you felt his chest move under you, and he said, quietly, “I’m sorry for making you come out in the storm. In the middle of the night, too.”

“Don’t,” you said, shaking your head but not lifting it up to look at him. Your words carried out into the dark of the room. “You can call me. You can call me when you need me. I don’t care if it’s late. I don’t care if it’s… a hurricane, or whatever.”

It was too honest. It was too close to the truth. You shivered in the dark again, and you felt him hold you tighter for a second, as if to chase the chill away.

He let the moment go, didn’t chase it down and shine a light on it. But you know he heard you - you think, probably, he heard the whole thing, all the parts you didn’t say.

You waited in silence again, let the moment go, let the rain wash this away, too. Then, you ventured, “I’m sorry for what I said to you, last month. Really.”

You felt him nod above you. “I know. It’s… it’s okay.”

Is it? you wondered. But you didn’t push it - because you were scared that his forgiveness was fragile and might shatter if pressed, because you’d already admitted something you weren’t sure you’d meant to tonight, because saying anything seemed wrong while you were between his arms with the rain serenading you both from outside.

You drifted off; you woke up with his hands on your skin beneath his hoodie. You sighed, eyes still closed, as he refamiliarized himself with your body. You breathed in deeply when his fingers brushed up your stomach and found your breasts, teased over your nipples so lightly that it almost tickled, made you shudder in place.

You felt his lips at the nape of your neck, and that made you shiver, too. He pressed kisses along the tops of your shoulder as he teased one peak and then the other, finally giving in to your tiny, needy noises and rolling both buds between firm fingers. You moaned, long, feeling it pulled from deep within you until he let go, soothing over the spots with warm palms.

“Missed that sound,” he murmured against your back, and you pressed back against him desperately, suddenly sure that if he wasn’t inside you this instant you would completely lose it. You reached backwards, grabbing at his hips, trying to pull him closer.

“Need you,” you whined, hating it but knowing it was true anyway, the need larger than the embarrassment. You could feel him pressing against your ass, too many layers between you, and you shifted against him, hoping to spur him into action.

He hummed, pleased, and slid a clever hand back down over your stomach and past the waistbands of your sweats and panties, groaning low in his throat when he found arousal pooling between your legs. He barely bothered to work you open, likely feeling the same desperation you were after the time apart. You felt him shimmy out of his shorts, then his hands back on your skin as he peeled away your bottoms as well.

You kicked them off of your ankles and inhaled as you felt him slide along your slit, teasing at your entrance. He kept one hand up your hoodie, pressed against your chest to hold you tight against him, as he pushed into your heat one inch at a time. You heard yourself make a sound you couldn’t name, somewhere close to a whine, as you felt each bit of him rub against your walls as they struggled to adjust.

“Fuck,” he breathed, mouth close to your neck. “Tighter than I remember.”

He bottomed out and stilled, that one hand still holding you tight against his body. You closed your eyes and felt the moment: his heart beating against your back, your own pulse thundering through your limbs, your pussy pulsing around him as it adjusted and fluttered, his breath warm and steady on your skin, his hands soothing and grounding as they held you tight, the rain still falling steadily outside. You stayed still, eyes closed, as he caressed your hips, your lower belly, your thighs, as he pressed chaste and feather-light kisses along your shoulder.

Finally, he shifted, fucking into you in small movements, barely withdrawing at all before tilting his hips to push back in. You rocked back against him, silently begging for more.

He pulled out almost completely, and then slid back in; the sound you let out bordered on a sob, your nerves alight and sizzling as he began repeating the motion, each stroke slow and long, unhurried, burying himself as completely as he could. You floated like this, completely enveloped by him, still wearing his hoodie, as he took his time with you, until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

“More, Vernon,” you begged, “please.”

“As you wish,” he teased, and used his knee to move yours, bending your leg and hooking it up around his to open you up more, to give himself more room as he set a quicker, steady pace. Relieved, you matched his strokes, half-tempted to roll over so you could kiss him, but not wanting to lose even a second of the delicious feeling of him stretching you, of the friction that made your eyes want to roll back and your toes curl up.

It took you completely by surprise when he began pistoning into you, holding you in place by your waist, and a gasp flew from your mouth, morphing into a series of moans and cries as his hips battered at yours. Even more so when he grabbed at your thigh and tugged, rolling you onto your back and readjusting himself over you, slipping right back in as you wrapped your legs around him and tried to pull him closer.

His pace slowed only marginally as he grabbed at your hands and raised them above your head. Bent close over you, you finally got what you’d wanted the whole time - his lips finally found yours and you kissed hungrily as he fucked you deep. Above your head, you felt your fingers curl against his, lacing together. You squeezed his fingers tight when you came, his name slipping from your lips as your legs shook and your world went white. Vernon came with a cry, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched as he emptied himself in your still-pulsing heat, and then collapsed next to you, both of you panting.

“Shower?” he asked, when he’d caught his breath.

You tilted your phone so you could see the time. “I should probably just go home,” you admitted. “I have work.” This realization hit you - you’d gotten maybe four and a half hours of sleep, and not even all at once. Thank god it was Friday and you only had one day to struggle through.

He nodded, understanding. After you dressed, he wandered after you like a shadow. “You around tomorrow night?” he asked, and you could hear the effort to sound off-handed.

“Yeah,” you said, eyes flicking to his for a second. “Yeah, I’ll be around.”

When your ride pulled up and you stepped outside, you shielded your eyes from how bright everything was in the early morning light after days of gloom and clouds. Around you, everything glistened and sparkled, still wet from the days of incessant rain, as if everything you could see had been washed clean.

3 months ago

hi :]

what’s wrong with your face?

are you insulting my smiley?

again i ask you: is it 2003?

im gonna ignore that. come over?

can’t, sorry. i’m sick

whats wrong with u?

should i start listing?

ha ha. girl stuff?

vernon!!!!

lmao i mean if its not that i figured youd just tell me whats wrong

i have a fever, you ass

It was true - you’d carried your comforter from your bed to your couch that morning and had barely moved since. The cat was on top of your legs and you didn’t have the strength or energy to move him. Through the day, your fever had risen; you hadn’t helped things by refusing to get up, which meant you were probably dehydrated. As Vernon texted you, you took mental inventory of how badly everything on your body hurt - your limbs, your hips, everything ached. The pain in your head was sharp and bloody, and you felt like you were sweltering even though your feet were ice cold.

You felt too miserable to even watch a show; instead, you looked around your living room absently. You were pretty sure you were seeing colors off to the side, hazy swatches of red and blue.

Well, you thought dryly, that’s not good.

Then, your hallucinations took form, because the couch was dipping under you and someone was placing a cool hand against your head. You closed your eyes, leaning into the touch just because the coolness felt nice.

“You need to drink something,” someone told you.

“I had the lemonade,” you said.

There was a pause. “I don’t… think there’s lemonade here. Hey - wake up and look at me.”

You blinked, and looked towards the voice. The world’s most beautiful man looked down at you, frowning.

“Wow,” you heard yourself. “You’re so handsome. What are you here for?”

He laughed. “I’m here to take care of you,” he said. “I’m bringing you water, okay?”

You frowned. “I don’t want water. My throat hurts. I want juice.”

There was another pause, and then the voice came again, from further away. “I’ll bring you juice, but you need to drink water now.”

Then he was back, snapping in front of your face. “Hey, look at me again. This is serious. Have you taken any medicine? I don’t want to give you double of something and overdose you.”

“I don’t think I’ve left the couch today,” you told him honestly.

“Okay,” he said, and you didn’t remember him moving or leaving but he was somehow pressing pills into your hand, waiting for you to place them on your tongue before handing you a plastic cup full of water.

“Drink all of it,” he instructed.

“You’re too pretty to be so bossy,” you grumbled around the mouthful of pills.

He waited until you drained the cup. “I’m going to go to the store,” he told you. “Can you think of anything else you need besides juice?”

You didn’t remember if you answered him, or even him leaving. You think you slept. When you woke, someone was rummaging around your kitchen.

“Chan?” you called, blearily.

Instead, Vernon poked his head around the corner of your kitchen, a grocery store bag hanging off his arm.

“Hey,” he said. “How do you feel?”

You blinked at him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what the fuck are you doing here?”

His smile widened. “Your fever must be down a little. You need anything? You still want juice?”

You just stared at him, bewildered. He finished putting away a few more things and then came back out to you, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“Definitely lower,” he said. “Do you have an actual thermometer? I couldn’t find it.”

“Yeah,” you said, still confused. “In my bathroom. Vernon, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Come on,” he said. “You should shower and put on clean pajamas and then maybe try to eat some of the soup I got.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I can shower,” you admitted. “I don’t think I can stand up that long.”

He held out his hand. “I’ve got you. Just a quick rinse.”

He helped you off the couch and into the bathroom, where you sat on the closed toilet while he started the water and got it running warm, but not hot. You kept silent as he helped you undress, as he held your hand while you gingerly stepped over the bathtub’s lip, your legs aching.

“You okay?” he checked, once you were behind the shower curtain.

“Mhm.”

“Okay. I’m going in your room to get you clean clothes to put on.”

“Hurry.”

“I’m right outside. If you feel weird, just call me.”

You did okay, though, washing up and turning the water off on your own, reaching for the towel you kept on a hook. He came in when he heard the water change, and helped you dry off, his hands firm and his gaze gentle. Then he led you back to your bed, guiding you under the blankets.

“Do you think you could eat some soup?” he asked. “I bet you didn’t eat all day.”

You scrunched your nose. “You don’t have to cook for me.”

He shrugged. “It’s pre-made. I’ll heat some up.”

You tried to eat as much of the soup as you could, and then floated absently as Vernon cleaned up.

“Hey,” you said, struggling to sit up. “I don’t think I fed the cat tonight.”

“Tell me what to do,” he said, pushing on your shoulder to keep you from climbing out of bed.

“You can’t just- he’s particular - there’s a process -”

“Tell me the process, then,” Vernon said firmly.

Later, after he’d turned out all the lights, he came to the side of the bed and checked your temperature again - this time with your actual thermometer.

“I’m waking you up in three hours to take another fever-reducer,” he warned you, walking to set the thermometer down on your dresser.

“Okay,” you said, too tired to argue. You were already half-asleep as it was - you had no idea what time it was.

You barely registered it when he climbed into the bed next to you, just rolled over and buried your face in his chest, one arm reaching around his middle, already back under.

His alarm startled you both. You felt him pull away - you were sleeping in the same position, neither of you had moved - and then the alarm fell quiet.

“Medicine,” he said, starting to extract himself. You whined; you were comfy, and warm, and didn’t want him to leave.

“Don’t,” you whined. “Don’t leave.”

He laughed a little, a quiet huff of amusement. “I’m just going to the kitchen. Then I’ll be back.”

He watched you take another round of pills and drink half the water, leaving the glass on your nightstand. Then, as promised, he got right back in bed.

When you woke again, your bed was empty. And, impossibly, you felt both relief and disappointment. Then, from the living room, you heard a clatter and then a curse.

“Vernon?” you called.

Your bedroom door cracked open. Like a flash of lightning, the cat streaked into the room and under the bed.

“Sorry,” Vernon said from the doorway. “He was pissed that I wouldn’t let him in there with you. I wanted you to sleep. He was mutinying.”

You smiled despite yourself. “You didn’t go home?”

“Wanted to see how you were before I left,” he said. “You sound better. You look better, too - I mean, you looked really off yesterday. It was kind of scary.”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “Okay enough that I can keep my fever down by myself. I shouldn’t have let it get that high yesterday, I should have stayed on top of it.”

He looked at you for a long time. Then, he clapped his hand against your doorframe, as if he’d made a decision. “Okay. I’ll go home, I guess. Just… let me know if it gets bad, okay? And eat something. I bought stuff for you yesterday - it’s all in the kitchen.”

“Thanks for doing that,” you said, a little sheepishly.

“It was nothing,” he promised.

After he left, you stayed in the bed, rolling onto your side so you could smell the blankets where he’d slept. It helped you feel safer, like you weren’t actually alone.

It occurred to you that you’d spent the night together twice in a row, now. The rules were breaking - the rules were changing.

Your head pounded, and so did your heart. Nothing had ever been this frightening in your life, you thought.

2 months ago

Vernon saw you as sunshine - not like it was your demeanor, because that wasn’t true. More like - something he needed without realizing he needed it, something he realized he needed only in its absence. Something that made things better and brighter, something that could sometimes be too bright. Something that made the grey days feel greyer in a can you understand happiness if you never feel sadness kind of way.

He tipped your head back to kiss you, caught your bottom lip between his teeth, rolled his hips into yours, watched your hands clench into fists in his sheets.

He forgot himself a little; or maybe he just gave in to something he’d been holding back for months - maybe even a year. Something cracked, marrow slipped out of him, sluiced into the rocky ocean below.

After, he held you close, whispered, “Don’t go home. Stay. Jagi, stay here.”

And, he had to give you credit - you were at least honest. You at least told him your truth, in your own way.

“I can’t,” you said, and he knew you, knew how you meant it. He didn’t argue or call you back when you dressed, when you left again, just how you’d done things almost every time over the last two years.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t want you, maybe even love you, and only have parts of you. It was too hard, it wasn’t fair. Two years, and he had nothing to show for it. Maybe he’d find someone, if he wasn’t spinning his wheels with you.

He saw you like sunshine. Something that was missed when it was gone. Something that couldn’t be forced to stay, something that didn’t come when it was called.

1 month ago

You could tell that something was different. You’d been around Vernon plenty when he was low - this was different.

“You’re being weird tonight,” you observed.

His eyes cut sideways at you. He’d never looked at you like that - this was another clue. Then his face went flat again.

“I’m not,” he said, and you frowned.

“You are,” you insisted. “What’s going on? What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem,” he said, tone hollow.

“I’m not playing this game with you, Vernon!” you said, temper flaring. “If there’s a problem, you’re going to have to use your words and tell me.”

“I said there’s no problem,” he repeated, cool and even. Something inside you snapped tight, painful. You could feel it all coming to a boil right before your eyes - the way the boundaries had been shifting, the way he’d called you jagi, the way he’d looked when you’d walked away. It terrified you, made you want to show your claws, and it was infuriating that he was icing you out when you were ready to draw blood.

“Vernon!” you cried. “I cannot deal with this little apathy game anymore! I need you to engage here. I need you to care about something, and not just give me this expressionless, emotionless -”

“Care about something?” he thundered, wheeling on you. It startled you into silence. “That’s bullshit. Because I have been caring about you way more than I should, for ages now, and look what fucking good it’s done for me.”

Stunned, you blinked at him. Your heart pounded painfully, and your thoughts felt staticky and unclear. You needed to get away from him; you needed to process this in silence.

Finally, you spoke, your voice coming out tiny. “I’m going home.”

Vernon rolled his eyes, slapped his hand down to grab at his phone. “I’ll take you.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to.”

He ignored this, picking up his keys. “I said I’ll take you. It’s fine.”

You shouldn’t have followed him to the car. You shouldn’t have assumed he’d be mad for a few weeks and then get over it again, just like you two had done more than once now.

He drove you in silence, his face coming in fragmented pieces as he passed under streetlights. You were watching him, silently, when he finally spoke again.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said, still perfectly even.

Tears sprang to your eyes before you’d even processed the sentence, something inside you reacting before your brain really knew what you were reacting to.

“What?” you asked. “Why?”

You knew why.

He just kept driving.

“Pull over,” you demanded, suddenly furious, suddenly terrified, suddenly realizing you were losing him, right now, in real time.

He ignored you, didn’t even glance over at you.

“Vernon, I want to talk about this, pull over!” you cried, leaning forward in your seat, the seat belt tightening on your shoulder. “Pull over!”

Eventually, he listened, flicking on his turn signal and slowing as the car bumped off the pavement and onto the dirt shoulder.

“What?” he asked flatly, finally turning to face you.

“I asked why,” you said, heat laced through your voice.

He shook his head. “I’ve wasted two years with you -”

“Wasted?” you echoed, feeling the word like a punch to the gut. You felt like you couldn’t inhale.

“Well?” he asked, as if to say, well, wasn’t it?

“Fuck you, Vernon,” you spat.

“Fuck me is right!” he yelled, loud in the enclosed space of the sedan. “What are we doing? Just fucking, for eternity?”

You blinked at him. “You never asked me for anything else!”

“I tried,” he growled.

“Like hell you tried!”

“I did,” he asserted. “You ran, scared, every time.”

“Of course I was scared,” you snapped, because you couldn’t deny that one for a second. Your voice comes out choked. “I was right to be scared, and you know it!”

“Why?” he asked, the question falling between you, a landmine.

“Because,” you said seriously, the first tear finally falling. “This only ends one way.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you, out the windshield again. Then, he clicked on his turn signal again, shifted the car back into drive, and pulled back onto the highway.

“Yeah,” he said flatly, as the car met even pavement again. “You’re making sure of that, aren’t you?”

<- Prev | Next ->

thank you so much for reading! one chapter left to go!

[zivazivc]

Sorry if this has already been asked before but why did the band break up? And did they break up on decent terms? Do they still talk to each other sometime?

It has been asked before, I just never answered jshfbdjcbh I'm still piecing everything together and stuff is changing or getting tweaked all the time, so I'm always super hesitant about answering these types of questions, afraid that people will take whatever I say as the final answer. So basically what I'm going to answer now will already contradict what I told some people already. And maybe in the future the story might go a little differently too (although I'm pretty satisfied with the current events)

Uhhh, get ready for a long info dump. I didn't expect I'd write this much...

Floyd basically stayed with the band for 8 years (from 14 till 22) and got pretty messed up in the process. The rest of the guys are all quite older than him so I guess I could say they were more responsible, or at least had a better understanding of their own limits (also they grew up in this kind of environment or grew up aware of it, while Floyd was oblivious and naive about all of it) and while they do get drunk and do drugs often, none of them are really dependent on them. They are also pretty good judges of character and know how to avoid trouble. Floyd on the other hand drove in with no breaks and constantly got himself in trouble that the rest (mostly Les) had to drag him out of. He also developed bipolar during this time (in my story Floyd constantly fluctuates between being saturated and being desaturated because of this) and his manic and depressive episodes started getting out of hand after his teenage years. (None of them are aware it's a mental disorder that's making him act so out of character.)

Floyd was becoming miserable because of this and all of his problems pilling up, and started blaming Les for the way he was. Les never argued this which only fueled Floyd to blame him more. In the end he was getting so frustrated and irritable that Floyd constantly tried starting arguments with him, even putting him down and getting aggressive at times because Les gets very unresponsive and closed off during personal conversations (guy is a giant onion of suppressed trauma that Floyd is hellbent on peeling open).

Eventually there was one fight too many, terrible things were said, some objects flew through the air, and Floyd walked out (or Hed kicked him out, I haven't decided yet) with the promise of going home and never seeing them again.

So, yeah, it was very messy and Floyd was the primary asshole, even though he's not really to blame either...

But Floyd didn't make it home (was too scared to sneak through Bergen Town to get to the tree (i don't think i can judge him for that either)) and he just returned to the reckless lifestyle, this time without anyone being there to keep him safe. So if he was messed up before, this is the time period where he got absolutely fucked up. This is also when he got heavily addicted to sour worms. And when he chronically slept around (half the time just to get offered free worms or have somewhere to sleep, other times because he was having manic episodes and was feeling hypersexual). (This is also potentially the period when he had the two eggs with that techno troll, but I'm still thinking if I want that to be canon to the story or not.) During this time he also grew to become very anxious and his self-confidence went to shit when he was being himself.

Then after about three years of that, he bumped into Les at some party. He wanted to dodge him out of shame but Les grabbed his arm and manhandled him outside to talk. Floyd felt like shit about the way they had split up and tried apologizing for all the stuff he had said and done to Les, but Les wasn't having any of that because he wasn't angry at Floyd, he was just worried about him. Les is also insanely empathetic like Floyd, and he knew that Floyd never really meant any of it, and that he was just looking for an outlet when he was hurting. Also he does think he is to blame for the way Floyd ended up.

Les wanted to know why he didn't go home like he had said (because that was the only reason Les had even let him walk out in the first place). A few exchanged words later and Floyd broke down telling him all the awful things he'd done, and Les promised to help him, feeling insanely guilty. Floyd wondered if he was allowed back in the band but Les made it clear that the band wasn't good for him and that he was never taking him back. Instead Les helped him go though rehab. I don't think trolls have those institutions (or at least not many are aware of them or how they work (I'm sorry but I refuse to believe the Trolls world has internet and cellphones, Mountrageons can keep that for themselves lol)), so it was more or less just Les finding Floyd a job and his own place to stay in the middle of bumfuck nowhere where he had no option but to detox, and constantly checking up on him to make sure he was doing okay. During this time they grew pretty close again. Or maybe the better term would be that Les slowly started putting his walls down again.

Hed needed a while to warm up to Floyd again. He's almost as protective of Les as Les is of him, and he resented Floyd for the way he had treated him.

Flea is pretty phlegmatic when it comes to any sort of arguing or drama. He was casual about seeing Floyd again, they were never super close anyway.

And Liv, she left the band when she and Hed broke up (haven't decided if that happened before or after Floyd left), so Floyd didn't get to see her again after bumping into Les at the party. And I haven't thought yet if they'd ever meet again somewhere later in life. But if they did, I think they'd both be happy to see each other.

Anyway...

Floyd managed to detox and successfully kept the job for about a year, but then he became manic again and messed it all up. After that he returned to his nomadic lifestyle, but he never fell as hard as those three years again. In my story Floyd's life is a constant cycle of getting his life together and fucking it up and booking to the next place. And he and Les are trapped in a never-ending cat and mouse game where they're both trying to fix each other.

So, uh, Les and Floyd are still very close and see each other somewhat often...

(sometimes monthly, sometimes yearly)

Yeah...

I am so fucking obsessed with them I'm gonna hurl. Please take this song before I combust:

[vaguely-concerned]

I think the most defining thing about kremy as a person is that he desperately wants to be a man with a mustache -- while being physically, biologically incapable of producing hair follicles lol. like no wonder he takes to drag so much, that's basically most of what he's already doing with his outward identity! and the physical aspect of that is smaller, I feel, than what he's got going on psychologically. he's someone who doesn't want to be -- can't be? -- who and what he is, and who can't be what he wants to be because what he wants to be doesn't really exist, so he lives his life somewhere on the border between them. the almiraj might be no mirage, but the perfectly clever and charming and utterly untouchable version of kremy that kremy would like to be -- instead of the vulnerable neurotic mess of longing and fear and striving for control he clearly actually is -- absolutely is, I'm afraid. it's just a shadow on the wall with nothing real to cast it.

(all of this also goes into the many Gender and trans readings of him too, of course! men will say they’re fighting demons and the demons are trying to live up to a very specific brand of toxic masculinity they've sort of invented for themselves lol)  

the one deep down entrenched assumption we see kremy make again and again especially interpersonally is that if he's open with who he really is and what he feels or thinks at any given time, he would be revealed as fundamentally unacceptable and at best discarded and abandoned, at worst endangered. (it's literally spelled out with the cyclops in the witchlight carnival, but you see him go through this process all the time through the rest of the story too! being unable to lie or dissemble was a catastrophic event in this dude’s inner landscape. I’m sure that means nothing) and because he is also frequently kind of awful this assumption may not be entirely off base some of the time lol (deeply affectionate), but I think it comes from a much deeper place than that. kremy is ashamed of where he's from and who he's been -- that dirt poor wide-eyed kid from the swamp who saw all the fancy gentlemen in town and Wanted. wanted to be that, wanted to have that power, probably some confused sexuality want mixed up with it all as well for spice. wanted more than anything, perhaps, to BE something, because next to that he feels like nothing. which means abandoning the earnest kid who guilelessly loved unicorns and his meemaw and cooking without meaning to impress anyone and silly soft things in the swamp he came from while he went off to the big city and modeled himself after men like garou. (and his relationship with garou surely also had some effects on just how shifty he's become at intimacy too, aside from the building a facade of it all, that might be some secondary damage that was not his fault nor in his control at all)

even when he's acting seemingly shamelessly, he is fundamentally a shame-based psychology, is what I'm trying to get at. the only times he lets his thoughts and emotions out into the world unfiltered is when he's brought to a point of frustration where he throws up his hands and abandons manipulation or subtle machinations as an interpersonal tactic -- see: the several times he argues something with frost or gricko and then finally admits 'I literally don't actually care about this! you guys figure it out and deal with this if it matters so much to you I'm going to bed ffs' haha. his depression shines through when he’s too tired to hide it, especially in the later episodes. every open emotion is an admission he really didn't want to make and thinks is tactically disadvantageous for him. (and sometimes when he's being really for real he'll even admit to being worse than people gave him credit for, like when he admits he suspected mr. witch and mr. light were capable of doing something really really bad to torbek and handed him over anyway. kremy being that blunt and open is like. remarkable and also a sign that he's actually taking it seriously, for all that he's also revealing himself to be even more of an asshole than previously suspected lmao. that's not nothing, for kremy. BUT at the same time he is also the person who cried to see a unicorn broken and abused, and who saw something in gideon upon meeting him that no one else did or cared to at that time and offered him genuine companionship and support — as the story goes on he’s starting to admit to more things about himself, the bad and the good.)

all of which of course also is why he's having such a hard time being honest with gideon about how he feels (and the sheer immensity with which he feels it too, probably) -- that's incredibly vulnerable for a person who’s built himself up around the idea of never being vulnerable. ('i'm just a shadow, nothing you do can really touch or hurt me.') And yet if there’s peace and redemption to be found for kremy, if only within his own soul, between these versions of himself, I feel that discovering and accepting his own capacity for loving someone else so much that it transcends all selfishness or fear would be integral to it. (he loves gideon. So much it makes me a bit dizzy you guys)

[0104-vikita]

The Amazing Digital Circus 🔎Episode Speculations🔎

With friends we tried to make up different scenarios and speculations based on Episode 2's trailer. Most of them are about the episode, but some can apply to the show in general. I felt like sharing them.

NPC Awarenesses/Sentience

NPCS and Locations don't get erased. Instead they can be reused over and over. The Candy Cannon has been used for humans that to this day are already abstracted. The NPCS might remember.

All NPCs are aware of their role as simple additions for Caine's adventures. They are almost like actors that may not get out of their role.

Only SOME NPCS are aware of their role AND as sentient as a human, while others just get reset. Those who are aware feel depressed and trapped as a result. Has major impact in the Lore

The NPCS are not aware, but become so and find out the truth towards the end of the adventure, leading to an existential crisis. Has major impact in the lore

NPC Awarenesses and "we were just acting" is instead played as a Joke where they all hang out before the main cast returns to the circus.

Storylines, Plot and Escenes

The gators are bandits and present a major issue for the kingdom. Is the main cast's quest to stop them or interfere with them (@notnights)

The gators aren't necessarily bad guys, and the quest has nothing to do with them, but the main cast does something that bothers them (maybe the truck they ride is theirs and stole it) getting into conflict

There is a BIGGER threat lurking in the Candy Cannon, the gators and the main cast are forced to work together (@gen-toon)

I like to think the reason Gangle is shown driving is because of the fact she's the most likely to get carsick (said by Goose previously). Being the driver diminishes the chances of getting carsick (for some)

There will be a chase and shooting scene in the episode

The close up eye picture belongs to either one of the gators (what I thought at the beginning) OR some creature we have not met before (the eyes look different from the gators) The lightning suggests a different location and lore relevancy.

Overall there will be lore related scenes suggested by the different non-candy cannon scenes on which Pomni appears worried, scared and overall nervous.

There is a mannequin running behind Gangle in what appears to be their entrance to the Kingdom. This is most likely the reason her mask breaks.

One of my friends (@gen-toon) realized that there's a mosaic that looks oddly similar to Kinger. But it could also be Caine (@notnights). It makes more sense to be Caine's since he's like a God almost. Maybe they worship him

Jax (there's stuff I wanna say about this bitch specifically)

There's a scene in which Jax appears to be in danger of falling from the truck while being eaten by the monster. This scene made me think about the possibility of Jax getting in danger and the cast REFUSING to help him or at least hesitating to do so cuz bro is a bastard.

He notices this hesitation/refusal, this occurrence makes him think (leading to the "sad Jax" scene) but it does NOT lead him to be better, instead, it leads him to be worse because "they hate me anyways"

This scene could also be the result of other possible plot scenes suggested by my friends:

The gators have been defeated and tied up. They attempt to manipulate Jax into joining them by hitting on his weak spots. (@notnights )

The gators and the cast are bonding together. The gators' boisterous personality drifts him away. The only way he socializes with people is by being boisterous and annoying, so the fact that these gators might be boisterous AND nice will take him out of focus. It will show that he in fact does not know how to form a genuine connection with others. (@gen-toon)

Maybe he's considering shooting the captured gators to get over with the adventure. (@notnights )

Maybe bro's hungry and is just eating the chocolate on the floor idk (got that idea from @corpseacoast fanart)

I will just keep adding stuff as I remember, speculating is kinda fun.

[sc0tters]

Second Chance | Jamie Drysdale

summary: jamie might still have your mind but does he really have your heart?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, mild choking, mild degradation, jealous jamie, swearing.

word count: 3.68k

authors note: for how long this took me I’m embarrassed to admit to how short it is… this part two was also so freaking weird to write so I’m hoping it’s a bit better to read.

pt 1

You had grown to hate Anaheim.

The city was a shell of its former self with where the shadows of Jamie seemed to haunt your mind. Everywhere you looked you swore he was there and you hated being met with the reality that he wasn’t. But most of all you hated the fact that you couldn’t seem to hate him.

Trevor noticed the decline in your mood but he just assumed that it was some kind of seasonal depression. And as he focused on building his new relationship with his girlfriend, he simply didn’t notice how far you had fallen. Trying to grapple with life as a twenty year old was always going to be tough and still feeling the pain of a broken heart that was dealt to you by the man who you couldn’t ever call yours.

It was this weird sense of grief you felt. You couldn’t say that you missed him because then what was it that you missed? He wasn’t your boyfriend, and at best Jamie was the guy you slept with from time to time. To top it all off you were a barely keeping it all together whilst Jamie seemed to be unscathed from the unfortunate emotions, only furthering your pain.

Your friends put you on enough dating sites to last anyone a lifetime as you were the only one single. And as you finally stopped turning them down, they wouldn’t give you a chance to change your mind. With each guy you could only find his downfalls or how he wasn’t like Jamie and how your heart and your brain just wanted the man who clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

So after almost three months of struggling with all of these men that clearly weren’t enough to pull your mind from the grasps of Jamie; you finally found someone who made you feel alive and funnily enough he had been right in front of you all along. Alex started hanging out more with you when Trevor started spending more time with Dixie.

Alex had actually shown up at the Zegras siblings apartment one night looking for Trevor “hey Al.” You smiled as you saw the boy stand over you “is Trev in?”Aled asked as he cocked his head shoving his hands into his shorts pockets.

Your lips pursed together as you shook your head “he’s out on a date.” Your words made him wriggle his eyebrows as he laughed “I got that man dinner for nothing?” Every Wednesday the duo would go for dinner if they didn’t have a game and now it seemed that your brother forgot of that tradition.

You frowned sending him a sigh “if you’re up for an episode of the bachelor I could eat?” You offered opening the door further as you smiled tilting your head inwards “since you asked so nicely.” Alex didn’t hesitate to nod as he walked in making himself comfortable on the couch.

That’s how your weeks ended, with Alex on the couch and he was no longer just your brothers best friend but instead a friend of yours. You had to say that you found yourself falling for him. With Alex it was no longer tough to not think about Jamie, instead now it was tough to not let your body feel like it was on fire with nerves.

All the way in Philly sat Jamie as he frowned staring at his phone in his empty apartment. The sound of a notification pulled him from his daze when he realised that he had a voicemail from you. It surprised him when he saw your name but after months of letting his thumb hover over the call button only stopping when the fear of hearing you upset got to him. But instead he was met with the sounds of you in bed with someone else.

The sounds of your breathe shaking echoed in the phones speaker “fuck Al!” You moaned letting your legs shake “you are such a pretty fucking girl.” Alex mumbled as he ran his finger over your clit. It made Jamie freeze listening to you having sex. Was he meant to hang up? Because this clearly wasn’t meant for him.

You grabbed the boy by the back of his neck as you pulled him forward “gonna come.” You announced kissing his lips “go make a mess on my fingers and I’ll make you feel real good with my cock.” As the offer left Alex’s lips a flurry of jumbled sounds and noises left your mouth signalling that you had reached your high.

The sounds made Jamie recoil in disgust as he didn’t know what to do about it. Most of all though he missed being the one who made you sound like that. Jamie didn’t know what to do as he felt his cock hardening in his pants. The season had ended and he was meant to be heading home to his parents but all he could think about was you. There were no rumours on twitter about you and this Al that Jamie swore was Turcotte.

And he knew that Twitter would have found something as they even had scraps of you and Jamie together swirling around the rumour mill. So as he was met with nothing but random pictures of you and Trevor, Jamie knew what he had to do.

You groaned when you were woken up to the incessant pounding on your door when you realised that Trevor was still out “alright I’m coming!” You complained rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Before you could even properly open the door it was pushed into you as the raven haired boy that you knew so well walked in “where is he?” Jamie grunted looking around the pristinely clean apartment “where is who?” You yawned wondering if you were dreaming of Jamie being there.

The boy stopped planting his feet where he was as he sent you a harsh glare “the man you fucked last night y/n!” His words made you freeze as you began to wonder how he knew about what you had done the night before.

A laugh echoed through your ears “you gonna tell me you don’t remember giving me that front row seat to listen in?” your eyes went wide as you realised what had gone on.

You couldn’t help but bring your hand to your mouth as you held back a laugh “you came back because you heard me have sex?” You knew it wasn’t the time to bring it up but that clearly seemed to be his entire reason for being there and you were a fool to think that it could have been something else.

Jamie rolled his eyes as he felt himself grow angry “I leave for Philly and all of a sudden you’re deciding that your type simply has to be friends with your brother.” The flyer spat as he sent you a glare “you don’t get to go there!” The embarrassment you once held had left your chest as it had been replaced by anger.

He rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms “why not?” Jamie spoke rhetorically as he cocked his head “because that’s the only thing we have in common.” He pointed out reminding you of how different the boys were.

You chewed at the inside of your cheek “you left me and came back to judge me for moving on?” Your voice was barely a whisper as the boy stepped closer to you.

Part of you was grateful for the fact that Alex left earlier that morning needing to catch a flight back to Michigan but the other part just wanted him to walk into the living room to stop whatever was going to come from this “you didn’t really move on though, did ya?” Jamie’s fingers were rough against your cheek as he towered over you.

A shaky breath left your lips “you’re being mean.” You pointed out trying your best to ignore his question “tell me to leave and I will.” Jamie announced pressing a cold and hard gaze against your weakening one.

The oxygen around the room was struggling to get into your lungs as you shook your head “you know I can’t.” It came with this defeated sigh that even made Jamie pity you “then why’d you go for him?” The question was like the one you had asked yourself so many times and could never find the answers to.

You shrugged as no answer really made the most sense “you enjoyed playing him is that it?” The hockey player was pushing your buttons in search of a particular answer “he’s good to me J.” You shook your head almost offended that the boy in front of you thought that lowly of you.

Yet it gave him the chance to laugh at you once more “better than I was?” It seemed like that was the first question you could actually shake off as you shook your head but this time to really say no “does he have you coming for rounds on end?” Especially once Jamie moved into out from the Zegras sibling’s apartment; it meant that you were over at his more often than not and up until the sun would rise.

Tears welled in your waterline “only you do that.” It was as though his cock left an imprint on your cunt that only he knew how to make feel full “I know my sweet girl.” You really thought that you had moved on from Jamie but as he stood in front of you with his hand caressing your cheek, you knew that you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Jamie put you out of your misery as his free hand gripped at your hip “how about I make you feel real fucking good?” He offered letting his lips hover over yours “please.” Was all the hockey player needed to hear as he picked you up letting your legs wrap around his waist as his lips locked with yours.

All of the lust and anger that both of you felt about the situation -about each other- was oozing out of your systems as your hands tugged through his hair pulling at the roots as his tongue slid into your lips “should fuck you out here like the real slut that you are.” He proposed letting a smirk form across his lips as he watched your eyes go wide.

Trevor had told you he was coming home, you just didn’t know when “Jim.” You whined shaking your head as you motioned your bedroom trying to tell him that today wasn’t the time for it “you worried that your little boy toy is gonna come back to see where you really belong?” Jamie nipped at your neck as he walked you both into your room making sure that the door was shut.

He watched in awe as your eyes scanned his face “his name is Alex, Jamie.” You reminded the boy as you felt guilty thinking about how sweet Alex was to you “and I’m gonna make sure you forget it.” Jamie’s announcement didn’t have you thinking otherwise as he placed you onto your bed settling into his place between your legs.

You had seen Jamie jealous before after you chugged a beer that Mason had given you. But this was a whole new level as if Jamie had something to prove “now rest that pretty little head of yours on that pillow f’me.” The hockey player reached behind you to grab your pillow as he pulled it closer to you.

One thing you always knew how to do was listen to him and today you didn’t disappoint. Your body nestled against your sheets as you looked at him with anticipation “god you’re soaked.” Jamie grunted seeing your soaked cunt as he trailed his fingers against your slit watching in awe as your wetness stuck to fingers.

He swore that the sight would truly never get old as he would watch you like this forever “please.” Your voice waivered as you forced your hips into the air “been thinking about having a taste of this all the fucking time.” Jamie confessed making you meet him with a whimper.

His lips pressed against your knee “Jamie.” You groaned feeling his breath go down your legs as he made sure to spread his love equally “yeah baby.” The hockey player turned his head up to look at you as you chewed at your lower lip.

A mewl left your lips “please fuck me.” You begged feeling desperate to feel him between your thighs again “don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands.” Jamie clicked his tongue as he blew a cool air against your cunt “not after you were fucking him on our bed.” He didn’t even give you a chance to respond as his tongue latched onto your clit.

Your hands gripped at your sheets in an attempt to stop your body from curling into itself “‘m sorry.” You croaked out as your body melted into his touch

Jamie might as well have been a starved man as he treated you like you were his last meal “can’t believe you let him see my sweet tight pussy.” The boy raised his lips only far enough to bring his hand between you both so that he could hit your cunt.

It made you moan as your body shook “he would let me come.” You knew you were playing with fire as the hockey player sent you a glare “that pretty little mouth of yours is gonna get you in so much trouble.” Jamie warned edging dangerously close to you as he smirked.

You used the last bits of power and strength that you had left to smile “you used to deal with that by putting your cock in my mouth.” You swore that in that moment Jamie was seeing the devil as his pupils darkened “that’s before I had to treat you like somebody else’s whore.” He spat letting his fingers grip onto your hips as he turned you over resulting in a yelp leaving your lips.

Your didn’t often deceive you but in that moment you swore you heard Jamie grunt into your ear “you just had to go and give this pretty little cunt to someone who didn’t even deserve it.” Jamie clicked his tongue as he undid his belt.

You gripped at your sheets as you felt your shirt come off of your back as it was lifted up “see he isn’t a fan of you back here.” The hockey player mumbled to himself as your back looked untouched “at least I know your ass is still mine then.” He squeezed your ass in his fingers causing a breathy moan to leave your lips.

You couldn’t help but shake your ass pushing yourself into him “god I need to fuck you.” Jamie groaned feeling his cock throb as he felt your bare cunt grind against him “what are you waiting for then?” The question taunted him practically egging him on as you push his buttons further.

The swollen tip of his cock oozed precum as he wrapped his hand around his shaft “you’re lucky that I can’t get this cunt out of my head.” He grumbled pumping himself once then twice before he dragged the mushroom head over your slit.

It made your body tense as you curled your toes “fuck!” Your moan was swallowed by your pillow as Jamie smirked to himself “seems like you been missing me too.” The hockey player gripped at your hips as he let himself bottom you out.

Both of you stayed there for a moment as your walls hugged his length “like I never even left ya.” Jamie gritted his teeth as he began to pick up the pace of his thrusts feeling his eyes flutter “was worried he would have ruined my pretty fucking pussy.” The boy spat oozing with jealousy as it made you whimper.

Tears formed in your waterline when your ass was met with a smack “no!” You cried as you shook your head “don’t worry doll.” Jamie kissed the back of your neck as his hands slid under you to cup your breasts.

The sounds of his thrusts echoed in your ears “could never ruin something that wasn’t his.” Your cunt clenched around Jamie as you were aroused by his possessiveness “you like hearing me say that you’re all mine huh?” You could feel his smirk like the Cheshire Cat as you nodded.

Jamie’s knees dipped into the mattress as he got the best angle into you “all yours.” You moaned as you turned your head up to see him looking back down at you “knew you still had a brain in that pretty head of yours.” The hockey player kissed your cheek as his cock throbbed from within you.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust of his cock “don’t stop J.” You begged feeling a coil snap in your stomach “you feel you haven’t had a good fuck in months.” Jamie wasn’t lying when he said that, your cunt stretched to his cock and it was as though he hadn’t been with you before.

Cries let your lips as you babbled a steady stream of incoherent nonsense “make me feel so full.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as your legs began to shake “you feel me in here?” Jamie asked pressing his hand against your lower stomach where he felt his cock hit your gspot that left you yelping out in pleasure.

His fingers slid lower to rub your clit “fuck I’m gonna come.” You announced not thinking that you would be able to last much longer “gonna hold it until you ask nicely.” Jamie clicked his tongue as his free hand was quick to move to your neck as he pulled you closer to him as he held you upright.

Sweat stuck your both of you as his thrusts began to grow unstable and inconsistent “please let me come.” You called out not caring who could hear you “just want to be all yours.” You nodded feeling your vision get blurry as you didn’t think you were going to last much longer.

Jamie let his teeth sink into your shoulder as he stopped himself from coming in that moment “you never gonna let him get close to your pretty cunt ever again?” Jamie spat pressing his fingertips over the sides of your throat.

You swore your throat was raw as you kept on begging to have him let you come “I’m only yours Jamie.” You mumbled nodding as your ears began to ring “you fucking own me.” That was enough to let Jamie go feral as he used the little energy he had left to practically fuck you into oblivion “just go make a mess on my cock doll.” The order wasn’t something he needed to say twice.

As your cunt clenched around him it triggered the hockey players orgasm on as he spurted his warm load in sticky strings against your cunts walls “fuck J.” You whined writhing against him as you practically forgot how to breathe when the oxygen to your brain began to slow.

It took him a few more thrusts until you both landed on your mattress and his hand left your neck “wow.” Jamie mumbled sliding his cock out from your cunt to see your release mix either his as it oozed out “you okay?” He added flipping you over onto your back as you finally got the chance to look at him.

The way his eyes scanned you deep of concern made you laugh “that was the hottest thing I think you’ve ever done.” You confessed making him match your laugh as he leaned down to kiss you “think I can make it a little hotter then.” Jamie proposed running his hand down your slit before he scooped up whatever release that had oozed from your cunt as he now let it go back into your core as he pushed his fingers through your hole.

That day left an imprint on your mind as four weeks had gone by and Jamie had become nothing more than one of Trevor’s friends. Confessions seemed to way less than your brothers tears as he drunkenly sobbed into your arms one night begging you to end whatever it was after he found you in Jamie’s shirt.

Thankfully Trevor seemed to have no recollection of the conversation as he invited Jamie along to the family house on the lake a little over a month from now. Sure it was going to be weird for you but after a long call with Jamie you both agreed that it was going to be best for things to end for the sakes of Trevor.

He tried to put up a fight but when you brought up distance amongst other factors, Jamie knew he had lost the battle. You and Alex were merely enjoying things the way they were.

It was the perfect balance that truly didn’t need a label to have you feeling secure. Yet as you stood in the bathroom waiting for your timer to go off part of you began to curse your big brother for having to come to you, and for you having to be a good person.

Your period had been late and as it was bikini season you never complained but when you did the math backwards you realised that something was off. Even if you had shared your bed with two different guys, only one had you without any kind of protection between you both was Jamie.

And as you flipped the test over to see the thick bold letters spelling out the word PREGNANT you knew you were in all sense of the word fucked. No amount of tears was ever going to help make this situation better as you began to panic. Your head pressed against your knees as you wanted to wake up from this dream.

Al 🖤: just booked my flight see you next month x

[0kurt0]

COLD TOUCHES

Pelle “ Dead “ Ohlin x reader

♱dating headcanons for Dead

✧.* just felt like Pelle needed a little love, poor baby :( so here are some dating headcanons for Pelle.

♱metal masterlist here!

♱I feel like that Pelle would be the type of boyfriend who wouldn’t be into much physical touch.

♱poor baby is so scared that he might scare you away or disgust you :(

♱but you don’t want him to run away from you because he thinks you might hate him!

♱you’ll take his hands in yours and rub them gently and make sure to go softer over his scars to comfort and reassure him if he wants to and tell him you’re not disgusted by him at all!

♱I also feel like that Pelle would hate to show you his SH scars, he feels like you would leave him if you showed him.

♱but you’ll reassure him that it doesn’t matter and you’ll tell him it just shows the battles he went through with his mental health.

“ I thought… you wouldn’t like them… so disgusting… “ ( you would rub his shoulders gently to comfort him and give him kisses on his cheek if he wants them )

♱and if you tried to tell Pelle to stop cutting to cope with his depression, he would try to be better for you but he wouldn’t stop completely.

♱I also feel like you would have a book full of pictures of Pelle. You just want to remember him if he ever leaves :(

♱sometimes it’s rare that you’ll get smiles from Pelle. It doesn’t matter cause you’ll love the pictures still.

♱if Pelle wanted to tell you something, he would pull at your sleeve or squeeze your hand a bit to signal he wants to say something.

♱at every single one of Mayhem’s concerts when you and Pelle got together, you were always back stage when the concert was about to end with a first aid kit to patch up his cuts.

♱you absolutely hate when he cuts himself, the first time the other guys tried to patch him up, they used tape! It made you so mad that you scolded them for almost an hour!

♱I alsofeel like thatche would give you little gifts he finds in the forest when he's out on his daily walk

♱like you could just be minding your business doing whatever and he would just walk right up to you and give you animal bones he finds in the forest

" found them... Thought you would like 'em..." ( he would be so shy giving them to you! He would think you wouldn't like them! But you love everything he gives you)

♱and when Pelle would have his episodes where he would just stay in his room for long periods of time an not talk to anyone. You would comfort him and give him space if he needed it.

♱I also feel like that Pelle would only fall asleep if you're with him.

♱he would not want you to leave him and he just wants to feel loved :(

♱and no matter what, you will NEVER call him Dead. you hate that name so much because he's not dead to you, he's just your Pelle.

♱but he's head over heels for you. You respect him so much and give him so much love and support that he will promise that he will always be here for you.

[mejcinta]

HOTD S3 PLOTLINE IDEAS INCLUDING SOME BTS HINTS BY WRITERS, ACTORS AND MY OWN SPECULATION. PS: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T CUT MAELOR OR NETTLES!!!!

Aemond struggles with paranoia following the prophecy Helaena revealed to him, initially denying it and continuing in his quest for glory. Ewan also stated in an interview (to Hey U Guys, YouTube) that Aemond could oversee the breaking of the blockade. Will he be duped by the dragonseeds and Jace moving on 2 fronts i.e the Gullet AND King’s Landing, capturing it in his absence as he’s occupied at the Gullet?

Helaena is in more danger with Aemond than ever before (Sara Hess’ words).

Orwyle alone knows of Alicent’s treason. Aemond might confront him about Aegon’s disappearance.

Aegon’s escape might trigger Alicent to admit her treason.

Helaena disapproves of Alicent’s betrayal/compromise with Rhaenyra (Phia said that news would be a 'tough pill to swallow' for Helaena) while Aemond (IF POINT NUMBER 1 DOESN’T HAPPEN) is heartbroken and angry because Alicent chose Rhaenyra over him and his siblings. There’s no time left to hold Alicent accountable for her crime and he loves her too much to harm her. Thus his departure from KL will be one of urgency.

Aegon and Larys on a turbulent ‘road trip’ while on the run to Essos.

Alicent and Rhaenyra feud because of Aegon’s escape. When Otto is finally captured by the Blacks, a bitter Rhaenyra executes him in public before Alicent in retribution for Jace and baby Viserys. This widens the divide between the two women and severs their old bond. It’s all out war from here on out.

BEST OPTION: Helaena learns she is with child (Maelor) just when Alicent thinks her sons are free from Rhaenyra’s wrath. Having a male babe would mean Helaena would have to live in fear losing another son. S2 happens in the span of 6 weeks, so Maelor’s conception can fall between the dinner in s1 episode 8 and her encounter with Aegon after Jaehaerys’ funeral. Alicent has some few sympathizers left at court (maids and/spies connected to Larys). It is these people that help facilitate the escape of baby Maelor with Rickard in disguise.

Helaena and Alicent arrange for Jaehaera to be snuck out to safety to Storm’s End.

Daemon misinterprets the vision Alys showed him, becomes obsessed with it benefitting him directly e.g he believes Dany could be his future daughter with Rhaenyra (Ryan Condal said this).

Daemon fears Helaena because he saw her in his vision. This could be Helaena’s only saving grace, especially after Jace is killed by the Greens’ forces.

Mysaria forces Rhaenyra to contend with the fact that for as long as Helaena lives as a symbol of true Queenship to the smallfolk she stands little chance of being accepted and must get rid of her.

Mysaria disapproves of Alicent’s influence on Rhaenyra and will throw a wrench in their dynamic.

(ASSUMING MAELOR IS FOOLISHLY CUT FROM THE STORY, SMH) Ser Rickard’s demise leads many to believe that Jaehaera is dead too and this might throw Helaena into severe depression.

Aegon and Larys might get intercepted on their journey to Essos and be forced to change course to their nearest least suspicious location: Dragonstone. Tom Glynn Carney stated in an interview to the Nerdist that he’s not so sure whether Aegon and Larys will end up in Essos.

Ser Alfred Broome looks to Aegon for favor because now that Daemon knows he would readily betray Rhaenyra, his safety under the Blacks is at risk. He will be the one to welcome Aegon and Larys to Dragonstone and hide them.

Baela, who by now has lost both Rhaenys and Jace, stews in rage ad vengeance. As she divides her time between Dragonstone and Driftmark in the books, I expect that she’d be left in charge of Dragonstone (with Driftmark now sacked). She grows more suspicious of Ser Alfred and his activities.

Alys’ past is delved into (one of th writers promised this, can’t tell which one) as she struggles with 100 years of loneliness following Daemon’s departure (actress said Alys desires human connection). Turns out she has much in common with Aemond, who also feels alone and abandoned by his family.

Daeron rescues Otto from his jailors (this means the old man will be captured by the Blacks later on and be executed publically later on as well.)

Daeron might learn of Aegon’s whereabouts and communicate with him.

Aemond goes to Harrenhal and clashes with Alys at first. Their relationship will take time to develop #slowburn.

Rhaena saves little Aegon from the Triarchy/Tyland preserves Aegon and when the seeds capture them, he is arrested????

OR Jace is the one who tries to save his brothers but fails. Ultimately, Vermax, wounded in battle, flies to Dragonstone and dies on the beach with little Aegon still clinging to him. This way Jace dies having saved a brother heroically.

Addam’s identity is revealed and Rhaenyra starts to doubt Corlys’ intentions. This is the beginning of her paranoia arc.

Alyn and Corlys draw closer as father and son.

Aegon questions Larys’ intentions.

Larys uses his spy network to siphon intelligence from King’s Landing and Harrenhal.

Aegon secures Jaehaera either by himself or with the help of Storm’s End to whom he gives promise of a marriage alliance in exchange.

Sunfyre escapes a hunting party sent by Rhaenyra, confirming he is alive and able to fly. He begins his journey to Dragonstone.

OPINION: Swapping Nettles for Rhaena would be DIABOLICAL because that means Rhaena would have to suffer pure hatred from the woman she calls mother. And this being what separates Daemon from Rhaenyra doesn’t hit as hard as Daemon slowly losing faith in Rhaenyra as she descends into madness and paranoia, and at the same time Daemon starts to falsely see the vision of Dany manifest through Nettles, who he brings under his wing of protection.

It would be much better for Rhaena to FAIL in her attempt at claiming Sheepstealer. Have Jeyne take her back in and try to connect her to her little brothers again, who have probably left ahead of her by this time. Develop a mother-daughter dynamic between these two with Jeyne imparting some counsel. With the guilt of putting her little brothers in danger, Rhaena tries to gain the support of the Vale for Rhaenyra by reaching a deal with the Royces, who by now are still bitter about Daemon. And Daemon, who saw visions of Laena urging him to take care of their daughters, will defend Rhaena from Rhaenyra’s anger after the Battle of the Gullet. He will try to help Rhaenyra see sense, that the tragedy would have happened anyways, whether Rhaena was present with the children or not.