#hes not immune to the spiral and in fact i think hes the very first person to get captured by its spell.

[nilovalentine]

Everybody is wrong about Shuichi Saito from Junji Ito's Uzumaki including the wiki I'm the only person who understands what's going on with him. 'Hes immune to the spiral curse but he also unexplainably has these specific powers' well he isn't immune to the spiral I hope that helps. Please ask me to elaborate I'm going to explode

[forever-rogue]

let me just say i am obsessed with your work and i have a small concept with pre-outbreak!joel that i’d like to share. you’re welcome to develop this as a full fic, a headcanon or even just discuss it.

joel has been dating you for a while, it’s his first serious relationship since sarah’s mom left and needless to say he’s very much in love. but being with you comes with a lot of pressure. as i said, it’s his first real relationship and he tries to be the absolute best partner for you. in the beginning you don’t pay attention to it because what you have is new and of course you do a lot to make it work but as time passes, you realize it’s a bit more serious than that.

he literally drives himself crazy trying to be the perfect partner. to the point where he’s stressing himself out or feeling guilty about things that are either normal or out of his control. for example, let’s say it’s your birthday and he wants to take you to a nice restaurant. you happen to be late (maybe an issue with his car or traffic) and lose the reservation. it’s okay, you assure him it’s fine but he feels terrible and just trying to fix it. in a similar way, if you ever have an argument and you decide to leave to clear your mind, it will bring the worst anxiety out of him. it’s all small things that pile up until you realize that he’s actually terrified he isn’t enough because if he wasn’t enough to make the mother of their child stay, why would you?

you can choose how you work it out so he feels more secure in the relationship or tell me what you think of this, i’d love to hear your opinion 🙂

AN | Okay but this is so soft and heartbreaking at the same time. But there is a happy ending! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel was standing on your doorstep, clutching a bouquet in his hand. He felt like he was shaking and sweating and going to throw up all at once. Needless to say he was nervous. It had been so long since he’d been on a date, let alone a first date. And not just any first date, but a first date with you. 

You, that had almost knocked him over, literally and metaphorically, in the grocery store and left him feeling like a scared teenager. You’d been the one to ask him out, in fact, but he was still somehow convinced that you’d made some kind of mistake or were going to change your mind.

He rocked back and forth on his heels for a few moments as he listened for your footsteps. When he heard you unlock the door and slowly open it, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. 

“Joel,” your pretty lips pulled in a big smile as you looked him over, “you’re here!”

“Of course I am,” he replied sweetly, a soft twang to his warm drawl, “did you think I wouldn’t show up?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted sheepishly, your face growing warm, “men are weird sometimes…even more so when it’s a woman asking a man out. But I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You look beautiful,” he couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten or how pretty you were. You were wearing a pretty little sundress and that alone was enough to cause his mind to practically spiral; he was just a mere mortal man and even he was not immune to the effect of a sundress. He pulled himself together to hand you the flowers that were still tightly clutched in his hand, “these are for you.”

“They’re lovely,” you took them gently, your fingers brushing against his, “thank you so much. No one’s given me flowers in so long, this is so kind.”

“They reminded me of you, bright and pretty,” maybe he wasn’t totally terrible at this after all.

“Come on in for a moment while I put these in some water,” you moved back inside and motioned for him to follow you. He slowly followed you inside, looking around your humble abode to try and get a good feel for you, “so, have you decided what we’re going to do this evening?”

“I have a few things in mind,” he grinned, a little half smile that made your heart speed up a little bit as you quickly moved to set the flowers into a vase with fresh water, “I can tell you or you can be surprised.”

“Surprise me,” you set the flowers on the counter and looked at him sweetly.

“Surprise it is.”

“I have a feeling you’re going to surprise me a lot, Joel Miller,” you grabbed your purse and he shot you a cheeky little wink, “I look forward to it.”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel Miller couldn’t believe his luck. It had been a year, a whole ass year, since the two of you had gone on your first date. That might have been one of the best days of his life, topped only by the birth of his daughter. He knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and knew that he wanted to ask you to marry him.

But there was still some remaining doubt that kept nagging at the back of his mind.

A part of him was always waiting for you to realize that he didn’t deserve you and to leave. Not that you’d done anything to ever suggest that was going to happen but still. He thought about it…a lot. He’d felt like a complete failure when his wife had left him and their daughter when she was only a few months old without so much as a proper explanation. If the woman he’d loved and married, the mother of his daughter, didn't want anything to do with him, why would anyone else? And what did he have to offer anyway? Nothing. Not in his mind anyway. 

And he loved you, so much. He would do anything to keep you in his life. So he threw himself into everything he did; he wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you, even if it all but killed him. 

You appreciated everything he did for you, so much and all the things he did were definitely not lost on you. At first it didn’t really hit you just how much he was driven to perfection until you started to see some of the cracks in the facade. 

It happened one night when you were over at Joel’s house for dinner with him, Sarah, and Tommy that you noticed something was off. Joel had seemed so tense and distracted since you’d arrived. You’d made it to the Miller household a little earlier than you had initially told them in order to help finish up dinner and get everything set up. 

Sarah had answered the door and let you in with a big hug before you made your way into the kitchen. You adored the girl, and her father, and you were happy that she seemed to like you too. You weren’t trying to force your way into her life, but let her welcome you at her own pace. It had only been her and Joel for pretty much her entire life so you were sure that this was a whole new world for her too. 

“Hi baby,” you grinned as you walked into the kitchen, setting down the desserts you’d brought. Joel turned around and his entire face dropped when he realized it was you. Ouch. That managed to sting a little bit, “everything alright?”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he looked at his watch and ran a hand through his messy hair, “for almost another hour!”

“I finished earlier than I thought at work,” you shrugged lightly, “and thought I’d come over to help. I didn’t think it was a big deal…I can go if that’s better?”

“No - no,” he insisted softly, “no, I’m glad you’re here, it’s just that nothing’s ready. It’s not set for you yet.”

“You don’t have to do all the work silly man,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “let me help. I’m more than happy to - I want to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you whispered as you decided to hug him; he looked like he could use a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly to his broad frame, “just let me know what I can do to help, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, allowing himself a moment to bury his face in your neck and to breathe your warm scent in. When he pulled back, you kissed him sweetly, “okay.”

Once you had everything squared away and ready, Joel ran upstairs to shower and change, leaving you and Sarah to set the table. She looked at you for a moment before quietly saying, “he really likes you, you know?”

“I do,” you smiled softly, “I really like him too.” 

“He’s never been with anyone since I was born,” she scooted over to you so there wasn’t a chance for Joel to overhear, “I don’t even remember my mom; she just up and left when I was a baby. But I’ve always had my dad. And it’s nice to see him happy ‘cause he deserves it.”

“Oh,” your expression softened, “he told me it’s been the two of you but never went into what happened.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “it’s fine. I never had the chance to know my mom so it never really bothered me. But I know my dad really likes you, he’s been so happy lately it’s kinda gross. He’s trying really hard. He just wants you to be happy too.”

“I am really happy, Sarah,” you promised, “and I want your dad to be as well. I love him a lot and you both mean a lot to me.”

“This is too sappy,” she snorted in amusement and rolled her eyes playfully, “but…you mean a lot to me too. Just so you know.”

“Don’t worry kiddo, we’ll keep it between us,” you shot her a wink, causing her to giggle softly, “you mean a lot to me too.”

“What are you whispering about, huh?” Joel came back downstairs and into the kitchen, his eyes flitting between the two of you, “planning a mutiny?”

“Duh, old man,” Sarah pushed past him, and Joel raised an eyebrow. 

He was just joking around, mostly, but he was also panicking internally - just mildly but still. It was there. His first thought was that somehow the two of you were talking about him…but not in a flattering way. What if you were telling Sarah you were tired of him? What if you were telling her that you were planning on breaking up with him? What if you told her that -

“Joel?” you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He blinked a few times as he snapped back into reality before looking at you, “where’d you go, space cadet?”

“Just zoned out,” he offered you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you insisted, “it’s been a long day, I’m sure tired as well. We’ll call it an early night tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, heart constricting at your gentle nature. You were always so sweet and kind but he still found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop, “sounds good, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” you reached for his hand and squeezed it, “a lot.”

“I love you too,” he hoped you never stopped saying that. He wanted to hear it for the rest of his life. He was going to try his damndest to keep you in his life forever. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I can’t believe it,” Joel shook his head as he looked at the maitre’d, “it’s only fifteen minutes! You can’t tell me that you don’t have a table available anymore.”

“I’m sorry sir, the reservation was for 6:30 and we have a ten minute policy for being tardy,” he remained calm but you could see that Joel was only growing more annoyed, “as you can see we’re very busy.”

“I made these reservations three months ago-”

“I’m sorry, sir. That’s our policy,” you put your hand on Joel’s arm and squeezed it gently. He looked at you with a deep frown on his face. 

“It’s alright,” you promised him, voice gentle and soft, “we can go somewhere else, it’s no big deal.”

“Fine,” he huffed after a moment and turned on his heel to leave. You offered the man a small smile as you followed your boyfriend out the door. He immediately started walking to the truck, leaving you to trail after him in his wake, “this is fucking ridiculous.”

You flinched as he slammed his door against the side of the truck, “Joel. I need you to calm down. It’s really not a big deal - I don’t care where we go, I just want to spend time with you.”

“But it’s your birthday,” he hissed, “it should be nice. I had this all planned out and I fucked up and made us lose the reservation.”

“Hey,” you slowly took a step closer to him, “do you want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“I just wanted everything to be perfect for you,” his shoulders slumped as he looked at you with misty eyes. Clearly there was a lot more going on underneath the surface, “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“W-what?” you looked at him in confusion, wondering where that train of thought had suddenly come from. You reached up and out your hand on his cheek, gently brushing away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks, “why on earth would I leave you? That has never crossed my mind.”

“I want to give you everything, you deserve it but I feel like I can’t give it to you,” he pressed his hand gently onto yours, “sometimes I wonder why you’re with a loser like me.”

“Joel,” he hated, and loved, how gently you always managed to say his name. You always had such a tender way about you, “I have never once thought you were a loser. Never. I love you, silly man, so much. You’re perfect to me - for me. Why would you even think that I would feel like that?”

“I couldn’t even get the mother of my kid to hang around. She up and left and sent divorce papers and left us,” he sighed softly, “sometimes I wonder how long it’ll be before you get tired of me as well.”

“I’m not her. I’m me,” you reminded him gently, “I’m never going to get tired of you. Oh my gosh, you don’t know how much I adore you, do you? Joel, no one has ever been as good and kind to me as you have. I look forward to spending time with you even if its just at home watching a movie. When we’re apart I look forward to seeing you. Not because of things like fancy dinners or grand gestures or whatever - not that I don’t love those - but because I love being around you. It’s because of you, not anything else. We could have nothing but as long I have you, and Sarah, it’s more than enough. It’s everything.”

Joel looked at you, trying to make sure he’d heard everything you’d said correctly and you weren’t about to laugh at him. When he saw the soft smile on your face, the tender way you were looking at him, he knew that you weren’t joking. He nodded slowly, sniffling before whispering, “I love you.”

“I know you do,” you promised, “you’ve never once given me a reason to doubt that. I love you too, Joel.”

“I know,” he reached for your hand, hesitantly and gently, lacing his fingers through yours, “you’ve never given me a reason to doubt that either.”

“Good,” you squeezed his hand gently, “I think we’re on the same page, right?”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “we are.”

“If you ever have any doubt, just let me know and I’ll remind you just how much I love you. But…does that mean we can go and get dinner? Some McDonalds fries sound amazing right now.”

“You want to go to McDonalds? On your birthday?” That was one of the many things he loved about you - you weren’t pretentious or picky or anything. You were just you. 

“Are you going to go with me?”

“Obviously,” he snorted in amusement, shaking his head fondly at you. 

“Then hell yeah,” you teased, “let’s go and get tons of McDonalds and go home and watch a movie. That sounds perfect.”

“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” he agreed as he opened the car door for you. He buckled your seatbelt for you before leaning in to kiss you gently, “happy birthday baby.”

“Thank you,” you made sure to steal another kiss from him, “I love you, Joel Miller.”

“I love you. So much.”

[trafficlife]

drown me in your love

The last time Tango and Scott were the last "peaceful" colors on the server, it was Scott who died first. Now, the tables have turned and Tango died first. Which meant he was red, and his emotions amplified tenfold… Including his love for Scott. Yet, Tango didn't expect to be able to satisfy his bloodlust and passion in one fell swoop. But this game was known for being unpredictable.

word count: 1925

ao3 link

(inspired by this artwork)

TangoTek fell from a high place.

Now, the first thing Tango should've said when respawning was "damn it Martyn!" Or "I need to get some time back."

Instead it was "Where's Scott? I need him!" in response to opening his communicator and seeing that Scott was the last yellow.

It could've been up to interpretation, but Tango already knew it didn't mean "I need to kill him" or "I need his time."

Tango needed to hold Scott in his arms, to kiss him until he was gasping for air once they pulled away, but quickly going in for more. Maybe it was possible for Tango to bring Scott down to red by suffocating him with his kiss. It'd probably kill Tango as well but that would be quite the way to go, drowning in the kisses of the person you loved.

He needed to gently rub his thumb along Scott's cheeks to feel his scales, and feel the aquatic man shudder at the touch.

Tango didn't realize how far his thoughts were spiraling until he saw patches of grass that were scorched by his fiery tail.

Oh.

Oh dear.

In the words of Scott Smajor himself, "oh Jesus."

Being red meant that all emotions and thoughts were intensified, making it difficult for some players to think straight. Of course, being a red life didn't affect everyone the same way. Some people were completely consumed by their bloodlust (such as Joel and Pearl); other people were able to weaponize their bloodlust, wielding it like it was a sword (this also applies to Joel and Pearl).

Tango and his bloodlust just co-existed. He didn't need a kill to be satisfied, and really only acted when he wanted to. It didn't mean he was immune to the intense emotions that came with being a red life. And of course, because the universe definitely wants to see him make a fool out of himself, that included his love for Scott

The fact that Tango and Scott loved each other wasn't a secret. After all, pretty much half the server walked in on them making out before turning yellow (Scott blamed Grian for that). Jimmy was very happy to hear that his ex-husband and his ex-soulmate were hitting it off and even messaged Tango during the short-lived Yellow Peace and asked "isn't Scott a great kisser?" (Tango almost burnt down a forest while figuring out how to respond while still appearing sane).

Tango inhaled sharply, staring down at his communicator. Scott seemed to be hanging with team T.I.E.S and Martyn, probably since they were on okay terms with each other. But that meant Scott wouldn't be alone, especially if Martyn is trying to protect him.

Tango knew for a fact that he could never beat Martyn in a fight. PVP was not his specialty.

He opened the chat in his communicator to send Scott a text. But where could they meet up? Wherever they met, it couldn't be anywhere around Skynet, should the bad boys feel extra bad and drop more TNT minecarts. The T.I.E.S base was their safest bet; it seems that the other members were busy, so Tango and Scott would be alone together.

The smell of smoke snapped Tango out of his thoughts. His tail dragged along the grass, leaving a scorched trail behind him. He yelped and stomped on the flames, scolding his tail for having a mind of its own. "Calm down, Tango. It's literally just Scott... And he's going to be hunted down by the entire server for his time." Tango chuckled to himself. "Guess I'm not the only one who wants Scott..." He bit down on his lip, a wave of heat creeping up his neck and blooming on his cheeks and ears. "... This man is going to be the death of me."

"Not unless I kill you first, Tango!" A sing-song voice called from behind him, followed by a bang! from a firework.

"Scar- Scar, don't!" Tango shouted, pulling out his bow to fire back. "I had nothing to do with it!"

"You're a part of T.I.E.S, you must die," Scar responded smugly. He looked up to Bdubs and Cleo, who were standing on top of a mountain. "Get him!"

"NOPE!" Tango rushed through the dark forest, with the Clockers' arrows beating down on him like hail. He had just turned red, couldn't he get at least a few minutes of peace? "Nope-nope-nope, WHERE IS MY TEAM?!"

He pulled out a piece of bread to eat it, turning around to make sure Scar wasn't on his tail.

That was simultaneously a bad and good idea.

An arrow hit him right in the chest, causing him to wince and stumble backwards, falling into someone.

Now, who could he possibly fall into?

Definitely not the cyan-haired Scottish fish hybrid currently being hunted down by the rest of the server. Definitely not Scott Smajor, the person that Tango found himself falling head over heels for. Definitely not the person that Tango was raving about not even a few minutes ago.

Fate was such a funny thing.

Tango's breath hitched as he stared down at Scott. His scales were more prominent on his skin, cyan fins replaced his ears, and there was a tail swaying on his side. Thankfully, Tango didn't have Scott laying directly on his tail. Scott smirked a bit, his cheeks a soft shade of pink. "Hey, Tango. Nice to see you dropping in."

"Hey- That's my line!" Tango did his best to ignore the cracks in his voice as he smiled down at Scott. They were so close, it was driving Tango insane. Scott could probably hear his heart thumping against his ribcage.

"Do you need help with anything?" Scott asked, pointing to the arrow in Tango's chest. "I thought I heard you screaming 'no' earlier."

"Ah, yeah. The Clockers are trying to find me, but..." He leaned in a little closer to Scott, tail swaying in the air. "I don't really care that much. 'Cause they led me into you."

Scott raised a brow. "It sounds like you missed me."

"I might've."

"More like you missed my lips, with how much you're staring at them."

"Ah, I... Might have?"

Scott chuckled, the sound music to Tango's ears. "If you really wanted to kiss me..." He brushed his fingers along the nape of Tango's neck, causing him to shiver. "You could've just asked."

"I was hoping we could be alone..." Tango's thumb brushed against Scott's lower lip. "But at the same time, pretty much everyone knows about us. And half the server walked in on us last time—"

"Just shut up and kiss me before the other half of the server walks in on us—"

Tango quickly obeyed, swallowing the rest of Scott's words for himself. This kiss felt much more passionate and heated than the previous ones, thanks to Tango's additional (blood)lust. The blazeborn refused to waver in his advances, his hands all over Scott's face. One moment, they were caressing his cheeks and thumbing his scales, the next they were tangled in the coral and seaweed in his hair.

For a nanosecond, Tango parted his lips in a smile before he began softly nibbling on Scott's lower lip. Scott's breath hitched, as he wrapped his arms around Tango's neck to pull him closer. The taste of Scott's lips was still so delectable, still so addicting. At this point, Tango was going to swallow Scott whole.

However, he felt Scott flinch and shudder underneath him as if he were taking damage. If this were Double Life, Tango would've assumed that Scott's soulmate got into an accident. But it was just them now and there was no explanation, unless Tango was accidentally hurting Scott.

Tango pulled away from a reluctant Scott who whined insistently and tried pulling the blazeborn in for another round. He took one of the fish hybrid's hands, inspecting it for burns or cuts. "Tango..." Scott rasped, still struggling to catch his breath.

"Sorry," Tango murmured. "I thought I was hurting you. It seemed like you were taking damage."

"No- No, you weren't"—Scott took several deep breaths— "you weren't hurting me." His fingers were entangled in Tango's golden hair, chest rising and falling as he recollected himself. Tango watched him, waiting for Scott to recover before diving in for more. The last thing Tango wanted to do was kill him—

Wait.

Was that what he was taking damage to?!

Oh.

Oh.

In all honesty, the thought had crossed Tango's mind in the form of a joke. He did not think dying from asphyxiation via making out was possible but a lot of things didn't make sense in this game.

He snapped out of his thoughts, at the feeling of Scott lightly tugging at his hair. Tango chuckled seductively. "And I thought I was impatient... But you do realize, I could probably kill you and bring you down to red if I keep kissing you, right?"

Scott nodded eagerly, eyes half-lidded but full of desire. "I know. And, well, if I'm going to turn red... I'd rather die at your hands. Or, your lips."

"That's making me wonder, what the death message is going to look like..."

"Only one way to find out," Scott whispered as he pulled the blazeborn down into another kiss. Their lips were permanently locked this time, with the only key being Scott's death. It was a good thing that drowning didn't take too long so they had some time before Scott disappeared.

The fish hybrid whimpered as Tango slipped his tongue into the kiss, starting to shudder underneath. Scott gripped Tango's hair more rougher, as if trying to take him down as well. Tango wasn't affected by the drowning—either because he had a larger lung capacity or Scott had a smaller one (now that he was a fish hybrid). Tango cupped Scott’s scaled face with one hand, and his hip with the other, making comforting circles to lightly massage them. Tango relished in the muffled line that escaped Scott’s lips, though it was slightly strained from the lack of oxygen.

Eventually, Tango face-plummeted into the grass once Scott disappeared. His communicator buzzed a couple times in his pocket and he pulled it out, biting down on his lip. How was he already missing Scott's lips? He stifled a smirk upon reading the chat.

Smajor1995 drowned whilst kissing TangoTek  <Skizzleman> HAHAHA  <Bigbst4tz2> thats one way to go to red lol  <SmallishBeans> way to go tango!  <Inthelittlewood> of course its tango who brings scott to red  <Grian> YESSSSSS  <Grian> I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD DIE LIKE THAT  <Grian> this is legendary  <Ethoslab> thats the best death of the season  <ZombieCleo> me killing etho several times in one session is a close second  <Ethoslab> thanks gem  <Ethoslab> i mean cleo  <SolidarityGaming> when can i be next  <SmallishBeans> tim please you're already low

Yup. That was the best death of the season. If not for the death game setting, Tango would definitely do it a thousand times over. And he had a feeling that Scott wouldn't be upset with it either.

Tango pulled out his clock to find that he had gained 30 minutes and was now yellow again. Which meant the target was slapped on his back again.

Then again, Jimmy did say he wanted to be next. And he was already low, so why not kill two birds (or a blaze and a canary) with one stone?

<TangoTek> jimmy <TangoTek> want an extra 30 minutes?

[fushiglow]

Is it true that Suguru Geto contracted depression?

While I don't think it explains everything, I absolutely think it's fair to say that Getō was depressed in the wake of the Star Plasma Vessel mission. Aside from his physical symptoms, Getō is shown to ruminate over past events, immersing himself in negative thoughts.

It's clear that the events of the Star Plasma Vessel mission were extremely traumatic for Getō and it's unsurprising that a teenager would develop mental health struggles after what he experienced — especially without support. Of course, as a sorcerer, Getō was facing traumatic events on a daily basis and expected to manage it alone.

In one of my favourite pieces of Jujutsu Kaisen media, The Resurrection Puppet, Gojō discusses this very issue with Nanami:

"Ultimately, handling curses is about handling negative human emotions. It involves a lot of depressing work. [...] Even if you get used to this line of work, it doesn't feel good. Makes me wanna get drunk. [...] You know how to shut stuff out when necessary, but you're not totally immune to it. Adults have ways of relieving the friction that creates. Like alcohol, the wonder drug." [...] The world was an unfair place. Human ill will bred curses. All people, not just sorcerers, were capable of steeping themselves in bitterness, giving up, and drowning in lost hopes. Nanami knew that. And Gojō knew that Nanami was a man with such a past. "We have ways of removing the poison that has circulated to our hearts," Gojō said. "The young don't have that skill. They're too sensitive. At least once, the poison will break their hearts." "I suppose it's the adults' job to handle the poison that affects the young. As a teacher, you understand that, right?" "Yes, I do. That's why I came to talk to you."

It's hard to read this passage from the light novel without assuming that Gojō and Nanami are indirectly discussing Getō — especially considering the fact that Gojō is asking Nanami to take care of another teenager who swallows down "curses" in the form of Sukuna's fingers, holding all that negativity at the core of their being.

Because of his technique, Getō swallows down negative emotions in the form of curses day in day out, even describing their unbearable taste. That's why I've always wondered if it's possible that Getō was uniquely affected by the "poison" Gojō describes, exactly the same as he worries Itadori is particularly vulnerable to it.

That's why he approaches Nanami specifically, saying, "I need someone who understands the suffering people go through. Someone like you." Importantly, Gojō only asks Nanami to look out for Itadori because he's concerned he won't be able to "give him the necessary spiritual guidance" himself due to his busy schedule. I think it's very telling that he seeks the support of someone who also saw Getō's spiral firsthand.

According to Gege Akutami, Nanami "couldn't bring himself to blame" Getō after he left. We know that he was deeply affected by Haibara's death and I often wonder if Nanami would have fallen to a darker path if he hadn't seen what that looked like through Getō's example. Similarly, it was only because of Getō's word that Gojō didn't murder an entire auditorium of non-sorcerers after Riko's death. Though he didn't know it at the time, Getō preserved Gojō's bright future at the expense of his own in that moment.

Gojō and Nanami's conversation in The Resurrection Puppet is bittersweet (something the characters play on by ordering sugary cocktails to balance out the bitter subject matter) because they weren't qualified to help Getō when he was struggling, simply because they were teenagers facing the exact same trauma. It shouldn't have been their responsibility in the first place — a lesson they've learned as adults, but only through losing their counterparts to their line of work as teenagers.

So, yes. I think Getō was depressed and I think it's an unfortunately common condition among sorcerers — it's no coincidence that so many of them are heavy drinkers!

Like I said, I don't think depression explains all of Getō's behaviour, especially post-defection. I wouldn't want to attempt to "diagnose" him after that point, but it's my view that Getō lost his grip on reality to some degree. I don't think anyone could carry out his actions without some level of mental disconnect from them. Akutami says that Getō has been telling himself he hates non-sorcerers since school and I think he succeeded in convincing himself. Still, I wonder why it was necessary to convince himself in the first place...

That's just speculation though. Whatever the reason, Getō's story is a deeply sad one that we can all learn from in the real world. I think we should be able to condemn the path that someone chooses while recognising the suffering that led them to it. If we don't learn to prevent the latter, we'll never be able to prevent the former — and that's one of my most firmly held beliefs.

By the way, it's definitely worth listening to the audio drama of The Resurrection Doll if you haven't already heard it! Thank you for the question and apologies for taking so long to answer! 🖤

[princess-of-the-corner]

Okay I cut the earlier Monster AU poll short. Partly because I'm impatient, and partly because I kinda rambled on this in the discord.

So most of y'all said 'give a bitch a break' and I am for the most part. Oddly enough I also realized that a lot of the 'this plot focuses heavily on the existence of Heroes and Quirks' things can be summed up in this AU as 'it happened but not as severe'. The Todoroki nonsense, the Izuku/Katsuki fallout(and Izuku getting bullied in general), so on and so forth.

Anyway! Todoroki Nonsense:

So as there isn't any Heroes, much less the Hero Ranking system, Enji just..... doesn't go off the deep end? However he is still very ambitious. Working his way up through the Realm of Magic. Gaining power, status, and a good reputation(for a Demon, at least).

But he still needs some sort of boost, which is where Rei's family comes in. The family is already wealthy and of high status(canon). And hey, could always use more of a status boost right?

They come to an agreement. A union with typically opposing species(Demon/Angel) is quite rare, and even rarer is the fact that they're capable of making hybrid children(which could be quite powerful if they get a proper 50/50 split). This will get both parties the attention they want.

The kids get pretty much the same combos of the Demon/Angel as they did Fire/Ice in Canon. So

Toya - Appearance is mostly Demon, with a few Angel traits if you look. Has Demon powers, but no resistance to Fire and a weakness to Hellfire in specific. Immune to Holy Magic but can't use it.

Fuyumi - Appearance is mostly Angel, with a few Demon traits if you look. Only Holy Magic, no Demon Magic.

Natsuo - Appearance is mostly Angel, a few Demon traits but pretty minor. Only Holy Magic. Has a little resistance to fire/Hellfire, but far from immune.

Shoto - pretty much 50/50 split. Still going with the Chimera thing for him, but I don't want the horns to be lopsided so we're fucking with that a little lmao

With the kids being made with less specific purpose past 'existing',, they're not pushed as much with training. Like obviously they have to be taught to use their powers, and Enji would push a bit to make sure they're not just capable but efficient. But there's less intense drive behind it.

Not to say it's all sunshine and rainbows. Because like. Do any of y'all think that Enji and Rei had good childhoods? Because I sure as shit don't. So it's much more down to earth 'these two are a bit fucked up, and they inadvertently fuck up their kids'. So there is some abuse happening.

There is more of a build to it. Because things spiral more slowly. So I think the height of it is going to be Shoto his scar, but I'm going to move that further down the timeline so he's a bit older. Just things go sideways and neither parent's mental health is doing 'well' and it's not the first time the kids got hurt, but it's the first time it was something severe and accidental instead of 'discipline'(hitting your kids to discipline them is still abuse ofc, but people who do that shit see it different'.) It was double accidental because instead of the kettle it's an outburst of Magic from Rei that does the damage.

In this AU, this incident is kind of the wakeup call to both parents of 'hey, things are fucked, maybe we should re-examine our behavior and maybe see a therapist'.

And.... some parts work, some don't. Enji and Rei do get better, but there's a lot to unpack with the kids. Because they're all old enough to understand that yeah hey their childhood was fucked up. I'm bumping the scar incident to when Shoto's closer to 10, which would make Toya and Fuyumi nearly legal adults and Natsuo is probably entering High School. So yeah they understand that they're all a bit fucked up from childhood trauma(and there is minor resentment that 'oh really? Hurting the baby brother is what smacks sense into y'all finally?')

It doesn't help that I'm keeping Toya's 'death', though I need to figure out exactly what happens there. And I'm keeping the Timeline from CC so he's 19-ish when that goes down.

Which. Does cause guilt for Enji and Rei and resentment from the remaining three kids. Because hey if they hadn't fucked up, that might not have happened.

It doesn't keep them from working on things, and it's a lot better by the time we get to the present. But it's far from perfect and, again, the resentment still exists. It's just less active anger and more trying to fix things.

[arisenreborn]

Uno reverse card I am asking you to do questions from your ask game first >:3c Answer my riddles three: The Pawn #3, Arisen & Pawn #2, and Miscellany #3!

You still got me first! XD Now let's see if I can keep my answers roughly condensed. (comes back afterwards) yeah I failed.

(Dragon's Dogma 2 Ask Game)

Pawn #3 - If they were infected with the Dragonsplague, are there any specific ways they would act differently?

Because of that one time Dragonsplague just vanished in his presence, I like to think Rann has a particularly high immunity to it (this maybe has something to do with his red eye also who knows it was there before I knew what DP was), which translates later into actual infection being more subtle and less pronounced. Depending on how well the Pawns around him know him, Reverie is probably the only one who'd actually notice because he'd basically just be glued to her. Much less restrained in being a bit of a mother hen but any tiny fragment of personal space is gone between them also (Reverie is a tea kettle whistling trying to grapple with this). Overprotectiveness goes up considerably so meteor sightings and maelstrom activity has increased in the area. Laughing imagining you don't have to worry about him being a danger to your world because he's just gonna go jump in the brine to go back home to Reverie.

Emrys would be significantly harder to tell until the very final stages tbh. His eyes already had a tint of red to them, and he already had a bit of an attitude problem/streak of defiance, so it's not until it's about too late that you'd start to worry - if you even knew what to worry about. Lots of wandering off (not so weird, but it's the length of time and how far he goes), and starting fights (with monsters, mostly, but that's pointedly not like him, so apologies if he suddenly drags a drake into your fight o7). With Olivia he's icy cold one second and burning hot the next; ignoring and keeping his distance from her or being really possessive and domineering the next.

Arisen & Pawn # 2 - For each of them - Who is their favorite and least favorite NPC?

Reverie has a fondness for Sven, she respects his desire to break free of his circumstances and rise above them, to do and be better - and believes he'll be a positive influence on Vermund in the future. (A bit of my WoL - Alphinaud dynamic leaks in here tbh ^^) She also has a slightly complicated relationship with Srail; they were very close once, but things have changed a lot. Still, she feels a lingering fondness for him, and feels like she can rely and trust him instinctively. There are obvious options for least favorite, but Fiska is the only one she actually invited gratuitous violence on, so I think that might say something... (I think when she arrived at the excavation site she had some pretty severe PTSD going on...) Rann has a scholarly respect for Myrddin, but really gets along with his daughter Trysha. (oh no I'm gonna start spiraling) Just imagining them studying magic together, him teaching her and indeed learning from her as well, and ending up with this incidentally really fucking adorable almost father-daughter relationship that Myrddin (in my eyes) clearly doesn't have with her. And this being one of those areas outside of Reverie where Rann starts to have legitimate human feelings and desires like the thought wouldn't necessarily occur to him yet but definitely that seed, yeah, of maybe he'd like to have kids one day. 😭 He is also deeply intrigued by Phaesus, but it's... complicated... I'd say Phaesus falls into a very hazy zone of 'dislike' because of wariness and a discomfort of coming too close to something keenly similar to himself (that he can't entirely remember, so it's just a Feeling, almost like instinct, which makes it more unnerving.) On the flipside he absolutely cannot abide Lady Elena, the fact that she would harm those she was meant to heal is appalling to him, and Radcliff isn't too much better for being so self-serving in the face of others suffering.

(I just looked back and realized I still have Em and Olivia omfg I can do this I can be brief and concise)

Olivia loves everyone. Except assholes. It's pretty simple, really. But she really loves Wilhelmina and Srail (my Srail simping strikes again). And Ursula. And Keltse, and Sigurd, and- Shorter list of dislikes, apart from the usual suspects, she can't stand Albert, and Philbert is an old racist arse. Deep down, Emrys would claim not to care for anyone. It's what he'd prefer. Unfortunately, deeper down, he's a softie, and has a lot of fun drinking with Keltse, or playing with Daphne and the other kids in the slums. He's a big fan of everything Wilhelmina is doing, and Srail and him have some "history" that made things a bit awkward initially when they met again with Olivia, but they're on above-average good terms now. He surprisingly gets along well with Glyndwr; at first he's just kind of sardonically intrigued by him and yeah, kind of an ass, but Glyndwr doesn't really pick up on that. In the end he can't help but understand what it feels like to not 'fit in' with your kind the way you 'ought to', but finds it... 'inspiring' might be a bit strong, but sure, that he still finds his own way to do so and connect with his people.

Misc. #3 - What would be their go-to fast food order?

I recently went on vacation and we don't have Bojangles where I am but it will haunt me now (KFC wishes it could be Bojangles imho). So Reverie would get a 3pc leg and thighs with double side of Bo-tato rounds and a large sweet tea and a bo-berry biscuit. Live my dream, girl. At Panera Rann gets the pick two order with half a bacon turkey bravo sandwich and half fuji apple chicken salad, and an iced tea. I feel like Olivia would get the Panda Express orange chicken and rice… But Kristi and I both agreed she'd go either way depending on mood from light refreshing salads to a triple cheeseburger. She'd be the type to really customize her order too "no pickle, extra mayo-" etc. And often trying the latest spicy thing on the menu even though they always kill her. I'm giving Emrys my taco bell order: steak grilled cheese burrito and a side of nacho fries - except he's a big energetic guy he'd probably be able to down two burritos.

[latveriansnailmail]

The Appeal of Doctor Doom

My new friend asked an innocent enough question about the particulars of one Victor von Doom and about my appreciation for the character. This is what I had to say in the chat:

I have a fascination with benign dictators, in the vein of Vlad Dracula. It would be nice if such an arrangement worked and would be even better if the next dictator wasn't terrible but the facts are against.

Call this a personality thing. I am so very ISTJ.

Doctor Doom is among the smartest people on Marvel's Earth. His country (he rules a Balkan state, you know) is free from want and everyone has dignified work and the place is even a safe haven for GRT caravans, Doom himself being a gypsy. But there is also no free determinism. That's the trade off. Doom rules with a literal iron fist.

He's conquered the world on more than one occasion and solved fundamental problems overnight. Mind, he gets bored without challenge and lets control slip from his fingers but he's nonetheless great at world rulership.

But let's stop pretending about his good qualities and look at his flaws.

First, psychologically and philosophically, he is more sorcerer than scientist. He's about the lore, not the process of getting answers. Heaven forbid Doom change his perspective on anything.

His motivations are (and here I equate him in DC with no one more so than Lex Luthor) ultimately deeply selfish and self-agrandizing.

Like in the original Secret Wars, when he got ultimate power, before he did thing one for the rest of the universe he fixed his own face.

He spirals out. There's a great recent series where he's going to solo patch a black hole developing on the moon (comics, right?) That accursed Richards calls him up during the countdown to thank him and wish him success. Doom can't comprehend such a gesture and convinces himself that Richards knows something he doesn't, so he makes impulsive adjustments to his outputs and blows himself into an alternate universe. That's Doom all over.

He's so close to something grand and good but is too lacking of character to be that.

I also just love how OP he is. He's in the top five of everything (brains, magic, tech, ass-beating, a-fine-country-you-have-there-ness) but it's EVERYTHING so when you put it into one package you get a guy who can trounce the Fantastic Four on a monthly basis and laugh at them from behind diplomatic immunity.

Doom gains and loses godhead like it was fast fashion.

So bottom line, a rich and multifaceted antagonist defeated again and again by his own flaws and inability to shed those flaws. That's good fiction.

End chat. I would add to this first that I love his fraught friendship with Namor the Submariner. Those two deserve each other.

I also am still floored by Doom's willpower. He can disregard the Purple Man at a distance of two feet.

Now, bear with me while I try to pin the ISTJ personality on Peter Parker (I would accept arguments that Peter's more of a ENFJ or that the Spider-man persona is more of a ESTJ and then we'd have to straighten out which persona is the base personality. And then there's ambis who are going to loudly try and debate me over the entire legitimacy of the Myers-Briggs when I'm just trying to have a fun discussion about fictional characters from the funny books. I digress.) I think Spidey and Doom share a lot of territory, only Spider-man is humble, selfless, long-suffering, forgiving of the smallness of his charges and detractors, and deeply responsible. Spider-man is who Doom would be if Doom could grow as a person.

[avephelis]

said i'd ramble a bitt about my vague protege!tommy au so i will do that noww. please heed the tws. all rp! c!

not gonna go super into detail but basic premise is when tommy is on the tower in exile he DOES jump (killing himself) but dream revives him and it sort of spirals from there. so:

obviously for tommy to actually have jumped he wouldn't have realised dream was just watching/controlling him or shaken off that exile mindset

the way i imagine death messages work is canon deaths are notably different on comms. so when tommy's message shows most people see it. dream goes to investigate (and eventually his cover is it was a server issue. he's the admin after all. who else is gonna know.)

i'm also pretty sure, based off the canon timeline, the lazar/vikk experimentation would have happened after exile. so in this au dream hasn't tested the revivebook on people yet. so it's a fluke of luck he manages to get it working on tommy under duress - getting it first try certainly wouldn't help with the god complex

and yeah all that means tubbo and l'manberg and everyone is aware that tommy is a. alive and b. with dream. don't get me wrong, i love versions of this au with a dramatic reveal, but it doesn't really work for this one? and i think there's a lot of under-utilised angst/horror potential in everything happening right under people's noses.

also this would mean dream would be too occupied to help techno at his execution - whether they just wouldn't hold it because tubbo's too worried for tommy, or whether techno just does lose a life, i haven't decided. leaning towards the latter because it has a lot of interesting character potential. not sure how it'd affect quackity's arc, though.

my issue with the au is i'm just not sure where to go with it tbh. because it has changed A LOT over about a year and a half until i settled after dream's revivebook lore this year. so i USED to have scenes and stuff planned out but idk anymore ( - -;;) maybe i'll come back to it.

so ermm misc points of relevance:

tommy's conditioning and mental gymnastics kind of hitting hard. harder than canon, because now dream technically did save him, so there's a feeling of debt added on to all the exile manipulation. (i don't think tommy would want to die again. especially after limbo and the agony of revival. would he stop ideating about suicide? probably not. but i wouldn't have him attempt it again.)

like i mentioned, reviving tommy prematurely wouldn't help dream's god complex. as well as discduo's canon bullshit, he'd probably see tommy as some kind of 'proof' of his godhood? to some degree. gotta think out the intricacies of that more though.

tommy is obviously under duress, so any decision he makes isn't really fair to blame him for. but the idea of him initiating some things with dream - maybe the idea of training or servitude - is just really interesting to me. not really a choice if he's being manipulated and threatened, but interesting character stuff nonetheless.

tommy also does some fucked up shit. probably kills someone at a point haven't decided who. angst and complexity of morality and guilt i love you.

at some point tubbo lifts tommy's exile, so technically he could come back to l'manberg, but whenever he does it's with dream and generally... very off/creepy. if i ever do something with this probably a lot of tubbo things. but yeah the idea of tommy being IN l'manberg but people not comprehending what's going on or being able to help him... freaky.

no idea what to do about enderwalk or doomsday.

clingyduo fight still happens. not sure if it'd be at the community house or not, but it'd have a LOT higher stakes than canon because tommy is slash gen Out For The Kill

I WANT TO WORK IN EGG STUFF!! because red banquet with dream there is a super interesting idea, especially considering tommy's immunity. and the fact he destroyed parts of the egg that one time but took damage from it whatt was up with that.

and above all else if i ever make this a fic or comic or whatever it WILL have a happy ending and hurt/comfort because. i am weak for that.

soo ya. bit of rambling. design notes ermm

as much as i love the classic :( mask i figured (x x) is a bit more unique, and makes sense considering the revival aspect of this iteration

tommy's hair is LONGISH! and keeps getting longer because i have always had headcanons about dream having a preference for it being long (being able to play with it, yank him around by it, etc).

tommy's facial scar is a near mirror of dream's. because i'm fucked up <3

tommy's design is generally much more rounded than dream's and has a hint of a moth/butterfly motif (as opposed to dream's spider)

tommy's mask/hood shows his hair and face behind it because it is not enchanted. just porcelain.

not pictured but somewhere there is a :) carved into tommy. from a particularly harsh "punishment".

also not pictured but TOMMY TRIDENT SYMBOLISM. which i DID NOT COME UP WITH ORIGINALLY!! don't know who did unfortunately. but the connection to the sea plus it being an unconventional weapon plus loyalty and channeling enchantments. yass.

and i'll link a coloured drawing related to this au so you can see the designs better

ermm that's about it for now. very workshop vibes not concrete under construction et cetera. but here if anyone is interested

[too-many-baes]

Sickly

Pairing: fem!reader x Luther Hargreeves

Warning(s): N/A

Word Count: 1K

Request:  “Hey! For fic requests, can I request luther Hargreeves x reader (could be platonic or romantic) where the reader takes care of him when he’s sick? Thanks!😊” - by Anon

A/N: In honour of this being my first request since I’ve been writing again I decided to not hoard it for Non-Stop August and post it right away, so there you are anonny, hope you enjoy it!

And remember, most requests will be saved and posted for Non-Stop August currently, but I am posting some along the way, so shoot ya shot  🏀

“Luther, are you even listening to me? We’re gonna be late!” You yell up to the loft of your apartment as you busied yourself putting your earrings in. Usually you could hear that Luther was up well before you saw him, but the loft remained silent.

Tsking under your breath to yourself you marched up the short spiral staircase to see that Luther was still firmly in bed, blankets pulled all the way up to his chin, face all but buried in your pillows. You furrow your eyebrows in surprise. Luther was a light sleeper, and you had expected to come up and find your big lovable man ignoring you, not asleep.

“Luther,” you utter softly, seating yourself on the edge of the bed and giving his arm a shake, “you in there?” You giggle as he stirs, eyes bleary and red as he searches for you. “We’re meeting your family today, remember?” He makes a grumbling noise in the affirmative and raises his head slightly, swiping over his face with one of his hands. You fix him with an analysing stare, raising a hand to press to his forehead to confirm your suspicion. The back of your hand meets with a scorching forehead.

“You have a temperature.”

“I’m fiiiine,” he grumbles, now making himself sit up, although it looks to you that the motion makes him feel dizzy, “it’s just a head cold.” You snicker to yourself as you lightly place a hand on his shoulder, the small force contained in the movement enough to send him back down into the pillows.

“I don’t think so, we’re not going. I’ll call and cancel.”

“No but you were so excited, I was so excited.” You rub his bicep reassuringly as you reach for his phone to call Allison, as you didn’t have any of the Hargreeves numbers.

“I know, they’ll be more chances in the future.” Today was the day you were supposed to meet the extended Hargreeves family.

You’d been dating Luther a while but you’d always sensed some hesitation in him introducing you to the family. You didn’t take it personally, as you knew very well who Luther was when you’d met and knew he must have a complicated relationship with his family. The outing ended up being his idea, stating that he’d wanted you to be a part of his family now, and that meant meeting everybody else. You’d already met Allison a few times but the rest of the siblings you hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of.

Allison was completely sympathetic on the phone and said it would’ve been no problem to reschedule. She also let you in on the fact that when Luther got sick it tended to put him out of action for a few days as his body mass was so large, it was quite an effort for his immune system to fight off whatever ailed him. You thanked her for the advice and hung up to the sounds of Luther trying to get out of bed.

“Oh no you don’t mister,” you yell from your place in the kitchen that you’d wandered into while on the phone, “get back in bed!” You hurry upstairs to catch him in the act, feet on the floor and hands at his sides as if he was about to push himself up.

“Babe, no, c’mon, I’ve got to get ready.”

“I already cancelled, now lie back down.” He gave you a gloomy look but obliged, lying back as you fixed the pillows so that he could be slightly propped up. “You hungry?” He opened his mouth to deny it but as he did his stomach let out an almighty sound that had you laughing and patting it as if to shush it.

You went into the kitchen and made him his favourite of yours, chilli udon noodle soup, with a cup of lemon, honey, and ginger to ease his throat, as his voice had been becoming raspier with every sentence he spoke. You took the items upstairs and placed them onto the bedside table, putting two tablets into his hand and instructing him to take them. He did with no resistance, a grin spreading over his face when he caught sight of what you’d made him. You went to give him some space, but he grabbed your hand as you turned, a barely there pout on his lips that begged you to stay.

You could never say no to Luther at the best of times, but now that he was sick and looking more beaten down than usual you were there at his beck and call. You positioned yourself in the bed so that his head rested on your chest as he ate. You wordlessly turned on the television that sat atop the dresser at the end of the bed and put on what you’d come to know as his comfort movie, Dirty Dancing. He grinned up at you like a child, you sending one right back down at him.

He fell asleep shortly after eating and barely half an hour into the movie, his head on your chest and your hand gently stroking him on the head. You gazed down at your gentle giant, sick and miserable but looking contented as he rested.

“Thank you.” His barely audible mutter just caught your ears as he repositioned himself to be cuddling your middle. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and a small giggle passed your lips when he reached up to place one of your hands back on his head so you could resume the comforting motion you’d been doing.

“You don’t have to thank me, Luther.” You say with a small kiss to his head.

“I know,” he rests his chin on you so that he can look you in the eyes, “but I appreciate you looking after me. I love you.” It was far from the first time Luther had told you he loved you, but every time it managed to make your heart forget it’s natural rhythm for a beat.

“I love you too.”

[nightowlwriting]

summary: fjord takes care of the mighty nein. you take care of fjord. (part 4/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of self-hatred, bullying, lack of self-confidence

note: idk why this one took me so long and, honestly, it was almost super nsfw lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Fjord is a man who appears to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You’re not so sure. You tend to hang back when the group talks to people, or finds jobs for coin, just to watch. That’s what you like to do - get information, tuck it away, use it later.

It just happens that sometimes you end up watching Fjord. There’s no reason, not really. He’s the leader by default, no matter how much Nott will say that it’s Caleb. He does most of the talk, smiling all coy and leaning against things to charm the party’s way through whatever Gods forsaken situation you end up in. It mostly works, with some exceptions. There are things you begin to notice in the nights after Fjord has failed to charm someone with a well-placed wink, or a sir or a ma’am. He makes the fire just a little bit larger, stacking logs and kindling and using his flint so that Caleb doesn’t have to use his magic. He cooks heartier food, sometimes even disappearing and coming back with a skewered animal from the forest to add to the pot of simmering soup. He takes the first watch and doesn’t wake anyone until halfway through the second watch so that everyone can sleep longer, even if it makes him crabby the morning after.

You come to a conclusion. Fjord takes care of people when he feels like he’s not enough. He overcompensates in his acts of kindness when something he does fails - but why? To make you all stay? To make sure you know his worth in the group? To make up for whatever he sees as a downfall? Honestly, you’re worried it’s a little bit of all three. You’re not really sure about how the mind works - that would be more for Molly, or Caleb honestly - but growing up in an orphanage with children who pick and prod at your every physical characteristic cannot be good for a person. Especially with Fjord insisting that he doesn’t have a last name, despite the times that he introduces himself and you see it die on his lips before he can say it. There’s something there, but you won’t pry. People deserve their secrets. They deserve to keep something for themselves.

If he wants to keep his last name, that’s fine with you. If he wants to keep the self-loathing inside of him until he explodes, well, that’s not fine with you. That’s why when you realize that he decompresses by making himself useful, as if the group might dismiss him just because a few people were immune to his charms, you decide to do something. No amount of reassurance from anyone will convince him otherwise and the rest of the group tends to shrug away from his slightly overbearing kindness when something goes south. Caleb, Beau, and Molly are just uncomfortable with it while Jester is usually too engrossed in journaling, Tusk Love, or talking to the Traveler. Nott is somewhere between Caleb and Yasha (uncomfortable and straight-up not around to be doted on.) And… Well, that leaves you.

It’s not that you mind Fjord’s constant doting after he perceives something to have gone wrong, but it’s hard to let him in. Your life before the Mighty Nein wasn’t exactly peaches and cream, either, but you know that he needs this. He needs to feel like he’s doing something for someone or he’ll break. You only notice that, though, after a particularly rough, rainy day of trying to get information out of people for a job. Fjord had forgotten something important which threw off the communication and sent everyone you were working with into an angry tizzy. By the time you make it back to the tavern, everyone is soaked to the bone and cranky, even you - and you tried your best to avoid getting out in the rain. What you really want to do is go back to your room and change out of your wet clothes and then go to fucking bed, but you hold back. The group disperses one by one until it’s just you and Fjord left at the bar, and before you can make your leave you see his hands shaking. His hands, which are large and calloused and strong, are shaking like a leaf in the wind. There’s no other outward sign that he’s feeling stressed or upset, and that surprises you. It also worries you. This is not how Fjord acts when something goes wrong. He doesn’t sit at the bar and brood over an ale - he mother-hens his friends until they’re sick to death of hearing his deep, drawling voice.

The combination of these things is probably what makes you pause halfway out of your seat, eyes narrow and trained on him. He makes eye contact for a brief second before looking back down to his drink. You know that approaching and asking him if he’s okay will get you nowhere but you can’t leave him alone at the bar, not when you know he’s stewing on every mistake, every misstep, whether they really happened or he’s just overanalyzing his movements. He’s your… He’s more than a friend to you, despite the fact that he doesn’t know that and you don’t show it outwardly. Fjord means too much to you to be able to let him sit and spiral into a funnel of self-doubt. You know that it will be weird to put your pride to the side and ask for help, but you also know that you don’t really need help.

But asking Fjord for help means that he’ll feel better and you think that’s a very good reason to shelf your pride for a night.

He barely looks up at you when you approach, still dripping all over the tavern’s floors and hesitant to speak. He doesn’t speak, either, just takes another long pull from his ale to bide his time until you leave. (Probably.) You take the leap first and say his name. “Fjord.” He doesn’t look at you. “I know we’ve all had a bad day,”

“You can say that again,” He snorts.

“We have,” You stress, one hand finding the hilt of the dagger on your waist for some sort of comfort. You’re wildly uncomfortable and can feel the urge to run, get away, flee building up in your gut. If you’re not careful, it’ll spill out your mouth and you’ll be forced out of the tavern for the night in humiliation and self-preservation. “It has been one hell of a day today. I do not want to be alone.” Your sentence cuts off briskly and Fjord looks up in surprise. Your face mirrors his - untamed surprise. You had really opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to find a table and listen to your vent but what came out was I do not want to be alone. You blink and think what the fuck? Before Fjord is shaking off his surprise and standing.

“I suppose I can give Molly the room for the night.” He extends an arm towards you but doesn’t look at you. He’s doing a much better job of hiding how strange you’re acting than you are but still, you’re not going to let this opportunity pass. You wrap your own arm around Fjord’s and he begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Anything specific bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” You hum as you respond, hoping that by allowing him past your walls that it will help him, “Today is just a bad day.” Fjord halfheartedly agrees and your nerves shoot through the roof when he leaves you at your door, explaining that he’s going to warn Molly that he won’t be in the room tonight. You nod at him and slip into your own room, leaving the door cracked so that he won’t feel awkward about entering. Your laundry is everywhere and you grit your teeth, doing your best to hold back a scream. God damnit, you’re about to have the man that you have a crush on in your room and today is the day you threw your laundry all over?

It doesn’t even matter that he’s traveled with you in carts where there is no possible way to not overlap on laundry slash unmentionables. You still dash about, shoving your laundry into a pile in the corner and covering it with your weapons and shield just before Fjord raps his knuckles against the door frame, calling your name. You shiver and invite him in, wringing your hands as you stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “Are you okay?” He’s so earnest and it makes you feel… A little bad. You don’t want to say no to having Fjord be with you overnight because his presence is so calming, but it’s also… He’s not in your room because…

Ugh. “Fjord,” You say before you can stop yourself, “Okay, so, you can’t be mad but I noticed when things go wrong you’re really, really hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be. And I also noticed that when you’re hard on yourself you dive into taking care of other people because, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re doing something good? I’m not sure, but I really meant to ask if you wanted to talk but then that came out instead but I can’t let you stay in here if you don’t know why I asked.” He stands there, taking in what you’ve said, and then shakes his head. Your room is dark - too dark for you to see whether or not the small smile on his face is actually there or if you’re imagining it. When he chuckles, you’re more apt to believe that Fjord is actually smiling even after the day he’s had. “Um,” You finally cut the silence, “Please say something.”

“You mean to tell me,” He drawls, stepping slowly closer and removing his chest plate. It’s like his mood has gone a full 180 from where it was when he left you outside of your room, “That you looked so awkward and like a li’l kicked puppy because you wanted to help me feel better?” He sets his chest plate on the table, coming into your sight as your vision begins to adjust. You don’t get a good look at what’s happening on his face because you look away very quickly, setting your jaw.

“Well, when you put it that way,” You grumble and cross your arms, “You just like to help people - it makes you feel better.”

Fjord comes to a stop in front of you and sighs, but doesn’t say anything. Your hands begin to shake and honestly, you regret your stupid fucking decision to try and help Fjord out. You wouldn’t be here, standing in front of him and purely humiliated, if you didn’t look at him and notice so much. He finally responds, one of his hands coming up to touch at your bicep and then trails up until he’s cupping your shoulder. “I do like to help people,” He’s speaking more from his chest than his mouth, and you can almost feel the rumble through the grip he has on your shoulder. It’s not tight but it’s there, heavy and comforting. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice a lot,” You supply, tugging your chin away when Fjord tries to use the other hand to make you look at him. It’s only after he says your name in a soft voice that you look. You’re surprised to see that he looks soft… Soft and fond. “Please,” You whisper, uncrossing your arms to grab both of his wrists. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for but the way that you whispered please is the closest to begging that you’ve ever gotten.

“Please?” Fjord says, sounding incredibly confused but soft at the same time. You shake your head, trying again to look away from him. He ducks down, catching your eyes again, “It’s just me, remember? This is why you asked me here, isn’t it? To help you feel better?”

To your horror, you feel yourself mist up. “I invited you here so you could feel better, Fjord. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself, and the only time I’ve seen you calm down after a bad day is when you’re taking care of one of us. I thought… Even if I don’t really need to be taken care of, that would help you. I just want… I want you to feel better.” He steps closer toward you, caging you into the rough stone of the fireplace but doesn’t speak. You’re almost worried that Fjord is going to cold clock you, but then he does something that you expected even less.

He surges forward and kisses you. Every part of him nearly engulfs you - the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while he groans deep in the back of his throat. Your hands scramble for some purchase to express your surprise, landing on his hearty shoulders, clenching in the fabric of his shirt. You sigh into Fjord’s groan, and press as close as possible to his body heat. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been craving this: closeness with another person, pressing tight against their body… You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that when you thought of that, of intimacy, that you pictured Fjord. You just didn’t think he pictured you.

Fjord surges forward again, and you feel the soft scrape of tusks against you when he opens his mouth to breathe, keeping his nose pressed tightly to yours. “I didn’t think,” He says, accent thinner than you’ve heard previously, “I never dreamed that you would feel…”

“Oh, I feel,” You tell him, slowly moving your hands until you can intertwine your fingers behind his neck, “I feel so much, Fjord.”

“You never said…” He sneaks another kiss between his words, dropping his hands to squeeze at your waist, “You never even let on that you see me this way.”

“I do a lot of looking and not a lot of showing,” You remind him - it was something he had said to you when you first joined his group. I always catch you lookin’, but you never show. It’s terribly funny because he’d said it while the Mighty Nein were all naked, sudsy, and sharing a bathhouse at Molly’s insistence. The group had a field day with that and still does. The memory is apparently still fresh in Fjord’s head because a blush creeps high over his cheeks and he looks away, flustered. “You’re strong and pretty and beautiful and you take care of us so well. Even when you’ve had a bad day. I look up to you so much, but at the same time I want, perhaps selfishly, to take care of you in ways that you might not take care of the group.” He almost looks surprised at what you’ve said, but then it melts into a look of soft adoration. Fjord kisses you again and then drags his lips lightly over the arch of your cheek before he rests his head on your shoulder where he inhales deeply, his breath tickling your throat. You can feel his hands contracting against your waist, like he wants to touch and feel but is settling for keeping them where they are and feeling the soft give of your flesh. You know your heart is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour, and you know that he can probably hear it, too. You can’t find anything in you that cares, though, because you’re so close to Fjord. He smells like saltwater, you realize. Not in a way that it seems like he’s been coughing it up again, or in the ocean, but just sort of… Naturally. Like he’s always smelled that way. Like you’ve always known he smelled that way. Like you were always meant to know and to find comfort in it. You pull yourself closer, relishing in the way that you hold each other, and Fjord sighs. You can feel the way that he relaxes underneath your hold and you relax, too.

This… This is the way that it’s supposed to be. This is how you can do for Fjord what he’s done for your team - except different. Except more.

[no--envies]

Nightless City – An analysis of Wei Wuxian’s accountability

I’ve come across several takes about the bloodbath of Nightless City that don’t really sit well with me. Some people say Wei Wuxian is totally to blame, others that he’s totally blameless, and I personally disagree with both. I think that, like in many other events in the novel, what really happened is more complex.

(All the translations are by Exiled Rebels Scanlations)

First of all, the text shows us that Wei Wuxian wasn’t completely clear-headed even before going to Nightless City, which is normal considering what he was going through. His whole world had crumbled in just a few hours. Everything he’d done until that moment – the sacrifices he had made for what he believed was right – appeared to be for nothing. He ended up hurting the people most dear to him, and he couldn’t even protect those he had wanted to protect. When he could move again after the three days he spent in the cave immobilized by Wen Qing’s needle, for a while he didn’t even know what to do or where to go.

After he got down the mountain, he stood amid the bushes, catching his breath. Bent down, he propped his hands against his knees for a long while before he stood up straight again. Yet, looking at the wild grasses that covered many of the mountain paths, he didn’t know where to go.

Burial Mound—he’d just gone down from there.

Lotus Pier—he hadn’t been back in over a year.

Koi Tower? Three days had passed already. If he went now, it was likely that Wen Qing’s corpse and Wen Ning’s ashes were the only things left.

He stood blankly. Suddenly, he felt that the world had no place for him, despite how large it was. He didn’t know what to do either.

(Chapter 77)

It’s rare to see Wei Wuxian so utterly lost and miserable. What happened was too much for even someone like him – who always tends to look at the bright side of any situation – to be able to deal with it. Since he doesn’t know where else to go, he decides to go to Koi Tower to retrieve the Wen siblings’ ashes, but he doesn’t manage to do anything before he’s discovered and forced to flee. He wanders without purpose for a long time until he arrives at a city gate where he hears a group of cultivators talking about him with contempt, which triggers his anger.

The longer Wei WuXian listened, the colder his expression grew.

He should’ve understood long ago. No matter what he did, not a single good word would come out of these people’s mouths. When he won, others feared; when he lost, others rejoiced.

He was cultivating the crooked path either way, so what exactly did the years of persistence mean? What exactly were they for?

However, the colder his eyes were, the brighter the raging fire within his heart burned.

(Chapter 77)

We see him come to a very bitter realization: no matter his noble intentions and moral integrity, everyone has already made up their mind about him, he would be made into a villain no matter what he does. Before what happened at Qiongqi Path he had managed to keep a positive mindset, since he was doing fine in the Burial Mounds with the Wen remnants. It wasn’t an easy life, but they were safe, they didn’t starve and Wei Wuxian was free to focus on his research and inventions in peace, creating the Compass of Evil and the Spirit-Attraction Flag. He missed his family, but he also found another one. He had people who loved him and valued him, and whom he loved and valued in turn. All in all, he was content. He thought that as long as he didn’t actively seek trouble, the world would leave him alone. But he was wrong. Jin Zixun ambushed him accusing him of something he didn’t do, and everything spiraled down so quickly he couldn’t do anything to prevent it, until he lost control of his demonic cultivation and killed Jin Zixuan.

In this moment, Wei Wuxian feels completely alone. The Wen siblings are gone, his beloved shijie might hate him for killing her husband and the cultivation world as a whole can’t wait to besiege him. If it had been another time, he wouldn’t have beaten up those random cultivators. It’s not like it was the first time he heard awful rumors about himself. The fact that he reacts so violently here says a lot about the state of mind he’s in. Wei Wuxian is clearly looking for a way to vent his anger, so he takes it out on the cultivators who are speaking ill of him. His rage is justified: not only were they saying malicious things about him without even knowing the full story, but they were doing it cowardly behind his back. However, his reaction is somewhat disproportionate to their offense: one of them gets kicked in the face until he passes out from the pain, while another gets his legs broken for daring to speak up. Although he doesn’t kill them, he does terrorize them and in the end he leaves them there immobilized by the spirits he had summoned (if Lan Wangji hadn’t been looking for Wei Wuxian, who knows how long they would have had to wait to be freed).

After this, Wei Wuxian sees the announcement of the pledge conference and goes to Nightless City. I’ve seen people argue that he was only trying to protect the Wen remnants and that the people who were there had already pledged to kill him, so it was self-defense. But is it really the case? Personally, I don’t think what he did was self-defense. Sure, he tried to discuss first and didn’t attack until he was attacked, but defending himself and the Wen remnants wasn’t the main reason he was there in the first place.

The crowd flung curses at him, but Wei WuXian accepted all of them.

Anger was the only thing that could suppress the other feelings within his heart.

(Chapter 78)

All of his pain, desperation and guilt were too much to handle at once, so he tried to suppress them all with anger, and directed that anger at the people who hated him. Wei Wuxian didn’t go to the pledge conference to try to prevent the siege from happening (since he thought it wouldn’t change anything anyway) or to weaken the Sects’ forces. He went there to vent his anger and frustration. Wei Wuxian is not clear-headed here, as highlighted by this passage:

Wei WuXian spun around to dodge the attack and laughed, “Fine, fine. I knew since the start that we’d have to fight a real fight like this one sooner or later. You’ve always found me disagreeable no matter what. Come on!”

Hearing this, Lan WangJi’s movements paused, “Wei Ying!”

Although he shouted the words, any sane person would be able to tell that Lan WangJi’s voice was clearly shaking. However, right now, Wei WuXian had already lost his judgement. He was already half-mad, half-unconscious. All evil was being augmented by him. He felt that everyone loathed him and he loathed everyone as well. He wouldn’t be scared no matter who came at him. It wouldn’t matter no matter who came at him. It was all the same anyway.

(Chapter 78)

In this moment Wei Wuxian believes everyone hates him and there’s no use trying to convince them otherwise – there’s no use trying to reason with them in a diplomatic way because no matter what he says or does, his words will be twisted to fit the opinions of the crowd. He almost welcomes the attack because this way he can attack them back and vent all his pent-up anger. Wei Wuxian is not behaving like his usual self here. He can’t see Lan Wangji isn’t trying to hurt him because his mind is not lucid. This is why he loses control of his demonic cultivation for the second time, injuring Jiang Yanli.

His shijie is the only one who manages to calm him down a little despite his chaotic state of mind. He manages to stop the corpses from attacking everyone and waits for her to tell him what she thinks of him, if she forgives him or not. However, she dies to save his life before being able to say anything, and the whole situation becomes simply too much for him to bear. All of his emotions crush him at once, so in his already half-unconscious state he activates the Tiger Seal, effectively erasing any chance he might have had to redeem himself in the eyes of society.

The point of this analysis isn’t to blame or absolve Wei Wuxian. It’s very easy to empathize with his anguish in these scenes. What he was going through was incredibly stressful and the root cause (the ambush at Qiongqi Path) wasn’t his fault. Even Lan Wangji says he can neither condemn nor justify his actions, but he’s willing to face all the consequences with him anyway.

I told [Wangji] when I went to see him, Young Master Wei had already made a grave mistake, there was no use augmenting it. But he said… that he could not say with certainty whether what you did was right or wrong, but no matter what, he was willing to be responsible for all of the consequences alongside you.

(Chapter 99)

Wei Wuxian isn’t blameless for what happened at Nightless City. I don’t think he’s proud of what he did and all the people he killed, either. The fact that he destroyed the Tiger Seal after returning to the Burial Mounds is quite telling. He definitely didn’t act in the most rational and clear-headed way, which resulted in a lot of people – including his shijie – to lose their lives, but the point of all this is that Wei Wuxian is human. He makes mistakes because no one is infallible, no matter how heroic, selfless and virtuous. Not even he can be totally immune to all the criticism and accusasions, even though he often acts like he is. Wei Wuxian is a fundamentally positive person, so most of the time he can ignore the bad things that happen to him and focus on the good, but this time his situation was simply too extreme for anyone to be able to stand it.

[belit0]

Anonymous:

Hey there, could you do Obito comforting his s/o when they're jealous bc they think Obito hasn't got over rin yet? Thank you^^

The night is cold, really cold. A typical winter one, with a big snowfall hitting the windows of your darkroom. The watch says four o'clock in the morning when you wake up to the sound of a soft, trembling, anguished voice.

Hugging Obito’s chest you feel safe, enjoying his body heat, the firmness of his muscles. The closeness of your naked body is all you need to be relaxed until you realize that the noise is coming from him. He keeps one arm around your figure, getting you closer to him constantly, and your faces are confronted. Your nose is resting on his pectorals, and when you feel him babbling, you place small kisses on his skin to calm him down.

“Ka..shi … no…”

“Obi… shhh it’ s okay shhh”

“No… nt… ashi… ple…”

“It’s just a nightmare, I’m here with you.”

“Rin… Ri… ve you…”

Even if it was a product of his subconscious, the fact that Obito dreams about his old love, the one which almost dragged him into madness, is something you can’t get used to. The insecurities that this generates in you are huge, and although you usually keep things under control, on occasions like this, it is not the case.

“Obito wake up.”

“…ve you… ve you…”

“ Obito!”

“RIN DON’T LEAVE ME!”

The Uchiha awoke in shock, with a layer of cold sweat covering his body, and his shaking form. In his grip, you found yourself tense, with your teeth tightly clenched and your eyelids pressed against each other. Suddenly, one half of you just wanted to get away from him and his arms. The other half wanted to hold on strongly to him, dig your nails into his skin and scream in his face to forget about that damn woman because she is dead.

While your mind is trying to say in which direction to take the situation, it is Obito who takes the reins, and gets out of bed, undoing the embrace he had with you. Without looking at you, he goes to the edge of the mattress, puts on his underwear, and leaves the room.

Lying down, you listen to the bathroom door open and the tap on the sink turns on. The water eventually stops running, a sign that Obito has turned it off, but several minutes go by and he doesn’t come back to you.

Stressed by his behavior and with increasing anguish in your stomach, you get up, put on his T-shirt, and go in search of him. You don’t find him in the bathroom, but on your balcony, exposed to the freezing cold of the early morning, barely dressed. His body doesn’t even shiver in the face of the weather, and you can’t help but wonder what horrible things this man has lived through in his life to be immune to a deadly frost.

“Obito please go back to bed. It’s freezing and you have no clothes.”

Looking over his shoulder, he spoke.

“Why do you act as if it doesn’t affect you?”

Knowing exactly what he meant, there was no point in trying to deny it.

“I don’t act… but it’s not my place to recriminate you about these things… I don’t know what you’ve been through.”

“But you can be in doubt, you can be in fear. I feel the tension every time I wake up after a nightmare.”

He turned on his heels, went back inside, and closed the balcony door behind him.

“You always say her name… that you love her, not to leave you. It’s just… I’m here, I’m with you, but it’s like you keep running after her despite my presence…”

“[Y/N]… I can’t deny that Rin was my first love, she was… really changed my life, a painful turning point. Her death… her death was a heartbreaking event, and I only avoided falling into a spiral of madness and darkness because of you. We have been together for many years, and I have never explained to you one bit of the hell that came before our relationship…”

“I just… need… to know that you really are choosing me. That you love me, Obito, that your mind is not still in the past, even if your words say otherwise.”

“You were my lifeline [Y/N], you are my lifeline. If you hadn’t come, by now I would probably be trying to destroy the world, humanity, or causing a world war, who knows. What I am trying to say is, even though my fears are filled with my first love because I could not protect her… you are the love of my life.  The ultimate, the only, and the one that really matters. I love you so much that sometimes I act like an idiot and immature child as if I were someone else. That’s the effect you have on me, that no one else but you would ever have. You’re the only person I want by my side, and if you weren’t here… I can’t imagine myself in that situation.”

“How do you make me love you so much?”

“I have some talents… now please can we go back to bed because you look very pretty with my shirt on and I really need to hug you to sleep… I’m exhausted.”

“Of course you are.”

[collectionofsinglefathers]

BOY okay. Bucky’s arm. I’m gonna be honest. I don’t remember my initial reaction when this first happened. But I do know that, every time I see the image of his face after Ayo knocks his arm off. It just makes me laugh. Because he literally looks like surprised Pikachu.

But okay, all right, I actually am gonna get serious here, and this might end up being a long one. Once again, I haven’t actually seen any posts talking about how what Ayo did was violating Bucky’s trust, or anything like that. I’ve only seen people talking about those posts, and here’s the thing right.

I think anyone who watches this scene and thinks that might be missing the whole point and trajectory of Bucky’s arc on this show.

From episode 1, it is made clear that Bucky is struggling. He is not okay. He is trying, to an extent, but it’s obvious that he’s still really struggling. And once John was announced as “the new Captain America”, I think that sent him into a self-destructive spiral that’s gradually been getting worse.

To just do a quick rundown of what he’s done over the past three episodes, he has:

Joined this mission with Sam, skipping out on his court-appointed therapy session which he probably knows he’ll get in trouble for

Not only talked one-on-one with the last man to have used him as the Winter Soldier, but broke him out of prison so he could work with him

Been forced to act like the Winter Soldier again in Madripoor (and possibly killing a couple people? I’m not sure about that, it’s unclear)

Chose to join the fight against the Dora Milaje, specifically Ayo, who is one of the people who helped him the most when breaking away from HYDRA’s brainwashing, because he feels that he still needs Zemo

Not to mention how he keeps poking at Sam about giving the shield up, to the point where it almost feels antagonistic at this point, like he WANTS to fight about it. I kind of wonder if they would’ve argued about it if John hadn’t stormed into the room when he did.

I am far from being an expert on psychology or mental health, but everything he’s done just jumps out at me as self-destructive. Even, to an extent, going to see Isaiah. I’m sure on some level, he knew that seeing him wouldn’t be a nice time. From what he said to Sam afterwards, he knew exactly what had been done to him, and having it thrown in his face the way it was, especially Isaiah’s comment about “your people”, HYDRA. He even says “HYDRA used to be my people”, as if HYDRA didn’t dehumanize him completely for their own needs. No matter what he’s done, HYDRA were never “his people”, they were his captors and abusers.

And I have a feeling that he didn’t realize how bad it was getting until Ayo did what she did, and said “Bast damn you, James.” Very notably, calling him by his first name, and not the name given to him by the Wakandans.

I think his initial reaction in that moment is just shock. He wasn’t expecting it, and it catches him off guard. You could also argue the fact that he’s a bit concerned that she did that right in front of Walker and Zemo (though I think Zemo was already in the sewer but Bucky wasn’t aware of that yet). But I mostly think it was just shock.

But when you boil it down, I think he knows it makes sense. And it’s not even because they didn’t trust him when giving him the arm. They were giving a very powerful tool that can be used as a weapon to a Super Soldier, a Super Soldier who has a history of being unable to control his own mind. Yes, they helped him break free of the brainwashing code words, but that doesn’t mean he’s all of a sudden immune to them. I’m sure if given time and the right opportunity, Zemo (or someone like him) could break down his defenses enough to be able to control him again. Bucky is aware of all of this. He’s in a very different place now than he was during Civil War, but the one thing I keep thinking of is how his answer to Steve telling him the authorities coming after him aren’t necessarily gonna take him in alive was, “That’s smart. Good strategy.” He knows how dangerous he can be. That hasn’t changed since then.

I also think, when he was putting the arm back on, on some level, he’s starting to realize the actual gravity of the consequences of his actions. He messed up big time, and I think he’s starting to see that. Ayo could’ve picked that arm up and taken it with her. But she didn’t. She let him keep it. In a way, it almost keeps the avenue open for him to make it right.

Sam said in episode 3 that this was pushing Bucky off the deep end, and he was right.

[trashytoastboi]

Hello I'm the person that has request Fem! Artist x Mafia! Law & I love it! ❤ So I have request Fem! Artist x Mafia Law! Modern AU part 2. Couple weeks later the situation has happened. When she's watching news on TV part 1/2 or 3

Heyya! 🍀 thank you so much! And I'm glad you enjoyed it ^.^ hope you enjoy this part as well and sorry for the long wait on this.

Part 1

(Female Pronouns)

Scenario:Modern AU! x Mafia AU! Mafia! Law X F! Artist - Part 2, A dangerous attraction

Word count: 2, 121 words

🍄Trafalgar Law🍄

It had been quite a while since {Name} had seen Law, in fact. Not since the night she met him and painted him...She was left in a daze, unable to paint what she wanted to paint. Her eyes looked over the package that was left at her door a few days ago. It was a box of many contents, ranging from new paints, brushes and a few other items that seemed to compliment her occupation... Yet the most important item by far was an envelope. There was a heart scrawled on the front, as she opened it to find a card that read only a few simple words.

For that 'next time' - T.L

And at the very bottom of the card there was a date and time. Continuously she had attempted to paint but found something that always hindered her, {Name} grumbled with frustration "Is this the price of one of those so called 'muses' I wonder..." her hands slapped together and she shook her head. Refusing to let something like that be a hurdle to her work, {Name} opted for a bit of music to help the inspiration and maybe get the creative block to wane a bit. Though even her favourite music felt stale and offered no inspiration. Deciding, she went ahead and put on the TV which was currently airing the news.

"Guess I'll paint something simple." {Name} decided before sketching a very light design of some forestry and mountain scenery. The news was simply background noise to fill in the silence. A monotone voice droned about sports results, then weather and suddenly returning to headlines and the other top stories. The women drawled a few headlines before being handed a piece of paper, and with a twinge of surprise and interest in her otherwise mechanic voice, she read the new information.

"One of the top headlines for today... a supposed 'Mafia' war is brewing, between two organizations known as the Donquixote Family and the Heart mafia, the Donquixote family is run by Donquixote Doflamingo, which has been public knowledge for many years now but due to political connection he has immunity and the newly identified head of the Heart mafia, Trafalgar Law."

{Name} dropped her pencil, staring blankly at the screen... The head of the Heart Mafia...Trafalgar Law. Her eyes widened leaving her in a state of bewilderment as she frantically paced up and down, trying to make sense of this new information and the undeniable fact that so much seemed to fall into place and make sense. {Name} practically heard some 'underworld business' next door before laying eyes on Law for the first time... then he broke into her house and even watched her sleep. Then stated he was going to kill her, then chose not to, over her painting his portrait. {Name} ruffled her hair trying to think about the exact gravity of what she had been a witness to. "A lot makes sense now... but what have I gotten into..." she chewed her lip nervously all the while her thoughts only continued to spiral her down into stress and worry. "I'm seeing him again in three days... what should I do?" {Name} plopped onto her bed, unable to formulate any kind of plan of action.

Those three days which {Name} seemed so reliant on passed by far too quickly, and still unable to figure out entirely what course of action she should take, {Name} just decided to see him and not bring it up.

{Name} in fact, happy that he gave her a date and time since she could come a bit more prepared this time and decided to clean up her studio, with no disorder on the surface. Nor having empty coffee cups and clothes strewn everywhere. Thinking back to when Law had walked in while her place was in such a messy and chaotic state served to embarrass {Name} quite a bit. Quickly dismissing that thought from her brain "Its his own fault for breaking in", a knock on the door startled her. She cautiously approached the door, looking through the peephole and seeing the familiar silhouette, {Name} took a moment, a deep breath and trying to compose herself. Not wanting to give anything away especially not her state of mild panic the last couple of days.

{Name} unlocked the door and pulled it open, stepping aside as she lifts her hand in a gesture of welcome. Law stepped in with a sense of familiarity, smiling down at {Name} who was apprehensive, skittish almost. The door closes behind him and being swift to turnaround, he noticed her avoiding his gaze. {Name} was about to take a step forward, as Law's hand seized her shoulder, gently halting her. A finger went her chin and commanded her gaze to his "No greeting?" Law remarked, {Name's} eyes darted around, trying to avoid his at all cost for some reason unknown to Law. She could feel herself growing increasingly more nervous under his gaze "H-Hello..." {Name} mumbled out in the hopes of escaping Law's piercing eyes. Or ar the very least; before he noticed how fast her heart was beating.

Law smirked "Stunned that I came back?" He posed his inquiry in response to her restlessness. {Name} looked at him with that spark of defiance "Stunned that you know how to knock" she scoffed in response.

Law chuckled at her fiery reaction, "Would you prefer more 'surprise visits' then? I do know that sight of you sleeping was something quite...exquisite."

She grimaced with no words to say in response before brushing past him "Well we should get started", despite her nonchalant attitude to the situation {Name} in actuality was extremely excited over being able to do another painting of Law. Of course, words and actions conflict especially when she was very zealous about setting up everything as quickly as possible.

Quickly taking a glance around, Law noticed a night and day difference to the first time he came, the studio was far more spacious than he originally assumed especially when it appeared clean and well-organized. "Are you ready?" {Name}called as she began lugging a chair across the room, being meticulous and absolute about its placement. Law noticed her eyes on him, waiting for his answer. "Not yet." {Name} nodded and went back to focusing on the chair when Law threw his coat towards the chair, slightly startling her. She wanted to inquire as to why he suddenly he threw his coat when her eyes instantly saw that devious smile as Law hooked his finger into the knot of his tie, sliding it down before letting it fall to the floor. His fingers deftly begin unbuttoning his shirt, leaving {Name} astounded by his actions, confused even in her attempts to try and grasp the situation.

Especially as to why Law was suddenly stripping, his shirt slid off and she noticed more tattoos on his chest and arms... finding herself a bit curious and and even fixated by them. "You're going to put holes into me if you stare any harder {Name-ya}" Law said with all his amusement as she heard the clink of Law beginning to unbuckle his belt. Suddenly remembering one of his remarks the last time they met...the one about nude painting. {Name} felt her face heating up in embarrassment at the thought. She shook her head frantically trying to get the imagery out of her head and rid her mind of the thoughts that followed. "Oh... no no no" she muttered, grabbing his coat and hastily rushing towards Law. {Name} shoved the coat into his chest "Put this on!" She sputtered "And here I thought you wanted something a little more... risque" Law teased. "You've taken off more than enough! So please don't take anymore off." She seemed to plead, mostly in the desperation of trying to keep her composure intact... or at least, what was left of it. Law was entertained at seeing her so flustered over such a thing. He put on his coat and sauntered over before dropping into the seat, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. Watching {Name} again as she peaked her head out from behind the easel and canvas. "Ready?"

"When you are Künstlerin" Law replied. {Name} began working, inquiring about what he referred to her as in his previous answer. "Interested are we? I'm sure you can guess what it is" Law smiled enjoying his little instance of mischief. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say it means artist or something along those lines" she retored sarcastically, "Well you are indeed correct, I'll have to give you a prize for that."

Law always loved watching {Name} in her element, it was something quite beautiful if he was being completely honest with himself. The intensity and passion that she seemed to command and control, putting all of it into something that no doubt took years of practice, mastery and the fair share of failure to create what she can now... it was admirable. Law sighed in defeat, even his own thoughts were against him, how could he win against this feeling when both his head and heart were in agreement.

What seemed like minutes, was in fact hours, {Name} stepped out from behind the easel with a satisfied smile. "All done." Law could see her clothes and arms were covered in splatters of paint, followed by a few specks on her face. Law stood up to look at the work and without doubt he was thoroughly impressed once again with {Name's} skills. She hummed and buzzed with happiness, "Thank you Law" she exclaimed, the smile that accompanied her words struck a chord with Law, feeling his heart speed up just a little, especially after hearing his name on her lips. "Glad to see you remembered."

"How could I forget..." She mumbled and trailed off, Law approached closing the distance between them and noticed her eyes once again fixated on his tattoos. It seemed as if she was entranced, until she finally noticed Law looking at her. "S-Sorry!" {Name} fumbled out an apology when she also only just realized that she was staring, a smile graced Law's lips. "That's alright" he slipped the coat off, coming even closer and letting {Name} see them up close to satisfy her curiosity. She was surprised, pleasantly so; as her eyes followed the tattoos and even walking around to see more tattoos on his back and being lost in thought her hand reached out and softly traced the ink on his back. Not thinking much of her actions as she continued to follow them in their patterns. "They're really pretty" {Name} murmured, speaking her thoughts aloud. Only being pulled back into reality by Law turning around to face her, his hands rested on her waist and pulled her closer. She could feel an unfamiliar warmth on her lips, before realizing what was going on...Law was kissing her, it was a gentle, sweet kiss which left a lingering sensation that made {Name} in dazed... she was flustered, her fingers touched her lips "W-why?"

"Its your prize... although, personally I believe more than anything that was self satisfaction on my part" Law stated before pulling her into a hug.

While holding {Name} his eyes spot the newspaper that rested on her bedside table, his name was plastered on the front page. A heavy sigh left Law "So you know?"

{Name} looks up at him with evident inquiry as to what she knows, she noticed his eyes are no longer on her but rather, behind her. She looks and sees the newspaper, along with his name and position which was now public knowledge, much to his distaste. {Name} nodded her head "I've known for a while..." she turned back to face Law who was looking at her. His hand gently brushed against her cheek "Are you afraid of me?" Law asked. Though met with {Name} who showed a complicated expression "That's the problem isn't it." He found her answer unusual, waiting for the rest of it in hopes of answering his burning question. "Logic tells me I should be scared, I should have rejected you coming back here. Something like that, but even so I'm not scared of you. Not even slightly, isn't that the strange part?" Law was pleased with her answer, finding that her words offered no disappointment. He inched closer "Or perhaps it's because you enjoy the taste of something dangerous..." he whisperd while his thumb swipes across her lip, {Name} opened her mouth to say something, sarcastically no doubt. And yet there was only silence when her lips were seized again by Law's kiss. Finally separating, "I'll give you as many tastes as you want {Name-ya}"

[emersonfreepress]

What would the ro's be like in a zombie au?

whyyyyy anon whyyy. I'm actually gonna write this in like.. slightly different terms, you'll see. any time I even briefly think of a zombie au I'm just like

I WANNA WRITE IT SO BADDD

i don't even allow myself to entertain it for very long because getting into that would be the worst thing ever for my productivity with the alpha omg 😂😂 so I'll put like the ideas that pop into my head for writing a zombie au, to work some of that creative frustration out 😆

so in this very general, absolutely noncommittal idea of mine, the main cast are older and the setting is in and around a civilian settlement led by the Emersons.

and as a refresher, i like my zombie aus to have fast zombies and fast infections ^ ^ 28 Days Later/Train to Busan style babyyyy, we the Sprinting Dead up in this bitch 😆

= = =

Gabe is, predictably, looking for what's left of his family. Following rumors of safe havens and bunkers and such. Starts the story as someone who tries to be diplomatic, if not outright pacifist, but as times get tougher and resources dwindle, he'd become one of the most cutthroat motherfuckers in the wasteland. Low-key though, low-key. People won't trust you if they know you’re capable of throwing them to a horde for strategic reasons. Like if Rick turned into Shane (for those of us familiar with early Walking Dead--idk did that happen eventually? i gave up before we even met Negan lol). The end justifies the means :) Damn, I can legit see Gabe going full evil in a zombie au omg 😂😂 i want to write it so fucking bad

Preferred weapon for zed encounters: rifle

Preferred weapon for human encounters: handgun

Faith in humanity: fucking zero

Zombie kill count: plenty; the type to kill every zombie he has spare ammo and time for

Human kill policy: When it benefits him or the people he’s looking after

Survival rating: B+; he can make it out of some pretty dire situations through sheer will to live and ruthlessness

- - -

Kile has arrived--clearly, this is the timeline they belong in. They start their journey with Gabe (and their doggo) and stick to him like glue, even reluctantly so when Gabe eventually has them join the settlement. This can only go one way, though: Kile's just too much of a wildcard for the group and hates being told what to do. (Especially now that society has fallen, wtf) They'd make their exit alone and unannounced aside from a brief head’s up to Gabe. It's slightly bittersweet, but also? They get to loot and hunt and sneak around and kill fucking zombies, all by themself. Kile is a loner, a hiker, and a hunter to begin with so they do beyond fine on their own. However, once the inevitable violent human threat comes for the settlement, Gabe is sent out to convince Kile to come out of isolation, just this once please, to be the camp’s super soldier help defend the camp.

Zed weapon: p much anything they can get their hands on, ranged or melee, blunt or sharp, w/e; improvised weapons

Human weapon: hunting knife

Faith in humanity: never had any to begin with

Zombie kill count: lol infinite?? any zed they come across is double-dead if they have the time for it

Human kill policy: at Gabe’s direction or when provoked enough/threatened

Survival rating: A-; they trust no one, live in isolation, and prioritize survival above all else. only reason it’s not higher is they would risk their life for Gabe or their furbaby and also... their own Rambo-esque antics def attracts the occasional horde lmao

- - -

Jack... this poor boy, he doesn't deserve a zombie au 😂 He's one of those people that first believes zombies are just sick people, too squeamish to keep up with TV news coverage at the onset and too upset to consider anything else. He'd hunker down at home, staying holed up even while his neighbors evacuated, and probably be discovered while the main group is looting the same place as him. When people try to tell him the real state of the world, he'd be in denial until he absolutely couldn't be anymore. idk, probably after Kile shooting a bunch of non-lethal holes thru a zombie to make a point (attracting more in the process lol).

He’d almost immediately join the medical team at the settlement and as word spreads about how easy he is to talk to, he quickly becomes the literal on-site therapist. It's a role he embraces but... idk if it's an emotional burden he can bear. He's very emotionally resilient! But he ain't a professional lol imagine a whole settlement of traumatized zombie survivors seeking you out for counseling, yikes. He also can't say no to a person in need, so instead he quietly spirals into a very private depression while continuing to help others!!

Zed weapon: Oh gosh, do I really have to?

Human weapon: ...Kindness?

Faith in humanity: Unrealistically high

Zombie kill count: Single digit

Human kill policy: Not ever, unless completely unavoidable and to defend the defenseless

Survival rating: C...? idk, that feels generous. D+. To be protected at all costs!!

- - -

Jessie also had the initial reaction of hoping zombies could be saved, but she woke up from that dream swiftly. The science-minded person that she is, esp with her interest in biology, leaves her determined to find anybody who's got the intellect, expertise, and resources to start doing actual work toward a treatment, cure, vaccine—anything. Nothing would get her to finally unabashedly embrace her love of science (and innate leadership skills!!) faster than a zombie apocalypse! In fact, it’s thanks to her that the Emerson settlement’s got a small but growing team of scientists doing as much research as humanly possible to best educate the others on the outbreak and zombie behavior. Def no zombie experimentation going on though lol. ...Not yet, at least.

Zed weapon: rifle

Human weapon: rifle

Faith in humanity: High! We’ll find a solution! Don’t give up hope!

Zombie kill count: Double digits, but less than 30

Human kill policy: Only in unavoidable self-defense or defense of others

Survival rating: B! She has experience with ranged weapons, farming and gardening skills, first aid, camping experience, and a can-do attitude with a healthy dose of realism!

- - -

Rain remains cargo as I said in the last post about this 😆 They'd be very good for keeping clothes repaired and making useful modifications in the settlement, but their life up to this point has been very sheltered and privileged. We're talking somebody with a chauffeur and a personal chef before the outbreak! They would contribute to quality of life and homemaking efforts more than anything—an overlooked aspect of these scenarios tbh! After as many months of dragging their feet as possible and being nigh impossible to track down when you need them, they eventually become involved in meal planning and even help out with medical stuff if they're asked.

Zed weapon: how do you reload this thing again?

Human weapon: switchblade or other concealable sharp-pointy

Faith in humanity: Very low

Zombie kill count: 0! Can you believe it!

Human kill policy: Well if it’s you or me, of course I’m choosing me.

Survival rating: C. Being so tiny helps them find good hiding spots and their self-preservation is high enough to keep them from unnecessary risk-taking. Plus they're very stealthy! Self-defense is a major issue though, so hiding is always their best option.

- - -

Rupan/Rohan scouts for and leads scavenging missions and is Curt's right hand on the recruitment team. The two of them together are the perfect combo of diplomacy, debate, and deception--although R is more honorable about the last one and will only deceive for strategic reasons. When they aren’t looting and recruiting, they’re doing peacekeeping inside the settlement. Most social disputes end up getting brought to them for mediation and they’re pretty dang good at making and enforcing calls. One day they’ll wake up to realize they’ve basically become a sheriff and feel the need to puke their guts up and do something, anything, to reassure themself they’re still punk 😂

Zed weapon: SMG

Human weapon: shotgun

Faith in humanity: Believes in fundamental goodness but knows better than to trust first impressions

Zombie kill count: decent, more than 40; you won’t catch them having a field day tho, they’re trying to gtfo of most zed situations

Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. And they aren’t, at all, immune to a revenge rampage either...

Survival rating: B-. Can handle themself both with humans and zeds but is vulnerable to hostage situations and truly difficult sentimental/interpersonal decisions!

- - -

Vivian/Vincent manages inventory and stock and they run it so efficiently it’s scary! They're the perfect pick: a hawk-eyed tyrant and tattletale 😂 Despite constantly butting heads with just about everyone on every imaginable thing, they quickly become an important part of the inner circle of decision-makers for the settlement at large. Terrible at stealth, jumpy, and squeamish at the sight of blood and gore, they literally never go on missions unless they're 100% needed for their expertise on a supply run. (They would deny all of these shortcomings are that big a problem, meanwhile R is definitely acting as their bodyguard lol.) When they do tag along, they're prone to becoming the damsel in distress. Seriously, it happens near every fucking time. It's like they just attract only the most improbable and perilous zombie attacks and hostage situations 😆

Zed weapon: shotgun

Human weapon: handgun

Faith in humanity: Medium; seeing people work together at the settlement helps restore it a bit

Zombie kill count: Double digits, under 25

Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. Well, no, not by me! Get one of the ruffians to do it!

Survival rating: C-. They’d be higher if they weren’t such natural zombie bait.

- - -

Heidi is running the settlement, well-organized to the degree of actually managing to bring bureaucracy to a post-zombie apocalypse settlement 😂 People are free to come and go, but getting in if you don't live there requires trading something of value (fuel, med supplies, food, etc), temporary surrender and registry of firearms and explosives, and you gotta GTFO at the time and date specified upon entry! You can stay long-term if you contribute to the community in a tangible way—and each person admitted is approved by Heidi personally. Yes, every individual. No, she has no free time. And she is not known to be lenient with rule breakers—you want rule bending, you’ll have to go to Curt for that. People kind of hate her, but it can't be denied that she runs a tight ship. She kind of throws herself into the work to avoid the harsher reality at large and hasn't left the settlement in a long time. She's out of touch with how bad things have gotten in the wastes, but she knows better than to take reports at anything less than face value--even when she's skeptical.

Zed weapon: rifle

Human weapon: handgun; dagger

Faith in humanity: Medium. It fluctuates, honestly

Zombie kill count: Double digits, less than 20

Human kill policy: Violent threats must be taken out if they can’t be reasoned with. Spare those who surrender, eradicate those who don't, keep an eye on the newbies. Not tryin’ to nurse any vendettas around here lol

Survival rating: B. She's good with a firearm, masterful at persuasion, and savvy enough to calculate risks appropriately. Also far tougher than her prim exterior and demeanor suggests!

- - -

Curt leads the recruitment and reconnaissance teams! When a new person or group shows up in the area, Curt's the one who stalks watches them, decides if they're worth approaching, and if they should be approached with an invitation, a simple acknowledgment/announcement of their presence, or an outright armed warning to leave the area. He also keeps tabs on morale and general confidence inside the settlement, alongside R. When he isn’t leading those efforts, though, he’s flirting with settlers and squirreling his way out of manual labor and other chores. He’s also secretly growing weed at his place--don’t tell Heidi or Vi ‘cause they’ll wanna yell at him and ration it UGH.

Zed weapon: SMG, explosives

Human weapon: handgun, dagger

Faith in humanity: Pft, sorry, what now?

Zombie kill count: ...way more than you’d expect

Human kill policy: I don’t start confrontations, but I sure as fuck end them.

Survival rating: A! He’s good at playing hapless idiot when it suits him to be underestimated, good with firearms, and capable of being ruthless and decisive in life or death situations! Plus he has no qualms about ditching the settlement if he decides it’s not working out for him. Just don’t tell Heidi lol

[moonknightly]

and you keep me holding on : santiago “pope” garcia x reader (two)

Word Count: 3.4k

Excerpt: “‘I’m her husband,’ he interrupts, anger coursing through his bloodstream at the Lieutenant’s word choice. He swallows thickly, pushing the rage down and crossing his arms over his chest. ‘And I would prefer for you to use her name.’”

Warnings: Mentions of blood, kidnapping, violence. 

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

The address the deputy finds is for an apartment complex in Princeton. Santi briefly wonders when Nathan had moved out of New York, but he knows that it doesn’t matter. Nothing really matters except for the fact that he’s one step closer to finding her and one step closer to making sure her Nathan never sees another day outside of a prison cell.

Jay and Santi are in one squad car while Cameron and Parker take up the one directly behind. Three police cruisers lead the way, lights blazing and sirens blaring. Santi’s head is pounding, though he knows that the lights and sirens have nothing to do with it — he’s grown immune to both over the years. No, he knows that he’s beginning to make himself physically ill from the stress and anxiety, but he also knows that there was no way that he could possibly even begin to calm himself down. He didn’t want to calm down.

He also knows that Jay keeps a bottle of ibuprofen stashed away in the glovebox, but even so, he’s not going to pop a pill to take the edge off because the pain is the only thing keeping him grounded — the only thing that makes him feel a little bit sane, the only thing keeping him from spiraling completely. And not only is the ache keeping him there and in the moment, but he also feels like he doesn’t deserve to numb it.

She’s out there somewhere, without a doubt in more pain than he’s even close to being in, and it wouldn’t be fair. He knows that it’s twisted and that she would chastise him if he ever told her that his head had been in such a place, but why should he be free of his pain while she’s still suffering? When it’s all his fault in the first place?

Santi glances towards the clock, and his chest clenches at the time. It's just after three in the morning. She’d left his office right before eight that night, and Santi’s guessing that she'd arrived home at around nine. He didn’t make it home until a little after midnight and for all he knew, Nathan could have already been in the apartment by the time she got there which meant that she’d been missing for six hours already. 

Santi doesn’t like that, not at all, and the pressure in his head only seems to intensify as he starts to think of all the different variables and possibilities.

He rips his eyes away from the glowing numbers, instead deciding to focus his gaze down towards his knees. The orange glow of overhead streetlamps gives little light in the tiny car, but it’s still enough for Santi to notice the stains that cover his pants.

Dry blood. Her blood.

He’d stumbled upon entering the bathroom — had fallen to his knees, hand coming up to clutch his chest as he felt like the wind had been forcefully knocked from his lungs. 

He doesn’t remember much else from the first hour after arriving home to an empty, bloodsoaked apartment. He remembers fumbling for his phone while still kneeling on the bathroom floor, and he remembers shakily dialing Cameron’s number. He doesn’t remember what he had told her, or how long it took for them to arrive after he hung up, but he does remember that it had felt like hours when in reality, it had probably only been ten minutes tops.

But did he even hang up, or had she kept him on the line? Had he been crying? He remembers Cameron placing a hand on his shoulder, he remembers her asking him what happened, her voice far too calm for the situation, and he remembers briefly wondering if she thought that he’d done something to her. He remembers not being able to answer Cameron’s question, his words coming out a jumbled mess, and then there were arms, Jay’s arms, hooking themselves underneath his, hoisting his body off of the floor and dragging him to the bed.

And then there’s nothing for another hour. He doesn’t remember what questions had been asked, or what his answers had been, if he had even answered at all. If they’d found anything of significance. It was like he'd been asleep the entire time, only waking when his irritation had reached a level that forced him to break through the haze.

Santi continues to stare at the blood, trying his hardest to further piece together the events of the night, but he just can’t and the panic starts to creep its way into his veins once more. His skin starts to burn and he brings his hand up in a futile attempt to scratch away the blood, though he knows that it’s pointless. He knows he’ll never be able to get rid of the stain no matter how hard he scratches or rubs, or how many times he washes them.

He doesn’t get a chance to really work at it though, because his hand freezes as soon as it comes into contact with the fabric, and his jaw clenches as he notices the crimson caked around his cuticles, under his nails, settled between the lines that covered his palm.

So much blood, so much red.

All he can do is stare, for how long he doesn’t know, but he does manage to finally retract his hand, deciding to rest it on his stomach overtop of his DEA vest. He brings his attention back to the trees flying by.

“How much longer?” Santi asks, his voice cracking towards the end, though he makes no effort to try and cover it up.

Jay briefly looks towards the GPS, then towards Santi before settling his eyes back on the road in front of him. “Any minute now.”

Santi internally groans, letting his head fall against the cool glass of the window. He’s been quiet for the entire drive, and Jay would be lying if he said the silence doesn’t worry him, but then again he doesn’t think he would be up to talk about the weather or what song was being overplayed on the radio if he were in Santi’s position. He can’t blame him.

Jay hadn't been lying when he said that they were just a few minutes out from the complex, and Santi feels his pulse quicken exponentially as the street sign comes into view. Jay quickly, and probably a little sharper than he should have, turns off the main road and comes to an abrupt stop in a small, cop-filled parking lot.

Santi counts at least seven Princeton PD cars, a SWAT van, and two ambulances. They’d called Princeton as they were leaving Manhattan, Cameron giving strict instructions to call her back if they found anything, but as far as Santi knew, she had never received a call. He was sure she would’ve called him had they found her, would have told him to go to the hospital rather than the apartment complex. He can feel his hope slipping further and further away as he steps out of the car. He doesn’t see a coroner, so he takes that as one good sign.

Jay calls his name, but Santi ignores him. He weaves his way through the crowd of officers, looking for any sign of her or any indication that they had found something, anything at all. There are a few hushed whispers — a deputy telling an EMT that they were searching for the wife of a DEA agent, something about pictures, but nothing that brings him any sense of comfort. Jay finally catches up with him and tugs on his arm in order to get his attention.

“What was the apartment number again?”

“311,” Santi responds, his eyes still searching the crowd.

He’s not even sure what he’s looking for anymore.

He curses under his breath when the realization that she’s not there finally finds its way past the denial. He lets his head fall, a hand flying to his face so he can pinch the bridge of his nose. His head feels as if somebody’s pushing a metal stake through his skull, and he can feel his lungs begin to burn as he struggles to breathe properly. He doesn’t really remember how.

Jay watches as Santi fights to compose himself. He wants to comfort him, to let him know that everything will be okay, but if he’s being completely honest he doesn’t know how. He only gently, encouragingly slaps Santi’s shoulder, effectively getting the other man to finally glance up at him.

“Come on, let’s go up. Maybe they found something.”

Santi seems to think about it for a moment. Does he really want to be in Nathan’s apartment? The short answer is no, he wants to be anywhere but there, but he nods his head anyways. He takes a deep breath and nods one more time before following Jay.

It’s not hard to tell which apartment belongs to Nathan — a cop would enter, and two more would exit. The standard, yellow police tape blocks off a small perimeter around the doorway, and Santi and Jay both flash their badges to the attending officer before ducking underneath.

The small apartment is filled with law enforcement, and for some reason, Santi feels very out of place. He frowns as the feeling settles deep in the pit of his stomach, but he tries his best to ignore it.

But Jay picks up on the fact that something’s wrong, because he stops in the doorway and turns to Santi with furrowed eyebrows, his hand coming up to the other man’s chest to keep him from moving any further into the apartment.

“What’s up?”

Santi shakes his head, his eyes roaming around the room almost frantically. He subconsciously begins to tap his foot against the floor, a nervous habit that took him years to break but suddenly decided to creep back in. “I feel like I shouldn’t be here.”

“Why, because you’re her husband or because she’s not here?”

He takes a moment to answer, seeming to weigh both options in his mind. “Both.”

“Listen, you know you don’t have to be here. Like, you really shouldn’t be here at all to begin with.”

Santi knows that. He knows the problems that could arise from him getting involved, both from a professional and a personal standpoint, knows he could compromise her case if he lets his emotions and attachment get the best of him. Fuck, he isn’t even a detective anymore, he’s not with his squad. Cameron is really pulling some strings to allow him in, but he’s also sure no one else knows that he’s involving himself.

“I just feel like we’re wasting time.”

He feels like he could do a better job on his own, with his boys.

“Pope, we don’t have anything else to go off of...”

“I know that, I’m just-”

Santi isn’t sure how to finish his thought. He’s just stressed, just worried and anxious, just wants nothing more than to have her back in his arms, safe and sound and protected.

“I dunno,” he finishes after another moment, a sigh falling from his lips as he shrugs his shoulders. He really doesn’t know.

Jay nods, seeming to understand what Santi means even though he can’t explain it. “This is our best starting point. We can go from here, alright?”

Santi nods once again, and the pair turn to start making their way through the apartment when they’re almost immediately stopped by someone wearing a Princeton PD jacket.

“Manhattan?”

Jay nods, extending his hand out.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” the officer says, returning the handshake while glancing between the pair. Jay introduces them both, then shoves his hands back into the pocket of his jeans while Santi just stands there, looking a little disinterested. To him, pleasantries are only another waste of time.

But Anderson’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the mention of Santi’s name before settling into a thin line across his forehead. His eyes roam downwards for just a brief second, taking notice that Santiago isn’t wearing a standard NYPD vest. 

“Garcia?”

Santi frowns, eyes narrowing as the Lieutenant repeats his name, his tone sounding almost accusatory, questioning, and the three stand in silence for several seconds, Santi and Anderson not once looking away from each other. 

Anderson is the first to break.

“What’s your relation to the vic-”

“I’m her husband,” he interrupts, anger coursing through his bloodstream at the Lieutenant’s word choice. He swallows thickly, pushing the rage down and crossing his arms over his chest. “And I would prefer for you to use her name.”

Anderson smiles coldly. He shoves his own hands into the pockets of his jacket and rocks back and forth on his heels a few times, appearing as if he’s actually enjoying Pope’s discomfort. “Of course. My mistake. Didn’t mean to offend you or Mrs. Garcia.”

Santi is seething but he keeps his mouth shut, keeps his fists hidden. The last thing he needs to do is lashout at another law enforcement officer and have Cameron revoke his privileges. He doubts that she would in the end, but she would at least threaten it. And then his boss will hear about it and that’s just something Santi isn’t willing to deal with, no matter how hard he wants to land one swift, solid punch to Anderson’s jaw.

Another man in a PDP vest approaches them just then, after another short bout of silence, and he whispers something into Anderson’s ear that neither Santi nor Jay can hear while handing over a small white box.

“What’s that?” Santi asks, his impatience definitely showing.

Anderson merely shoves the box under his arm and waves for them to follow before walking towards the kitchen, the one room that seemed to be unoccupied at the time. Santi is growing more and more annoyed with the Lieutenant with each passing second. Jay’s trying his hardest to stay neutral, but even he’s growing irritated with Anderson’s apparent arrogance and disinterest.

She deserves more than that.

Anderson sets the box down on the counter then take a step away, causing Jay to scoff and Santi to roll his eyes at how dramatic the simple action appeared, but before anyone can comment on it, Santi reaches forward and flips the top off of the box without a second thought.

His frustration is quickly replaced by horror.

Santi feels his heart drop and his face turn pale. His stomach flips as he feels the urge to throw up for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He’s dizzy and has to blink several times to make sure that he’s really looking at what he thinks he is, needs to be one hundred percent sure that’s he’s not hallucinating. Jay looks just as alarmed, and he has half a mind to pull Santi away from the box and out of that goddamn apartment, but they’re both frozen in place, their eyes locked on what has to be hundreds of black and white photographs.

Hundreds of black and white photographs of her and Santi.

Anderson reaches into the box and takes a handful before laying them across the counter so they can get a better look, not that either of them really want to.

There’s pictures of the two of them standing in line at their favorite coffee shop, the one on the first floor of their apartment building — they stopped in nearly every morning before work to get their caffeine fix, and she would sometimes pop in on her way home if she left work early enough. His arm is around her shoulders or around her waist in most of them, something that he always did when they were out in public together because he likes to touch her, to feel her just so he always know that she’s there. There are some where she’s alone and Santi faces the fact that Nathan could’ve easily grabbed her then.

There are pictures of them outside of the hospital, outside of the DEA. Some of them at restaurants and a few from the grocery store. A handful taken outside of her mother’s house, where they went every Sunday morning for breakfast.

There’s even a few sets of them inside their apartment, taken from their fire escape. Santi feels his cheeks heat up as those are laid out in front of him, because not all of them are innocent and the fact that they’d been watched and photographed while making love had him dizzy.

But he’s not embarrassed because they’d been watched — sure it bothers him, of course it does, but he's not embarrassed. No, he’s embarrassed by the fact that he never once noticed Nathan.

The date on the pictures span over a course of thirteen months, the first one taken on September 20th of the previous year while the last one was taken on October 4th, just a few weeks before, and he had been oblivious to each and every one.

Jay’s seen enough. He firmly takes hold of Santi’s arm and drags him out of the tiny apartment, down the three flights of stairs, and out to the car, completely ignoring and bypassing Cameron and Parker, ignoring how they call out to them. Santi pulls away right as Jay throws open the car door, stumbling towards the grass before falling to his knees for the second time that night. He coughs, then splutters, the water Jay had forced him to drink on their way to Princeton coming back up and burning his throat as he heaves into the grass.

It’s his fault. It’s all Santi’s fault and if he had just been a little more observant, he could’ve kept her safe. If he had just been able to spot Nathan even once, he could’ve had him arrested for violating the restraining order and then maybe, fucking maybe she would be at home, tucked underneath the covers and safe.

Cameron quickly rushes over to Santi, though she makes no move to touch him. He’s breathing heavily, struggling to pull air into his lungs. The pain in his head is now close to unbearable, but he still refuses to verbally acknowledge it. He still doesn’t cry, still refuses to let himself break completely. He doesn’t want anyone worrying about him, though he knows they already were.

And he’s right. They’ve never seen Santi so shaken up before, though no one can blame him. It’s completely expected and absolutely warranted.

Cameron gives Santi a couple of minutes to calm himself before she speaks softly to him, gently reaching forward to place a hand on his shoulder. “You need to go home and get some rest.”

“I can’t,” Santi replies without missing a beat. “I need to find her.”

“There’s nothing more you can do tonight Pope. Let Jay take you home.”

Santi stays quiet. He’s mentally and physically exhausted, and he knows that there’s no way he can continue to work in the condition his body is in. And not only that, but he knows that Cameron is right — there’s nothing more to be done. Their hunt led them to a dead end, and like Jay had said earlier, they had nothing else to go off of.

He decides to save his energy, he knows it’s not worth fighting them on it because he would only lose, and Cameron would eventually force him to at least lay down even if he stayed wide awake, even if it was at a hotel in Princeton.

He grumbles out a short, clipped “fine” and stands without another word. He flinches at the irritation that’s evident in his voice because he knows the squad doesn’t deserve it, but he can’t find the energy to care any further, can’t find the energy to apologize. He just hopes that Cameron doesn’t take it personally.

And she doesn’t. She watches closely, cautiously as Santi walks back to the car and settles into the passenger’s seat. The squad all glance at one another, their worry evident, radiating from them and bouncing off one another.

“The same goes for you two,” Cameron instructs, her voice holding no room for argument. “We won’t be of any use to Garcia if we’re all exhausted.”

Neither of them feel the need to ask which of the Garcia’s Cameron is referring to — they know that both need them at their best and on top of their game.

But the wait — the not being able to do anything because they didn’t have anything is already agonizing.

Sleep won’t come easy for any of them.