#i just need to post something positive - to think of something positive

[slowcatsisland]

Trafalgar D. Water Law; Ideal Type Deep Dive

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The first thing that comes to my mind is that audio - “ I need to find my darling husband!” “What do you see in that guy?” “He makes me laugh.”

Law absolutely needs to be with someone who can make him laugh.

Throughout the post time skip arcs, it has been shown that Law -

Has a fear surrounding accepting and giving love

Believes that there must be a reason for earning love/giving love to someone

Law’s character had the most development in Dressrosa and Wano that could propel him towards healing with the defeat of Doflamingo, the revenge of Corazon’s death, and the closure statement that Sengoku says to him: “Don’t try to find a reason for someone’s love.”

Law has to heal first, or have a partner that will help him heal. To me, Law wouldn’t even think of committing to a relationship until the end of Dressrosa/Wano.

Law surrounds himself with goofy people, so it makes sense for him to fall for a goofy person.

This person would probably be on his crew as his trust issues wouldn’t allow for him falling for someone that has other loyalties that could easily be prioritized over him and end up betraying him.

Law is strict about subordinate dynamics, which is why you being on his crew may also hinder him from wanting to pursue something with you because he’s supposed to be your boss essentially.

Law would want someone that is smart, textbook smart like he is, but I also see this not being important if he truly runs into the ‘one’ that brings him the most peace.

I mean by that if you can’t hold and add to a conversation about idk the anatomy of the human body and the effects of a certain ailment, you’re not totally disqualified from his radar.

Someone who could hold emotional conversations with him is good. Even if he probably wouldn’t want the conversation. He’s kinda icky with feelings. Someone that could tell him how he feels, how they feel, and how that changes the context of whatever situation they are in. He needs someone like that.

I used to be opposed to the thought, but I believe Law needs someone truly soft. That means you could still fight if needed, but would rather not yk. It’s okay if you’re not out here swinging a machete trying to bloody the streets with your foes. That aspect of humanity that you have is something Law needs more prevalently in his life.

I remember reading an analysis of Law’s type and the creator said something similar to “Law needs someone who wouldn’t pull the trigger, just like Corazon didn’t.” I don’t know how much I agree with it but I think it’s worth mentioning.

Someone patient, but stubborn. Someone who is willing to wait for him to be ready to accept his feelings and won’t leave him when he makes a mistake (trust me he will make many mistakes in a relationship). Someone who also won’t be an idle figure in situations, you have an opinion and will voice it even if it doesn’t agree with Law’s perspective. You think the crew should help him on something rather than wait on the submarine and him go off alone? Tell him and make him listen, even if he shuts you down.

Law needs someone positive that can look at things with a glass half full mindset. Someone who looks at the rain and thinks about how the plants are getting water, someone who watches the snow fall but are commenting about how Penguin and Sachi are making snow angles and Bepo is really comfortable in the temperature. You even out his pessimism and bring light.

You’d have to get along with the other crew mates, especially Bepo too. Bepo is so important to Law, and if Bepo didn’t like you it already taints Law’s image of you.

You were always kind to him. Even before he invited you onto his crew, he identified your nature and could make a note about how you’re different from the majority of people he’s met.

Preferably, you’d be goofy, but not too loud. I feel like Law gets uncomfortable around those that are crazy extroverted- kinda like Luffy. Sometimes it reminds him too much of the Donquixote Pirates with all their flamboyance. That doesn’t mean if you have this quality you’d be off the list, he would just need it in smaller chunks or around the crew to be acclimated to it.

Grr, someone that ends up reminding him of Rosinante. Someone that Law knows is just a good person, regardless of their past.

If he asked you “why do you love me?” And you couldn’t give him an answer, you’re perfect.

He needs someone to be his safe space. Someone that could sit in his office while he works, content in the shared silence. Someone that he could ramble about his coin collection to without the worry of being judged. Someone that he could let touch his chest and have them run their fingers through his hair without worry that he’ll be harmed. Someone that will soothe him after he has a nightmare or read out loud to him until he falls asleep.

Someone that cares for him- this loops back to the stubbornness. Someone that tries to make him go to sleep, to make him eat, to make him take breaks from working. To make him live happily, something that he’s starved himself of truly ever since he was 10. He prolly won’t act like it, but you showing you care for him makes his heart bleed suffocatingly.

Someone that can show him how to love again and what it feels like to love again omg. The destruction of Flevance and the manipulation of the Donquixote Pirates so cruelly changed his perception of love.

Law wouldn’t want you to be a big shot in canon. If your bounty was rather substantial compared to his crew and him, or you had a crazy ability- it would make him worry awfully. He’d probably try to keep you out of harms way even more than he does with the rest of his crew.

Someone he can tell everything to and trust that they’ll keep it a secret.

Someone that likes the cold, likes the ocean. Living on a submarine as a pirate kinda requires this lol.

Omg imagine you’re from the North Blue too. He picks you up around the same time he does Penguin, Sachi, and Bepo. You’re one of the original members. The connection I feel like he would have with you would make him more willing to fall for you…

I feel like Law would like someone with longer hair. If he could watch them brush it, curl it around his finger, watch them create a hairstyle for the day. Small acts of domesticity in life.

Someone with large, doe eyes. He can see so much emotion through them, they hold so much weight. It reminds him of Bepo. (lol)

Someone aware of their own emotions and are in tune with their wants and needs.

I feel like he would fluster really easily if you had a gummy smile. Yk those big, pure smiles where the gums showed. When your eyes crinkly and your teeth are bared so naturally and without malice. It’s so beautiful to see.

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He’s so broken

Mwah 😽

[eicee]

Will forever be grateful for this post and your writings crab! I usually read this every know and then! Really recommend and read crabdrables blog!! Sorry for the VERY late thoughts but taking L's left and right irl lol Onto some of my personal thoughts:

Relating very much with reader's unending cycle of self-doubt and hatred that may stem from themselves and from family too.

Ain't exactly an academic achiever expect when college but please for the love of find time in social life to or you'll kind of end up with reader here. Asian things lol.

Speaking of Asian things, reader's parents love language here is more on actions and less on verbal. This alright but kinda toxic when its something one thing only. Reader craves to of validation through words too. What's one action can be interpreted as another; example

Academic validation you'll find in majority of families unfortunately something reader thought that they should do for majority of their life but their is life outside school too.

Pleasing for other people is what person's identity will get themselves killed literally and metaphorically, it shows that reader is drained from what all happened in their life.

Reader really giving it all, as they think it would be make it or break it on the military.

Sad with reader that even if they joined the 141, their feelings of doubt and emptiness is still their and not easily those feeling be swayed easily.

Reader be yearning and wanting to be part of the 141 fam yet really made them out of place at the task force at first.

Calling "kid" by the 141 pulled me some of my heart strings, reader for sure was touched by their endearment thought they are still processing what the 141 say.

Reader's mind and thoughts be really damaged, so deep in their mind that they forgot the positive interactions with the 141.

Not the reader overhearing the string of Gaz' words and reader walking away not hearing the whole convo. Gaz seeing through reader and worried mother hen.

Ghost be the terrifying lt yet softie understanding big bro here.

Soap the ever social butterfly yet respecting social boundaries for reader.

Dad!Price ain't giving up reader that early. Yearning for someone like Price wanting to understand and talk to like reader here.

Reader may not feel that they have place in 141 but they already are, they are just in denial and still on process.

Reader be shocked that Price finds them.

Price be observant due to years being in the military.

“Something on your mind?” Price asks that lead to conversation his understanding that led to Reader's opening up even when they cried earlier.

Price be knight in shining armor and Papa bear that is ready to defend anyone and especially 141 and that includes the reader. "Violence and timing." as Price known quote.

Reader be awkward on calling Price's first name and sharing what on their mind is.

Price despite reader's doubts on their place on 141 still reassures and knows that reader is in the right place. That not anyone could replace reader as they already carve into 141's hearts.

Price giving reader more credit as he sees that reader worked their ass off hard and well.

Not the joked that turned to not joked with hugging and effing Reader still protecting their parents and Price horrified with the silence and revelation.

Captain with his words about obligation and not love for sure hit Reader's head like a truck.

Price really giving the words that Reader crave and wanted to hear for their whole life, did gave them hope and made them less empty.

Papa John Price gave hug that Reader may not realized that they need it.

Reader felt seen and appreciated for who they are. Reader be stuck and with their found family as long as they can (forever).

Hiii Crab so happy to see you write outside of our rants/idea chats and my fellow delulu cod enjoyer! Would love to request Platonic!141 + Reader (sorry if this is long and somewhat confusing lol). You can do headcanons, drabble or whatever you comfy for. An idea that popped in my head kinda semi personal: Civ or 141! Reader though has parents and family is the reader is quite something else. Reader despite having somewhat normal upbringing still feel empty; they shouldn't be feeling this numb and empty deep inside of them. The reader craves the love that they give but couldn't or lack of receiving it back, though they don’t expect it or selfishly want it. Just someone who understands them even in their deepest darkest secret or flaw then boom cue the task force 141 unexpected yet welcoming to their life and maybe the one that the Reader can lean and let them be vulnerable on (finally).  

Take your time on doing this Looking for to your other writing genuinely -Cee, your fellow Soap delulu

GN!Reader & 141 (Mostly Price)

Warnings: Slight angst Ships: None. A/N: This absolutely ran away from me and I do not at all regret it, hope you enjoy, Cee!!! Words: 3549

Almost your entire life had been a cycle of self doubt that also started to churn and twist into self-hatred. You blamed yourself for the feelings. Afterall, you had a relatively normal upbringing. Two parents who were both present in your life, both of whom worked so that you all had food on the table and a roof over your head. A luxury that very few had.

The least you could do for them is follow the path that they wanted to put you on, no matter how much you didn’t want to do it. Because you loved them. 

So you excelled in your education, studying hard to try and impress your parents– to make them love you just as much as you loved them for everything that they did for you for your entire life. They wanted you to do all three sciences despite the additional workload it would add to your already stretched thin time? Then you would do them, take any extra classes after school in order to keep up with the work and not lag behind any of your peers. 

There was no such thing as a social life, either, not when you had homework and projects due. Friends were few and far between. Generally, most people left when they realised how hyper focused you were on your grades instead of social interaction. 

Did a classmate get a higher grade than you on a test? Well obviously you didn’t study hard enough, you just needed to dedicate more time to school even though school was all you had.

Did you get the highest marks in the class? Good, that was what was expected of you. Why didn’t you get full marks? You were better than that. You would do better because you loved your family. They showed it in their own way, of course, by encouraging you to study harder and get better grades. That was their love language, and yours was doing as they asked without a second thought. Because, at the end of the day, you were lucky to have an upbringing like you had. You would ignore the hollow void clawing at your chest because you had no right to feel that way– not when you had a roof over your head and parents that loved you(?).

It was when you came top of the class with full marks in a recent test, you came home with a beaming smile on your face and proudly showed the test to your parents. They took the papers from your hands, flipping through your work with critical eyes, before handing the papers back to you. 

‘Well done, we’re so proud of you.’ That was all you wanted them to say to you. That was all you needed to hear. To know that they loved you. 

‘Your penmanship is terrible.’ Was what you got instead. When you tried to point at the big 100% in green pen, you were waved away. ‘How are you expected to get a job when you write like a child? I’m surprised the teacher could even read your answers’. 

After several years of balancing a work and educational life and paving a way for a line of work that you didn’t want for parents you should have been grateful to have, you decided that enough was enough. 

No matter how hard you worked, no matter how high your marks were, they would never be proud of you. They would never return the love that you had for them until you nearly killed yourself trying. 

Spending your entire childhood, teenagehood and all of your current adulthood trying to please your parents predictably would damage one’s psyche. You had no friends, family who had never been devoted to you as you were to them, and high grades serving as the foundations to a prison-like future.

You dropped out of University. The only option forward that you saw was joining the army in the vain hope that the empty feeling inside of you would dissipate when you actually did something that you believed was more worthwhile than any University course. 

So you threw yourself into the military, working harder than all of the other recruits and training at every chance you could.

Your skills and determination became widely recognised amongst your peers. It took several years, but you eventually caught the eye of none other than Captain John Price. 

Impressed by your willpower that not many soldiers possessed, he offered you a place on the 141. 

Naturally, you agreed. You believed that being part of such a well renowned and respected team would finally beat back the lingering self doubt and emptiness that had curled itself around your heart.

It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse.

You were invited to join the 141, sure, but they had already established their own relationships between each other, had already bonded into a close knit group, and you were simply an outsider. Yes, you had been hand picked by Price himself, but that didn’t mean you were part of the team. They had their own inside jokes that they told to one another, leaving you feeling left out on most days.

And you felt… lacking around them. Ghost was stronger, Gaz was faster, Soap was smarter (he was a demolitions expert for crying out loud!), and Price was almost all of those rolled into one. They all complimented each other as a team. Meanwhile you felt like a spare tyre, a master of nothing and barely a jack of any trade. 

Despite how you felt about it all, they all called you ‘kid’. Regardless of age gaps between yourself and the rest of them, the nickname stuck mostly because you were the newbie. It came as a surprise that it wasn’t spat with vitriol as your peers before had, but it was in fact said with… an affection you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t ignore the hole in your chest that had been chipped at over the years, forming a gaping maw that no reassurances could really mend. 

Doubt lingered in the back of your mind, chipping away at your sanity as you prepared for the worst. How long would it take before they realised you weren’t good enough? 

You were so deep in your doubts that you didn’t realise that you had been distancing yourself even more than before until you overheard a conversation in Price’s office a few months down the line.

“-- they don’t belong on the team.” Gaz said as you passed Price’s office and your heart dropped. It was only the tailend of what he had been saying but you had gotten the gist. You wanted to stay, to listen to the conversation more and listen to what your team had to say about you, but you didn’t. What you were going to hear were likely things you had already told yourself right from the start. You keep walking on, ignoring the sting of tears burning in the corners of your eyes. The blood rushing in your ears prevented you from heating the rest of the conversation. 

“-- not only are they acting like they don’t belong on the team, but they’re acting like they’re not good enough.” Gaz continued, sighing in frustration.

“Maybe they need more time.” Ghost rumbled in reply, “Let them come out of their shell a little bit. Best not rush these things.” He was talking from experience, after all.

“Aye… maybe I can invite them out for drinks or sommat? I wouldn’t want them getting transferred before we got to know them a little more.” Soap had been the one that had tried the hardest to get close to you but had also tried to give you space so as to not suffocate you with his personality. 

“They won’t be getting transferred.” Price said with conviction, tapping his desk, “I chose them to be part of this team and this is where they’re going to stay. Let me have a word with them first.”

“Aye, sir.”

— — — — — —

You found yourself in the smoker’s shelter outside the main building. It was late enough that most of the soldiers had gone to bed or off to do their own things elsewhere so you doubted that you would be bothered for a little while. Just enough time for you to get your thoughts together. Your tears had dried in your eyes a few minutes ago, making them sting in the cold air. You didn’t need to look in your reflection to know that you probably looked like a wreck– entirely unbecoming of a soldier of your apparent status. 

You didn’t want to get transferred. Despite your distance with the 141, you didn’t hate them. Far from, actually, you held a great deal of respect for each and every one of them. It was just that you felt like you didn’t have your place amongst them. Not good enough to be associated with them. 

“Bit late to be out here in the cold, chuck.” A voice startled you out of your thoughts– one that you would recognise anywhere from the low rasp of a smoker's lungs. 

“Captain.” You croaked, wincing at the patheticness in your voice. There was a scuff of boots as Price came closer, leaning into your line of vision with a furrowed brow which only furrowed more as he took in your dishevelled appearance.

“Something on your mind?” He asked kindly, perching on the arm of the bench to give you some personal space. He left his question open, allowing you any chance to steer the conversation how you wanted to. There was no judgement for catching you at your lowest, no disgust at your red rimmed eyes— just polite understanding and a non verbal offer of pleasant company. 

“Why did you pick me, Captain?”

The question made him tilt his head, a frown beginning to tug on his features. You were worried you had insulted him.

“What brought this on, huh? Someone say something to you? Need me to have a word with them?” He straightened his back, scowling. Whilst you felt like you didn’t have a place in the 141, you could never deny the shield of protectiveness that Price held over his team. You remember in the back of your mind the day that some General who thought he was hot shit had the audacity to undermine Soap as nothing more than a ‘yappy dog’ when offered the Scot’s demolitions expertise. Price had appeared almost out of thin air and almost ripped the General a new one and things would have escalated into a fist fight had Laswell not intervened. It wasn’t as though Price didn’t think his own soldiers were capable of defending themselves, but he couldn’t care less about punishments aimed his own way over that of his Sergeants and Lieutenant. It was just a surprise that the protective streak extended over you, too, despite your distance to your teammates.

“I’ll sound stupid.” You mumbled, looking down at the ground as if expecting him to chastise you like a child. He didn’t.

“I’ve had my fair share of stupid over the years. Try me.”

“... and ungrateful.”

“I once had a guy punch me in the face two seconds after I took a bullet that would have killed him.” Price countered with a cut off chuckle once he remembered what was probably a mission long finished and cleared his throat. “C’mon, tell Captain what’s on your mind.”

And he sounded so sincere when he said it. Sounded like he genuinely wanted to hear what was going on in your head– that he was willing to waste what was already his important and limited time on someone like you. 

“Sir—”

“John.” Price corrected gently, crows feet more noticeable at the corners of his eyes scrunched up when he smiled, “We’re off duty, you don’t need to be so formal.”

“... John.” You echoed, finding that you really didn’t like saying that. It felt like calling your teacher by their first name in primary school or a classmate’s parent other than their last name. 

“Now, c’mon, tell me what’s on your mind. Might not be a therapist, but I’m better than bottling it up.” You wondered in the back of your mind how often Price did this. Sat with his soldiers and talked with them, offered them a listening ear to hear their vents and fears. You couldn’t help but feel honoured to be one of the few he willingly offered said time to. Your silence stretched on as you thought of the words to say, how to phrase what you wanted to say without sounding unappreciative of the opportunity that Price had offered you when he requested you join his team. 

“I don’t feel like I belong here.” You blurted once the silence had stretched on for long enough to border on uncomfortable. John’s face fell and you quickly realised how bad that sounded and rushed to correct yourself.

“No, no, wait, let me explain–” the Captain closed his mouth to allow you to continue speaking, but you could tell that it was hard for him. “I just… you could have anyone better than me, you know? I’m not a demolition expert. I’m… I’m not the best Sniper. I’m the slowest on the team, pretty sure I’m the weakest–”

“Nope.” Price interrupted, finally breaking the bubble of your personal space as he took a proper seat next to you on the bench but still respecting the distance enough to keep a few inches between you. “Nope, not lettin’ you say another word.”

“But–” 

“Nope.”

“Cap–”

“No.”

“But you could have anyone better—“

“But they wouldn’t be you.” He deflected easily. Far too easily. He leant back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other as he folded his arms over his chest. His fingers twitched and you could tell he was itching for a cigar but didn’t light one out of respect. 

“Alright, sure, I can ask Laswell to give me one of the best soldiers in the SAS and have them brought here tomorrow. They could be the best of the best, top of their class, better than you and maybe even better than me. But that’s a bit of a stretch.” He winked and earned a weak chuckle from you. “But they won’t be you. I don’t pick just on skill alone, kid, I pick based on how I feel people would fit into the team. I chose you because I knew that you’d be perfect.”

“As for not being a demolitions expert, let  me let you in on a little secret. I’ve no fucking clue about demolitions, either. And you don’t have to be on the team to be the ‘best Sniper’. You’re better than most, and that’s what’s important. As for being the weakest– did you or did you not bodily lift Gaz in a fireman’s carry during training the other week while he was trying to act as an injured civilian? Quite dramatically, might I add. Swooned and everything.”

You remembered that practice mission. Quite fondly, actually. Gaz was a civilian and , after being struck by a foam bullet from Soap, had dramatically screamed in agony and crumpled to the floor. When you had lifted him up and over your shoulders, the bastard continued to wail something along the lines of telling his non-existent spouse that he loved them and that his money be given to his equally non-existent children. Soap got in another shot to the man’s head, knocking off his cap in the process. Distracted as you were trying to haul your teammate out of the danger zone, you couldn’t help but laugh thinking about it now. 

“Last time I checked, Gaz is somewhat heavier than a sack of flour. Don’t tell him I said that, I’ll hurt his feelings.” Price was right, you supposed. You were more than capable of carrying Gaz over your shoulders, maybe even Soap or Price himself if the time called for it. Ghost you weren’t so sure about, though. The man was a walking mountain. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you have to give yourself more credit. You’re more than good enough to be on my team. I chose you for a reason.”

You… did not expect that sort of reassurance from Price. You had hoped for something along those lines, yes, but perhaps with a thrown in criticism or three. You waited for a ‘but’ that never came. The man snorted beside you and when you gave him a quizzical look, he waved off your concern.

“Shit, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think the next thing out of your mouth would be that your parents never hugged you as a kid.”

Your silence made him slowly turn his head towards you. It would have almost been comical if the situation wasn’t. His face crumbled and a wounded sound emerged from his throat.

“Sometimes they did!” You rushed to defend the people that raised you. “And they gave me food and shelter, clothes when I needed them–”

“Fucking hell. No, that’s what they’re supposed to do because they’re your parents. What about telling you that they were proud of you? That they loved you? I saw your records. Top of your class in not just your training but in your education, too. Triple sciences, mathematics, all of it. They had to be proud of you for that? My parents would have killed for me to get even a passing grade in my GCSEs.” You looked down at the ground and it was Price’s turn to have his eyes fixed on you. 

“They were proud of you, weren’t they?” He asked again, leaning forwards so he could catch your eye, his own filled with concern. “Kid?”

“I don’t talk to them much anymore.” 

Price inhaled sharply and he leaned back again, looking around and clenching his jaw as if fighting back his anger. His fingers twitched again. You admired his self control as he was still yet to grab a cigar that you knew he kept on his person. Usually in his breast pocket while his lighter was in his right pocket.

“Listen to me.” The Captain said, a more stern edge to his voice now that he had gathered his thoughts together. “Whatever your family said to you— how they treated you? Forget it. They showed you obligation. Not love. They didn’t want what was ‘best’ for you, they wanted bragging rights. What you’ve achieved– here, in bootcamp, in university and in school, is something to take pride in– no, no, look at me.”

Your gaze had trailed to the side so you avoided looking at your Captain in the eyes. He noticed and clicked his fingers to gain your attention back on him.

“Don’t look away from me because I want you to listen to what I’m gonna say and I want you to look at my face as I say it.” Your eyes met his blue ones, “You should be proud of everything that you’ve achieved in your life. I’m sorry that your family never told you that and I’m sorry that I haven’t said that enough to you since you joined 141.”

You opened your mouth to say something– to argue or disagree but he shook his head.

“No. It’s my turn to speak now. I’m proud of you. I am so proud of you. Everything you’ve done and everything that you’re yet to do, I will always be proud of you. You’re an exemplary soldier and I knew the moment I saw you that you would be a perfect addition to the 141 and you have proved me right time and time again. You belong on this team just as much as the rest of the boys. Do you understand?”

So many words– proud, proud, proud. That’s all you had wanted to hear for so many years from someone whose opinion mattered to you. You wanted to be seen and Price, this godsend of a man, had seen you and more.

“Kid, do you understand me?”

You nodded once and then realised that Price wouldn’t have been able to tell through your shaking. Tears blurred in the corners of your eyes and you nodded again, not trusting your voice in case it shattered. 

“What do you need from me?” Price’s voice was oh so soft, like he was talking to a frightened fawn. He could see how much his words had affected you and it clearly broke his own heart.

“A hug.” Your bottom lip wobbled and his face softened as he opened his arms, twitching his fingers to urge you closer.

“I can do that.” 

You leaned into him and he quickly wrapped his arms around you, drawing you in close. You could smell the lingering scent of his last cigar. The smell of his office and cleaning oil. You felt his chin on the top of your head and felt how his chest rumbled as he spoke.

“You’re part of the 141 whether you like it or not, alright? Me and the boys want you here for as long as you want to be.”

At that moment, for the first time in your life. You felt wanted. You felt appreciated and you felt seen.

have a request? send one in!

[noonwardmoss]

A short piece regarding this post of mine. If you can't find 'em, make 'em.

Apologies for any errors. I wrote this very quickly in my Notes app because I hate myself apparently

CW: Anal, VERY slight daddy/petplay kink on Butcher's part (he calls himself Daddy and you pet/dove)

SMUT BELOW CUT

You're dribbling into the sheets, pussy clenching around nothing and drooling desperately. Butcher's got his big hands on your ass cheeks, holding them spread and forcing you to take it. Most of his weight is on you in this position, and you're some fuzzy place past cockdumb with the air forced out of your lungs with each thrust, but it feels too good to make him stop.

"Good fuckin' girl," he grumbles when you arch your back further. You can feel his eyes burning where he slams into you, watching your hole accept him greedily again and again. "Told ya you'd like it—choking my cock like yer trying to keep a piece'a me for later."

His words make you whine, as they often do, and a chuckle reaches your ears. You were hesitant before, but God was he right. From him fingering your ass to actually fucking it, you've been drenched the whole time. It's just something about him that makes you enjoy nearly anything.

"Thinkin' I can keep a load or two in here, sweetheart," Butcher muses, hips slamming into yours with bruising force. He has your face pressed into the sheets, tears soaking the material. "What'dya say? Think she can take bein' stuffed?"

Despite not being fully aware, you nod desperately. As long as he speaks to you like that, there's little you won't do for him and he knows it. It's seldom you deny him in the first place. You can practically hear his shit-eating grin when he says, "That's what I like to hear, dove."

His grip shifts more toward your thighs, pushing them together as his angle changes so he can get deeper with more force. Pitiful whines rip from your throat as he does, nails gripping the bed for any sort of steadiness. You know you probably won't walk right after this—Butcher's already nearly too thick for your cunt—and some part of you delights in that fact.

"Ah– fuck, Butcher–" you manage through moans. He swats at your leg with a groan as you flutter around him.

"That's it, darl'," he soothes, slightly mocking. His hand hooks around your pelvis, fingers dipping into your slit just to feel your ache for him. "Tsk. This needy hole need some love too, pet? Should'a just told me. More than happy to help with 'at."

A scream nearly tears from you as two of his digits slide into you, their girth welcomed by your slickness. His huffed amusement sounds right by your ear.

"I'm the only one who can do this for you, ey? Only bastard bigger enough than you to fill you all up just right," he grunts. When you clench, he curses. "Fuck, making me wanna switch over here, doll. That slutty cunt of yours is gripping me fingers tight."

He knows he's got you when your eyes roll back.

"Oh, close, is she? Well go on, give me a show. Let Daddy feel you come while he fucks yer ass."

You tip over the edge, voice all scratchy from the moaning he makes you do. He's the only man who ever gets you this noisy in bed. That cockiness of his is for a damn good reason. He groans and follows shortly after, spilling into you with the stuttering of his hips.

When he pulls out, you can feel yourself gaping and dripping his sperm. He pushes it back in with his fingers and presses his dick in again.

"Said I was gonna fuck two or so loads in, didn't I?" He smirks, and you whimper into the sheets.

[crabs-with-sticks]

Trick Q+A on the solavellan ending

Haven't seen this going around much, I'm guessing because it was originally posted when everybody had their veilguard spoiler defenses up. But I did find it interesting.

Trick is answering some questions over on Bluesky and here are the questions and answers decoded from the rot13 cipher. Hopefully this provides more clarity and eases people's anxieties here and we can move forward in a more positive light with discussions: Q: Will where Solas and Inky end up in the Fade be strictly regret-themed or will her joining and their love influence it into something a bit less bleak (hence the specific elven phrasing)? rooting for my girl not to be in fade jail A: She's speaking both romantically and literally. It won't be terrible if they're in there together. Q: In the Solavellan ending, it says that Solas is Lavellan's true love. I know you've said she represents his future, but do you think she's his true love also? A: Yes. We framed it the way we did because the Inquisitor was your character last game, and because some people, we imagined, were doing this to give the Inquisitor the happy ever after she deserved, not Solas. Q: Did solas just Fade-mail it to her and it appeared? A: Inky and Morrigan have their ways. Q: Could you please tell us, if it is possible, why it was only Mythal's words that allowed Solas to stop this train of endless regrets from rolling into the abyss? I'm sorry, but it seemed too easy to me after so many centuries. Perhaps I don't understand the core of their relationship. A: That's what he needed to hear. Not because he loved Mythal more, but because she was the reason everything went wrong. She, the past, tells him to let go of all the mistakes of the past. And then the Inquisitor he wanted to be with is there to show him a better future. Q: Does Solas love Lavellan as much as he loves Mythal? I know Mythal is kinda all things to him- leader, oldest friend, maybe lover, and that's hard to overcome. On the other hand, his love for Lavellan seems less all-consuming, but purer. Anyway, love to hear your thoughts! A: Mythal is his past, where he made terrible mistakes. A romanced Lavellan is a bright future he doesn't think he deserves until he fixes all of those past mistakes. Q: When Solas tells Lavellan that the place he is going is terrible, where exactly sre they going? Back to the regret prison or somewhere else? A: The implication is that he's going back to the prison, and now that he'll be working to try to heal the blight while he's there.

Source (its to a reddit thread not the actual original quotes, and I'm going to trust that they did their due diligence because I don't have the energy to do it myself lol)

[teoft]

It's like Tumblr has become almost a diary for me, thanks to no character limit and a read more button. This atmosphere of acceptance and understanding helps a lot too.

I'll get back to posting actual art, juggling with Twitter and Bluesky along with commissions is taking up a lot of my time.

Anyway, thoughts about art community and being social

For the longest time I've had this feeling of being an outsider in this vague community of artists that see as colleagues of sorts. Like I meet all the "criteria" of being in the group, and yet don't really feel like I'm part of it. Well, it seems I am right in some way, and the reason is that they interact with each other, while I sit here drawing alone.

Unfortunately I've always been prone to isolate myself from others. I grew up feeling like I should be ashamed of loving to draw, since it was always fanart monsters, creatures and cool guys instead of "proper art" like animals and portraits. Before social media, I only drew for myself and never showed anything to anybody. I hid my art from my family, from the world, so that I wouldn't be judged. I think it is one of the biggest reasons why I have trouble interacting with people in the context of art (tbh I'm shit at being social anyway but that's a whole another problem).

Even when I had a scanner and means to post my art online, I never did, due to the whole "if you put something online it'll be there forever" mindset. My first actual account anywhere online must've been Facebook in 2010ish, where I only had a few friends. It was the perfect place for me to finally post anything online, and so I did: I used to post pretty much everything I drew on there. Slowly gaining courage, I eventually made my original Tumblr account, then Deviantart, Twitter, etc.

Still, all I did was throw my art out there in hopes of somebody liking it. I didn't really know how to interact with the people who commented on my posts, so instead I mostly just... made more art. I did have some friend groups here and there, but either they ended up falling apart or my social battery drained in such a way that I slowly drifted away. I had gotten used to just being by myself and relying only on myself in the online art world.

During my design studies, I started putting more thought and work on promoting myself, so that it could be one career path for me to take. My mindset was that I'll work hard and become "big", even if it meant that one post gained me just one follower. In 2020 I ended up going viral with a meme and suddenly getting tens of thousands of followers. It was great and a welcome boost of morale, but unfortunately 2020 was otherwise one of the worst years in my life.

Throughout the years people have come and gone, so the only constant for me has been myself, and my drive to develop my skills. Thus it's been too easy for me to just isolate myself. In a way it has been my strength with regards to art, but sometimes I wish I knew how to make lasting connections. I think/know I might be autistic to some degree, which adds to the difficulty of being social. Though, to be honest, I don't know if I'd gotten this far without my autistic hyperfixations.

I guess the thing I need to do now to fix this problem of loneliness and isolation is to just... slowly try and be more social. To reply to comments and talk to people. All of which is easier said than done. Still, just gotta take that first step and then keep going.

Despite lacking the kind of community I yearn for, it seems I've made a name for myself, enough so that people seem to take pride in knowing me. Or at least that's the impression I've gotten a few times. But still, I am happy that I've had a positive effect on people. After all, my two main motivators in art are that I like doing it, and I like when people enjoy my art.

[physalian]

Not-so-gentle reminder of things to think about before harassing someone over their opinion on a piece of media:

These are fictional characters who don’t know you exist and do not need you to be their knights in shining armor bullying the people who don’t kiss their asses.

These are fictional characters making fictional choices and one person’s love, criticism, or ambivalence toward them does not define their own personal morals and worldviews.

You are as entitled to your positive opinions as someone else is to their negative ones, and when you say “you just didn’t understand” how you’re coming across is “you didn’t draw the exact same conclusions I did, thus you are wrong” which is just not how media literacy works.

You are not the creator and the lines you draw and patterns you see (positive or negative) in a work of fiction are not objectively correct. They're your interpretation and we all interpret things differently.

You have no idea what is happening behind any given post you see and especially in fandom, people post impulsively a lot. If someone’s on here ripping a character you love apart, telling them they’re an awful person for doing so isn’t going to change their mind, and there’s a good chance the character they’re hating on is not the root cause of why they’re upset. That character may represent something very real in their own lives that you’ll never know about.

Thus, someone attacking a fictional character who does not know they exist and isn't real because they're having a bad day or are in a mood or simply don't like them is a whole different ballgame than seeing that post and attacking a very real person with thoughts and feelings because you are having a bad day or are in a mood.

I’ll rip a character or a story apart on here, but I’ll never attack the people who like them on here, and I’d implore more people to understand that “I don’t like X” does not mean “I don’t like that you like X” and it does not mean "I don't like X and don't like this piece of you that you see in X either".

If you don’t have something nice to say to somebody… don’t say it? Block and scroll on.

[salbertwolf]

Sevika's Ending (But for real I don't think it's an Act 3 issue... It's an Act 2)

See, hindsight is a very powerful tool that helps us visualize when things should've been done differently. Hindsight is realizing I shouldn't have been a coward back in my early teens and should've gotten a headstart on youtube, alas we are here. Hindsight in this case, is judging the way act 3 of Arcane ended in relation to the show and where they went wrong, if they did.

I genuinely, genuinely loved the show, and like the ending, I think the conclusion of the characters makes sense with the way they were presented, despite my previous post regarding Sevika's ending maybe being interpreted as "Character assassination", it wasn't, I think taking a position of leadership inside of Zaun was what she needed. My post mainly came from the heartache taking that position must bring her, now with emptions more settled after episode 9, I wanted to touch on the fact that, for me, the issue with the conclusion wasn't an Act 3 problem, rather an Act 2, because Sevika's arc concludes in act 2.

Now, Wants vs Needs is something character arcs are usually based around, what your character wants is not necessarily what your character needs. In this case, Sevika's arc follows this structure pretty well, she does not want to be in a position of power, rather reserving her loyalties to someone she considers better fit to lead, this however comes to an issue as she, more often than not, is the only one willing to put her actions where her words are, she is calm, collected, and knows loyalties better than anyone, she exhibits qualities a leader should have, but the issue is that the attention of the world around her, much like our own, is taken by figures bigger than her, Vander, Silco, Jinx. This leads her to the logical conclusion of being the support rather than the spotlight.

Let us recall then the scene in episode 4 of Sevika rallying the Undercity residents by the Vander statue, this is a big moment in the story, and possibly the culmination of her arc, she has spent her life following, and now the latest person she tries to follow is unwilling to risk everything for their city, so she must step up.

This may look as a "She can't lead" moment, I would rather take it as a point of change of perspective for the people of the Undercity, of the fact that while a Symbol is necessary for hope, you can't let it dictate the capacity for fighting, that's why Isha shows up and lights the flare, are you willing to follow just the person? Or do you want to follow the ideal? And if you follow the ideal, does it matter the person that leads you if they know and respect that ideal? This is an important oment in Sevika's arc, the realization that she can do it, she can lead.

And that's why I find it a bit, confusing WHY we weren't given a scene of a conversation between her and Jinx regarding Jinx stepping down from a leadership position, as, pardon if I'm interpreting wrong, as the narrative clearly indicates by taking a detour to solve the Vanderwick plot.

What I'm proposing is basically a writer's scene (a scene that is really only for the writers to know, as what it does it take time that could be better spent elsewhere), but I think 1 moment with Sevika and the Firelights in episode 5, following the prison break, would solve the issue of not really getting WHY she would end up in the council.

In regards to her ending, why I consider it making a bit of sense, is that yes, Zaun did not become independent, and yes, she's in a position of many enemies, but treating her position as having no allies is ignoring the fact she's one of only 2 councilors in the room that chose to stay, I know in my ending break down I put it as forcing her to sit down and accept responsability, clearly that was not the intention for her arc.

I don't think a whole episode was needed to finish her arc, but definetly a scene, she needed a scene, one more scene.

But maybe it's just me, anyway-

[cioud-berries]

Mutual Benefit || Chapter 2

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Summery:

Posts season 2: Spoiler warning!! Being forced into an arranged marriage, [Name] tried her hardest with her unreceptive husband Salo. After his death, she was forced to replace his council position, trying to figure out who she was as a person. Sevika never expected to get anywhere close to the council, let alone join them. As the stigma around people from Zaun still stood, she struggled to gain the respect from her new fellow councillors. With so many differences how could the two really help one another?

Chapter Warnings:

Season 2 Spoilers

Word count: 1,982

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<- Previous Chapter || Mutual Benefit Master List || Next Chapter ->

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[Name] was thrilled to learn that at least one of her council members was from Zaun. She was relieved that they were getting the reputation that they so desperately needed in the council. Even though that part excited her, nothing else about the first meeting did. She was terrified about how this would go. 

Caitlyn Kiramman helped her prepare everything that she would need for the first meeting, even going into her mother’s files to find talking points and issues. The night before the scheduled meeting, [Name] Stayed up all night studying her notes, making sure there wasn’t anything she could mess up on. 

She praised the Gods for the invention of coffee as she rushed to the council room, her folder of notes and news articles tucked neatly under her arm as she tried to take the last sips of coffee. She was more awake than ever, knowing that it would only last a few hours before she crashed. 

Entering the room, everyone turned to look at her. Some gave disapproving looks, as she dressed in the clothing of her home nation, instead of something from the clan she was there representing. 

Brushing off their looks, she walked up to Shoola, the only council member from the old council, and the person [Name] knew best in the room. Hearing her footsteps approaching, Shoola turned around to her.

“It is good to see you.” Shoola greeted. “I am sorry for the death of your late husband Salo.”

[Name] in that moment, remembered that she was still supposed to be in mourning. Trying to come up with a response that would be acceptable for them, she replied. “Yes, my poor husband… At least we know that he is now resting peacefully. But that is why I am here, to carry on his legacy.”

Shoola gave an approving smile. “How is your daughter doing?” She asked.

“A lot better.” [Name] told truthfully “I don’t think she fully grasps the concept of death yet. But leaving the city for a while did seem to help. I think being back in the apartment is causing her to struggle a bit though.”

“If you need anything from me,” She put a hand on [Name]’s shoulder. “ Just ask.”

[Name] nodded, but before she could say anything, one of the other councilors raised his voice, getting everyone’s attention. “I think we should begin.”

Everyone in the room collectively made their way to the table in the middle. [Name] could tell that there were less people that there should be, quickly counting everyone. “Aren’t we missing someone? Shouldn’t we wait for them?” She asked the man who called everyone to the table.

A lot of the councilors gave a sour look at [Name] pointing it out. She immediately could tell that it was the representative from Zaun, as that was the same face Salo would give any time she’d vouched for them.

“She is late.” The man that called the meeting stated "That is her problem.”

“I don’t even know why we’re giving them this chance.” The old woman spat out. “No one from the undercity had a seat on the council before. They’re all just-”

[Name] went to say something, but the door to the chamber opened. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the tall woman that walked into the room. Immediately she captivated [Name]’s eye. With her strong presence, [Name] knew that she wouldn’t let any of these other council members to trample over her. 

The woman slowly sat down in the chair next to [Name]. Most of the councilors were glaring at her for numerous reasons of their own. [Name] only gave her a soft welcoming smile that was met with a cold glare. 

As the woman sat down, the man continued on with the meeting. “Our first order of business is the removal of the hex core remnants. The substance that was left on buildings is tough and it will be expensive to remove.”

“Will you also be removing the stuff in the fringes that the guy left behind?” The woman beside [Name] asked. 

“No.” The old woman spat out. It was clear that her and the man had discussed this in private before coming to the meeting. “We’re removing it from Piltover to keep it from destroying buildings, and as far as I am aware,it was far from the city and it was providing more homes for free.”

[Name] saw the opportunity to jump into the conversation. “Well we don’t know what it can do. Isn’t the whole point of removing it because we don’t know what it can do? It is most likely toxic. So I believe it would be best to remove it from the undercity now so it doesn’t cause us issues and cost more money to remove or fix in the future.” She made sure to make an emphasis on how much money it could cost them, knowing that they cared more about money than anything else.

Against their will, many of them silently agreed, knowing that now they had to pretend to care about Zaun and Zaun’s problem. The man hosting the meeting began to speak again. “I say we use ten percent of our current budget to remove the hex core remnants in both Piltover and the undercity. All in favor raise your hand.”

Five out of the seven council members raised their hand to vote for the use of the budget. The old woman is one of the people who voted against it. [Name] could already tell that she did not want to work with the people of Zaun and merely wanted to rule over them to her benefit. 

It reminded her of her grandmother, and the whole reason that led to the civil war. Thankfully with Piltover, it wasn’t one person making all of the decisions without anyone to speak up to stop such things. 

The man wrote down the verdict on the piece of paper turning back to the council. “Is there anything else anyone would like to discuss?” He opened the floor to new topics. 

Other council members took to the floor, discussing topics that in the end would benefit them and their topics. [Name] searched through her notes, trying to get a proper idea of how she wanted to discuss her topic. 

Once the others went quiet, she finally spoke up. “I would like to discuss the toxic fumes that are currently leaking into the undercity.” She began, everyone looked at her attentively, even if some of the looks were disapproving at the mere fact she brought up the undercity. “Commander Kiramman led a search into the undercity with the goal of finding and capturing Jinx. While this search turned up empty handed, Kiramman used the ventilation system, causing a lot of toxic fumes to enter the city. At one point, Jinx blew up one of the blockage points. I would like for us to block it up sooner rather than later.” 

She turned to the woman next to her, assuming that she would agree since it is her territory. The woman only gave her a weird glare. [Name] could not read her expression, not knowing if she agreed with this or not. 

“We would be doing that with what materials again?” Another council member replied snobbily.

“That brings me to another point.” [Name] flipped through her notes to find the right point. “I believe that we should tear down the Hex Gate.” Some of the council members gasped out of surprise. They got so comfortable with hex tech that they almost forgot it no longer exists. “It is useless now, with the Hex Tech being unusable. But the tower was created with valuable materials that can be used for both Piltover and the Undercity.” 

The council room went silent as she waited for a response. After some time and consideration the man leading the meeting finally spoke up. “We will need a more detailed plan from you by our next meeting. We shall vote on it then.” He wrote a few notes down on the paper. “If no one else has anything to say, I will adjourn this meeting.” Everyone was quiet, confirming the end of the meeting. 

Everyone slowly got out of their chair, walking around and talking to each other about things unrelenting to the meeting. The woman from Zaun made a swift exit, not caring for any small talk with these people. 

[Name] quickly and soppily threw her files into the folders, holding them close to her chest she ran after the woman. “Excuse me!” She called out to the woman. “I never got your name.” 

The woman stopped, turning around to see who was calling after her. Her scowl stayed on her face as [Name] caught up. It was very clear she didn’t like being there and was trying to get out as quickly as possible. 

“Sevika.” She grunted out. 

She was about to turn around and walk away but [Name] continued talking, now that she had stopped her. “I was wondering if we could sit down and discuss what to do with the materials from the Hex Gate.” [Name] began to sort through her papers, trying to find the vague plan she wrote up in the middle of the night. “Personally, I was hoping to use those resources to help Zaun rebuild and expand. But I honestly know nothing about down there and knew that with your help and approval, I could build a stronger case.” She handed Sevika the papers.

She raised an eyebrow at [Name], merely glancing down at the papers. “You really think that they would vote for such a plan?”

“I mean yeah.” [Name]’s confidence faltered. “It’s all about playing the game right.”

“The game?” Sevika questioned handing the papers back, not interested in this plan.

“Yeah, you know.” [Name] slinked down. She wasn’t expecting to receive any push back from Sevika, since this plan purely benefited her and the people she was representing. “Creating a plan that benefits you, or whatever you want, but making it sound like it is benefiting everyone in the council. Everyone is there for their own reason, just like you and I. You just have to find a way to make it sound like you’re catering to those reasons.”

“So how does this plan of yours benefit you?” Sevika shook her hand that held the papers, saying she did not want them anymore and was not interested in looking over them.

[Name] grabbed the papers from her. Sevika began to walk down the halls. [Name] followed alongside her. “Well it mainly would benefit the people you are representing. But I was hoping that it would strengthen the bonds between Piltover and Zaun, meaning you and the rest of the council. Which would make things so much easier.”

Sevika stopped in her tracks, turning to [Name]. “Listen princess-” 

[Name] quickly cut her off, not liking being called that “You don’t have to call me by my official title. [Name] is just fine.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow to her, not understanding her words. Yet she continued, “I could care less about your politics or your hopes. I was only put in this position because there was no one else.” Sevika turned back around, walking down the hall, leaving [Name] behind.

[Name] wanted nothing more than her cooperation and was trying to find a way to have another talk with her. “There will be a party this weekend!” She shouted after Sevika as she continued to stomp away. “I don’t know if you were invited, but I’m inviting you. It would be nice to see you there.” 

Sevika rounded the corner, out of [Name]’s sight. [Name] deeply, turning back around to head to her office. She knew she had a whole lot of work and research to do, now that she would be completely on her own.

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Overall Masterlist

Discord link

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

here is part 5! it's not a long as the others, but hopefully this will tide you over till the dinner scene!

(as i said in prev post that won't be posted till latest sunday/monday)

the post/thread that started this whole au

dinner scene: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

there's a masterlist now!

*the next morning*

*in telemachus’ room*

telemachus: *having got up early due to his excitement for later tonight*

telemachus: *looking down at something on his table* i hope he likes this, i can’t believe i spotted it in the market!

athena: *from behind telemachus* who likes what?

athena: *trying to peer over telemachus to see what he’s looking at* what do you have there, little wolf?

telemachus: *jumps in shock, not expecting athena to be there*

telemachus: *quickly wraps something in a silk cloth*

telemachus: *turns to face her* athena!- oh this? it’s a gift!

athena: *owl-like wide eyes and head tilted* a gift? for who?

telemachus: *scratches the back of head with nervous laughter*

telemachus: w-well after you left yesterday, i decided to head to the palace library to look up some more information on the gods

telemachus: i know i said it was other people’s words… but i still wanted to know a little more about lord poseidon, before we met again.

athena: oh-

telemachus: -and! and then i headed down to the market, and i spotted something i thought… i thought he might like it.

telemachus: *looks down at his feet* i know he’s a powerful god and a gift seems like a silly idea… but he’s also fathers’ friend so i just thought-

athena: *smiling and putting her hand under telemachus’ chin to lift it up*

athena: telemachus, you don’t have to be nervous or explain it all to me

athena: my uncle may be very powerful, but i’m sure he’ll appreciate you getting him something.

athena: *internally to herself* and if he doesn’t, i’m positive one look from odysseus will change his mind

athena: *ruffles telemachus’ hair* so there! no need to worry!

telemachus: *smiles*

athena: *putting her hand down and looking back over telemachus’ shoulder*

athena: so, what did you get him?

telemachus: oh! here let me show you!

telemachus: *turns around and moves to the side so athena can come next to him*

telemachus: *moves the silk cloth*

telemachus: what do you think?

athena: *realises what it is* i think… i honestly think he’ll love it

telemachus: *looks at her and smiles again*

*telemachus wraps the item back in the silk cloth and both him athena leave his room*

telemachus: how come you’re here so early anyway?

telemachus: not that i mind! but dinner isn’t till this evening?

athena: what just because its family dinner tonight, i can’t have family breakfast?

telemachus: *laughs*

telemachus: i wonder if mother and father are up yet…

athena: if they’re not, please let me wake your father up

telemachus: um sure? how come though?

athena: *thinks back to when she did early morning training with odysseus*

athena: *remembers the horror on odysseus’ face every time she ‘woke’ him & dragged him out of bed*

athena: oh no reason really

*both head to odysseus’ and penelope’s room*

[its-time-to-write]

chapter 7

y’all I am SO SORRY this is so late. I’ve been caught up with end-of-year stuff at work and planning for next year. but I’m posting the last two chapters now🙃

I’m not sure how active I’ll be moving forward lol, 2025 is shaping up to be a pretty big year for me, professionally speaking, and that either means I’ll have more free time or less. Idk. But thank you for supporting my writing!!! You guys make me happy🩵🩵🩵

table of contents

found god at your ex’s house

To be entirely honest, the longest and only conversation you’ve ever had with goddamn Keeley Jones was at the Prada show right before you found out about Bean’s existence. 

You’d prefer to keep it that way but fucking Madeline is friends with her so now you’re headed to a stupid, awful, horrible girls’ night at her house and you’d rather fucking die.

Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic. But your experiences concerning Keeley have been unpleasant at best. 

She first caught your notice in a tabloid on a yacht with Jamie and a screaming headline to match your screaming mind. It was two weeks after Jamie came over for the last time and apparently not enough time to get over him.

You’d gone straight to Madeline’s to scream into a pillow.

Then she was in your instagram, and when you had blocked her she appeared in fan edits and fucking WAG accounts. Then she was at the Prada show and in magazines and on the telly. It felt like no matter how much you tried to shut her out, Keeley fucking Jones remained as a painful reminder.

It wasn’t her fault per se, but you hated the role she played in Jamie’s deterioration. 

And now Madeline is fucking friends with her.

“What the actual hell, Madeline,” you groan. “Keeley fucking Jones? Are you serious? She’s the fucking worst. AND she’s not to be trusted! The girl hardly has two braincells to rub together.”

Madeline rolls her eyes. “I understand that you hate her. But she’s kind and sweet and actually a bit brilliant. I’m not going to tell her about you or Bean, but she’s not some vile, boyfriend-stealing bitch.”

“I’m not saying that,” you reply as you try to get Clare to burp. “I’m just saying that the girl could stand to grow up a little.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She has. I think you’d like her.”

“Fuck off,” you scoff right as Clare burps. “See? Clare agrees.”

Madeline shrugs. “Clare is three months old. She doesn’t get a vote.”

You wrinkle your nose and say, “You mean unless she agrees with you, right?” and Madeline smiles her most angelic smile. 

“All I’m saying is you’re more than welcome to come with me tonight.”

“I’d rather die,” you inform her.

—

Jamie has the day off. They won against Aston Villa on Sunday so he’s supposed to be resting, but he’s never been very good at that.

So he does what any self-respecting person would do and goes to his ex’s house.

He forgets Roy fucking Kent is going to be there until the man himself has opened the door but Jamie musters up some arrogance and breezes right by him. Keeley knows he’s coming anyway, so he’s not going to be harassed by some grumpy old twat.

Roy must be sick or something because he doesn’t say anything. If Jamie weren’t so consumed with his own worries he might actually be concerned.

But he’s not so he sits on Keeley’s couch like he belongs there and lets her hand him a cup of tea before she sits down next to him.

Roy isn’t far off, pretending to read a book but Jamie is abso-fucking-lutely positive he hasn’t turned a single page yet.

But absolutely FUCK it because he needs Keeley’s professional, girl opinion.

“I’ve got a kid,” he says, and both Keeley and Roy do absolutely horrible jobs at pretending they’re shocked.

“Fuck off, how the fuck did you know?” he protests. “Was it Ted?”

Roy and Keeley exchange a Look and it just makes Jamie madder.

“Technically it was Coach Beard,” Keeley says in a mousy voice. “We figured you’d tell us when you were ready, Jamie.”

That’s just confusing. “How the fuck did Beard know?” he asks.

“Kid looks just fucking like you,” Roy says and that makes Jamie mad too because when the fuck did Roy see Clare?

“I saw them on the green when I was with Phoebe,” Roy clarifies and Jamie takes a minute to file that away as Roy Kent’s first-ever non-swearing sentence.

He says, “fucking hell,” because really, fucking hell. He went from not knowing he had a baby to knowing to apparently the whole Richmond coaching staff knowing (and apparently meeting) her.

Keeley asks, “Is that why you’re here, babes?” and her gentle voice actually makes him want to fucking cry so he just nods and puts his head in his hands.

“Don’t know shit about being a dad,” he says, voice muffled, and Roy slams his book shut because apparently he has shit to say.

“Fuck off, Tartt,” he says. “Stop being a little bitch.”

Keeley exclaims, “Roy!” but she’s also curious about what he has to say because she doesn’t do anything else to stop him.

“I fucking mean it,” he continues. “You fucking come here expecting to fucking cry on the couch and be told you’re fucking shit at something and throw a fucking pity party, so fuck off. You might be a shit father, you don’t fucking know, but that girl doesn’t fucking think so and if I were her, I’d hate your fucking guts. So untwist your fucking pants and stop being a fucking whiny little bitch. Go fucking be a dad and if you’re shit, you’re shit. But stop looking for fucking sympathy for something you’ve made up in your stupid fucking twat brain.”

With that he pushes himself out of his chair, swears at his knee, and disappears into the kitchen, presumably to remain silent for the next year since he’s met his word quota.

Jamie looks at Keeley as if to say, Are you hearing this prick? but Keeley just lifts a shoulder and says, “He’s right, babe. You’ve got to actually go do something about it.”

So Jamie pinches the bridge of his nose and recounts everything his mum told him over the phone for some extra review.

—

Clare is easy, as far as babies go, but for some reason tonight she’s decided to be an absolute terror. She won’t eat, won’t go to sleep, won’t calm down. She just cries and cries and no matter how many times you check her temperature or her diaper, she cannot get it back together.

It doesn’t help that you’re tired, either. Like, newborn-level tired. And hungry, too. You’d order in but Clare hasn’t even allowed that so you open the fridge as best you can while bouncing Clare up and down. All you can see is a jar of gherkins, a can of soda, and some lemons. 

And a fucking banana which must be Madeline’s because you’d rather die of starvation than eat that shit.

Fucking hell.

I am not going to cry you tell yourself sternly, except that doesn’t do anything except allow tears to well up faster than if you’d just let it alone.

You can’t call Madeline because she’s at Keeley’s and you’ll be damned if you interrupt her girls’ night. Madeline didn’t sign up to be tied down and she deserves a non-parent friend, so she’s not an option.

For a split second, you debate calling Jamie. But that’s a level of desperation you haven’t quite reached. You close the fridge and are saved from deciding what to do next by a knock on the door.

Clare wails like she’s being murdered, so you hope it isn’t the police but it isn’t, it’s just Jamie with a bag of groceries. He’s in the house setting up in the kitchen before your brain catches up with your eyes and Clare just cries the whole time. 

You know exactly what he’s making before he’s even pulled out half the ingredients. It’s chicken pesto risotto, the dish you always begged him to make whenever he had a moment of free time. Jamie can cook maybe four things in total, but damn he can cook them well. He slices some bread, puts it on a plate with some butter and hands it to you, swapping the plate for Clare so easily that if you didn’t know better you’d think he’s been doing it his whole life. She stops crying the moment she’s in his arms and honestly, you’re too tired to worry about it. You crash on the couch and fall asleep after two bites.

It’s dark out when you wake up, but the lights are on in the house and it’s warm. Someone’s gently caressing the top of your head and saying your name, so you open your eyes to Jamie standing over you.

He’s looking at you with a soft expression, and your heart aches. It all feels too painfully normal.

He says, “Food’s ready,” and holds out a hand for you to grab.

You hesitate for the barest fraction of a moment before taking it. “Little Bean’s asleep in her bed,” he continues. “You hungry? Figured we could eat then you can go back to sleep.”

You nod. “Smells good, J. Are you planning on spending the night, then?”

Jamie shrugs. “I thought- I don’t know, I thought maybe you could use a break.”

He sits next to you at the table. The food’s been set out, and it’s still warm. It’s also the first meal you haven’t been responsible for in a good long while.

“So you’re just here now,” you say. “You’re the kind of person who shows up, cooks dinner, puts the baby to bed and watches telly in the evenings? You could barely handle a relationship, and now you want a fucking family? You can leave me all you want, but I swear to God, Jamie, I will murder you if you hurt Clare.”

It’s frustrating because it feels like you’re at an impasse. Jamie can come back once he’s shown he’s changed, but he can’t really show he’s changed if he can’t fucking come back, can he?

It doesn’t matter that he probably has changed and you know deep down that even��he isn’t a big enough dick to abandon his daughter.

Jamie says, “I am. I mean, I won’t. I mean, fucking hell, you don’t have to fucking murder me, yeah? Just give me a chance, like.”

You snort. “Do you even know how to change a diaper?”

Jamie says, “Googled it, didn’t I?” and that makes you genuinely laugh. Of course he did. But you laugh too loud and it wakes up Clare, who lets you know she’s irritated with a shriek. You knock your head lightly against the table and whisper, “Fuck,” before putting down your fork. You push your chair out and Jamie stands, lightning-fast.

“I got it,” he tells you, and you raise an eyebrow.

You reply, “Okay,” because if he’s going to act like a father, he’s going to have to put in the work. And you’re hungry and this is your favorite meal. Besides, what’s the worst that’s going to happen?

So Jamie goes to Clare’s room where she’s sobbing like there’s no tomorrow and you continue to eat while straining your ears to make sure Jamie isn’t panicking.

Unfortunately, you didn’t account for the fact that the worst thing that could happen is Jamie comes back out after ten minutes with a sleeping Clare on his chest and he looks so fucking hot that you want to jump his bones then and there. 

Jamie is thankfully oblivious. He sits back down and pats Clare on the back so she doesn’t wake up again.

“How’s the food?” he whispers. “Haven’t cooked in fuckin’ ages.”

“Good,” you whisper back and then you lapse into silence. 

 “I can stay the night, if you want,” Jamie offers after a bit, and you glare.

“Not like that,” he hastily amends, “I mean if you want to sleep. I can feed Clare and whatever.”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Jamie. What the fuck do you want from me? You can’t fucking come back here and play house when you want, and I get it, your dad’s a piece of shit and you don’t want to be like him. But you’re in the fucking Prem, Jamie.”

(“Got relegated,”) he mouths, but you just keep talking. “Fine. You’re in the Championship but everyone knows you at least are making it back to the Premier League and someday you’ll be with a team in the Champion’s League and that’s a lot of travel. It’s a lot of nights alone, and you’re not exactly the kind of person who likes sleeping alone.

Jamie looks offended at that, but it’s true. He’s twenty-six and in his prime.

This whole thing is just one giant circle with no solution. 

“Oi,” he says, and he’s got his serious expression on. “I don’t want anything from you. I want you. Not even because of Clare, but she’s mint. I was coming to find you the other night because I wanted to fix things. I told you that. I meant it, I want to get back together. I know I’m hard to love sometimes but swear down, I want to make it work. Keeley’s on me about commitment and shit and I dunno, it sounds nice. I’m fucking tired of fucking around. That shit’s exhausting.”

“Yeah, because a baby and a girlfriend isn’t fucking exhausting as well.”

Jamie wrinkles his nose. “Fucking Garnacho’s having a kid. If that little shit can handle it, I can too.”

You concede. He has a point. “Fine. You can spend the night. I’m going to shower and then pass out, which means you’ve got the dishes and Clare. You can sleep in the guest room, yeah? I’ll set up the baby monitor.”

Jamie smiles, and before you can really think it through, you lean over to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you,” you say softly before heading upstairs. You’re going to get an earful from Madeline later, but for now you’re going to get good sleep for the first night in a long while.

next chapter

[futuristichedge]

If you are a fan of anybody's work, whether it be art, writing, music, translating, editing, videos, etc- it is incredibly important that you share that you enjoy their work.

It could be a comment, a tag, an anonymous ask saying thank you or something about their most recent piece you enjoy, anything. Creation is more often than not a social thing, and a little note or comment really goes a long way. People are sharing a little piece of themself every day, here on the internet!

So if you don't mind a little challenge, on the next piece of art* you see that you find personally impactful, leave a little tag or comment saying something about how much it means to you.

*this includes writing, music, edits, jokes, anything that has undergone the act of being created by a person

[suntails]

(mild gore)

fealty

[dreamsy990]

some of the less nice thoughts about being aroace

extras below the cut

sketch

closeups on my favorite panels

bonus: adios

[dirtytransmasc]

I think I need MelVik connecting when Viktor was on his sick bed. they had been amicable before, maybe a little more than that due to their connection through Jayce and her presence around Hextech and such. but they weren't entirely friends. not yet.

and she goes to see him. perhaps she feels a tinge of guilt at assuming the worst about Jayce, or her bleeding heart makes her feel responsible for keeping Jayce out of the lab when Viktor had needed him. maybe Jayce needs to step out for a moment, and she soothes his worry by promising to sit with Viktor. maybe she just wants to be closer to the man that's so painfully important to the one she loves, wants to befriend him, wants to know him, all before it's far too late.

maybe it's a little bit of each.

but she goes to see him. she sits in the chair that Jayce has nearly worn a hole through, and keeps a semi-awkward distance between them, not knowing what is too close and too far.

this man is dying. he is dying and he has accepted that. he looks like a corpse. cold emanates off of him. he is something she doesn't fully understand.

she doesn't know how to approach.

but she does.

she greets softly and speaks softly and hesitates to touch, but rests a hand over Viktor's and feels how cold he is, even as a sickly warmth brews in his bones, leeching the warmth from his skin and the energy from his body.

he seems surprised she's there. it feels out of place. like the song and dance of their dynamic has shifted, and now he needs to relearn the steps. and now this is a dance of two, not three.

she will tell Viktor, in enough detail to be understood and not enough to be awkward, where Jayce was. because it feels right to confess. it's not an apology, but the avoidance of keeping something like a secret from a dying man.

Viktor will probably just nod and say something self deprecating, because what else do you say when your body is already making a joke of itself? before assuring her that Jayce is not his keeper, that she is not to blame, but even that comes off as some twisted attempt at humor. sue him for being sardonic as he lay dying.

but unlike Jayce, who will cringe at the jokes, she will hide a smile behind her fingers, muffling a soft, if not saddened, chuckle in her palm.

Viktor's eyes will light up ever so slightly.

she'll feel awkward once more. should she have laughed? was this playing into a complex? was this right of her?

Viktor will smile weakly.

she'll feel a little less awkward.

she will realize Viktor needs someone to laugh with. that Jayce, bless his soul, cannot be that person for Viktor. his worry has brewed too long. it's too strong.

but maybe a fresh face like Mel's can be there to smile when Jayce cannot. will laugh when Jayce cannot. can make cheeky jokes and pokes and prods.

the three fit together like 3 pieces of 3 broken puzzles. they fit together, not perfectly, but they fit, and create a finished object, even if off kilter her and uneven there. but it's ok, they're making due.

[mbat]

jews: this thing in fiction feels jew coded to me, this character/group has several parallels to jewish people and i see myself here :)

non-jews: nah, that aint right, its clearly coded to be this other thing/youre stretching so hard to find a connection that isnt there

jews: this thing in fiction falls into antisemitic tropes, this character/group has several common antisemitic tropes that have a long history of being used against my people, and i think we should really consider not using these tropes anymore/consider if theres a better way to go about making the same point without doing it in this specific way

non-jews: nah, that aint right, its clearly coded to be this other thing/youre stretching so hard to find a connection that isnt there

just something ive noticed

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.