#i know that i have a tendency to use a bit too many layers

[lucdoodle]

I WAS WONDERING WHY MY FILE TOOK SO LONG TO LOAD HOW DID THAT HAPPEN BRO???!! 😭

[lindsay00000008]

Ghost x Fem!Reader

DownBad!Simon Ghost Riley x JustAFriend!Reader

Part 2 (Prev)

CW: suggestive fluff, bad jokes, boners, reader is willfully dumb, author doesn’t know where this story is going but wants to write more parts anyway, first cod fic actually send help, is he smiling too much? Idk, happy ghost I guess

“Well that… that is not a book.”

Ghost’s eyes lock onto yours, too close for comfort. Your whole body flushes, and your stomach dips. This situation is way out of hand. His breath huffs and his body tenses, and your skin tingles with the charge in the air — the playfight isn’t over.

You do the only thing you can think of. You wriggle your arm between the two of you and cover his mouth with your palm, using his surprise to smoosh his face away from yours and twisting your body to the side. Both of you roll off the couch and onto the floor. You’re on top, and ready to break away, to end the fight with a handshake and burning cheeks.

But you gasp as his legs come up and around your hips, and his arms catch your torso and head, bringing you into his hips like a tree to a bear.

“Simon!” you yelp, though it sounds more like Fimom, the word getting lost in his meaty shoulder. His hold is gentle but stiff, and it’s impossible to go anywhere. You shift your body, feeling like you’ve been gift-wrapped by a professional knot-maker. “Mmph…” you give up and let your body relax on top of his.

After a few moments of heavy silence he sighs and relaxes his grip.

“Mmm,” he purrs. “This is nice…”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up as he finally allows you to move.

“If you wanted a cuddle you could’ve just asked,” you tell him, rolling off him to land on your back.

“I meant the roughhousing,” he deadpans, turning his head to watch you.

“Oh, of course. My mistake,” you quip back. Then you remember the box on the floor and jolt upright, stuffing the contents back in before stumbling to your feet and heading to your room, your shoulder tensed for a possible pounce. But it seems playtime is over, and you make it to your room without a fuss. You toss the small box on your bed, then change your mind and put it in a drawer instead.

When you return, Simon is in the kitchen, peeling the dry outer layers away from an onion.

“You can just cut it in half and it’d be easier to get those bits off,” you tell him.

“It’s not clean,” he retorts.

“You’re worried about a little dirt?”

“No,” he doesn’t elaborate, but keeps peeling it anyway. You settle into his side and smile, taking the skin off a second onion. How silly, that this man cares so much for grocery store germs, when he probably had days at a time in the field where he couldn’t even wash his hands?

When he finishes peeling his onion, he washes his hands again, and even rinses the onion, before grabbing the knife. You follow the routine, not wanting to gross him out or overstep. You guess it may be an overcorrection, him trying to be as clean as possible when he can. You just don’t remember seeing these tendencies when he’s made food for himself, those times you came over after your own early dinner. In fact, this may be the first time he’s cooked for you.

“You want to become God, then?” You joke, feeling a bit lame.

“What?”

“Cleanliness. Close to godliness.”

He shrugs. “You deserve a clean onion.”

That’s makes you snicker. “You must think so highly of me. Odd, considering you’ve seen the kind of messes I make when I cook for you.”

He smiles at that. You’re thinking of the time you accidentally heated up soup in a soapy pot. Simon had half of his bowl before you took a bite, only commenting that he must have that rogue cilantro gene. But he could be thinking of one of the many other food mishaps that occurred under your hospitality.

As he chops, you bend down and pat his leg to scooch, so you can access the cabinets beneath him. He tilts his hips and steps away — but not before you notice the bulge tightly packed behind his zipper. As you nonchalantly grab the glass bowl and pan you need, your head spins. Is this some odd side effect of cutting onions? Your eyes sting, you cry, you pop a boner…

Or was it because he just had your body under him, atop him, picturing you using your recent delivery…?

No. It’s not you he’s reacting to, he’s just a guy. He just got a little excited, got his blood pumping for a play fight with his bestie. That’s normal. But you can’t help thinking how you have this giant, manly — sexual man in your kitchen. How you ever managed to disregard that fact in the first place.

You’ve stalled after placing the pan on the stove, and you don’t realize until a handful of minced onion hits the pan in front of you.

“Oh wait, the oil,” you tell him, looking up at his face. He looks concerned for you, and maybe a little warm himself, a pink flush on his cheeks.

“Just poured some. You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah… Water?”

He grunts his confirmation. You open the fridge to find the filter empty. You sigh.

“Beer?”

“Beer.”

(Next)

[ephie-om]

Song: Novacaine - The Unlikely Candidates

CW: possessive behavior, yandere tendencies (it's Levi what did you expect tbh)

Day 3: Leviathan

Levi is doing his best to summon the courage to go knock on your bedroom door. He wouldn't do this for anyone else, you know, but he can't go too long without his player two, and you haven't been responding to any texts or in-game chats. He makes his way down the hall and pauses in front of your door. Should he just… go for it?

Wait. What if there's a password?? He had never bothered to ask if you had one. What would you think of him if he didn't even know the password to your room?!

He catches himself before he starts to hyperventilate. He has to be strong for you. Before he can talk himself out of it, he knocks on your door.

Your voice sounds out, muffled from the other side. “Who is it?”

“L-levi.” He curses himself silently for stuttering. It's silent for a while, and he thinks he hears you sniffle through the door.

“Fine, come in.”

Victory! He cracks open the door and steps through, shutting it behind him quickly. You sit on the floor surrounded by a mess of pink and white fabric, a dress mannequin toppled over in the corner of your room. You won't make eye contact with him, and he's fairly sure you've been crying.

“What happened?” That was a stupid question, wasn't it? He cringes and waits for you to yell at him.

“I, um… it's embarrassing.” You drop your head and fidget with one of the fabric strips on the floor. “I knew you were going to that F3 anime con in a couple months, and you talked about how excited you were for your Mister Boss costume from the Circle games, and I thought maybe you would let me go with you if I dressed up too. So I tried to make Ruri-chan’s costume. And… you can tell how that went.”

Levi listens intently. There's a lot of feelings making a mess of his brain right now, namely embarrassment, hope, and adoration. But the one that shone through all of those is sheer determination.

He knows exactly how devastating costume errors can be. He's been doing this for millennia and sometimes things still come out wrong. Right now you look like him when he had just started. He’d wanted so badly to look like his favorite character from Deathly Fight X that he had nearly given up on cosplay when the costume failed. If there was one thing he could help you with, it was this.

“We can fix this.” You look up at him, questioning. “Trust me. You have me on your side. I'd never let my Henry be defeated by a couple of petticoats.”

You laugh, and he decides that no matter how many hours it takes, he'll hear that sound from you again when all of this is done.

He makes an executive decision to move the project to his room, since the sewing machine would be too much of a chore to lug down the hall. He organizes your fabric onto the pattern you'd printed out online and gets to work. Layers of fabric whoosh by you as he focuses, using his tail to hold a pincushion. He uses the dress form for the first bit, but opts to have you wear it while he sews the details so that he can tailor the dress to you.

You blush furiously as his hands skim over your waist, pinning small pieces in place. You know he would never dare to be this close to you if he wasn't so concentrated. You try to breathe as quietly as possible, hoping to not break this spell over him.

After a few hours of work, silence only broken by Levi's muttering to himself, he asks you to put the dress on one final time. You catch a few quiet words about “no way it'll work”, but you choose to ignore them. You step into the bathroom to change, and when you come out, you're met with a stony-faced Leviathan.

Even his tail has stopped moving as his eyes rove over you.

You're just too cute. He doesn't miss the way a blush heats your cheeks, or the way you fidget with your hands as he inspects you. He wraps his tail around his legs to keep it from knocking anything over. He doesn't move, doesn't smile, doesn't say anything. If he lets even one action slip, he might just end up keeping you in his room forever.

How could he let you go to F3 now? All those nasty gamers, drooling all over you. They would love you, love to have you. But they couldn't have you. Just him. Him, you, and that dress.

He'll go to the convention with you, if it's what you really want. But he thinks it's well within his rights to growl at anyone who looks at you for too long. And if you ask, he'll just tell you that's what any self-respecting otaku would do for a Ruri-chan cosplayer as cute as you.

[i-heart-hxh]

i want to thank you for talking about the doomery takes about Gon and Killua's separation with the level of patience & respect you do. i think people sometimes believe they parted on worse terms than they really did and it leads to people asking questions like "why would Killua say that to him?" or "why didn't Gon give a 'proper' apology?" with a preconception that the situation is irreparable. theyre intelligent kids who love each other a lot, so these things can feel really mean or insensitive to us because we see it as such a high stakes situation when in actuality, the characters kind of know what's happening already and can intuit each others feelings or intentions to a reasonable degree.

like, ex: Killua calls Gon stuff like an embarrassing moron frequently and Gon sees its because he's emotionally constipated and not because Killua actually thinks he's stupid. conversely, Killua knows that what Gon said to him in the palace came from an irrational place of lashing out at the only safe person in the room, and the reason why he can make fun of Gon later for it is because its clear he regrets it. they understand each other quite a bit and though the separation makes them really sad, i'm sure they both get, on some level, why it has to be like this for a bit

Thank you very much for the sweet message!

I honestly get exhausted by how many doom and gloom takes exist about HxH in general, and especially around Gon and Killua's relationship. I hope that by talking about my own perceptions of the series after spending all these years thinking about it and pulling it apart, more people can come to the side of having hope about it and being excited about what's ahead for them.

What they went through was immensely painful, and it certainly hurt those of us who love their relationship, too, but there are far more reasons to believe they have a path of healing and reconciliation ahead of them than all the angsty alternatives. They may have more to go through first before they reach that point, but in my opinion it would contradict the themes of the series for them not to have a second chance to rebuild their relationship even better.

That's a good bit of insight about them and how their interactions are much more than just what they're literally saying! I totally agree that they're quite perceptive about each other and aware of at least some of each others' feelings below the surface. There are actually several scenes where they explain things about the other with a surprising amount of insight--for instance, when Killua is talking to Wing about Gon's tendencies after the Gido match, or Gon knowing Killua will reluctantly fold to him if he insists on something when talking to Meleoron. Their relationship is complex and they both have areas where they need to improve with regards to communicating and understanding each other (especially how they see themselves and the way that warps how they see each others' feelings), but they deeply love each other and I'm sure they're going to want to make the changes needed to fix things between them and not have something like Chimera Ant Arc happen again.

The separation has a lot of layers, but it portrays them both as sad to split up even though it's what's needed for now, still hurting about what they went through but grateful for each other nonetheless, comfortable enough with each other still for Killua to tease Gon and Gon to openly mope about it, and they make it clear this isn't forever. Even with the various subtextual things going on (like Gon's use of "nakama" after Killua had a crisis about that very word and Killua saying Gon is now number 2, for instance) don't erase the overall tone of the separation. It's bittersweet and hard for them both, but not on bad terms!

HxH is a story about human connection and second chances and how love transforms people. The two characters at the center of the story epitomize these themes, so having a cynical view of their bond and future feels like having a cynical view of what the series as a whole is saying. There's nothing wrong with exploring or thinking about angsty themes, of course, and I truly love how much darkness, sadness, and trauma HxH explores throughout, but I don't believe the ultimate trajectory of the series is one of hopelessness or cynicism.

I hope those who are concerned about their future can zoom out and look at the series as a whole and see how many reasons there are to be hopeful for them.

[murdockmeta]

Matt's Protective Tendencies Regarding Gwen

So, for this post, I want to focus on three moments (cause with that many this is still gonna be too long aha) that stuck out to me on my second read-through. It's important to note these examples because Matt's relationship with Gwen is the closest we get to seeing him caring about anyone or anything.

Matt threatening George Stacy

This one is the most complex of the three. There are many layers to this scene but I think it's telling how Matt makes Gwen the center of the conversation. Also, he resorts to personal attacks on George's ability to protect Gwen and be a good father to her.

Matt does seem controlled in this scene to a certain extent, clearly there with the intention to taunt George, but I think he's... not as controlled as he appears.

This is the first time in the run we've really seen him use a more hands-on approach. So far, he's used legal loopholes, threats, manipulation, and so on. He's dodged (quite literally in some cases) every chance at a physical altercation.

Here, he shows up in relatively casual clothes (another interesting choice. the only time we ever see this.) and he eventually ends up holding George Stacy in a chokehold over the side of a building.

In the previous panel he's in, he's meditating when he's contacted by George. He picked up his phone on the second ring (not the first, despite how obvious the disruption is. hes trying to give the impression of nonchalance). He goes through the efforts of pretending to not know who's calling even though he definitely does.

When we see him again, it appears as though he's only changed his shirt before showing up at George's house. It's not the next day, it's probably not even an hour later. He was waiting for George to call. I'd be tempted to say he was growing impatient.

He starts with cheap attacks on George's morality and his job, petty things. It very quickly escalates.

Frank Castle had recently proven to be quite a threat to Gwen. Castle wants to kill Spider-Woman. Matt is refusing to let that happen. But, he wants George to be the one to make the call.

He's very dedicated to protecting Gwen but he also needs Gwen to trust him a tiny bit. He knows that if he outright kills Frank that Gwen would lose all faith in him. She would drop contact immediately and refuse to work with him again.

Yet, he's so persistent about protecting her, he goes to George to try and get him to do it. Matt wants Frank dead. Out of the equation. He's willing to physically threaten George, to get angry, to show maybe just a little too much of himself. He's trying every personal attack he can. And in his desperation to force George's hand, he reveals a lot about his motives. Even George picks up on this.

George is talking about what he thinks he sees in Matt. He thinks Matt killing Frank outright would show how bad Matt is, how cold and immoral he is, therefore losing Gwen's willingness to work for him. When really, it shows how dedicated and desperate Matt is. Matt cannot-- cannot-- lose Gwen. He needs her because for the first time since he was a child he has the chance to no longer feel alone.

He needs his plan to work. He can't have Frank mess it up but he also can't push Gwen too far away from him. So, he does all of this instead.

This is one of the most interesting goddamn lines in the whole scene. This is in the middle of Matt's attempt to attack George's ability to be a good father, his ability to protect Gwen. In that, Matt lets this slip out.

He's obviously projecting himself onto Gwen. And I also think he projects his relationship with Jack onto George but that's a discussion for another post.

So, does he think he's protecting Gwen from becoming like him? Making the hard decisions so she doesn't have to? He acts like he wants Gwen to become as bad as he does but even Gwen says in the end: he wanted to lose, he wanted to be caught. So...? We know he hates himself. And with the above line, we see the closest Matt ever gets to admitting how he truly feels to someone he lets live.

Gwen's different because Gwen represents a chance for things to go right. Matt needs to protect her because he needs her to succeed.

2. Matt refusing Gwen's apology

I was going to just highlight his first few lines in this panel but the whole thing seemed relevant to this post.

So, when I first read this line, I thought it was borderline out of character. He, of course, can't just refuse her apology, he has to give some self-centered reason why. But, everything he follows up with unintentionally reveals his hand once again.

To Gwen, Matt's reasons sound selfish and cruel. She thinks he just wants to use her, control her. She thinks he's interested in what she can do for him. And, well, he is. But it's never just that.

He wants her safe. He plainly says it. He wants her safe so that he can make sure she's not in danger, to make sure she doesn't die or make any decisions she's going to genuinely regret.

I think Matt's heavy-handedness in regard to Gwen's morality is extremely intentional. You don't change someone's mind about their personal morals by telling them how ridiculous their morals are all day. You don't change their mind by trying to force them to make deals they rather wouldn't. Arguably, that's how you make them stand their ground.

And I think that's what Matt's counting on. He sees it as a win-win, whether Gwen ends up turning evil or not (because if she does then he can finally die). But really... I think he wants her to have a reason to be good. He knows how hard-headed she is, it's one thing he likes about her. So, he knows that antagonizing her will just make her more assured when she comes out on the other side.

If she can stick through to the end and beat him, there's not much that can stop her after that. One important thing about Gwen's development as Spider-Woman is that at the beginning, she doesn't have the strong conviction to do good that 616 Peter has due to his uncle's death.

Peter died in her universe, but it didn't serve the same purpose. She felt guilt over Peter's death, but not the kind that strengthened her morals. It was this crushing guilt that dragged her down, made her lose faith in herself. A lack of confidence like that can quickly lead down a much darker path and we see that in Gwen throughout volume two.

She still needs that push. That final act that'll let her come into her purpose fully. And Matt intends on giving that to her if she's willing to go along with his plan long enough. He crafts himself into a big, bad villain for her. Just so she can be good.

3. Matt protecting Gwen's identity

Matt goes out of his way to make sure Gwen's identity stays safe. He knows her secret identity is important to her. He made sure he tied up his loose ends with Toomes so he wouldn't tell.

The one that's more interesting to me is the fact he didn't even tell his ninja her name. These ninja are assigned to protect her from any harm while they are in a foreign country and an assassin is after Gwen. But Matt doesn't bother giving them her name.

There's not even really a reason for him not to tell them other than him being overly protective of her. It's not like they're going to tell anyone, they're fucking ninja. They're sworn to secrecy out of pure principle.

Yet, Matt doesn't say anything. He could've even used it as a bargaining chip but he doesn't genuinely threaten to reveal her identity even once. Would it have really even affected his plans long term? Her identity is revealed at one point, and he still gets what he wants in the end.

But he never brings it up unless it concerns her identity being revealed in a way that may harm her. He never dangles it in her face. He respects it and protects her.

---

These are just a few moments I wanted to talk about. Honestly, the George Stacy one could've been its own post and I'll probably end up making another about it eventually.

Matt is so multifaceted and he shows that best with the people he dares to form attachments to. The main one being Gwen. The way he treats her is the closest he got to caring about someone. It's the closest we get to seeing what he's really like under all his disguises.

He demands control because he thinks that is the only way to protect the ones he's attached to. He knows, in his particular position, that there really is no other way to go about it. And he doesn't want the people he cares about to like him. He doesn't think he deserves it, really.

He wants Gwen to be better, to do better, so he allows her to hate him so much that she has no choice but to come out stronger in the end.

[gastersans]

Hey guys!

I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately. It’s not fair to people I care very much about to be silent! The long story short is that life hits you very fast and all at once sometimes on many levels, and my unfortunate tendency in hectic mode is to shut out and focus on just getting to the next day. It’s no excuse, of course, but I do hope you understand—and I hope you all are hanging in there as well.

I’m not sure when I can return to writing again, but I hope to. It always seems like I’m waiting to have some time and energy, but I think I’m just going to have to intentionally build a block for the creative things important to me among everything. Even if I’m not publishing anything, I am always thinking about it in one part of my mind. I love those stories, and I’m so glad to share them with you.

Thank you to anyone who was checking in! I love you all always, even if I don’t have the words to reply—and I’m always going to try to better show that.

Tl;dr below the cut: details of life been going on.

:read more:

Thanks for being curious! I’ll try to be as brief as I can, but I have traditionally failed at every attempt at that in these posts. To be honest, the past year or two has been a bit of a blur, so I’ll just talk in generalities rather than a specific timeline.

Everything at work changed at the organizational level. Unfortunately I can’t say much about it—for personal reasons, which I know is odd to say. My work is mixed in with family ties, justices and beliefs I advocate for, etc, so I can’t talk too much about it—but boy is that lasagna layered. That dynamic alone is both a hugely important but often very stressful to navigate in of itself.

Among the organizational change, my position drastically changed—I went from clinician to a manager of the sizeable department I worked for—and then a couple months later inherited a second, nearly double the size department to manage on top of it when my fellow manager left.

Right as my position was changing for the first time, my dad—living states away—got sick with some still undiagnosed illness. Bizarre body movements, signs of a stroke but no evidence found—not Parkinson’s, though the symptoms seem somewhere between it and a slow rolling dementia. If you’d like to read a small loving rant about my dad: My father is the most wonderful, kindest, politest, humblest human who is also a literal unrecognized hero twice over—he dedicated his entire life his two jobs. One was his role as an assistant Harbormaster—not infrequently rescuing people, lost in dark seas in the dead winter nights (among much grimmer tales)—a job which got paid pennies for, with decades-old resources and, if he was lucky, his name might be pages deep in the local paper. The second job was as a teacher in the worst school in the city next door—and he taught the “behavioral needs” kids. He was stabbed multiple times—the final time was in the stomach, shortly after he had come back from his leave after battling prostate cancer. He understood the kids were sick, or needed help. In addition to being a great teacher (I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but my dad often help walk us through homework to ensure we knew it—requested or not), my dad would take his students to different places— the beach for a wildlife lesson, or the local laser tag place just for fun they often couldn’t afford)—on his own dime. He tried to give them an education about the world and life, and not just books they had given up trying to read. Jeeze, sorry, I need to be able to do a cut under this cut. I could go on for days.

After that attack, my dad has had much random issues, landing him in the hospital and my family in crisis mode one time after another. We find (but never confirm) that the neurological attack might be from an infection in his knee—a botched or failing knee replacement (his third—standing on a choppy boat or at a chalkboard all day is murder on your knees). The infection has spread terribly. We nearly lose him. He continues to show cognitive decline. He improves. He gets pneumonia, we nearly lose him again. He comes back to us for a while. A random night a few weeks later, the mesh in his stomach from his prostate cancer a decade ago has failed and is suddenly twisted around his intestine (they guess related to the coughing/pneumonia). We nearly lose him again. He survives. He needs a knee replacement surgery now, but they don’t know if he can handle it or the risk of infection. He survives. Theyve noticed something wrong with his heart. He has heart surgery, survives. Another heart surgery, survives again. All the while continuing to cognitively decline. He’s a brilliant man—it’s heartbreaking to see, but I know he’s still in there all the while.

I know I missed some things above. As all of this is going on, I’m flying back and forth between states, trying to manage two departments that were previously handled by two incredibly competent, incredibly busy people that is now just me. The work is important, there’s pressures of family legacy involved, it’s nonprofit and clinical and complex and often dealing with very serious physical, mental health, ethical or even legal matters.

And, of course, trying to balance the normal things of life—making time for friends and family, trying to maintain (and sustain) my home, dating and now maintaining a beloved partnership… These things are also important. And then my parents were here for just the summer, so I’m trying to spend each moment I can stand to spare with them, in that horrid phase where it’s in your face of how little time may be left. And of course, there are the other things—other loved ones lost, trying to do what you can and pay attention to the important things in the world, trying to enjoy sitting holding my cat’s paw while marathoning YouTube and a phone game after a long day at work.

Again, I hope to be back to things someday. In my free time I write snippets, dream scenarios. I miss the writing—and the people—and it’s hard to find a pinhole to carve out for any time for myself. I’m trying, I’m trying, and I love you all.

Hope to talk more soon.

[lamialamia]

hai!!! are there any sledgefu fanfics or writers u could rec to me?

Anon I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this. I was swamped with exams and deadlines and traveling. But gosh. I GOT CHU. I got recs!!!

This got insanely long so I'm putting a read more

Fanfic - Canon-verse (no AU)

Sleep Aid by someonesgrlbomb. Gosh. Okay. We all know the weird, fucked up bond between Sledge and Snafu is so interesting. They are traumatized young men who are wrestling with their humanity in hellish conditions. And this fic is one amazing look into this bond.

C’est ta main dans ma main doucement oubliée. by ijustlookatpictures. This one is heartbreaking. Not healthy in the slightest. But if you want to be devastated, this fic is for you.

I do my best because I'm counting on you counting on me by ijustlookatpictures. A groundhog day AU set in the war so I still put it here. I love this fic for its Snafu's voice. Trust me, Snafu is a tough character to write for because he is a layered bastard who has so much going for him. I re-read this fic like once every few months.

As It Was by SJtrinity. Possibly one of the best post-war fics for sledgefu out there. This fic might be formatted a little weird on Ao3 but trust me, it's worth it. Sledge and Snafu's road to a happy endings isn't easy or simple and this fic makes them earn their happy endings (even after surviving a war). READ THIS FIC PLEASE. I'M ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU.

i’m the diode, you’re the kerosene by getmean. This imo is one of the required reading sledgefu fics. I mean, I would say that about any of getmean's fic but yeah. Realistic about PTSD but so perfectly balance with the slow-burn romance we all crave. Simply magnificent.

an angel like a memory by starblessed. Another incredible fic that nailed Snafu's voice.

gone but not entirely by marinersapptcomplex. Angst for the ages. Sledgefu is treasure trove of angst and in the right hand, it would fuck you up. Because this fic fucked me up. It's so good and deserve thousand of kudos.

The Boy and the Magpie by harin91. Oh this is a special sledgefu fic. It moved me to tears. It showed but never told. It got me craving for all the pretty jewels and lost loves and fairy-tale dreamings one could possibly have. If I think about this fic too much I might lost it.

Come Take Me Home Again by ThrillingDetectiveTales. Ehehhe, very sexy and very cute and made me giggle every time I re-read this.

Let Me Know The Way by bearkare. Epistolary story telling is no small task to pull off. Something which was done here so good it felt like I actually get to step into the characters' heads and dive into their inner turmoil. Another fic that takes the slow road to Sledgefu's happy ending. Love every word of this.

a collection of fragmented thoughts that were never written and never sent by canimo. Underrated. So fucking underrated. All the angst, and well, sledgefu have a tendency in many fic to not end happily at all. They are after all two very different people and with everything that happened, no matter how much love they might share, it isn't easy.

I Was Fixed on Your Hand of Gold by Cinderscream. Another epistolary fic that amazed me with the ease of how they manage to make story unfold within the limited confinement of letter writing. Love this one to bits.

friends who share your past by kinnoth. Once in a while, you had to let your OTP be toxic and unhealthy and unable to communicate and lead them to their downfall. Yeah.

fill in the holes you've made by foreignconstellations. Relationships are complicated. This one managed to capture that in just 2.5k words, which I absolutely can not comprehend.

Sweet Water, Wash Me Down by modernature. Atmospheric and very gripping. Amazing world building where the world felt alive and wriggling and squirming in the best possible way.

Leave your baggage here by malmanagement. Sometimes, we needed a groundhog day AU to make stubborn idiots understands.

Fanfic - AU:

got a fire but you just can't use it by getmean. I binged this instead of sleeping. Worth it.

catch it down in new orleans by starblessed. This is one of my comfort fics of all time. It's so funny and so charming. Never failed to lift me out of a bad mood.

Unknown Number by harin91. In which our favorite idiots tried long distance and it is endlessly entertaining.

lest we fall into the dark by gingerwerk. Oh everything about this AU is incredible. The slowburn is so good I wish I can lost my memory to read this again completely fresh.

Oh! Darling by Anonymous. I waited years for this fic to finally finish. I screamed when I saw the final update. Sexy and lovely. Can not recommend this fic enough.

Author:

getmean. Well you can't mention sledgefu without this author. No matter what their fics deliver. I aspire to write as good as them one day.

SJtrinity. I don't know what to say about this author because... my english could never measure my awe and love for their works

starblessed. You saw how many times I rec their fics? Yeah. Read everything this author write please.

Stolperzunge. I love them and their works. I could write a love letter here but I don't wanna be cringe.

bearkare. ANything written by this author made me feral <3 <3 <3

Honorable mention: eugeneshelton whose sledgefu fics gave me diabetes, and endlessly inspire me with his sledgefu ideas :*

[shikai-the-storyteller]

UEUEUEUEUEUEU ILL SEND YOU THIS WHILE WAITING TO SEE BOBBYS STATUS.

Dw idm u answering publicly, I want everyone to be cursed w the thought that Rubius is a babygirl and a very bad one at that <3

Honestly I've only read a few explanations of their lore and bits about their relationship but they seem sooooo,,, /pos. Like they have such a fun and silly dynamic that has this air of toxicity and their loves feels quite self destructive bc rubius is kind of a destructive force of nature of a person who has a tendency to hurt those around him, perhaps as a defense mechanism or perhaps out of simply not understanding there are consequences to the things he does while vegetta is someone far too forgiving, he continues to love rubius despite how much he hurts himself, others, and vegetta himself. I'm not saying cubito rubius is an awful person but from what I've seen he is,,, complex. Difficult despite seeming silly. I could be just completely wrong tho LOL I am doin my best I prommy

ANYWAYS IM CHEERING U ON IN WRITING!!! I'd love to talk to u abt them more and learn more abt rubegetta bc like. Look. Theres no way q!vegetta isnt hung up on that demon idc,,,

I'm likewise waiting for the Eggstatistics (which will probably get posted while I'm in the middle of writing this) (EDIT: IT DID) and you gave me the opportunity to infodump so prepare for an essay LMAO

There are SO many layers to Rubius and Vegetta’s relationship (both romantic and friendship-wise), and that complexity makes them fascinating characters to study. I’ve been discussing this a lot in private lately, but I feel like there’s quite a bit of misinformation / misinterpretations of Rubius and Vegetta’s relationship amongst some of the newer fans who might not know some key components of their personality and their relationship dynamic as a whole (which is understandable since the majority of their lore came from Karmaland, and a lot of newer fans only speak English / only watch QSMP), so ALLOW ME TO ELABORATE:

I think of the two, Rubius definitely gets mischaracterized the most (which, again, maybe isn't too surprising since not everyone watched Karmaland and he hasn't been on the QSMP server too much lately). I could go off on a tangent here and list my frustrations about the people who harassed him for his role / his actions during the Egg event / whining about ships to the point where he decided not to log into the server again ‘til the Egg event is over, but that's ultimately irrelevant to this discussion.

“Their love feels quite self-destructive” is a really good way to sum things up, because Rubius is a pretty self-destructive man. Rubius is, fundamentally, a man who is full of love for the people he cares about, but those feelings are in direct conflict with his reluctance to let people get close to him (and his commitment issues). He can freely give hugs and kisses (and more) to Vegetta, but when it comes to expressing his true thoughts and feelings, he’s pretty emotionally constipated. We’ve already seen this a few times on the QSMP server – when Rubius visits on Vegetta’s birthday, he sings him the most beautiful heartfelt love song ever, but as soon as it’s over and Vegetta tries to talk to him, Rubius runs away. Even in Karmaland V, when hooked up to a lie detector and asked about his feelings for Vegetta, Rubius tried to wiggle his way out of answering. Only when the world was literally ending and they all thought they were gonna die did Rubius finally admit his feelings, shouting his confession and his love for Vegetta at the top of his lungs.

(The real tragedy here is that it was so chaotic with everyone shouting, Vegetta never heard his words…)

Although it’s easy to slap the label “toxic” on Rubius, I think that’s unfair to him and his character, as well as his intentions. He truly does love Vegetta with all his heart, in every universe, and he doesn’t want to hurt him, but Rubius doesn’t want to get hurt either. The Meteor shower conversation gives us a clear understanding of that:

Rubius: I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to get my hopes up, and then get hurt. It's happened to me many times before. Especially here in Karmaland. Vegetta: Have you had lovesickness? Rubius: Yes. In Karmaland, everywhere, in real life... I'm already used to getting beaten. Vegetta: That's a pity... Rubius: I just want someone to take care of me, and that's it. I don't ask for much. Vegetta: I'm very protective.

The way I see it, Rubius is afraid of his feelings for Vegetta, because the larger his love grows, the larger that potential for hurt and disappointment gets. Does this excuse all his actions? No, of course not, however there’s a big difference between doing something out of self-preservation (possibly as a trauma-response, depending on how you interpret his character) and doing something with the intent to hurt someone.

IMO, Rubius isn’t a toxic guy, he just needs therapy.

Vegetta doesn’t get mischaracterized quite as often, though I do feel like people have a tendency to put him on a pedestal and minimize the flaws he has. I’m a massive Vegetta fan, but this guy’s far from perfect. He’s self-centered, borderline narcissistic sometimes, and he’s a very prideful man. He’s never left Rubius at the altar, but he’s still had his fair share of “oopsies” and "yikes" in their relationship. One (which I’m surprised people don’t talk about more) is an incident from Karmaland IV where Vegetta, very unhinged and mentally unstable at the time, kidnapped Rubius’ wife Nieves and threatened her with a sword, saying, “If Rubius can’t be mine, he can’t be anyone’s.”

For the longest time I genuinely thought that line came from a fanfic or something, then I stumbled upon the clip one day and I was just like:

Anyways

In Karmaland V, Rubius became very close with a little alien child named Titi. He took care of Titi like he was his own son, and despite his attempts at emotionally distancing himself early on so he wouldn’t get attached, Rubius wound up caring a lot for him.

Then Titi died.

It was basically Rubius’ worst nightmare come to life – he’d let himself get close to Titi, he’d loved him unconditionally and let Titi into his heart, and Titi’s death utterly destroyed him. Everyone in Karmaland was affected by the death, but Rubius took it especially hard because of how close they were. Rubius was hurting badly and resorting to terrible coping strategies to deal with the pain, and Vegetta…

Well. Vegetta wasn’t very nice about it.

There are a lot of ways we could interpret Vegetta’s actions and words during this time – maybe he’s not super sensitive when talking about death since he’s probably some kind of demigod, maybe he speedran the grieving process, maybe he thought brutal honesty and direct action would help Rubius “snap out of it” sooner. However you see it, ultimately it did a lot more harm than good for Rubius’ overall mental health.

I bring these examples up not to paint their relationship as toxic or negative, but rather to express just how complex it is. Because, despite all their mistakes and drama and heartbreak, at the end of the day, Rubius and Vegetta still love each other more than anything else. Even towards the end of Karmaland V when they were quite literally on opposite sides of the battlefield (one supporting Quackity, the other supporting Luzu), their true loyalties lay with one another. When Rubius was hit by an enemy, Vegetta defended him with his life, and when Vegetta was hurt, Rubius did the same.

Yes, Rubius doesn't really know how to handle healthy relationships, and yes, Vegetta tends to forgive him too easily, but that doesn't erase the love they have. The key we need to remember here is that Rubegetta is a telenovela that sits squarely in the romcom category. They may wander into other genres and tropes from time to time, but they will always gravitate back to one another. Whether you define that as fate or soulmates or just sheer dumb luck, the facts remain and the love is there.

PHEW anyways that felt good to get out, I have so many thoughts on Rubegetta so I appreciate the excuse to rant. I'm always happy to chat about these two! :D And you're so right - Vegetta is so smitten for that demon, I hope he gets to meet the angel too. I hope Rubius comes back soon so Vegetta can see his Osito Fiu Fiu, but in the meantime, we'll have to keep wishing and praying just like Vegetta...

(ALSO THANK YOU the current chapter of that dang Rubegetta fic is kicking my butt rn because it's the only chapter I didn't outline and life events keep interrupting me when I try and work on it, but it IS getting chipped away at bit by bit! I hope folks enjoy the outcome when it's released :D)

[jacksmusesdrv3]

Honestly I think people's tendency to do this sort of all or nothing thinking is silly. I've yet to write things down concisely but since finishing the game I like playing around in the sense where I pick one or several flashback lights (or other 'facts' mentioned in the game) to be true and see how that affects the pre and post V3 story. This in turn really gives you more playroom to interpret and understand certain aspects of the story and characters. Sorry, I'm not sure how to word it. Like yeah, what if Makoto really did make a new Academy? What if the world didn't end, but the virus is fact? What if V3 was fictional, but that doesn't mean the 'peaceful outside world' we were presented is real? Not only does that make fandom play more enjoyable, it also makes you really think about things beyond taking things at face value like I've sadly seen many fans do.

To disclaimer a bit that I have no qualm with people taking the 'All-Fiction' reading at its face if they like the pregame concept (I've seen some fun ideas like the meek Kokichi who wanted to become a good liar, that's a favourite I've seen anyway) or like, whatever other reason. It's just- yeah!! It's absolutely not the only possibility for canon nor is it particularly satisfying to those of us who want to play with canon context as opposed to like, imagined character-to-character progression to the canon, even if those can make for great stories on their own

*cue me going off in 3... 2... 1...*

And speaking of affecting pre and post V3, the dire consequences probable for any/all of the pre chapter 5 Flashback Lights being true- the mixed-motive videos involving characters, especially- knowing that dr2 used a distorted past as a motive, is just too juicy to pass up?? Especially if that involves characters who were otherwise trusted acting in untrustworthy ways, and this is gleaned in hindsight? Imagine if there was later content - a novel perhaps - to expand upon the world we dismissed as fiction and little by little we have to reckon with the consequences if we search it out, like how Dr0 told us of how the Tragedy came to be?? And DRV3 will never look the same again?? Especially if all this was gradually steamrollered by an unsuspecting Makoto opening up new hopes peak and that started to go spectacularly awry not least due to the collective tensions against Ultimates and-

-Just. FRICK!! The possibilities enough to drive one crazy

At least the hindsight part is how it's most meaningful for me, imagining the world itself - beyond the dystopian security tech Nanokumas, wwoah geez a lot to unpack - is so much harder to do, and can get extremely messy (probably because I'm at an overload with all the information-misinformation combo buuut also because of conspiracy themes nonsense) so like, a lot of work to do there.

...Oh! This reminds me of how Dr:Togami is apparently layered in this kind of cerebral shit that makes you think outside the box as to what the fresh hell is going on and pick apart false narratives, so all of these potential alternate if-not-x-then-y sorta threads you mentioned here, could be pulled together just like that! (I hope I'm understanding right- I need to actually READ DR:Togami but uh.)

[rickmymanrick]

one rule | chapter five

[rick grimes x original female character slowburn]

series masterlist

summary: glenn and rick try out a new technique in order to survive and reunite with the rest of the group. back at camp, daphne and shane reach an understanding.

notes: god i’m so irritated with my writing in this series. i have the tendency to write too many little details but that changes after this chapter istg. so the style of writing might be a bit strange after this part but if you'd like an idea of what it'll be like, check out my star wars au i'm writing on my main acc. and sorry for the long ass wait. enjoy.

“I’m going to throw the fuck up,” I breathed, trying to control my gag reflex. Rick groaned in response, pushing harder and I gagged again.

“Stop doing that,” Glenn whined. “You’re going to make me throw up.”

“I’m sorry,” I said with watery eyes, trying not to breathe in the scent of rotten guts filling the air. We were all standing before Rick and his axe— staring as he cut a walker’s body in half.

Rick gave one last chop before handing it over to Morales. I did my best not to look at the mush of guts spread all over the floor.

After a heated discussion with Glenn, I’d agreed that it would be safer if I stayed behind, despite how badly I wanted to join him on Rick’s suicide mission to escape Atlanta. So I stayed silent, helping them spread intestines all over their coats with two layers of gloves on.

I’m sure my face was turning violet from how long I was holding my breath but it was either that or vomit all over the place. The texture of the flesh was lukewarm; this walker probably wasn’t even dead for long.

Glenn was beginning to hyperventilate.

“Think about something else. Puppies and kittens,” offered Rick with a grimace.

“Dead puppies and kittens,” T-Dog added in disgust.

I flinched, bracing myself. Glenn whipped around in horror, hurling over his shoulder instantly.

Andrea rolled her eyes and pulled away from Glenn. She fixed T-Dog with a glare. “That is just evil. What is wrong with you?”

“Next time let the cracker beat his ass,” snapped Jacqui.

“I’m sorry,” T-Dog backed away guiltily.

Rick cut in. “Do we smell like them?”

“Hell yeah,” I answered.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you take a single breath in the last five minutes, Daphne.”

I squinted my eyes at Rick.

“It’s a wonder you’re still standing,” he mused.

“Unless you want me to throw up on you and everyone in the vicinity, I’d rather suffocate in silence,” I said stiffly.

“Glenn," I turned around to find Andrea handing off my gun. "Just in case." I didn't argue, knowing if she had returned the gun to its rightful owner, I would've done the same thing. Still, I gave her a glare.

“If we make it back, be ready,” said Rick firmly.

“What about Merle Dixon?”

Rick fished out the keys from his pocket and tossed them to T-Dog.

“Give me the axe,” sighed Rick. “We need more guts.”

After another agonizing round of gut scooping, the two were ready to head out. Glenn glanced back at me with a terrified look. I tried to give him my most confident smile, but inside I was sort of dying too.

I shared one last look with Rick, imprinting both of their faces in my mind just in case. How is he still so handsome covered in guts?

‘You got this,’ I mouthed at Glenn and then Morales promptly slammed the door in my face. I rounded on him angrily.

“We couldn’t risk the walkers seeing us,” he shrugged apologetically.

I sighed, glancing up the stairwell and suddenly remembering Merle’s crazy ass was still up there. Suppressing a groan, I forced my way past Andrea and the others and decided to wait on the rooftop for a better view.

And somehow between the sudden rain pour that fell over Atlanta and Andrea accusing Rick and Glenn of abandoning us, the plan actually managed to work.

I was practically biting my nails, sprinting back down the stairs I came from, leaving Merle and his yelling in the dust. I couldn’t bring myself to give a single shit, only focused on trying to push myself the fastest I’ve ever gone, just so that by some miracle of God I could intercept Glenn before he took off.

He was leading the horde away, distracting them so that we could all get into the van Rick had managed to steal.

I diverted from the course, ignoring Morales and Jacqui’s frantic questions, urging them to meet Rick at the rendezvous. Over the frantic pounding of my heart, I could hear the siren of Glenn’s stolen car, getting closer and closer as I sprinted down a dark hallway, seeing the daylight pouring through the crack of the emergency exit.

With a shoulder shove, I burst through the door, fully bracing myself for a fight against any walker that was in the vicinity...

But it wasn’t the dead that attacked me.

It was Glenn Rhee, slamming into my side hard enough to send me flying towards the pavement feet away. My ears rung a bit and I had to blink a few times to gather my wits, but then I suddenly heard Glenn’s yell and growls getting closer and I forced my body to jump into action.

I swayed a little on my feet, gaping at Glenn who was hanging halfway out the car, staring at me like I’d grown two heads.

Walkers rounded the corner suddenly.

“Holy shit! You crazy fucker!” I yelled, swinging my body to the passenger’s side. I was more than ready to get the hell out of dodge.

“Holy shit,” Glenn repeated, but I could barely understand over his ridiculous guffawing. There were tears streaming down his face, his cheeks bright pink from how hard he was cracking up.

“You hit me with a car. Har har. Hit the fucking gas pedal, chuckles.”

His laughter was contagious, doubled over the steering wheel and I momentarily forgot that Rick and the others were depending on our corny asses to survive.

“Glenn,” I wheezed through suffocating laughter. God, my fucking side hurts but I can’t stop. “Glenn! We got—gotta GO!”

A loud bang made us both jump. Nothing kills the mood quite like a decaying corpse snapping at your car window.

Finally, Glenn hightailed it, sending the car flying with a deafening squeak. I gripped at the overhead handle. As we turned the corner, I barely caught a glance of Rick’s truck, now speeding away from the building.

I slammed my hand into the dashboard twice. “They’re out. Let’s go!”

Glenn didn’t need to be told twice, pushing the car even faster than I thought possible. Impulsively, I rolled my window down and felt the wind cut through my hair hazardously.

Soon, Atlanta was in the rearview mirror and a feeling of elation rushed to my head.

“We’re alive,” Glenn said suddenly, as if he read my mind.

“Cause of you,” I admitted in a rare moment of complete honesty with this asshole.

A sly smile spread across his cheeks and I whipped my head to face him fully. “I take that shit back. You almost killed me back there. I think you broke my hip, Glenn!”

“You look fine,” he denied.

“What do you know? My hip is in fragile condition! I may never be the same.”

“Should’ve looked both ways before you crossed the road.”

“Dude—” I fixed him with a murderous look.

Glenn glanced at me from his peripheral. I stared at him a few seconds longer. We were speeding down the highway, on lanes that were vet eerily empty. But the other side of the highway was a complete other story. I refused to look that way.

A few more seconds of death glaring Glenn satisfied my pettiness and so I began to rummage through the compartments of the car. A nice silence filled the car, just rushing wind and the company of the person who meant the most to me in this fucked up world.

All I could find were old receipts and registration papers. I sighed, “do you think they had any cds— FUCK YES.”

“What?” Glenn demanded quickly.

I flipped the cd around and practically shoved it in his face. He swerved a little— it’s not like there’s anyone to crash into.

“Put that shit on!” He yelled, beginning to smile uncontrollably.

I shoved the disc in and blasted the volume, drowning out the stupid alarm.

“Everybody look at me, me! I walk in the door you start screaming!” We both chorused loudly, feeling the spirit of Nelly Furtado and countless nights at the club fill our veins.

When we finally arrived, speeding over hills and around curves, we clambered out of the car, exhilarated from the drive and feeling the post-high of our near-death experience.

The giddiness rushed to my brain, making me a bit lightheaded as I gave Glenn a playful shove when I made my way to his side.

This feeling nearly made me forget my very pressing issue here at camp.

He came rushing over with a scowl. “What the hell?!” Shane growled at me.

“Holy shit, turn that damn thing off!” Dale yelled, stomping over with his white bucket hat lodged firmly over his hair.

“I don’t know how!” Glenn said, leaning over to fidget with the dashboard in the car.

“Pop the hood please,” said Shane a little more gently than he’d spoken to me.

I gave him a side eye.

Glenn and Dale kept yelling over each other in a panic. An anxiety began to creep over me when I realized just how loud the alarm was. It bounced off every tree; its echo could probably be heard below the cliff we were camped on.

I leaned closer to Glenn. “Hey, pop the hood—“

“Pop the damn hood!” Shane snapped suddenly.

The hood of the car finally popped open and I jerked back to glare at Shane. He was turning away from me, his head shaking and I could tell he was mumbling something under his breath.

The asshole pulled a wire out and the siren stopped.

“Are you crazy, driving this wailing bastard up here? Are you trying to draw every walker for miles?” Shane leaned against the car with an agitated look.

“I think we’re okay,” said Dale.

“You call being stupid ‘okay?’” Shane asked.

“The alarm was echoing all over these hills,” explained Dale. “Hard to pinpoint the source.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled. It’s nice to see someone still has functioning brain cells in this group.

Shane turned to glare at the three of us, hands on his hips, a scowl planted on his face.

“I’m not arguing. I’m just saying,” Dale told him defensively before spinning on both Glenn and I. “It wouldn’t hurt you to think things through a little more carefully next time, would it?”

“Sorry,” Glenn shrugged. “Got a cool car.”

“Has some good cds too,” I chimed.

“Nice to know you put us at risk for some cheap music,” replied Shane unnecessarily.

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back—

A rumbling could be heard from a distance. Amy rushed forward, shielding her eyes from the sun, a desperate look on her face. ���Is that them? Where’s Andrea?” She turned toward me suddenly. “Is she okay?”

“She’s okay, Amy. We just had to take two cars, s’all.” I reassured.

We squinted against the glare. In the distance, a white truck was rapidly approaching.

“That’s not our van,” observed Shane lowly.

Obviously. I didn’t spare him a glance. I only stared ahead, hoping everyone except Merle was in that damned van. I knew it was wishful thinking though, that man was like a fucking cockroach.

In my peripheral, I saw Glenn glancing between Shane and I awkwardly. “Yeah, um, we had to leave it behind. Found a bigger truck though.”

Maybe I should mention the fact that Rick Grimes was driving the truck and that his partner was alive but my stubbornness kept me silent. And it was only at this thought that a memory resurfaced in my brain.

“Did you see Rick?” I asked quietly, observing Lori and Carl from where I sat on the rock. The pain in my thigh had dulled just a bit.

Shane glanced up from my leg, looking through his eyelashes briefly before quickly directing his gaze down again. He continued to wrap gauze around my wound.

“I did,” he said hoarsely. I waited with bated breath, but he said nothing more.

“Did they transfer him to Atlanta General?” I asked, not sure I even wanted to know the answer. The horrific sight of the dead on the highway was seared into my brain. The screams stopped hours ago; now all that could be heard was silence and a faint growling from the deserted highway.

“He’s gone,” Shane stated stiffly.

“He’s…?”

“Dead.”

I stared over at little Carl Grimes who sat next to his mother silently, observing how to light a small log fire. A lump formed in my throat, but I cleared it with a sniffle. There was no going back to the way it was before. I had to toughen up and accept it.

“Okay,” I lamented, forcing the grief back into the depths of my mind.

Shane finally looked up, brown eyes looking intensely into my own. “Okay.”

Hours later, I sat alone, like I did most nights I couldn't sleep, legs pulled up to my chest and staring at the dark outline of the city. It was brighter than usual this night, a full moon hanging high over our heads.

I traced each building I could see, wondering if Merle was atop one of them, cursing each of us to hell.

This evening was... eventful, to say the least. The Grimes family reunion went as expected, full of tears and embracing. I had to look away after a few seconds, feeling that stupid guilt churn in my gut, especially when Lori kissed Rick on the crown of his head.

And then I saw Shane, acting stranger than usual, a forced smile on his face after the shock of seeing Rick had worn off. He'd glanced at me the second it had processed in his brain who was driving the van, a mixture of shock and something else behind those brown eyes.

I imagined he felt betrayed I hadn't spilled it to him as soon as Glenn parked the car. Maybe it was a bit petty but his behavior towards me was setting me off. We hadn't worked so hard to make a living, just for a misunderstanding to destroy the bond we had.

I scoffed at the thought, glaring at the dirt.

Slow footsteps in the grass crunched behind me and I curled my fingers around my knife.

"'You barely got them out?'" I said monotonously. At the campfire just about two hours ago, Rick had expressed his undying gratitude to Shane. After Shane explicitly pointed out that he'd saved them. He was the reason the Grimes family was whole again.

I heard a sigh and Shane rounded the corner, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since last night. "It was a lot to explain."

"We had time," I pushed a little stone I found in the trunk around. "I'm not asking for credit. I would do what I did without hesitation if I had to again. But you haven't acknowledged me once since last night."

It was silent. I refused to look back up, tired of his mood swings.

"I...I haven't been fair to you," said Shane quietly. "I'm sorry. I just-- I've been working through some things. Feelings. You didn't deserve the way I'd been treating you."

I hated that confrontation made me overly emotional. I tried to swallow down the sudden lump in my throat. That's the thing-- maybe I did deserve it.

I wanted to say something, speak up for myself, maybe yell at him for giving me such a goddamn headache. But the lump in my throat kept me painstakingly silent.

“…Daphne?” Shane asked very quietly. It was barely a murmur, but my trained ears caught it.

I cleared my throat and whispered, “okay.” Outrageously angry at myself for not finding the strength to give him a piece of my mind.

It was silent for a few long moments.

“I’ll..." He cleared his throat and puffed out his chest a bit. "I'll take the night shift. You go get some rest. You’ve had a long day, Lara Croft,” he tried to joke awkwardly. I didn't laugh, so conflicted on my feelings for him.

On one hand, he’s the man who has been with me since before the fall and even through it. We’ve been forced to fight and survive together. Fight for each other. Other than Glenn, he’s the only friend I’ve got.

But god we fucked it up so bad last night. I fucked it up. I could sense his apology was sincere and life was too goddamn short to hold onto grudges.

And my back was starting to kill me after getting smacked around by Glenn's stolen car.

“Thanks,” I whispered, accepting his offer and hopping off the jeep. I looked at his fluffy brown hair and his eyes that were suddenly much lighter than they had been in all day, despite the darkness of the night.

The anger was still there, simmering and bubbling in the pits of my stomach, but with one deep sigh, I spun on my heel and made my way to Glenn and my tent, deciding to just deal with it tomorrow--

A whisper traveled across the path.

"For what it's worth, it's always been you."

I froze, straining my ears to convince myself I hadn't just made it up.

"I don't wanna fight. But it's your call. Daphne, I need you... and-and I'll take you however I can have you, Ayala."

An even larger lump formed in the base of my throat. My lungs burned furiously and I realized I'd been holding my breath all this time. I willed myself to respond.

"I need..."

What did I need?

I frowned in confusion. My heart was telling me one thing, but my brain was convincing me of another. There's no reason to deny myself this attention, this man who has clearly pined after me for so long. And because of my silly crush on Rick Grimes, I'd never given him the time of day.

Now Rick's back and I have to co-exist with his family.

I turned my head to glance at him over my shoulder. He was standing by the jeep still, a hand on his holster and another scratching at his scruff.

Maybe... I should've given Shane Walsh a chance so long before the world went to absolute shit.

Maybe... maybe I can give him a chance now.

My stomach turned with the possibility of just allowing myself to be loved. But my anger very much still brewed silently.

"I need time," I said honestly. I forced a small smile. Not a yes, but certainly not a no.

A puff of air left his lips, I heard it even from this distance away.. It was full of a flattering sort of relief and I found myself shocked that my ears began to tinge with heat.

Spinning away before he could say anything else to fluster or anger me further, I rushed back to my tent, that tight lipped smile slipping into an easier one.

The next morning, I woke up earlier than I expected, my anxiety at an all time high.

Glenn was still snoring on his side of the tent, flat on his back and his mouth hanging open just a little.

I took the opportunity to change into a fresh set of clothes and brush my teeth quickly before trekking into a part of the woods I'd discovered a week ago. It wasn't too far, a few minutes into the trees, but far enough to be able to take a breath of air without someone lurking about.

The trek had a greater purpose though; within its bushes, a patch of blueberries grew untouched. I'd been going back to check on it every morning and now, I was hoping it was ready enough for picking. The thought of surprisingly Carol and Sophia with some jam put a little pep in my step.

So I began my slow search, carefully inspecting each berry to make sure they were edible.

My peace was interrupted sooner than I expected. There was a major scuffling within the trees and my heart leaped to my throat, freezing in place as I tried to calculate who it was coming from and where.

I was hunched over, ready to leap and attack a walker if need be. The footsteps got louder and I steadied the grip on my weapon.

"Merle was a danger to us all," I heard Shane's voice travel across the trees. My heart jumped to my throat. I'd been avoiding the thought of him since I woke up.

"You don't know what you're talking about," grumbled the voice of Daryl Dixon. Through the low bush, I saw a group of three approaching.

I held my breath, surprised Daryl hadn't throttled Rick already.

"What I did was not on a whim," said Rick. "Merle does not work and play well with others."

“He’s my brother,” Daryl insisted, more angry than I had ever seen him. Maybe, he did throttle him. Shane must've pulled him off because there was red marks from a struggle on his neck.

My cheeks burned, my heart stupidly fluttering just because I'd finally come to terms with allowing myself to feel something for him. I realized a tiny smile started spreading across my cheeks and quickly shut that shit down. I glared at the ground to gather my bearings.

Now was not the time for girly high school shit.

Shane shook his head. “I understand that this is difficult but—“

“No, you don’t understand. Y’all don’t have a brother here!” Daryl threw his hand up and began to storm away.

“I do, Daryl. I do.” Rick said. Daryl turned around with a sneer, and Rick glanced back at Shane fondly.

I became confused when Shane’s face twisted into an uncomfortable expression, more of a grimace than a brotherly smile, a tense nod given to Rick in return.

Daryl scoffed.

“Oh really? Does a brother fuck your wife?”

OHHHH SHITTTTT. unedited as fuck btw

next chapter >

[mygloviesme]

cool about it. || myg

no. 16: met you at the dive bar

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: kanako is an established idol with a growing career and a secret relationship with a producer from her label, haneul. when she’s asked to work with yoongi and rm to create a track for her, she gains unexpected feelings for a certain upcoming rapper. with her increasing fame, her controlling boyfriend, a set of six boys who seem to have grown an attachment to her, and a new boy who’d give her the world, how will she figure out a way to balance it all?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 4.4k

genre: ANGST, friends(?) to lovers, slow burn, fluff

chapter warnings: toxic relationship (not w/myg), mentions of mental health, literally half of this is smut holy shit, oral (m receiving & f receiving), bit of dirty talk, whats happening team

inspo song: stay away (its like that) by tv girl just for vibes

MARCH 30TH, 2012, 12:02AM

I spent a quick ten minutes to throw on whatever In my closet I felt suitest a club best. Everything about it is short and cropped and for some reason I thought that’s what it was meant to be. At eighteen I only knew what I saw in movies, so clearly that’s saying something. 

I take a quick look at myself in my dorm room mirror, analyzing my black skirt and white top. I don’t think I’ve ever shown this much skin, not even on stage. And they have a tendency of putting me in the tightest, tiniest fitting clothes you’ve ever seen. But I feel like a woman with the way the skirt sticks to my hips like a second layer of skin. Or the way my hair hangs down my back so freely, since I have it in a ponytail most of the time. Convenience isn’t a necessity right now though. I just want to feel…sexy?

I cringe at my thoughts and zip up my black boots I don’t remember getting, putting on one more layer of lip gloss as I step outside to the dorm across from me. I take a steep breath before I open the door, seeing a usual sight. 

No one looks at me for a second, not one eye on me. It reassures me that maybe I’m not making as much of a statement as I thought I was. It isn’t until Yoongi exits from the bathroom, a snapback on his head with a loose black shirt that definitely makes me feel things, that someone looks at me. He isn’t one to make many facial expressions, but this time all he does is smile.

 “You look…”

“Holy shit.” Jimin interrupts him. 

I purse my lips in a thin line, “Yeah, yeah okay. I know I look like a girl for the first time and all that.”

“I think we all knew you were a girl.” Namjoon snickers. 

Yoongi gives Namjoon a punch on his shoulder, whispering a ‘what’s wrong with you’ under his breath. The tall boy apologizes but I’m too distracted by the way Yoongi’s shirt outlines his shoulders. There’s something in the air, and with the way this day started it’s a little more than unexpected. Maybe I’m feeling a little too free. 

Seokjin coughs, “Alright guys enough of this, let’s go.”

I look around curiously but quickly, knowing I’ll probably need a jacket. I could always go back to my room but I think Seokjin is about to snap with anger if I keep him here another second. His eyes were just fluttering closed a minute, so that tells me he needs a drink or two in his system.

MARCH 30TH, 2012, 12:49AM

It took us a little longer than it should’ve to end up at the club we were going to be at. There was a lot of sneaking around the building quietly, going to the subway quietly, and finally starting our travels. We finally hit where the club was in a seemingly suspicious area. It had stairs leading down to an entrance where a bouncer was, Hoseok telling him we were with Dae. 

The bouncer looked at a young Jungkook for a second too long and we were sure this night was going to come to an end. Instead, he sighed and let us in. I still don’t know if that was a good thing or not. 

The music is quick to blare into our ears. The muffling became louder and louder until we stood in front of one more door, opening it to reveal a crowded room. A large room. In fact, I was sure everyone in South Korea was here. I turn to yell into Hoseok's ear, trying to fight against the buzzing that’s starting in my ears due to the club noises. “You sure I won’t be recognized?” I ask him, he shakes his head. “You’re alright. Dae said this place was super underground. Only people who don’t want to be seen come here.” Another uncertainty of whether that’s a good thing or not. 

I breathe, in and out. Shutting down whatever feelings I might have in this moment. Because right now it’s just us. This is such a stupid and idiotic idea and I’d only be wanting to do it with them. I turn to Yoongi, smiling ear to ear, “You wanna get a drink?” I shout. He nods, eyeing the bar that’s not too far from where we stood. 

I look at Jimin who looks at me, and I nod to Jungkook. An action that orders him to keep an eye on the young one. Not an ask, an order. He takes Jungkook by the hand to the dance floor energetically until they’re almost out of sight. I leap to grip on Jimin’s arm, “Stay close.” I add. 

He rolls his eyes, “Kanako, I promise.” Finally, they disappear into the crowd of sweaty people. There’s already loads of men who look at me intently, but I take that as a hint to stick as close to Yoongi as possible. Taehyung goes to the dance floor with other young ones while the older boys follow us to the bar. 

I lean onto the bar counter, noticing there’s no menu. I look around to see if I can see anyone else’s drinks that might look appealing, but under these lights they all look the same. Speaking of, all these people look much older than us. These are women and men, with a sprinkle of a few people in their early twenties. They all look like they know what their doing which makes me eager to do so as well. I can’t hide my inexperience with how hard I try, though. 

“Whiskey, neat.” Yoongi says to the female bartender. She looks at me until the eldest with their answers. It gives me time to think on my own but I have yet to come up with anything during the few seconds. 

The bartender laughs as she sees my confused face, “Don’t worry angel, I know what you need.” She says before going off to start on our drinks. It made my stomach flutter for some reason, with embarrassment or flattery I don’t know. All I know is that my chest is bubbling with excitement either way. I want this to be awkward, embarrassing, what have you. I want this to be a night to remember, and I’m sure it will be. I see a young woman walk towards the bar as well, an empty glass in her hand. She has a tight little black dress on and is clearly a little buzzed. She stumbles onto the chair next to me, tilting her head towards me like a cat to a mouse. 

“You’re Kanako, right? Kanako Fujishima.” She asks/shouts. No one has referred to me that way in a long time. The way where they recognize you for your face on TV, or in this case, the girl who exploited herself to the top. I almost turn to Yoongi for help but instead I nod and smile. 

“Yeah, I am.” I say like the famous idol in me would. She’s there, living and breathing underneath my soul. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get her back, but I’ll just pretend for now. 

She hums, looking me up and down. “Real fucked up what happened.” She speaks bluntly. 

My ears do a double-take to check if that’s what she really said, and with the expression on her face I’m sure it is. I’m about to answer until the bartender hands us our drinks, me being last. I can’t tell what color it is but it’s fizzy and waiting for a sip, so I do. 

“Oh, fuck!” I make a sour face. The woman next to me laughs harder than one usually would, “Is that your first sprite vodka?” She asks. 

I swallow while nodding, “I guess so. It’s gross.”

She pats me on the back and the bartender hands her a new drink. She takes it happily, giving it a sip and hopping off the stool. Before leaving she turns to me, her mouth fiddling with the mini black straw in her cup. 

“Next drink is on me, ‘kay?”

MARCH 30TH, 2012, 1:42AM

We’ve all huddled on the dance floor together. We’ve only been dancing for thirty minutes and I’m still sweating like none other. They’re blasting early 2000’s music over and over again, but it’s good to lose yourself in. 

Yoongi’s gotten more comfortable with putting his hands on me, and I think it’s the drinks. His fingers slide down my thighs from behind like he knows what he’s doing, and he’s almost got me convinced if it were for the fact that I know he’s never done this before. I slide my butt around the bulge of his denim jeans, knowing how much he’ll like that. 

Namjoon is a sight to see in the best way possible. He’s dancing with some girl he told me has a ‘piercing in a place she won’t tell me, fuck’ and that’s being repeated verbatim. Clearly the drinks are going to mostly everyone’s head, a hot and messy Seokjin dancing playfully with Hoseok. Then, there’s the three troublemakers who somehow always make a very elaborate dance

despite the music switching every three minutes. Jungkook is having fun too even with being sober. I see his cheeks getting redder by the minute with how hard he’s laughing with every dance move Jimin pulls. Every once in a while I do ward off women who try to dance with him, stopping the grinding me and Yoongi are doing to put them in their place. But besides that, everything is more than amazing. 

And the night is barely starting. 

I focus back on dancing with Yoongi, intoxicated by the vodka that’s still burning my throat and his fingers that’re surely on the prowl. His long, veiny ones that I catch myself staring at for minutes too long on normal days. Whenever he plays piano and he caresses the keys like he’s trying not to hurt them, I think I lose it little by little. 

I flip my body around and wrap my arms around his neck, swaying side to side. He adapts to our new position and fixes his hands so they’re resting on the slope of my hips instead. He bites his lip and I see a glimmer of danger in his almond eyes, making my head dip into his neck to give him a soft kiss. I can hear the echo of a groan from him as I perk my head back up to where it was. “I’m so in love with you.” He closens the space between our faces to say. 

My eyes soften, “I’m so in love with you too,” I pause. “And I think I want to go down on you right now.”

“Right now??”

“Right now, but somewhere else. Obviously.” I respond to him, his mouth widened. 

I take his hand and make a quick trip to Jungkook, leaning into his ear. “We’re gonna be back, don’t go anywhere.” I say to him and he nods. He’s distracted by a flailing Jimin but I trust that he understood me since he was as sober as sober can be. Plus he’s great at following orders most of the time, especially when it comes to me. He knows not to make me upset. Or else. 

Yoongi follows my uncertain lead, pushing through the crowd to find an empty space. The density of the horde of people feels more endless than ever due to my tipsiness. I get quick glances from women I unintentionally pushed to the side but my mission is far more important to care. I need Yoongi right now and it’s almost killing me. We eventually meet the end of the dance floor and I use that to my advantage, walking down a long hallway. 

“Kanako I think I’d be more scared of this hallway if I was sober.” Yoongi confesses. 

I ignore his comment for a moment as my eyes roam the empty passageway until seeing a door with the outline of a woman on it. I let go of Yoongi’s hand to open it, seeing it’s a one-person bathroom. Perfect, I think to myself. I whip my head to him and grab his shirt to drag him inside, quickly locking the door so no one enters. I’m not sure how long this will take but I don’t mind annoying all the woman who’ll probably have to pop a squat outside. 

Yoongi takes my face with both hands, pressing me against the cement wall. His mouth is fast and aggressive but it’s exactly how I wanted it to be. It’s so messy the way his tongue moves around my mouth, causing my breath to shorten by the second. We’re swapping saliva with hunger and I think I can taste the whiskey that lingers on his taste buds. 

His hair is almost screaming at me to be touched so I run my hands through it, revealing the forehead I don’t see enough. His breaths, his hair, even the way his body feels against mine fully clothed, has me feeling something I’ve only known since I met him. Needy. 

I sense the inside of my underwear getting slippery with my own wetness and I’m getting impatient for the warmth to be relieved. A finger swiping my clit would suffice, or even a knee jammed between my legs. I’d take anything. But this moment was supposed to be about him first, so my hands travel down to the zipper of his pants. 

“Kanako,” Yoongi pulls a part from my breathlessly, his lips shiny from us making out, “I’ve never done this before, I just thought you should know that.” He breathes. 

I lick my lips and stare at him deliriously, “Do you want me to be your first?”

“More than anything.” 

I kiss him and smile simultaneously, nipping at his bottom lip before moving down to his jaw. I plant wet pecks around the curvature of his face, feeling his sharp jaw-bone underneath my kisses. I lick down his throat and suck on the space between there and his collarbone, making sure to leave a mark. I’m definitely not in the right headspace to think that one through, but I guess I’ll be the one to introduce him to concealer instead of his future makeup artist. 

I like the idea of being the first to take him in my mouth, the idea that I know me being his first would make a great fantasy for him later. Not to toot my own horn. 

My kisses end where his shirt starts, so I slide my body down the cement wall and sit on my knees below him. He scoots over just a bit to give me enough space, his hands on my head like he’s petting me. Which is way more sexier than it sounds. My fingers roam his thighs before finally unbuttoning his dark-washed jeans, gliding the metal zipper to expose his boxers. 

They’re different from the day before we left for Jeju, they’re tighter. They hug his bulge nicely, creating an image in my head that will soon reveal itself. I climb myself just an inch to kiss down his happy trail. I want to extend this time as much as I possibly can, I want to make his first as pleasurable as possible. Despite it being in this janky bathroom. I know the certain situation is unfortunate. 

I lick down to the band of his boxers, gripping my fingers so they tug on them slowly. I bring them down torturously slow, but I can’t help but make a show of it. He’s gorgeous, skin and all. I reach towards his dick eventually, sliding down until it bounces to the surface. I curl my fingers around the girth of him, flattening my tongue so I graze his dick slowly. I can hear his breath hitch, his body shake. His hands don’t know where to go so I switch my gaze to him, “You can move my head if you want. I like that.” I smile. The sight of me grinning with his dick in my hand only makes him shiver, nodding and closing his eyes as his fingers find their way to my hair. 

He swallows as I go back to licking the head of his cock, swirling my tongue on the underside to encourage him to thrust into my mouth. He follows my que and moves his lower body slowly. When he gets to a comfortable pace I wrap my lips around him, fully enveloping him. I close my eyes and hold onto his thighs to help me inch towards the end of his dick. I intend to take as much of his length in as I can, not knowing if it’ll happen. But honestly I’m so fucked up by his quiet whimpers that I think I’ll do anything to him right now. 

His eyes furrow as he lets out tiny moans, “Y-You look so…pretty..” He whines. I press my thighs together as the intensity of my need grows. Hearing him so lost and dazed with his cock in my mouth makes my saliva increase, dripping down my chin and onto my hand that slides up and down his length. “Pretty Kanako..”

The only way he talks dirty is by praising me, complimenting me. He’s never one to call me degrading names, he wants me to know how good I make him feel. He’s definitely subby in bed. I think I might even make him cry if I go over his breaking point. 

“B-Baby, I’m…” He whispers, only focused on my sloppy tongue that’s sucking him down. 

I hum against his wet dick and feel his hands drag my mouth up and down his length, taking control. He starts to fully mouth-fuck me fast and yet so gently, moving his hips so my nose inches ever so closely to his happy trail. His legs shake and his knees buck, throwing his head back to whimper my name over and over and over again. 

Kanako, fuck, shit, Jesus Christ baby. I’m, I’m…

He continues using my mouth to please himself, the fluids from it foggy and thick due the precum that had been building up. It isn’t long until he pauses and his grip loosens. He’s too close to use me, so I grab his dick and stroke it swiftly. He sucks in his teeth before slamming his hand on the cement wall, pressing his forehead against it. He lets out a long moan and a familiar string of white shoots onto my chest. It doesn’t stop me from running my thumb under the head of his dick to make sure he gets the most from his orgasm. He moans, ‘ah…’ and shuts his eyes closed to feel the pleasure overriding him fully. 

His chest slows down and he holds himself up as I adjust his boxers back in place, knowing he’s too hazy in the head to be able to do anything right now. It makes me smile just a bit and he opens his eyes once again, blinking at me who still sits on my knees. 

“Come here.” He whispers, moving his position. I stand up with shaky knees due to sitting for so long. He holds me in his arms and breathes into my neck, burying his face. This wholesome, warm moment soon turns deadly as he moves his hand underneath my skirt. 

“Yoongi, you don’t have to-”

“Shh.”

He’s the one to crouch down this time, caressing my thighs. The tips of fingers meet with the heat between my legs. It’s so obvious that I’m dripping with an immense amount of slick for him. It’s heated and his fingers only get closer. “Your turn.” He whispers. 

He drags my underwear down my legs until they pool around my ankles. He lifts my skirt so it bundles around my stomach, my lower half being on full display for his hungry eyes. He kisses both thighs, his mouth disappearing as it travels to my closed lips. He places pecks on my pussy until using his tongue to spread me open. He licks a line up to my clit, giving it a soft suck. 

“Oh s-shit.”

“My Kanako loves using her dirty words for me, hm?” 

Oh shit. 

I completely fold under his mouth blanketing my sopping cunt, lapping up my slick. His tongue maneuvers around so easily on account of how wet I’d gotten while sucking him off. His head bobs underneath me making my hips move slightly. It’s like the roles were completely reversed, him now being the one used. But it isn’t necessarily like we hadn’t ever done this before, for some reason Yoongi likes me being on top of him. I’ll never know what it is but I like seeing him completely lost in me. 

“I’msofuckingobsessedwithyou.” He hums into my pussy, making me gasp loudly. Whenever he talks it feels like a vibrator is being pressed against my swollen clit, but I think it’d feel like that even if he wasn’t eating me out. I press myself into his mouth further, needing more aggression with his licks. 

He starts sucking on me once again, pulling my clit softly with his lips. All I can see are his pretty brown eyes closed, once in a while opening them to make precious eye contact with me. His hands find their way to my ass and he strokes me gently, giving me a squeeze whenever he hits the same spot that makes me moan. “Yoongi…more…” I cry. We compliment each other so nicely with the way we’re so utterly needy for each other. After tonight I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of him. 

He flattens his tongue and encourages my movements, so I ride his face just like before. I hold his head in place as I move on his tongue feeling every crease, every crevice of that tongue that I can. I lock myself onto a certain spot on my clit that I know will make me release, rapidly grinding my cunt against his tongue. “Y-Yoongi….oh my god-” I whine. This pleasure is unmeasurable to anything I’d experienced before. I didn’t know intimacy could feel this good until him. 

My legs shake and I’m overcome with an overwhelming rush all around my body, pursing my lips in a tight line to hold in my cries. My mouth eventually opens in a big breath to make out a loud whimper, screaming his name like it’s the only word I know. 

He doesn’t stop his tongue until a few seconds after, until I’m flinching with every suck to my sensitive clit that he makes. My eyes flutter and my chest moves up-and-down with every bit of oxygen I’m trying to hold onto. Yoongi does as I did, lifting up my soaked underwear back on me and sliding down my skirt. He places pecks on my exposed stomach that leads to my face, giving me a warm, deep kiss that catches me off guard. 

I hold his face lazily as I’m still trying to gain back consciousness. 

“That was crazy.” I breathe out which makes him laugh rather tenderly.

“It was good?” He asks genuinely. 

I look at him with a bewildered expression, “Are you kidding? It was…the best I’ve ever had.” I say. He gives me one of his signature gummy-smiles in the midst of this hot and thick bathroom. The air is undoubtedly coated with sex but I’ll leave that for the next person to deal with. 

Although Yoongi was never even inside of me, penetrating me, it’s still the most intimate experience I’ve ever had. It was full of love and care, and filth of course. But it was ours, most importantly. Not just his. And that meant the world to me and more. He took the time to make sure my needs were met as much as his. 

And it was his first time receiving oral. I was his first. Me. Me. Me. Me.

“I’m the luckiest girl alive.” I reciprocate his smile, running a hand through his damp hair. 

MARCH 30TH, 2012, 3:01AM

Me and Yoongi gather ourselves to exit the bathroom. I fix my hair quickly as he buttons his pants back up. Something about seeing him so giddy makes my stomach rumble with butterflies. And probably hunger. I’m so excited to go back to our dorm and inhale the rest of that bread. 

I meet Yoongi at the door and as his hand grips onto the handle he turns to me, “Kanako, before we get out there, while we’ve sobered up. I want to ask you something.” He speaks with obvious anxiety. Because of the suddenness of his serious tone, I too get a worrying ping in my chest. He looks down as he asks. 

“Can I be your boyfriend?” He whispers. 

I lean down to where his face is, showing him my confusion. I know our unlabeled status must’ve made him think to himself sometimes, but the face he has right now made me realize I’ve let this uncertainty linger for too long. I never wanted to do this to him, but I also didn’t want to do it to myself. But this feels like the perfect time, the most hopeful time. 

I stare at him, “Yoongi, you’re more than a boyfriend to me-”

“Kanako, please-”

“No, listen.” I insist, “You’re my…soulmate. I love you. Of course you’re my boyfriend, Yoongi. You’ve always been, I think. But I didn’t have the strength to say it at the time. I want you forever.” I assure him softly. His eyes meet with mine in a slow motion, observing me. I need him to feel my sincerity, my honesty. 

“Kanako-” 

Bang. A loud bang hits the door, frightening both of us. I jolt back and look at Yoongi who shares the same muddled visage. One more, two, and three more bangs until Yoongi swings it open angrily. I can only see half of who’s on the other side, and it looks to be the same woman I was sitting with earlier. 

I walk over to Yoongi who is standing there with nothing to say. He just stares. There’s another person, someone taller than the woman. Someone with the same cologne. That Calvin Klein one that haunts me still. The same hands that I remember holding my waist, my face, everything. 

And just like that, everything comes crashing down. 

“Haneul?”

click here to read more of this story!

[biskael]

What's something your muse struggles with in relationships?

... so much . quilge is not a very social person . he actively isolates himself a lot . of course , he does like being alone . he is so used to being this dominant , intense figure of authority . he also kills his own men ; he doesn't see anything wrong with killing someone he deems , in his eyes , a "weakling" or a "coward." he barely respects them . his other sternritter fare better , but there are certainly numbers of comrades he outwardly doesn't like . he looks down on a lot of his other quincy comrades . he's pompous and smug . he doesn't LIKE a large number of people ( namely , if i were to write with other characters from canon , there's not many people who he would legitimately like as friends TBH ? if that makes sense ) , no matter who they are . quilge is such a hater . that's a big part of his problems , i think . he's obsessed with strength and running things his way . it's why he's a prison warden , tbh .

he rarely maintains friendships . he killed his family , as per a consensual hunting ritual . everyone is mostly at arms-length from him . if he isn't in his awful hell-dungeon of pain ( which is underground ) , he's outside somewhere hunting or skinning something or snapping its bones or running a hook through its body or carving its meat up to prepare to eat ... or he could be going over his weapons armory ! he loves to collect weapons . he likes sharp things that kill people .

various outliers to anti-social tendencies , of course , are as follows : @guadanya ( his lover & husband ) , @za-baransu ( his grandmaster & brother figure ) , @lichtreich ( his majesty and father figure ) , @zombiigrl ( his adopted baby sister ) , @phobiael ( fellow sternritter and weirdo ) , @deathleads ( his bestie & just someone who connects with more than the usual person ) , @fractise ( another friend & someone whos work he finds fascinating ) , frederik ( whos URL i forgot </3 , but he's his soldat ! ) & @soldatworships ( his other favorite soldat ) . special mentions go to @cinghialefedele , who quilge sort of looks out for as nnoi's little guy , and even ... @fenixias , though their relationship is ... VERY TENUOUS , dangerous and not based on trust . they have a rather complex and layered relation , but quilge regularly talks to her . i MIGHT have forgotten some people , but MOST of the other people i can't name off of the top of my head , he doesn't outwardly like . tbh . full on , he is just a fucking jerk ( i'm sorry if i forgot someone , truly BNJKFEAJKNRHERSFDK ) .

highlights of his relationships included ... quilge experiencing actual , legitimate romantic love with nnoitra , someone who was supposed to be his enemy , the antithesis of his kind . they did always try to kill each other numerous times , of course , before nnoitra was captured . hell , even after he was captured , nnoi kept on trying to eat him alive . another interesting moment is when quilge tried to kill yhwach when they first met . he had flown into such a massive bloodlust , an intense battle high , that he couldn't be brought back down . one tiny detail i hold dear is quilge and gigi exchanging gifts . he still uses his mace that she gave him for christmas !

incoming quilnoi section :

although , in terms of his main romantic / sexual relationship with nnoitra , therein is arguably the most intense dynamic . they've been through a lot , both apart and together ; it would take a severing to really pry themselves off of one another . but , as many of us know , their relationship isn't the most healthy or balanced ( ex. they can argue and that usually winds up with SOMEONE being tossed through several walls . quilge is obsessed & very possessive with nnoitra , he would kill his own men just to be with him . . nnoitra is also possessive , willing to kill people for looking at quilge for juuuuust a bit too long ... among other examples . ) , even if they do love each other . even if they find solace and relate to one another . and i don't really think it could ever be sunshine & butterflies . they're both extremely bloodthirsty & insane evil men , with bouts of gentleness & understanding , learning between themselves , navigating their unorthodox relationship . but they certainly have their moments .

quilge is just ... sort of this NIGHTMARE of a man to deal with , though , in all honesty . he holds intense anti-social aspects , and prefers to be on his own , or in the command of others . he lacks respect , or just outright ignores it . if he isn't belittling you , he's probably THINKING about it , if not thinking about committing murder . he doesn't relate to others well , and has worked in / spent time in some of the most dire , disgusting situations . he would rather skin and bone an animal than talk to some people , and that's absolutely a quilge problem .

[fourseasonsfigs]

Happy Childhood - Second Party

Following up yesterday's First Party is today's pair of little toddlers! I'm totally in love with every kid incarnation of these two, PLUS I have to admit I adore Junjun's little stuffed giraffe. That is also charming in every incarnation!

We've definitely seen Junjun's kid outfit before, it's his classic one that's so cute!

However, I don't think we've seen this adorable set of pajamas in fig form yet! Too sweet, Mama Zhang. You did great dressing this little cutie!

Ahhh I love it.

Junjun came all snugged up in his little polystyrene box, together with his rattle drum and a bonus little tangerine! Thank you, JZP fig maker ❤️

When they're this cute even in a box with a layer of plastic, you know they're gonna be adorable.

Here's Junjun out of the box, looking blurry since the camera decided to (totally on it's own, nothing to do with me!) focus on the rattle drum instead of his hand. But we're going to get lots of closeups in three...two...

...one! SUPER cute! Did you just 'awwww'? I sure did.

Yep, they did go right on standees. Like many toddlers, these had the alarming tendency to topple over.

Junjun's little drum fits perfectly and easily into his little hand, no wiggling or wobbling required!

The little flower print on Zhehan's pajamas is really sweet.

Ahhhh we get to see the little giraffe face! If some doll maker ever makes a baby Jun-er outfit with a plush giraffe toy I will hit the buy button IMMEDIATELY.

More of the little giraffe. I love it! I wonder what Junjun named it.

I see the fig maker kept their relative proportions even in kid form. JZP fig makers are the best, they endlessly amuse me! It makes sense they are the same height here since Zhehan is a bit older.

CUTE. Cute cute cute! I can't even take it!

And we're back around to the front! I swapped their places so I could justify another front pic of the two. Zhehan's little pajama set is ADORABLE. Look at that puppy face!

They each have each other's birthday's on their feet. Just too good.

Zhehan's little clapping hands are, uh (desperately tries to find a word that isn't 'cute' and that I haven't used before) really great! They match the picture.

This fig photographer is everything I dream of being.

Material: Resin

Fig Count: 320

Scene Count: 23

Rating: CUUUUUUUUTE (I just have to get it all out!)

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

[electricbluebutterflies]

C'mere for Joel/Tess?

This wasn't supposed to turn to smut but these babes do what they want. NSFWish and also on ao3.

As compared to other stages of her core dynamic, domestication comes relatively easy to Tess.

She’s had roommates before – Before being the operative word, her lone-wolf tendencies a side effect of global events and fiercely protected in the years since – and before that she had brothers, and she’s used to being the closest thing a space has to a feminine presence. Not that she’s domestic, not that she has high standards for cleaning or that waitressing on-and-off so many years actually taught her anything about food, but-

Having another body to curl up around is ideal. Doesn’t mean she has any idea how they function when they’re both awake and not trying to wreck each other.

The specific issue is physicality, the uncertainty of what level of casual touch is mutually acceptable. Perhaps more functional people would actually discuss this; Tess, who has never seen the point in a Relationship Negotiation over anything less than the specific circumstances under which she’d tolerate a little choking during sex, does not. Instead she holds back, inches so slowly into developing that side, so slowly she barely does anything and-

“C’mere.”

It’s late-but-not-too-late, her back against the wall but not for fun reasons, her partner taking up space on the couch. How to use moments of free time is always a challenge; neither of them are naturally talkative people, part of the mutual appeal, and Tess’s sex life has never been so good just because there’s nothing else to do and-

“Motivate me.”

“There’s space. You fit right.”

She laughs, low and unimpressed. “You even looking at me? I fit a lot of places.”

“But here is convenient.”

She’ll give him that, she decides at the same time she accepts that the evening is headed the usual direction. A few months since their paths crossed, just enough time that she’s lost count, she doesn’t keep anniversaries and time itself doesn’t seem real in her world anymore and-

“What’s in it for me?”

“What seems fair to you?”

She moves forward, trying to swing her barely existent hips a little, what feels like her worst impulses becoming dominant. “No point touching you if I’m not on top of you,” she murmurs, only half meaning it, only-

“Good part of why I like you. You don’t hide what you want.”

She holds back a shiver, holds back the anger of yet another man who appreciates that she’s such an easy lay because she knows she isn’t just that here. Joel is… not the most perceptive person she’s ever met, she’ll admit that in the darker parts of her mind, but the thing is he knows that too and it’s become perfectly clear how they complete each other, compatible strengths and weaknesses and they’re so damn perfect and-

He's gonna make her soft. She’d hate him for it if he weren’t so pretty.

This doesn’t feel like a good moment to discuss emotions, however, and instead she sets herself down on the couch and excuse her that is not enough space for her ass and-

“You want me too?” she asks, always careful when she has control.

“Yeah. If you’re alright leading.”

She’s learning that too, she thinks as she takes a soft kiss and a deeper one, as she resists the instinct to straddle him already because too many layers between them. She feels that comfortable warmth building up where she wants it, how casual she’s always been with her body and how it’s just slightly different with a partner she may be falling a little bit in love with and-

Her hands wander, and it’s always such a delight to feel physical proof that someone wants her, a cock twitching under her fingers as kisses get a little more breathless, this is hers this is hers this is-

“You need anything?” he murmurs against her jaw, and the fact that he’s still able to ask that question right now is as much proof as possible that he’s never getting rid of her.

“Find out for yourself,” she counters.

For that she gets pleasantly callused hands pushing her pants past her hips, fingertips teasing every bit of proximal skin before drifting where she wants them. She’s turned on enough to enjoy this, enough that she can take him, already her body adapting to her lover’s details, already-

“Get on me,” he breathes.

She does, losing a breath as her body adjusts, as she reminds herself that she wants this. Most of her past lovers have been smaller; most of them have also been less cooperative, so it balances out. When they’re like this, when she can do what she wants without any complications, she-

He gets a hand between them before she can even ask, two fingers putting adequate pressure on her clit, and oh this is not a bad way to kill time.

They’re already developing routines, first and most importantly in this, the important parts staying the same even as locations and positions change. Tess is still accepting her dominant streak, but she’s used to having to be more demanding, asking for things instead of trusting a lover to figure it out, instead of-

“This what you wanted?” she murmurs, amazed her voice even comes out.

“Further than I thought you’d take it. But not… you’re something else.”

There’s a compliment in there somewhere, she tries to convince herself, there’s something-

They have got to find ways to keep each other occupied that don’t involve pinning each other. Some other day.

Right now that doesn’t matter, right now he gets off first and triggers her, a little extra pressure where she needs it and how the hell is that an instinct when his body’s this compromised and how did she get this lucky and-

“You’re stuck with me,” she murmurs after, as they separate just enough and she decides she’s going to cling long enough to take a nap. “Can’t let me do that and then leave me, understand?”

Joel responds with a few kisses on the side of her face, and that feels like enough confirmation for her to drop the issue. They don’t do words. They’ll probably never do words. She gets what she needs anyways.

[xavier-elrose]

"Ah. So, you wish to see..."

I had come to the permanent bazaar that lived just outside the city walls. It certainly wasn't the case that anything could be found there, but exceptions were legitimately hard to come by. You just never knew what might turn up, if you looked.

There weren't that many elves, either in the bazaar or the city itself, but there were some, and if they sought something, it would likely be found here.

The elven merchant drew me back, into his shop. He was young, as the elves reckoned time- only a few centuries. Elves had a tendency to settle down as they aged. My guide was still young, still full of energy.

He traded in many things, but his focus was on art. I was hardly a connoisseur, but he seemed to know what he was doing. The outer layers of his shop were a bit on the kitschy side- the sort of stuff I'd go for, if I were shopping for art.

Deeper in were paintings that seemed more like they belonged on the walls of a castle, or perhaps in the court of a king. Art that demonstrated talent, passion, an appreciation for composition and the nuances of the world around us.

These were more expensive, but these, too, were passed by.

That was not, apparently, what elves sought in art.

The art for elven clients was deeper in the tent. Magical lights illuminated the interior, until we arrived at the inner sanctum.

This portion was not outlined in magically-supported cloth, the way the rest of the shop was. This was wood, intricately carved, intricately enchanted, far better at defending its contents than the average city wall. Light did not enter, and light did not leave, and I was blind for a moment as I entered.

Inside was art.

Strange art.

As though the greatest artists ever to live had decided that what they really wanted to make was a grotesque mockery of normalcy, the world seen through an impossible lens, hard to look at and impossible to look away from.

It belonged in no church, in no castle hallway. This was art that had decided it didn't want to be art any more, that it wanted to be a...a mollusc, or a misaligned axle, or the concept of cheese.

This was art that had decided that rules were for suckers.

I will admit, it wasn't quite to my taste. Strangely enthralling, but I prefer to have some idea of what I'm looking at, when I look at something.

Call me old-fashioned, but faces do not work that way.

I had hoped to be enlightened, but now I was simply more confused.

"Any chance you could explain what, exactly, I'm looking at, here?"

The merchant smiled.

"Novelty."

That was almost an explanation.

"As we age," the merchant continued after a pause, "we accumulate experiences. As we age, we begin to see, more and more, the threads of the world, the interconnectedness of all things, of all practices, of all ideas."

"It's a thrilling experience for short-lived races such as yours. But for elves...it's a march towards our eventual demise. We don't die of old age, you know. But as we grow older and older, less and less and less of what we experience is new. Less and less and less of the world grabs our attention. We retreat into meditation, and eventually we're simply folded back into the earth, no longer aware of anything, feeling only a numb desire for something to draw our attention."

"Novelty, for us, is life. Passion, strangeness, anything and everything so difficult to duplicate that there's a real chance that we haven't seen the like before."

"We accumulate riches in our lives, and spend them as we age, slowing our deaths with novelties fetched from the far corners of the world."

"That is what our economy is built on, in the end. Everything else is just window dressing for the other races. We need something to trade with them. They often do a remarkably good job at creating novelty, after all. Creativity gets harder as you age. You get stuck in your preferred modes of thinking."

"That's my job. And some day, when I am old and bored, I will buy curious trinkets from some youngster, and I will gladly part with my accumulated wealth, in exchange for even a moment of curiosity, a moment of life."

The Dwarven economy is based on mining and metalworking. The human economy is based on agriculture. Human economists have always wondered about the Elven economy, until they realized something: Their economy is simply slower, due to their much longer lifespans. Time to ask some elven merchants.

[shmisky]

I’ve mentioned this on Twitter, too, but the blessing of Tumblr is that I can freely yap about something without a character limit haunting my ass.

This is my attempt to answer some controversial questions about Ford’s personality, such as: was Ford, at any point of his life, truly a detached hero who prioritized the greater good of the universe? Would he have done the same for Stan, were their roles reserved (aka Reverse Portal AU)? And did he, despite his obvious suffering, choose the greater good over his brother when he agreed to erase Stan’s memories to destroy Bill?

Short answer: it’s complicated, but Ford is more unhinged about his loved ones than many people seem to think. No matter Ford’s choice in a Reverse Portal AU, Ford has always loved Stan just as much as Stan loved him.

Long answer:

One common misconception about Ford’s character—not only Ford, but many, many fictional characters I had the pleasure of considering blorbos—is that people take his facade at face value and judge him based off that. You’re falling for his bullshit. You’re looking at Ford and seeing exactly the man he wants you to see, instead of the man he is.

Ford demonstrated being hypocritical many, many times through the show, the comics, his journal, and even TBoB. I would go so far as to say it’s a Known Personality Trait of his. He chews Stan’s ass for being selfish, reckless, a criminal. Then proceeds to be: selfish and completely unaware of it, ten times more reckless, and a much more dangerous kind of criminal.

(No, I don’t believe even for a second that simply stealing pieces for a weapon was what made him a dangerous outlaw in multiple dimensions. Stan might be banned from most places in the United States; states inside a country inside a continent inside Earth inside the solar system inside our galaxy inside our dimension, theoretically. Now compare this with the fact Ford was banned from whole, often entirely magical, dimensions, and described as “armed and dangerous.”)

In a recent interview that I’ve just linked here, Alex commented that initially he couldn’t reconcile the idea of a Ford who was supposedly so responsible and preached responsibility left & right with the idea of a Ford who would keep an extremely dangerous and volatile object such as the infinity sided die inside a cheap plastic case. With Rob Renzetti’s help (co-author of J3 and the closest thing we have of an irl Ford), he came to understand that Ford can bring himself to do anything he can effectively rationalize.

That’s logical, says baby Ford in the comics, under the assumption the Sibling Brothers really were dead because, you know, he and his twin had killed them (to be fair, only Stan, but as I’ve talked before in another analysis, Ford had a tendency to think of himself as part of an unit with his brother; if Stan 1 was a killer, so was Stan 2), and completely indifferent to that fact. Or to the fact they would be stealing clothes of their corpses to impersonate them. (When you remove the layer of humor and comic relief, you notice how wild the lore of Gravity Falls is, hahah.) That was Ford as a child! But my crimes had a noble purpose, says old Ford in Journal 3, about being an intergalactic outlaw. But it was all in the name of science, says old Ford in the comics, also justifying his crimes. In the name of science, Ford? I thought you were stealing pieces to build a weapon and destroy Bill. You know, for the greater good of universe, not science...? A bit inconsistent with the excuses here, buddy.

(If you’re like me, you’re probably thinking of how much this can be used as ship fuel or as morally ambiguous!Ford fuel and I agree. Delicious implications.)

But alright, we have already established Ford as hypocritical. Now what? Would he have done the same for Stan or not?

You see, I actually have no doubt that Ford loved Stan just as much as Stan loved him, even at his worst. (I might make a post about that if anyone is interested.) The difference is that he was just very bad at loving Stan. I also have no doubt that Stan was, and still is—they’re alive in some sort of Sea Grunkles limbo in my mind, so excuse the present tense—way more important than the greater good for him. The real question is: would Ford, known zero emotional intelligence haver, possess the self-awareness necessary to recognize that deep truth about himself? Or would he attempt to repress his feelings for Stan to prioritize his noble mission?

The thing about Ford is that he’s insanely good at repressing, so we mustn’t underestimate him. I think this is left pretty clear when he attempted to teach Dipper to just not feel fear as if it were the easiest task in the world. Hilarious, but also worrying.

In the same interview I’ve just referenced, Alex said that Ford is not only distant from Stan or other people, Ford is distant from himself. And if he’s not honest with himself, if he ignores his own feelings, how can we expect him to make the “right” decision (that is, the decision that aligns with what his heart truly wants instead of a decision he’ll bitterly regret for the rest of his life) when it comes to Stan in this specific Reverse Portal scenario?

We can’t. But we can hope! TBoB made me lean towards the more charitable “he has at least a modicum of self-awareness” interpretation of him. He has, after all, not only admitted he missed Stan in a casual manner without need for a life & death situation looming over his head (using their secret bro code, but still), but also considered reaching out (to supposedly lecture Stan, but again, this is Ford we’re talking about, so of course that was just an excuse), before Bill changed his mind.

Imo, one thing that weighs a lot here is how dangerous he knows Bill to be, given that TBoB!Bill abused Ford even more horrifically than I had previously thought. An impossibly dangerous, sadistic, and unpredictable being—capital E Evil, and as such, a threat he is guaranteed to take seriously. TBoB seems to imply Ford thought Stan was doing just fine. (A shameless con artist who could be doing a thousand better things with his life, sure, but still, just fine.) There’s no way he could convince himself Stan would be fine, Stan would be alright, et cetera, if Stan ended up in Bill’s hands. Death is one of the tamest things Bill could inflict upon Stan, especially considering Stan is Ford’s beloved twin brother (yes, beloved, since Bill had access to Ford’s innermost thoughts and feelings, and was for some reason insanely jealous of Stan in TBoB), which brings us to another thing: the overwhelming and haunting guilt Ford would feel if something happened to Stan because of him.

Another thing I consider worthy of notice is how Ford’s first impulse whenever Stan is in any kind of danger in canon is to rescue him, naturally, thoughtlessly. In J3, he tells us about his dream of Stan being squeezed to death by a giant six-fingered hand and his attempt to run to help him; the fact his feet were somehow frozen in place was the climax of the nightmare. In the comics, he doesn’t hesitate to reunite everyone to go and save Stan, without complaining even once. The funniest thing is that the same can’t even be said about Stan! [gestures to Stan’s reactions to Ford being captured by Probabilitor the Annoying and Bill in Weirdmaggedon] Not that Stan have his reasons to be furious at Ford! He had, of course. But not my point here.

But perhaps you’re not convinced by that and you still think Ford wouldn’t have it in himself to save Stan. That’s a valid interpretation, too. What I love about Ford is that he is so complex and layered that sometimes you can’t answer questions about him with the same certainty you would other characters. At least one thing I’m sure of: if he chose not to save Stan, he would regret it. It’s simply not the kind of person he is. An AU in which Ford clowns and chooses the greater good could be a pool of delicious angst if you’re into that, especially if Stan somehow comes back and doesn’t forgive him. He would slowly, oh so slowly, come to realize he made the “wrong” (again, the one that didn’t align with his self) choice.

Now, the last point of this wall of text: Ford and the erasing of Stan’s memories. That one is quite simple to me. Ford erased Stan’s memories because he had literally no other choice. This is what Ford said to him, you guys: “He’ll be able to take over the galaxy and maybe even worse, but at least he might let the kids free.” And of course, the following, “We need to take his deal. It’s the only way he’ll agree to save you and the kids.” Before, Ford was referring to Bill’s immediate threat to the kids’ lives—Bill had, after all, ran after Dipper and Mabel with a terrifying threat of disassembling their molecules as their grunkles were forced to watch inside their cage, powerless to stop him. After mulling it over, Ford included Stan’s safety in the deal, too, now more certain than ever about his decision to sacrifice not only himself but, in his own words, “the galaxy” (and later, “the universe,” as he was pretending to be Stan) to perhaps save three (3) people.

Emphasis on the perhaps, here. Ford had literally no guarantee Bill would follow through with his words. Given Bill’s track record, it was way, way more likely that he wouldn’t. Bill is a liar and a manipulator through and through, one who takes great enjoyment in people’s suffering. Ford’s suffering, specifically, above all, since TBoB painted Bill as this toxic and possessive ex obsessed with his pet scientist. What were the chances? Even if Bill, through some miracle, did end up keeping his word, we saw Bill’s plans for Earth in his daydream fantasies: taking a bite off the planet, drawing a smiley face on its surface as millions died... What a guy, that Bill! If the Earth was wrecked beyond repair, where would Stan and the kids live? How would they survive among all the chaos and destruction of the literal apocalypse? With nightmarish creatures lurking in every corner? With what food, what water, what shelter? Answer: they likely wouldn’t. The probability of human survival would be abysmally low.

I think Ford knew this very well, deep down. And he was still willing to take the chance, because he was already despairing. Because it was the only visible way out for his family, no matter what happened to him. A fellow shipper once pointed out that it could be Ford’s Martyr Complex rearing its head again, but a) to choose the universe over three people is arguably the “nobler,” less selfish option that would better align with his view of himself as a classic, tragic hero, and b) to surrender to Bill, his archenemy whom he now hated, and admit defeat like that would be beyond humiliating. The blow to the image of himself he insisted on clinging to would be gigantic, and I don’t think the irony of his hypocrisy (of criticizing Stan for merely risking the planet for one person and then objectively and irreversibly selling the whole galaxy, or whole universe, for a small chance of saving three) would be lost on him.

It’s fascinating, too, that Bill didn’t think that was out of character for Ford to accept his absurd deal. Again, the one being who knew younger Ford’s innermost thoughts and feelings, but was unable to access old Ford’s mind, which leads us to the conclusion he very likely based his knowledge of old Ford off younger Ford. (I think this is important to point out due to the fact younger Ford would be the one dealing with the Reverse Portal AU situation.)

Stan, pretending to be him, says, “My only condition is that you let my brother and the kids go!” and Bill believes him easily. Just a word, “Fine,” and that’s it. No questions, no teasing, even though he was mocking the Stan twins for not being able to get along just a second before—he knew that no matter how much Ford bickered with Stan, his love for his twin ran much deeper than that. (Ford might not have liked Stan, for a while, but he still loved Stan. Two different things in this case.) It’s very telling that, although he turned everyone into tapestry, including Fiddleford, whom Ford also cared greatly about, he spared Stan and the kids and instead put the three of them in triangle jail. They had no usefulness for him, except their value to Ford.

I imagine that when Stan proposed the twin switch solution, he was the only light amid overwhelming darkness for a Ford who had already surrendered to despair and lost all hope. The water for a man dying of thirst. Not ironically, Ford must have seen a halo around his heroic, noble brother’s head. Finally, something that could work! Stan saves them all! From something that was Ford’s fault, at that! No wonder Ford worships him as the most selfless man he has ever met. The whole thing must have left a strong impression on him. Stan created a solution when there was none, and what a heartbreaking solution it was...

If he didn’t erase Stan’s memories to save the universe, the kids and Stan himself would likely meet their death anyway—a very, very literal, very permanent, kind of death, not just a metaphorical one.

My conclusion is: say what you want about Ford—he is egocentric, arrogant, hypocritical, entitled, and overall an asshole to almost every person who ever loved him—but this man did love his family, fiercely so, and in an intensity that was in no way inferior to Stan’s. He is just incapable of acting normal about it, the poor thing.