#i literally destroyed a whole plant and i feel bad

[jiminrings]

if-then

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 7k

glimpse: you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively.

alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset.

[ fluff, angst, painfully oblivious n dense alien koo, mutual pining (yes MUTUAL!!!!), the glaring concept of not being good n whole enough to deserve love (yikes but i Swear it gets better), mentions of injuries ]

notes: after being asked for literal years to write an alien au, it's finally here!!!! mwah thank u for patiently waiting :D

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s fond of appraising things.

He’s fond of assigning values to things that may or may not hold some bit of importance to his life, whether its value proves itself in the present or the future. Jungkook likes setting his literal ducks in a row, and the little inanimate yellow tokens that his brother brought back from Earth serve as a discreet (not really, though) reminder that he may have some hoarder tendencies.

Jungkook’s not really a hoarder-hoarder; it just happens that he likes keeping things, sometimes for no apparent reason at all.

He likes swiping the flashlights that the night guards use to stash in his own personal “emergency” (not that there’s ever been one, nor will there ever be) cabinet, just because he wants to be prepared for a natural catastrophe that won’t probably ever happen in his area. He’s already seen a couple of films that humans have made, and if ever comes a time that Planet Twell has a dinosaurian monster battle it out with a gigantic prehistoric ape, Jungkook’s proud to say that he has a couple flashlights for him and his brothers to use.

In addition, Jungkook likes picking flowers just before they go out of season. His eldest brother’s already cussed him out for it, but he’ll still do what he does best (?), if best means “preserving” the flowers by drowning them in water every ten minutes so they wouldn’t wilt and he’d still get to see them during off-peak days.

Prince Jungkook likes appraising things in his own definition and pace. They’re never categorized in his head for what they actually do, but for what kind of unexplainable fulfillment fills his chest whenever he thinks about the item.

The youngest prince of Twell didn’t like it when there was a commotion at the lily field and the citizens ran out to see what it was about, instead of eating their slices of cake with the fondant that he made out of scratch. Jungkook didn’t like the fondant either because there must be something insanely wrong with itself (or it’s just that he made it just as bad), but he didn’t like being alone either when finding out about the taste.

He didn’t like seeing the tiger lilies he planted himself squished underneath an unknown figure, who may or may not have fallen from the sky, judging by the way you’re wincing alone with no aircraft, no parachute, nor any other person with you.

Jungkook didn’t like seeing you, an alien, who’s just as confused with the entire ordeal. You can’t remember anything about how or why you’ve gotten here — all you know is your name and who you are, and unexpectedly so, the first prince who’s gotten to where you are isn’t so thrilled about the fact.

He’s fond of appraising things, and although he’s not extremely excited about you just as he had been when Yoongi brought home trinkets from him during his trip to Earth (including the very seeds for the tiger lilies you’ve destroyed), he’ll make do.

Jungkook will try and make you mean something, if not everything, to him.

.

.

.

Prince Jungkook has come to learn that you’re part human.

You’re neither fully his kind nor his type (or atleast that’s what he thinks so) and he doesn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know what to feel about only the slight panic that filled you knowing that it’s still unexplained of how or why you’re in Twell; even more, he doesn’t know what to feel that you’re neither scared nor intimidated by him.

You don’t know what to feel either when Jungkook, who’s only mildly shocked about your existence in general, delivers his first question to you and it’s not of the sort that you expected. He looks soft and round, unlike the hearsay about his kind that only amounts to half of you. He doesn’t look aloof and unaccepting at all — if anything, he looks at you like you’re the one who’s cruel instead of him.

Jungkook almost completely does not care about who you are or where you’re from, but what he cares about is if you have any trinkets with you that he could possibly have. Out of anything he could possibly solicit from you, he only asks for so little, no matter how odd.

“T-trinkets?” you squeak, brows raising in surprise. “I’m sorry, Prince Jungkook — y-you’re asking if I have trinkets so you could have them?”

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pursed and cheeks puffed out as he confirms your confusion. “It’s my birthday, and I want to have a trinket.”

“Oh,” you blink once, twice,  a small smile playing on your lips to replace the fact that you’ve been confused for the entire half hour since you came back to consciousness. “Happy birthday, prince.”

“I see.” 

“It’s thank you,” you mutter automatically, coughing lightly when he only knits his brows at you. He’s cute this way — innocent, even. “I-I mean you’re supposed to say thank you when someone greets you, or when someone does something nice for you in general.”

“Okay. My brother forgot to teach me that,” Jungkook hums in recognition, eyes briefly glowing with a bluish hue before he regains his composure. “Thank you.”

You wonder if staring is also frowned upon in this planet.

You wonder if it would get you a mean glare or a sarcastic snicker if you were to stare at Prince Jungkook a little longer without any thoughts floating in your brain, except for the fact that you are completely unaware that you’re already zoning out on him. 

You wonder if it would be wrong for your eyes to take in every single detail of him from his short hair that softly falls onto his forehead, to his supposed birthday attire that only consists of a white button-up, to his gleaming royal jewelry that rightfully so, only looks like it would belong to him and him only.

“Trinket?” he reminds you, head tilting and eyes widening as he cranes his neck to look at you beyond the table that separates the both of you.

“Oh! U-uhm,” you scour your pockets immediately just to present something, and bluntly put, you haven’t even checked your well-being, much less the possessions you have on yourself. You feel more than relieved to know that it isn’t empty, because oddly enough, you’d feel a little upset— a little down if you were to disappoint a prince you just met not more than an hour ago. “I have this handkerchief, I guess.”

“Perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, leaning to grab the baby blue square from you that’s embroidered with your initials that are unfamiliar to him. He clutches it into his hand tightly with a smile on his face, the happiness later dwindling when he realizes he has no clue of what he’s holding. “What is it supposed to do?”

You blank at that, meekly scratching your temple. “Nothing, I think. It’s just there for most people, but I’ve never had to use it.”

“You’ve never had to use it, but you still take it with you?” he attempts to clarify, a slight frown embedded into his lips as he looks down on your averagely prized possession.

“I don’t mean never as in never ever, and I’ve used it a couple of times like everyone else does, but it’s just-…” you trail off, shrugging helplessly because you can’t describe the concept of nothing to him easily. “It’s just there.”

You’re more than fatigued and a lot more confused (albeit less worried) about the semantics of your presence here in Twell, specifically in Prince Jungkook’s office, but the latter doesn’t seem to take mind as he takes you with an open mind.

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll have it,” he announces, shifting his eyes between you and your (his now) handkerchief that he’s slowly and hesitantly unraveling, only to put back into its original square form after every move.

“You will?” you almost snort, a tiny bit amused that a prince is clenching your handkerchief like its the most interesting thing in the galaxy.

“Yes,” he hums distractedly, looking up at you as he lightly scratches the embroidered teddy bear at the corner of the fold. “I will have you too.”

“You will?! You’re not going to dispose me or anything?” you straighten immediately, eyes more frantic and disbelieving to hear that you’re being taken care of (or something of the sort) than just awhile ago when you were unsure of your fate. “Why?”

“Don’t know,” Jungkook shrugs just as easily as you do. “I just want to.”

( ♡ ) 

Prince Jungkook isn’t so bad, and neither is Twell.

The planet isn’t so bad in the sense that although you don’t feel the most welcome you have ever been in your entire life, there’s a recognition that seeps into your bones that some of them, if not most, would set out a plate for you if ever Jungkook came into their homes. He’s the social butterfly of his family; the baby lamb that’s set out into the field to check up on everyone else and act as a mannequin of sorts that’s a little less superficial, and a little more warm.

Jungkook isn’t so bad either in the sense that although it’s the bare minimum to do so, he doesn’t throw his kindness back to your face even in the most critical situations, with now being the sole exception.

With the exception of now, Prince Jungkook has not ever acted rashly towards you. He wasn’t annoyed with you when you kept asking him questions of what it would mean to act as his security detail, and he wasn’t irked either when your questions about your heritage (and his by extension) toed personal lines that no one else would dare cross.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never acted rude towards you. He wasn’t as guarded with your existence like his older brothers were; as a matter of fact, he even came to your defense when some of them theorized that you were only here in their planet to act as a precursor for their downfall.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never been this cruel; with the ultimatum of his pride over your heart, he’s never made you feel this different and alienated from him — with, of course, the exception of now.

Heartbreak is a human emotion.

The weakness of the concept is disturbingly human and vulnerable. There’s no escape from it, even if the said percentage of human in your blood is barely half and could light a candle to your more evolved, far more powerful Twellian genes. It’s a sickening emotion to feel, much more have it get you carried away from what you have to do at hand.

The grip that said heartbreakhas on you is unimaginable, far more different than what your people, not humans, tell you how it’d feel like. There had already been an uproar when it was announced that you were appointed as Prince Jungkook’s guard, the news of an impure Twellian bearing the coveted position receiving every reaction possible — from fear, to distaste, and even to genuine amazement.

All of the kingdom’s advisers had theorized that despite you of being impure heritage, youwere superior in terms of physical capabilities. With everything else you’ve been theorized to lack at, you bite at the possibility that the ache in your chest is attributed to your stunted emotions.

You feel painfully human. You feel what heartbreak is, and compared to what others have made it out to be, it’s an emotion that you can’t put into words.

“You can’t, Jungkook,” you firmly say once more with your ears ringing, not because the volume of the club makes you want to get down on your knees, but because you’ve perhaps heard something far worse; far more grating, and far more overwhelming than what your heart could even bear. "All of your brothers specifically insisted for me to bring you back before midnight."

They say that your hearing’s supposed to be better. They say that you could see far more colors than what your alien counterpart could ever do. They say that for everything else you lacked, you made up for with the way you’re more physically advanced and therefore adept to protecting the planet’s youngest prince.

No one’s ever said that you’ll be safe from Jungkook himself.

"Jungkook, let's go home. Please," you plead through your teeth, the word you’ve last spoken being the latest term you’ve taught him. Jungkook, along with everyone else, is not familiar with begging; they’re not familiar with desperation so wrung out, there’s actually a word made just for it.

Jungkook only scowls at you, eyes turning a bright red as opposed to his usual pink allotted for you. "Butt out," he murmurs, tightly crossing his arms as his nostrils flare involuntarily. ”You promised me I could be out tonight."

You’re starting to get over the heartbreak little by little, the tantrum thrown by the young prince making you indifferent. 

Maybe you just misheard a few minutes ago — maybe, it was only a fluke and you didn’t hear it correctly the first time. Maybe it’s only your faulty impureness that made you susceptible to just hearing your nickname out of nowhere. Maybe, it’s not heartbreak that you were feeling, but rather only a subdued version of it by seeing Jungkook disappointed at you doing your job.

It’s your fault, you guess. Perhaps it’s the fault of the bustle of the club and the hundreds of dialects you could hear all at once finally got to you, overwhelming you to the point that you heard Jungkook calling for your name, despite not looking at you all.

You’re about to plead even more for the both of you to go back already; to save him from a lecture from all of his brothers and for you to be spared an even harsher scolding because they think you’ve gone too soft for him — but then you hear it. Again. 

Jungkook clenches his jaw tightly, eyes glowing a bright magenta before he opens his mouth.

"Come on, princess," he calls you by his term of endearment for you, yet his hand is outstretched for the female Twellian on his side.

He’s not calling you — he’s not even paying attention to you. Jungkook isn’t giving you a shred of his focus but he wants you to hear him call someone else the endearment he had playfully made up for you, to which you grew accustomed to without fail. He wants you to see how he gives it to someone else easily, the syllables falling from his tongue easily getting into the girl’s head.

Jungkook wants you to know how angry he is over you doing your job, he hits you where it hurts. He has no idea what heartbreak is supposed to feel like, but he doubts that you’d even feel that emotion over what he’s done — and if you actually do over something seemingly simple (for him atleast), he could only think that everyone else is exaggerating what it felt like.

Your heart, whatever is human of it, skips. It tightens and it loosens alarmingly so, almost as if you have no control for the liquid hurt that compromises you.

“I’ll show you a good time tonight, princess,” Jungkook whispers to her ear loudly for good measure, eyes darting up at you, only for him to see that you’ve been watching the whole time. 

You almost can’t tear your eyes away until Jungkook crashes his lips into hers, your nickname easily falling out of his lips as if the endearment is free for everyone; as if it’s never been yours in the first place and you only borrowed it out of desperation.

Your whole flight home is quiet.

Jungkook makes it back home before midnight, but you don’t.

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s been looking for you the whole day.

He’s been looking for you since he woke up, and that was fifteen ungodly hours ago when he had risen in a cold sweat. Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, and despite his insistence that something must be severely wrong with him for him to feel that way, the palace doctor (along with every other physician, healer, and reader he knew of) confirmed that nothing was out of place.

Jungkook’s supposedly okay, yet it feels like every part of him is being wrung dry. There’s an ache to his chest that renders him stupid because he feels like he’s forgotten every word, every lesson, and every vaguest bit of semblance that would detail about what he felt.

All of a sudden, Jungkook feels like he’s forgotten what the palace looks like. It’s as if he’s forgotten how tiles are supposed to feel cold on bare feet and how bleak his days are when he doesn’t have you by his side, even if the palace is also occupied by his brothers and the grounds are teeming with staff.

The young prince suddenly feels that he’s forgotten the very layout of his home because his mouth is agape at each room he walks in, simply because you’re not there. He’s practically turned the palace upside down just to grab a whiff of you somehow, and yet you’re nowhere to be found. 

Nothing from his or his brothers’ belongings are missing. There’s not a single piece of furniture that’s tilted askew. Nothing has been taken from Jungkook except his peace of mind and the capacity to just stay still because your sudden disappearance unsettles him like no other.

.

.

.

You’re back home, except you’re no longer dressed in the same outfit you left him in. 

Your uniform’s been ditched for something more casual — something more worn and lived in to the point that it looks like a shirt that’s never been yours in the first place. The sight of you, dressed in clothes that’s not yours, puts a bitter taste to Jungkook’s mouth.

He’s never been that selfish before. He’s generous and lenient as far as a prince could go, and yet he’s never felt this territorial over something seemingly as trivial as a shared garment.

The concern feels too vulnerable to the point that only a silly human, something Jungkook’s not, would consider it as a burden.

“Where were you?” he asks with the gentleness he didn’t think he’d possess after being worried shitless about you, the panic he had harbored for the longest time immediately dissipating at you.

Jungkook wants to be mad at you so, so, so badly. He wants to be angry at the way it was irresponsible for you to be alone because after all, your strength wouldn’t compensate for the gleaming fact that you’re not from here in the first place.

“I was on my leave,” you answer simply, keeping your hands behind your back as if this was any other outing with Prince Jungkook and not just Jungkook, the same man who’d call you princess for fun and hold your hand just for the sake of it.

“I didn’t say you could be on leave,” he lowers his voice, jaw tightening at the sight of you being indifferent towards him.

“I asked your brothers.”

Jungkook feels that sickness again. He feels that tinge of metal that lingers in the roof of his mouth and he wants to spit it out in front of you just to see if he’d find something else that’s not the sensations he’s been experiencing since you came around; if he’d find something else that’s not your doing yet affects him just as much.

“What if I needed protecting, hm? What if something happened to me while you were gone?” Jungkook half-taunts, shrinking on himself despite doing his hardest to appear big by crossing his arms.

“I knew you were in good hands, prince,” you tense, the tide that comes with your tone washing over Jungkook until he drowns in the realization that you were there while she was in his quarters. “I made to sure to hear that you were in very good company before I left.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s on a self-imposed break from his duties.

The prince’s duties almost exclusively involved chatting and being charismatic in general, along with the occasional goodwill event wherein he had to be all over the place just to take care of things, and not once did he ever take this long of a radio silent break — or atleast that’s what one of his brothers said.

He’s been cooped up in his room since you came back two weeks ago. Despite your absence (if you could even call it that) that barely lasted for an entire day, along with your confrontation just spanning within minutes, it’s been theorized by one of Jungkook’s brothers, again, that it’s because of your doing.

The youngest prince is theorized to be sulking over you and you simply cannot believe it.

You refuse to believe that Jungkook is bedridden with sadness because to begin with, his kind isn’t even supposed to feel such type of intense emotion. He shouldn’t be swayed by you — he shouldn’t be preoccupied with such pathetic, human emotion that you thought only you could feel because of him.

You rebuff the idea that he’s paralyzed with guilt, not only because you feel that it’s physically impossible for him to be, but because it’s him. Someone of Jungkook’s power and influence wouldn’t be so ridden with guilt that he refuses to show his face to you because he’s ashamed of hurting you.

You reject with your whole heart each and every idea that his brothers pitch you. You stay stationary with Jungkook and yet you will yourself to amount to something, even if it isn’t for him, just so the sickening feeling of being replaced won’t ever creep up to you.

You’re in love with him and it’s terrifying.

What’s even more terrifying is that you’re not the only one who knows so.

“I suggest not falling in love with Jungkook.”

You look up so sharply, your neck aches at the speed. Yoongi stands above you with a perfunctory smile, and with just the tiny bit of effort for him to come near you almost makes you forget that he’s Jungkook’s brother who had been particularly vocal about being wary of you.

“I’m sorry?” you murmur in disbelief, eyes wide and unblinking as you take into account his perfect tone.

“It’s obvious, you know?” he smiles tightly, pulling a chair to sit himself down across from you. Yoongi looks relaxed as he takes you in, almost as if he hasn’t spent half a year avoiding you. “I’ve seen the way you look at my brother. I’ve seen it over and over again when I was sent for a mission on your planet.”

You want to ask him why he’s telling you this. You want to ask badly why he’s saying this now when you’ve been certain for the longest time that your adoration for Jungkook wasn’t apparent in a land of creatures that don’t know what love, in your own terms, is supposed to look like.

You want to ask Yoongi why it shouldn’t be Jungkook, but you can’t bring yourself to — not because you know the answer deep down in your subconscious, but because you’re afraid that he would only make sense—

That he’d only solidify why Jungkook should never be in your orbit.

“Oh,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you like my planet then?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m sorry, my prince,” you immediately apologize, looking down on your lap as you wait for the impeding lecture; maybe even the impending punishment (you’re not sure what it is, but you know it would hurt someway and somehow) that comes with loving the prince, even by the sidelines.

“Jungkook is a wildcard at best,” he trails off, exhaling heavily as he listens for the heartbeat in the room behind you that houses his brother. “He’s brash and stubborn. He’s driven by emotions we are not even supposed to have.”

If Yoongi stands up now and jiggles the knob to Jungkook’s room with just the slightest bit of force, he can guarantee that the latter would be falling face-down to the floor, just because of the way he has his ears pressed to the door.

Jungkook is moping and sulking and to this day, he does remain miserable — the aforementioned factors don’t stop him from being desperate and nosy.

“What I’m saying is that he’s weak, Y/N,” Yoongi sighs. “The strong isn’t for the weak. That’s always been the case.”

“I know I’m weak, prince, but I-…”

“What?” the prince laughs out loud, the smile on his face wide and cheery. He’s so amused with you that his eyes glow into pink, throwing his head back as he regains his composure. “Jungkook’s the weak one. Not you, obviously,” he snorts. “He’s basically a loser with a crown on his head. He’s the one who doesn’t deserve you and not the other way around.”

You’re not the one who’s being insulted, and yet it feels like it. Your throat tingles and your ribs burn at the sudden urge for you to protect Jungkook, even if he’s in no real threat; even if it feels like all the baser parts of you are coming together just to make sense of the way you grow simultaneously weak and strong for him.

Jungkook, the actual subject who’s being insulted and is proving his brother right by being weak because he’s wallowing in his room out of self-deprecation, sadly hums to himself in agreement.

“I’m not-…”

“Don’t refute it — that’s an order.”

“Prince Yoongi,” you relent, trying to find the right words. “May I ask why you’re telling me this?”

“Because Jungkook’s weak,” Yoongi answers simply. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be weak with him and for him.”

( ♡ ) 

You’re eating dinner by yourself in the staff room when Jungkook walks in.

It’s the first you’ve seen of him in three weeks. He’s evidently moving on from what seems to have been a rough period for him, right when you’re at your lowest that you’ve ever been.

Prince Jungkook decides that after three weeks, he should take you by surprise and meet you in the staff room wherein you’re alone, pushing your dinner around your plate instead of doing any other menial task you’ve assigned yourself just so it would feel like you’re in use.

You’re just there. You just happen to be there and no one, even you, could do anything about it. You just happen to be there with no exact purpose and it’s gnawing at you from the inside out.

It feels all over again that your family is the runt of the entire extended bloodline. It feels that you’re not remarkable enough for your relatives to surround you and that you don’t amount to anything enough, in whatever aspect it is, to get a shred of attention that isn’t pity,

It feels like the sinking sensation in your chest wherein you have to see that all your mom could contribute to the table is her trusted homemade recipe during holidays, lost amongst a sea full of pre-ordered meals that only your relatives could afford. Like it’s how your dad’s side of the family is borderline batshit crazy and he’s the only one that turned out to be good, and you can’t do anything but watch strangers your have for blood relatives belittle you. Familiarly so, it’s like you’re a kid again with your siblings sitting on the carpet and cleaning up wrapping paper from gifts, not because the gifts are for you, but because you just happen to be there.

You feel like the alien that you are wherein you don’t belong; wherein your family has to sit on the spare chairs dug up from the basement, situated on a portable table outside of the actual, solid dining table where everyone’s sat. 

Jungkook sits with you at that dusty, old portable table. He sits himself on the flimsy chair that’s only used for stepping and for laundry.

Jungkook sits with you, not because he just happens to be there, but because he’s there for you.

“I’m… sorry for calling someone else princess.”

“It’s no problem,” you murmur, putting your fork down as you keep your hands glued to your knees underneath the table.

“But there is a problem,” Jungkook counters, lowering his head to get you to look at him yet you don’t budge. “I’m not okay with calling anyone else princess other than you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“Then suit yourself,” you quip, even with your voice shaky and your vision blurry.

“I’m-…” Jungkook starts again, racking his brain for the limited vocabulary he has that surely isn’t enough to make up for his grave msitake. “I’m very sorry for making you feel bad. It must have hurt.”

“It’s no problem.”

“There’s a problem,” he insists. “I’m saying sorry because I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I did,” he frowns, beyond confused to why you keep denying the fact that he’s hurt you in ways he can’t even imagine.

“You really didn’t.”

“Why do you not want me to say sorry?” Jungkook questions, voice raising yet he still looks confused— innocent, even. “Did I… hurt you that much?”

It’s the last straw for you. The pure innocence in Jungkook’s words is and should be the last straw for you because it only makes you realize that he’d never understand you. It resonates in your head, more than ever, that you’ll never be able to understand him fully either because you’ll never be the same.

The only option the universe provides you is for you to love Jungkook halfway.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Prince Jungkook. I shall go back to-…”

“Can I not say sorry to you?” Jungkook bursts, darting his hand out blindly to get a hold on you before you leave.

“You can’t say sorry to me because all of this would feel real,” you ramble, shaking your head vehemently. “You should not say sorry to me because that would mean that I’m hurt because I love you.”

Jungkook looks at you innocently with his eyes wide and lips parted, blissfully unaware of the name to the sensation that keeps tugging at his chest to the point that it feels like it would burst open, yet above all else, he still dives in head-first.

“Can you not love me, princess?” he tilts his head. “Is it not allowed?”

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s words lie heavily on both you and Jungkook.

The prince’s sentiment stays on your chest like a paperweight that only grows heavier the more that you try to push it off. You know Yoongi means well, no matter how his words come across otherwise, but the longer that you think about his own suggestion regarding his brother, the more you feel unsure.

Jungkook’s made complete sense of his brother’s words on the other hand, and instead of being filled with a type of rage that only bubbles up when being looked down on, oddly enough, he comes to the truth quite easily.

He knows the truth that he’s weak despite painting himself the opposite, and he feels it the most now that you’re the one who’s distancing yourself from him. Jungkook feels like swallowing the sun and chasing it down with water when you respond to princess, even if it’s jokingly uttered by his brothers and not said sincerely by him alone.

He knows the truth that he’s the weak one in the family, if not the weakest, whenever he stands next to them. Jungkook may be the poster prince for the citizens but he knows the most out of everyone that he’s not as vital to the kingdom as the others are. He may get an assigned seat at the actual, solid dining table, but he knows that he’s not at the head of it.

He knows he’s weak, with and for you, and that’s never bothered him until it actually did.

Jungkook’s eyesight isn’t as good as yours.

Unlike you, he’s restrained by the entirety of his Twellian blood from immediately focusing his gaze on anything. There’s a lag that registers whenever he fixes his sight on anything, just like everyone else but you, and that hadn’t been a bother to Jungkook the whole time.

He had falsely assumed that since you’re the only one who’s different here, the only exception in the planet by being impure and partially human, you’d be the one who’ll have a hard time adjusting your daily life to his — not the other way around.

Jungkook, who had not once ever felt insecurity before, suddenly feels inferior. He feels like dirt and yet he’s angry, not because of the fact that he comes second to your abilities, but because he can’t do shit when it comes to you.

The prince’s eyesight isn’t good enough to notice the tiny little expressions that litter your face whenever something remotely intriguing happens to you. His hearing isn’t on par with yours because he can’t register the laugh in your voice as quickly as you could recognize his. He’s not on the same level as you and it’s only now that it bothers him—

The realization creeps into Jungkook, slowly yet unsettlingly, when he sees the cut on your cheek; the liquor of inferiority, chased down by Jungkook’s own rage, only hits him the moment he sees that a nasty bruise is blossoming by the corner of your eye.

Jungkook grips your jaw lightly out of nowhere, making you look up at him unexpectedly when you had been only preoccupied with fixing him his drink. The prince, no matter the unmistakeable rage that’s brewing in red, is the softest he’s ever been when it comes to addressing you.

“Who hurt you?” 

He has all his attention on you and it’s almost sickening with the way he doesn’t want to break off. Jungkook’s hand is still on your jaw and his eyes are still fixed on yours and yet his mind, whatever remains rational of it and not just vengeful, is going a million miles per hour.

“Get your hands off me,” you spit, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the vitriol that spills out of him so clearly, the air around both of you shifts.

“I asked you a question,”Jungkook repeats, putting is hand on your wrist firmly instead. He makes the grave mistake of looking down, though, because as soon as he realizes that there’s blood caked underneath your nails and that your knuckles are stained with your own blood, Jungkook can no longer hold himself back. “Who. Hurt. You.”

Jungkook’s reflexes are slow, but the moment your bottom lip trembles in vulnerability and pure bitterness, he feels as if time has caught on to the point that it’s only your anguish that sharpens his senses.

His feelings, even.

“If I tell you, would it make a difference? If I’m considered weak, Jungkook, then that means you’re even weaker,” you scoff, eyes trained on the ground with your head low so you could muffle the tremble in your voice; not that it would make your prince any less attuned to you.

Jungkook’s eyes remain narrowed at you, breathing heavily as you only state the facts not to insult him, but to remind the both of you of your place — or whatever is left clear of it because Jungkook can’t even think straight the longer that he looks at you hurting.

“What, prince? What are you gonna do about it?” you spit as the last resort, standing up abruptly to storm off and make an escape for it just once so you’ll be free of the burden of being yourself in Jungkook’s existence, yet he doesn’t let you.

The grip that the prince has on your arm is unstable yet unyielding at the same time, as if it’s taking everything in Jungkook to remain standing despite wanting to hunch over by the unexplainable tremor that roots from his chest.

(It is taking everything in him.)

“Burn,” he utters. “I’ll burn everything.”

“You’re-…”

“Weaker than you? I know that,” Jungkook interrupts, his lips set in a straight line as he lets himself be swept by the current that is you. “All the more reason to do everything for you then.”

The young prince doesn’t even break his gaze from you once, even if his pupils are trembling and his teeth are chattering out of the sheer trepidation that comes with being scared for someone else who carries your heart with them.

He doesn’t break his gaze from you, even for the briefest second, as he fishes out his (your) handkerchief from his pocket that’s there, not because it just happens to be, but because it’s allotted for you.

To love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides, and Jungkook no longer wants the star to swallow him whole because he doesn’t want you to be burned.

Jungkook wants to love you all the way.

[reds-skull]

CW FLASHING IN THE VIDEO (3rd from the bottom)

This is it. 3 months in the works, the comic (and video) are finally done.

A little over a year ago, I uploaded the first work in Revenant AU, Ghost's origin comic. I never thought I'd write a whole series for this, but I'm so glad I did. I got a whole new hobby out of it, haha.

I already began working on part 2, but this for me marks the start of it. I'm really excited to get back into this world!

Under the cut there are some comments on the comic I thought some people might be interested in (don't wanna make this post longer than it already is lol). I will upload the frames from the video separately, with comments on it there.

Bottom line is, thank you for letting me just go wild with this :)

Okay, I'm mostly gonna talk about the part where Fate shows Makarov the 141+Farah. Makarov doesn't see the Fate of people as literal images, he often has to interpret odd symbolism in the flashes he gets from the Weave of Fate.

I decided to go for a style I saw in a collection of calling cards in MW3, mainly from this one:

You can really see it in the faces and pitch-black cel shading.

I'll be going in order of appearance, starting with Farah.

Obviously, each of the "flashes" shows the Reaping of each person, Farah being crushed under rubble. Behind her is a helo of green gas, which symbolizes the Russian experimental gas. The motifs around her are more interesting imo - they're taken from the Urzik flag (and yeah apparently it's "Urzik" and not "Urzikstani"... according to the wiki at least). Wings, plants (feels to me like a pomegranate and some sort of crop, but I couldn't find what it is specifically), and a moon, upside down.

I'm skipping ahead a bit, but I've had the idea to make a drawing of Gaz in the Hanged Man pose since I started the AU basically. I tried sketching it once, and it went bad so I gave up lol. But I decided to come back to that here, and add some sort of tarot connection to all of them. I know practically nothing about tarot, googled the meanings of each, they fit well enough, I called it a day lol.

So Farah is the Moon, upside down.

Price is next, showing him taking control of the brain of someone. I didn't use the flag of the UK for the 141 (it'd be kinda boring...), instead I took the Taskforce 141 logo, and broke it down to different elements.

I took the laurels for Price, both framing his illustration and sitting above his head like a crown. I decided he will be the Emperor.

Next up is Gaz, the Hanged Man of course. Gaz gets both the wings and the stars (I changed mine to 4-pointed because... I like them better). Pretty clear why, both symbols relate to the sky. The illustrations kinda follow a rough day cycle, if that makes sense. Farah being night, with the moon. Price with his golden and purple color palette, twilight. Gaz being sunrise, and Ghost and Soap, day. This is why Gaz has a sun behind him.

Ghost was fun because he's the only inhuman one out of the group. I'll let you think what that implies, that even in Fate's Weave, Ghost is an outlier... Ghost gets the skull, and the card "Death". That one was easy, but what I did add is blood flowing down the skulls, like tear tracks...

Soap, the problem child, gave me the most issues as always. For once, it wasn't his fucking face, it was the flames behind him, and overall contrast and readability issues. Soap's illustration is probably packed with the most "hidden" details, though they're obvious if you've read the fic and Konchar's side story. The headless man behind Soap is Konchar himself, holding 4 chains with dog tags on them. The 4 soldiers from Soap's squad, who he killed before Soap was Reaped. Soap's pose is from the moment he came to his senses, after getting shot in the head and destroying a large part of Verdansk. He has 4 swords, pointing at him and downwards, so his card is 4 of Swords, upside down.

Between Soap and Ghost is a circle and a triangle. I'll explain that in the post concerning the video, since that's where I got that from.

If you read all of this, thank you so much! There will be another post for you to read in a moment lol

[dimonds456]

Billford and Abuse: An Analysis

Honestly, as someone who ships both Billford and Fiddauthor, the thing I like about the toxic yaoi ship is the fact that it IS toxic. Like, the jokes are great, but its depiction of abuse is so, like... genuine. Without getting personal, I've been in a really fucking bad toxic (platonic) relationship before, and Billford deadass helped me come to terms with it.

Cuz here's the thing: most fictional abusive relationships just start with the abuse itself. It shows the victim and the perpetrator at the height (or almost at the height) of the abuse, and we see as either one of them is destroyed by it or the victim becomes free. But Billford actually shows the WHOLE timeline.

Something that bothers me about a lot of fictional abuse reps is the fact that you cannot sympathize with the victim aside from "aw that's horrible :(". Cuz it just starts AT the abuse. We don't see how they got there or what's causing the victim to stay. We just know they need to escape.

But with Billford, we see EVERYTHING. How it started out as something Ford genuinely loved, seeing Bill as a friend and someone he could trust, how it made him feel better because he was actually making progress on his research and he wasn't lonely anymore.

To Ford during those early days, Bill was the highlight of his time in Gravity Falls. We can follow his train of thought exactly to where he let Bill possess him with basically no strings attached (pun intended).

That's what makes it all the more devastating. Bill isolated Ford from everyone. He sabotaged his friendship with Fiddleford by planting that seed of doubt in the engineer and pulling Ford further and further into his plans. Then the thing with the portal happened and Ford had NOWHERE to go. Plus, Bill kept trying to get Ford to stop thinking about Stan, to move on and let him rot. So he kept planting seeds of doubt in his own brother as well, causing Ford to further and further slip away.

Then Ford confronts Bill. And the monster is unleashed.

Once Bill realizes he's lost control of Ford's devotion and the illusion has shattered, Bill just LEANS into it. In order to take control back, he started tormenting Ford and just being horrible to him, to try and make him fall in line. Love and fear ARE right next to each other in the brain, after all. And there's NOTHING Ford can do but just fall further and further into paranoia.

Bill demonstrates many real-world abusive/manipulative tactics on Ford, the big one being isolation, since that allows the rest of the everything to even happen, but the way he turns Ford against LITERALLY EVERYONE using paranoia is really true to real life.

Now obviously your toxic boyfriend cannot possess random strangers irl. But you know what he CAN do? Start spreading rumors behind your back. Stalk you. Harass you. Make you feel unsafe everywhere except home (which isn't safe either, but it's better than the outside world). He can spend your money or break your things. Slash your tires. In Ford's case, LITERALLY abusing his body. There's the sticky notes, the threats, the roof incident, all of it just piling one atop the other.

I cannot imagine how fucking terrified Ford must have been to finally send that postcard to Stanley. He was at a point where he assumed Stan would hate him, or at the very least wouldn't respond so why even bother, and he'd just gotten the "steal your eyes" threat. He was out of options, and was absolutely sure he was putting Stan in danger by getting him involved (another irl abuse thing that happens).

He was scared to reach out for help because 1) he didn't want others getting hurt (like Fidds had), 2) he was ashamed he'd let this happen, and 3) he, on some level, felt like he deserved this.

Justified? To a paranoid, scared, abused, irrational brain: Absolutely. In reality? Never. But HE'D built that portal. HE'D allowed Bill to possess his body basically freely. HE'D basically helped start the apocalypse. And that shame would have lead to SO much self-hatred and despair.

His reaching out to Stan was his last resort, his only way out. THAT'S what intrigues me about the ship so much.

I do not want them to make up and get back together. They're horrible for each other. But I do enjoy exploring the dynamic of it, fully seeing the cycle and how it happens, and seeing a whole new side to Ford that we only caught a glimpse of in the show and Journal 3. Plus Bill but his side is more comedic and sad to me I do not take him seriously FSDGHJ

The jokes are great and I love it here, but if I ever write a fic or draw art for these two it's going to be toxic as hell man. And not in the fun way fgsjd

[amsgrey]

Deja Vu II

Part I

Okay so, I have been researching more and trying to get things at least somewhat accurate before I wrote part two. In the first part, I wrote TBI, with further research, what I was actually trying to write is an Anoxic brain Injury (still technically a TBI). The whole idea there is when the brain is starved of oxygen critical functions are impacted and there can be a whole bunch of differing symptoms after it. OBVIOUSLY, I am NOT a medical professional, so take everything with a big ol' grain of salt. I am thinking of writing some more parts to this but purely when I have time bc adult life sucks. I kept the ending open but also al actual end, unlike the first part. Hope it is somewhat enjoyable.

WARNINGS: Medical stay, seizures, talk of needles + medical procedures, hospitals, Will and Jay being their usually angsty selves, poor writing and zero editing

"Will?"

Abrams looked between the Halsteads, not sure what his place was. Everyone remembered when Pat Halstead passed, mostly because the Halstead brawl was talked about for weeks. Will Halstead was known for causing headaches for plenty of people around Med, he was the topic of gossip all through the building.

Abrams was saved by the bell - literally. His pager started beeping, excusing him from the brewing storm between the brothers.

"I'll put in for the tests," He tossed over his shoulder, disappearing into the stream of medical workers.

"Will." Jay snapped, glowering at his brother.

Will scrubbed a hand down his face, "Abrams needs to run more tests."

"More tests?" Jay pressed, "What just happened, Will?"

Will shook his head, looking at his younger brother he knew, telling Jay how bad this might be, would destroy him. Jay hated hospitals, hated medical things in general. Will couldn't look him in the eye and plant the same fear he had gnawing at him.

"I don't know, Jay," Will sighed, "I'm not a neurologist."

Jay didn't want to accept his answer, but Will didn't give him much of a chance. He turned back to your hospital room, forcing a smile as he entered.

"What was that about?" You asked, exactly where they left you.

"Just more tests," Will smiled. He stopped at the top of your bed, checking you over with doctor's eyes. You could always tell when he flipped between Big Brother and Doctor because Big Brother Will wore his emotions. Doctor Will was better at keeping his poker face like he was now.

Will's eyes flittered around the monitors before settling back on yours. His eyes softened, the slight furrow in his brow disappearing and a smile pulling on his lips again.

"You feeling alright?"

You nodded, "I'm just tired."

Will nodded, he reached out and brushed the hair off your forehead, "Get some sleep, yeah? We'll be here the whole time."

Jay reached out and squeezed your hand, before pulling up the blanket and tucking you in.

A few hours later, you were sitting up in your hospital bed while a Neurology Tech attached electrodes to your scalp. Jay had left for home, for a shower and clean clothes. He promised he would bring back your blanket and pillow and some other stuff to make you more comfortable, seeming Will said it would be okay.

While he was gone, Will sat at the end of the bed, holding your hand through the Electrode placement. After the Tech finished, you were attached to a monitor with wires upon wires, all differing colours. The tech apologized for the cap that sat over all the leads, promising it wasn’t too bad.

“it’s a new fashion trend,” you joked, smiling at the tech, “Nuero floor chic.”

The tech laughed, continuing her work. When she was done, she walked you through what she had done. Explaining the placement and the leads, and how it all worked.

"This is your personal EEG," She explained, gesturing to the boxy machine on wheels that your wires were attached to, "Try to keep it close."

She explained a few more things, then promised to return in a little while. In her absence, Dr. Abrams stopped through again. He looked over the techs work, mumbling to himself and making medical comments only Will understood.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

You had already taken a nap, so you weren't as tired as you had been.

"Sick of sitting," You said, stretching your legs and accidentally nudging Will in the process. Will playfully batted at your feet, feigning offence.

Abrams pulled at the EEG machine on wheels, testing how the wheels glided, "If you are feeling up for it, you can go for a small walk."

You lit up, "I can?"

"If you take it slow," Abrams ordered, "And Will is by your side."

Will nodded, "Are you feeling up for it?"

"Yes."

Will helped you detangle yourself from the blanket, letting you adjust to being fully upright for the first time that day. Your feet dangled over the bed as you took a moment to compose your spinning head. Will pulled a pair of socks over your bare feet, muttering something about keeping your toes warm. He held your arm as you stood up, supporting your weight as your body adjusted again.

"You alright?"

"Mmm," You responded, focused on staying upright.

"Okay," Will wrapped an arm around your waist, "One step at a time, we'll try to make it to the nurse's station and back."

It was slow going. With every step you took, it felt like the world was twisting, like walking through an earthquake. Will's arms hovered around you, only holding you up when you needed the support. He was so steady in his support, his warm presence keeping you grounded and calm.

Two steps outside of your room, Jay bounded up with your pillow and blanket tucked under his arm.

"They're upright," He commented, "Nice hair, too."

He reached out and pretended to ruffle your hair, careful to avoid touching the wires around your head. You reached out to smack his hand, but missed drastically.

You frowned at Jay, frustration barely contained, "Sshut. uphh."

The words sounded fumbled through your gritted teeth. Abrams had mentioned how you needed to take things slow and Will tried to tell you that it might be frustrating at first, but you weren’t expecting to feel such anger. It was gnawing away at you. A week ago you were dancing around with Makayla, wrangling her for a weekend while Kim and Adam worked. You had run around, danced, sung, every little thing that made Makayla happy. Not you hardly knew how to move your feet, could hardly tell what direction was up.

The anger grew and held firm in your head, making itself known with its red cloud fogging your mind.

Will grabbed your hand, "You okay?"

"Hmm."

Your vision blurred, everything swaying and twisting as you fell forward.

Will was faster than Jay was, for once. He saw the signs a mile away, already braced for when you would fall. He held you to his chest, lowering both of you to the ground and cradling your head as your body started to convulse.

Jay immediately dropped what he was carrying, falling to his knees by your side. Jay looked up at Will trying to ask silently what to do, but the eldest Halstead had gone full doctor mode.

"Need some help over here!" Will shouted, calling for the nurse's assistance.

"I need you to breathe,” Will spoke with such certainty, like he was treating any other patient.

“You’re okay,” Will kept repeating, “Just breathe, I’ve got you.”

Jay was ushered out of the way by the nurses, who crowded in with monitors and equipment to help Dr Halstead. All Jay could do was watch helplessly.

Jay held his breath as the medical team got you off the ground and transferred you back to the hospital bed. The leads they had removed that morning were reattached, placed on your ashen skin.

Dr Abrams rushed into the room and ordered Will to get out of his way, the forced politeness gone now the situation was emergent. Will stepped back, somewhat dubiously, letting Abrams run his team.

“How did you do that?” Jay asked when will stood by his side, the pair of them watching as Abrams and the team worked.

With a dose of meds, the convulsions stopped, but the team checked over the leads and kept working.

“Do what?” Will asked, turning to look at his brother. Jay had grown pale, the fear and anxiety he felt spelt out across his features. His eyes kept darting from you to the heart monitor screen like it was going to flatline.

“Stay so calm?” Jay whispered, taking a deep breath for the first time in the last few minutes. The nurses placed a mask over your face, securing it behind your head and then leaving the Halsteads and Abrams in the room.

“Jay…” Will tried to find a way to explain it, how he could just shut off his fear in that moment to help you. But he couldn’t find the words.

“She’s stable,” Abrams spoke in the silence that had formed, “From now on, we’ll keep giving them diazepam to keep them relaxed. No more strolls, even if it is supervised.”

Will nodded, taking it in.

Abrams was mostly speaking to Will, Jay was by your side, focused solely on you. He held your hand, careful to avoid the IV that was in the back of it. He watched you breathe, every-time you exhaled, he watched the mask fog up. He listened to the quiet puffs and the melodic beeping. You were okay. He kept trying to force himself to remember that. You were okay.

“Hopefully we can get this under control. In the meantime, we’ll keep monitoring, keep on with the EEG testing for the next few hours. Hopefully we’ll learn more.”

Will nodded, clapping Abrams on the back, “Thanks, Sam.”

The big brother in him wanted to press for answers, but the doctor in him knew that sometimes Doctors didn’t have the answers. If Abrams knew, he would share.

Will did a check over you and the monitors with his eyes, again. Then looked over to Jay, who looked completely deflated. It was no secret that Jay hated hospitals and medical treatment in general, especially needles. Spending time in hospitals usually gave him the creeps and he would always say to Will, “I don’t know how you do it, man.”

But Jay hadn’t complained even once. Not when he was watching the IV get put in your hand, or while you were attached to countless machines. Will knew it was because he felt hopeless. The same look that he wore at their dads bedside he wore now. Will stood and stared for a while, the memory playing in his mind in time with real life. This was different. You weren’t on life support like your father had been, things were different. That didn’t change the memories Will had of his dads last moments plaguing his mind.

“I stayed calm because i had too,” Will finally spoke. Jay looked up, watching his brother cross his arms over his chest and take a deep breath.

“I had to stay calm, for her.”

Jay shook his head, “I just froze, Will. And you-“

“Trained for years to react in medical emergency situations, spent years working the ER,” Will interrupted.

“Jay,” Will reached over the bed and gave jays shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I do this every day. I know how to tune out the emotions and focus on medical stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Will sat on one of the chairs, mirroring Jay across the bed, “Listen. I could never get used to being shot at, could never be shot at and react how you do. Because I’m not trained, I’m not good at that. You aren’t a doctor Jay, stop beating yourself up over something that was a basic human reaction.”

Jay didn't answer, letting silence fall over the room. Neither one of the brothers was up for a conversation, mostly just consumed with their own thoughts as they watched you sleep.

You had stirred a few times in the coming hours but mostly stayed sleeping. Will told Jay that it was a combination of the medication and the stress of recent events catching up with you. In his words, it was nothing to worry about.

"Hey," A soft voice called from the door, Will and Jay stood to greet Hailey as she stepped into the room.

Will and Jay had been off work since you had gotten worse, staying by your side or close by ever since. Both Voight and Goodwin understood, giving them all the time they needed.

"I brought some supplies," Hailey joked, handing food over to the brothers, "And I stopped by home and Wills, got some clothes."

"Thanks, Hailey."

"Yeah, Of course." Hailey stood by Jay, taking his hand for his comfort. "How's she doing?"

Will relayed the events of the day, the incident in the hall and all the things that had happened since. Things were moving fast, more tests and hopeful treatment plans were being talked about.

"It'll be okay," Will finished, mostly trying to convince Jay more than himself. He knew the look on Abram's face, knew that everything was far from okay.

Will told Jay to go back to work after a week, promising him that sitting by your side was a one-man job. Will had spoken to Goodwin, who agreed to let him take his occurred PTO for as long as he needed. So for the three weeks you were in the hospital he stayed by your side. You weren't used to having Will there every single minute of every single day, but you didn't mind it too much. Mostly he helped you go on walks or watched over you like a personal nurse. You knew that he and Jay were worried, but the overprotective brother act was suffocating at times. During the last week of your stay, you managed to convince him to let you have more space - that when he left the room you wouldn't make a break for it like Jay would. He agreed hesitantly, mostly hanging around from lunch until you fell asleep at night. You complained to Jay when he visited every day, but you were thankful he was there.

On the last few days of your time in the hospital, you were more independent, nothing like what you were before the accident, but more than before. You could walk small distances unsupported and some of your fine motor skills came back. The PT had told you it was common after TBI's for patients to lose control of their movements and motor skills, she promised that you would get better as time went on.

Dr Abrams had spoken to Will and Jay about Rehabilitation centres, there were a few in the city that focused on TBI rehabilitation but Will had been dragging his feet. Jay wanted to do what was best for you, even if it meant you might have to stay in a rehab facility. Will had a sour taste in his mouth over it all.

"Come in," Goodwin called from inside her office.

Will pushed open the door, greeting Sharon and Peter.

"What can I help you with, Doctor Halstead?" Sharon asked after Peter had left.

Will explained his plan, reviewing all the details he had sorted out. When he finished, Sharon was nodding in approval.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I am," Will was sure nothing could change his mind now.

"Okay then, I will talk to Dr Archer, and see how we can help," Goodwin bid Will the best, letting him continue on his way.

Will met Jay right outside your room, almost running straight into him.

"Will," Jay grabbed his brother's arm, "We need to talk about the rehab facility-"

"Yeah," Will nodded, "I know, i have a plan."

Will ushed Jay back into the room. He gestured to Jay to a chair and took a seat at the end of your bed. You were expecting him to stop by, sitting up properly on the bed expecting some kind of serious conversation from the eldest Halstead.

"What is it, doc?" You joked.

Will smiled, reaching out and holding your hand, "I have spoken to Dr Abrams and Sharon Goodwin and I have decided that we won't be trying to find a rehab facility."

Jay sighed, he had been arguing with Will about this for the better part of the week. "Will-"

"I think you should stay with me," Will told you directly, "I've taken a leave of absence, I think you should be home and recovering."

You looked to Jay, who was just as surprised. Jay hardly got caught off guard by Will, right now he had never been more surprised.

"Are you sure?" Jay broke the silence that settled over the room.

"If that is what you want?"

You could feel the joy blooming in your chest, a wide smile breaking across your face, "Yes. Please, yes."

Will mirrored your grin, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing your forehead. At times like this, you were reminded how much Will and Jay became like parents to you after your father's death. Although it was painful for all of you, you didn't have a good relationship with your father. He was never caring or affectionate, he never came to your sports games or awards, that was all Jay and Will. They stepped up and took care of you, they always have and promised they always would. You were so drained from the last few days of tests and the week in the hospital that you felt like you might burst into tears.

Will could sense your fragile state, staying sitting by your side and holding your hand. Jay got to his feet and pulled you into a hug too, then clapped Will on the back. 

“So when am I allowed out?” You pressed, hoping to be home and somewhere familiar. 

“Slow your roll,” Jay laughed, “There's still things that need to be organized.” 

You let out a loud dramatic sigh, “I hate it here,” You whined. 

Will wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him and playfully messing up your hair, “It won't be too much longer, promise.” 

“Pinky promise?” You raised your finger, dramatically pouting. 

Will indulged you, linking his pinky through yours and giving you a serious stare, “Pinky promise.”

taglist: @halstead-severide-fan

[teapetal44]

All For One should have stayed on the sidelines as a character after Kamino. His evolvement in everything after that significantly weakens the story. Building up Tomura as his protégé, framing him as the next symbol of evil, and then pulling the rug under everyone’s feet, is the worst writing decision Hori has ever made. In concept, All For One failing at passing the torch to Tomura is good, because it directly  parallels All Might and his mentorship to Izuku. Unlike All For One, Toshinori was aware the younger generation needed to take up the mantle. All For One is a selfish and controlling person, it makes perfect sense for him to be unable to give up his power to someone else. But in execution it falls apart the moment All For One continues to force himself upon the narrative, continues to serve as the big bad. All For One’s inability to pass the torch and Tomura as a main antagonist can co-exist without weakening the themes of the story.  

Like, imagine how cool it would have been if All for One was destroyed by Tomura after he tried taking control over his body and mind. Tomura realizes his master is holding him back from achieving his full potential and his goal, the thing he literally lives and fights for. Triumph over his master would be Tomura’s final step to becoming the new symbol of evil and his self-liberation. Then, he would truly be free of everything holding him back. AFO, the puppeteer, the man always one step ahead of everyone else, would be conquered by the very same person he molded – he planted the seed, but at last, what grows is out of his control. In a sense, he would be punished by the story for failing at passing the torch and Tomura would be cemented as the final antagonist, and his journey would feel satisfying.

All though, I see why Horikoshi didn’t write it like that – cause that would require giving Tomura actual autonomy as a character. Something he actively avoids doing every chance he gets. It’s easier to have a character who is crafted to be evil by one powerful bad man before he was even born, than to portray an abused child failed by a fundamentally corrupt society that values consumerism over actually helping those in need, who ended up in the hands of the powerful bad man because the child slipped through the cracks of said society. MHA conveys to the viewer that there are no bad systems, only bad people within the established systems.

Tomura couldn’t own his conception, nor his heroic goals, not even his abuse. Nothing ever happened to him because of society as a whole or because life is cruel and merciless. It happened because Anime-Satan said so.

[chelseeebe]

promise, part 2.

eddie is all too familiar with angry men and their incessant need to destroy. but can he put a stop to it this time?

read part one here.

okkk so this took so long and for literally no good reason other than that i am a lazy bastard! i really really enjoyed this n i hope you do too even if it is three weeks late

18+. mdni!! smut. heavy themes, references to domestic violence throughout. mentions of guns and other violent themes. i understand this is not suitable for everyone so please read ahead at your own risk.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

the last two weeks have been fucking torturous for eddie. you won’t speak to him, won’t even look at him and at some point, you’d obviously requested to move your shifts so you didn’t have to see him.

he feels like a failure, helpless as he watches you groan as you walk, a shell of the woman he shared such tender moments with.

today must be his lucky day, james had called in to tell graham he couldn’t get in to work so it’d just be you two behind the bar. you disappear into the back the second graham leaves, not uttering a word to eddie as you go.

greg, eddie had now learned the assholes name, regularly sat in the bar. watching as you worked like some fucking stalker. jumping up from his seat the second you finished and rushing you out of the bar. that or he’d sit outside the minute you finished, obnoxiously honking his horn to signal that he was there.

eddie wants to kill him. there’s no forgiveness for these people, he knows that better than anyone. the man most definitely didn’t deserve you or your kind soul. he didn’t deserve a pardon for his crimes and eddie feels the need to be the one to inflict justice on this smug asshole.

he peers around the bar, there are a few regulars scattered around but your delightful boyfriend seems to be absent so he takes that as his opportunity. ducking out the back and into the cellar where he can hear you rummaging around.

‘are you okay?’ he asks, not meaning to alarm you but it obviously does as the box comes clattering down to the floor, clutching onto your chest for dramatic effect.

you don’t reply, instead choosing to pick up the box and continue with whatever pointless task you’d anointed yourself. he grits his teeth and takes a step closer, he really doesn’t want to box you in but fuck, all he wants is for you to acknowledge him.

‘just look at me,’ he pleads, reeking of desperation, yet he’s willing to go lower.

you pause and eddie can’t see your face but he’s sure you’re contemplating it. it’s safe here, greg’s nowhere to be seen and it’s not like eddie’d be quick to run and tell him.

‘please.’

the absolute anguish in his voice must be enough to get you to turn, albeit painfully slow. making eye contact with him after a long and lonely two weeks of nothing. he immediately feels a hundred pounds lighter, confirmation that you don’t hate him. he knows that. knows that you’re being manipulated but it’s nice either way.

‘eddie-,’ you warn, closing your eyes. there’s pain and confusion written across your face and it’s tearing his heart apart just to see. he wants to just scoop you up, get away from this wretched place and not look back.

‘don’t,’ he breathes, rushing forward, hands gently holding onto your arms as he gets a proper look. there are no new visible bruises but who’s to know what’s actually been happening. ‘don’t apologise i just- are you okay?’ rushing all of the words out at once.

you look up at him with wide eyes, brimming with tears as your bottom lip quivers. and then you do something he’d never expect, lunging forward and planting your lips on his with a haste. knocking the air from his lungs.

there’s a brief moment of hesitation, contemplating if this was a bad idea. but even if it was, he doesn’t care. kissing you back with an urgency he didn’t know possible. you’re like water, he needed you to feel alive. feeling whole again as your bodies connect once more.

it doesn’t feel real. having you here in his arms once more, and maybe he hadn’t realised quite how empty he’d felt without you until he feels your arms loop around his neck. you’re pressed against him and yet it’s still not close enough.

eddie’s tentative, moving with caution as he’s not sure just that what’s happening is even real but his hands are needy, gripping onto your hips as he backs you into the rickety old shelving unit. hoisting your body onto the wood, slipping into the space between your legs.

it’s not enough and at the same time too much. feeling your tongue slide between his lips as you move your hips toward him, hand sliding down to lazily unbutton his jeans. a deep groan vibrating in his throat as your delicate fingers brush against his already strained cock.

he has to remind himself to be careful, he has no idea what you’d actually endured, what injuries hid beneath your clothes. but his fingers brush against your ribcage as he lifts your shirt, pulling a harsh gasp from your mouth into his, head jerking back with an almighty force.

his mouth hangs open as he peers down between your bodies, ‘what the fuck?’ forcing it’s way out as his fingers reveal the deep violet bruise painting your rib. grip tightening on the worn cotton as you shy away, swallowing the rising anger as he lets go of your shirt.

eddie will wring his neck right now, with zero hesitation. he feels sick just picturing the horrific things he’d done to you. you duck your head, tears spilling over onto your warm cheeks. his hand flies up, cradling your cheek in his palm as his thumb extends to wipe away the salty tears.

‘let’s go, right now- anywhere you want, we’ll go,’ eddie jabbers, tilting your chin upwards so you’re forced to look at him. in this moment, he knows that he’d do anything if you just asked him too. hell, he’d do it without you asking too. and he needed you to know that, he really meant anything.

‘and go where? i can’t leave, eddie, why don’t you understand that?’ you bark, shifting on the creaky cabinet.

he knows your anger is misplaced, you don’t mean it. at least not towards him. eddie was just the easy target, at the right place at the right time. weirdly, it settles something in him. knowing that you know that you can shout at him, you can kick and scream and cry and yet he’d still never lay a finger on you.

‘anywhere,’ his eyes desperately search yours, ‘out of hawkins.. away, forever,’ pleading with you.

‘i.. can’t,’ you sob, shoulders shaking, ‘he’ll find me and he’ll kill me.. kill you too,’ your palm rests atop of his on your cheek, lashes sodden and stuck together with tears.

‘we can,’ he nods, ‘i promise you he won’t find us.. he’s not going to hurt you ever again,’ eddie’s thumb still strokes your cheek, trying his all to assure that he’s right, that you can trust him.

you pause for a moment, blinking away the forming tears as you hiccup, ‘where will we go?’

eddie doesn’t care where you end up just as long as it’s away from this hell hole. away from that maniac.

he herds the disgruntled regulars from their seats and out of the door, telling them to take their drinks with them, he’d close out their tabs for them. it’s not like he really gave a shit. he’s sure that graham would understand eventually, a couple of glasses and a few measly dollars were worth far less than your life.

-

‘just wait here, okay? i’ll be right back,’ squeezing your hand before he hops out of the van. wayne would be here somewhere, he just has to figure out where.

a couple of the guys he recognises point him in the right direction, walking into the warehouse on a mission. he wanted to get in and get the fuck out before anyone else realised the two of you were gone. he just couldn’t go without at least telling wayne.

‘what the hell are you doing here?’ wayne looks up at his nephew, wiping his hands with a dusty old rag as he gets up. he looks concerned rather than angry, and for that, eddie is grateful. wayne knows that he wouldn’t dare bother him at work unless it was serious.

eddie doesn’t really know how to start, how are you supposed to tell you’re uncle that you’re running away with the same girl you’d harboured in your trailer for weeks?

‘hey.. wayne,’ eddie swallows, feeling like a small child, ‘look, i gotta go for a bit.. it won’t be long, just a few weeks ‘til this all blows over,’ babbling to get the words out quicker.

‘woah, what? is it that girl again?’ wayne asks, one eyebrow raised.

eddie nods, glancing back towards his van though it was out of eye sight. he’s eager to get back, not keen on leaving you alone for too long.

wayne sighs, glancing towards the ground before he gives eddie an approving nod. it means more than eddie could ever imagine.

he had never forgotten the deep regret wayne had held for his mother. not that wayne would ever say, but eddie knows it still kills him inside, knowing that he couldn’t help his sister. it’s not something he’d ever be able to let go of, guilt wracking his bones until the day he died.

eddie smiles slightly before going to head off back to the van, ‘wait.. hold on,’ wayne calls out, hand dug into his pocket.

he pulls out his wallet, shoving a wad of cash into eddie’s shaking hand. he looks to his uncle with a bewildered expression, there must be at least a hundred bucks here. far too much for him to accept.

‘take it,’ wayne asserts, holding his hands in the air, ‘take her up to fort wayne.. it’s quiet, no one’ll even look at you.’

eddie smiles, a genuine smile that makes him feel a hundred times more guilty for what he’s about to do.

he says a quick goodbye to wayne before slipping back out of the door but instead of making his way back to his van, he slips off to where wayne parks his car. he is a terrible nephew and he’s sure he’ll pay the price for this but he has to.

wayne would understand. eventually.

a quick look around the empty lot before he tries the handle, knowing wayne rarely locked it. ain’t no point in stealing this old thing, he’d echo when eddie would remind him.

he leans over, opening the glove compartment to reveal the pistol. he’d known it’d been there for years, since his dad had been in prison at least. before that, it was kept in the drawer beside wayne’s bed. just in case.

sliding the cold metal into the back of his jeans, making sure his denim jacket covered the bulging handle and slamming the door shut again. he’s not expecting to use it, but he wants to make sure that if he has to, he can.

you perk up when you see him approach, confused as to why he’s headed to the back of the van instead of the front. but he can’t have you see it, shoving it into his duffel bag before sliding into the drivers seat.

‘you ready?’ he asks, blowing the air out of his cheeks, relief washing over his face.

you nod, smiling slightly. he can tell you’re worried and until you get the hell out of here, there’s not much he can do.

well, he had contemplated just driving straight to that asshole’s house and shooting him at point blank range but had ultimately decided that probably wasn’t the best idea. a life in prison could never compare to a life on the run with you.

-

the drive up is quiet and eddie can see your shoulders visibly relax the second you near the motel. as if an invisible weight had been lifted and you could finally be yourself again. the second hand relief makes eddie feel light, you were you again with miles of land between you and that prick.

it’s not exactly the ritz but it’ll do for a week or so until eddie can figure out what to do next. he figured he’ll call wayne on friday, ask him to do some snooping to see if coming back is an option.

you’re sprawled out on the bed, quietly watching the flickering tv. eddie glances over at you, he reckons he’d do just about anything for you. if it were possible, he’d fly you both to some faraway island where no one could ever hurt you again.

‘what?’ you ask, realising that he’d probably been staring a little too long.

instead of replying, he makes his way over to the bed, sitting down in the tiny space between you and the edge of the bed. he so badly wants to touch you but after earlier, he’s reluctant to accidentally hurt you again. seeing you wince and pull away like that had shattered his heart.

‘nothin’, i just like looking at you,’ placing his hand on your knee, it seemed a safe spot.

‘shut up,’ you smirk, shying away from him as your cheeks flush. you’re not helping him one single bit. adoring when you let the tough girl persona down a little, but only if it’s around him.

his hand slides down your leg. he’d like to revisit your moment earlier but only if you want to. it sounded sad really, but he’d felt rather touch starved the last two weeks.

your eyes slide back to him, a glimpse of a smirk on your lips. eddie has a better idea. now he’s never done it before but how hard can it actually be? maybe he’d seen it in one of those magazines wayne definitely shouldn’t have left lying around.

he fully gets onto the bed, perched on his knees just by your legs, spreading them open with a gentle touch to your thigh. you oblige, looking down at him with twinkling eyes.

‘i don’t wanna hurt you..’ he sighs, remembering the harsh bruise that adorned your ribcage. he’s not sure what else is hiding under your clothes, reminding himself to be gentle.

‘you won’t,’ you whisper into the air, reaching down to entangle your fingers into his hair.

you’re a work of art from this angle, from all angles really, but the way your lashes cascaded shadows over your cheeks and your lips wet with anticipation staring down at him made him appreciate it so much more.

his hand creeps up, gently lifting your shirt just enough for the dark bruises to peek out of the bottom. his breath hitches in his throat, moving upwards to place a single small kiss to the surely sore area. your eyes flutter closed, fingernails scratching his scalp as he descends back between your legs.

eddie is sure to be tender, unbuttoning your jeans with trembling fingers, your hips bucking up to allow him to slide them down. the ferocity of your earlier encounter had been lost in exchange of this soft, gentler approach. it makes him feel all the more closer to you, knowing that you trust him wholeheartedly to see the broken parts of you.

he discards your jeans off the side of the bed, your bare thighs now warming his ears as wraps his arms around them. peppering kisses to the faint markings of past bruises, the low sighs coming from your mouth sent shivers down his spine.

stopping just before he gets to your underwear, sending one last look upward while his fingers hook around the lacy waistband. ‘you’re so beautiful,’ it comes out unprompted, marvelling at your features in the dim light.

you shy away, hiding your face in the pillow as his lips twitch into a smile, tugging your underwear down as you move for him, thrown somewhere on the floor while his lips continue to move lower, dotting kisses as he goes.

he’s slow at first, tongue circling around your sensitive clit, your jaw hanging slack as your fingers pull gently at his hair. his mouth laps eagerly at your sopping cunt, hoping to god that he was doing this right.

if the noises tumbling out of your mouth were anything to go by, he thinks he is. strangled moans just barely audible as you continue to hide in the pillow, your legs becoming restless around his shoulders.

eddie’s eyes don’t dip, tapping your thigh in an attempt to get you to look down at him. he wants to see how good he’s making you feel, relishing every second you weren’t in pain and instead moaning under his influence.

‘holy shit,’ you gasp, hips writhing against his mouth. his mouth vibrates against your cunt when you finally allow him to see your face, moaning into the space between your legs.

you are all over him, dripping down his chin, spread across the tip of his nose, even wetting the collar of his t-shirt. his tongue darting up and down between your folds, noting exactly when you’d tighten your grip on his hair, when your eyes would roll back. that’s when he knew he was in the right spot.

eddie’s arm unwinds from your thigh, daring enough to slide two fingers into your entrance, enjoying the chorus of raspy profanities that left your mouth. he wants to be inside of you properly but he can’t, not with what he suspects is a broken rib. no amount of desperation would allow him to even think about possibly harming you again.

‘oh my god eddie jesus christ,’ your voice pulls him from his thoughts as your head lols back against the pillow, chin pointed to the ceiling as you thighs begin to tremble around his head.

his fingers continue to pump in and out, merciless with his tongue on your clit, feeding off of your moans. the way your body reacted to him made his head spin, going dizzy at the feel of your walls clenching around his fingers.

‘shit,’ you whine loudly, ensuring everyone in this dump could hear how good he was, ‘right there eddie please don’t stop,’ drawing out your words as eddie carries on exactly as he was. sucking gently at your clit as his fingers curve upward.

the sounds that follow are simply unholy. whining as you come undone around him, thighs clamping around his head as you cum, your entire body practically vibrating as re-emerges from between your legs.

his mouth is shiny with your arousal, lips glossy and plump as he gazes upward. watching carefully as you float back down to earth, his palms still holding onto your fleshy thighs. he doesn’t make the effort to move, not just get. enjoying the sight of your blissed out face from here.

‘wow,’ you remark, chest heaving as you pull the blanket up around your shoulders. your hair fanned out over the pillow with warm cheeks to match.

‘what? has no one ever done that before?’ he questions, crawling up the bed to slide in next to you. he should shower but he’ll wait for you to drop off to sleep before he leaves you alone.

‘yeah but not like that,’ relaxing into the duvet.

eddie grins to himself. it’s like a badge of honour he’ll proudly wear.

-

eddie gets up from the bed with a groan, dressing himself in his discarded clothes and slipping his jacket on. you were in and out of sleep and he was really hoping to slip out when you weren’t awake, there was no need to worry you anymore.

‘what’re you doing?’ you mumble from out of the blanket, squinting over at him.

fuck. he didn’t have an excuse.

‘i’m just.. getting a drink, you want anything?’ hoping that your sleepy state would stop any further questioning.

‘mmm..’ you hum, reshuffling, ‘m&ms.’

‘m&ms?’ he repeats, stuffing his feet into his shoes with a tiny grin, pulling his jacket over his shoulders as he nears the door.

‘mhm.’

‘okay,’ he chuckles before stepping out, making sure that the door is locked not once, but three times before he slips off downstairs.

now, he would get your m&ms and a coke but that wasn’t exactly why he’d come out. shoving his hands into his pockets as he scans the parking lot. he hadn’t said anything on the drive but he was certain you were being followed.

the same black dodger had been in his mirror for the majority of the drive up and now he wanted to make sure it hadn’t followed the pair of you here.

he does a quick sweep of the parking lot but it’s mostly empty bar his van and a couple of other cars that certainly weren’t the one he was looking for. he’s not a hundred percent sure that you weren’t being followed but at least now he’ll be able to sleep tonight.

you’re still dozing when he gets back, attempting to be quiet in case you were asleep but it doesn’t work as your eyes open the second the door closes.

tossing you your bag of m&ms before shimmying out of his jeans, collapsing into the empty spot on the bed next to you.

eddie can’t help but determine how he’d get the both of you out of here if he had to. remembering the pistol that sat at the bottom of his duffel bag.

‘you okay?’ you speak up, peaking from the blanket as you shuffle towards him. you take his hand into yours, holding it with both hands, tracing lines and patterns onto his palm as your head rests on his chest. ‘can i ask you something?’

‘go ahead,’ he’s slightly confused and fighting sleep as your fingers trace nonsensical shapes on his hand.

you pause, letting out a nearly inaudible sigh, ‘what happened to your mom?’

eddie freezes, eyes forced open as he looks down at the back of your head. you don’t turn to look back at him, staring at his hand instead. he realises that this question and subsequently his answer would probably be hard for you too and as much as he doesn’t want to think about it again, it’s necessary if he doesn’t want the cycle to continue.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip almost painfully, the words struggle to form no matter how many times he told this story. people didn’t really ask, not anymore, not since he moved to hawkins. he was grateful not to be known as the kid with the dead mom anymore. always feeling like people crept around him, walking on egg shells in case they said something wrong.

‘my dad killed her,’ he squeaks, fingers clamping around yours. there’s no nice way to say it because he did.

eddie can feel you freeze, swallowing the lump from your throat, still avoiding looking at him. he can tell you’re upset but what was he supposed to do? lie?

he squeezes your hand once more, sighing softly, ‘i’m sorry.. i- i didn’t think,’ placing your intertwined hands on his chest, feeling guilty as sin.

‘no.. it’s okay, i get it, i’m just..’ you finally twist round to look up at him, eyes brimming with tears, ‘i don’t want to die,’ you sounded tiny. more of a petrified child than the brave woman he knew.

his heart pangs with utter despair, hating himself for being responsible for that thought ever entering your mind. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, ‘you’re not going to,’ his fingers find their way into your hair, running his fingers through the strands, ‘i’ll make sure of that.’

and he will. it’s a promise that he’ll never break. not a chance in hell.

-

eddie can’t sleep, not for longer than twenty minutes anyway. he hasn’t since you guys arrived.

he can hear the clock ticking in the far corner, taunting him. accompanied by your soft snores as you lay sleeping soundly next to him. you’re something of an angel when you’re asleep and it leaves eddie questioning how anyone would dare to hurt a single hair on your head.

there’s a scuffle somewhere outside, a raised voice coming from the direction of reception. sliding his arm out from underneath your body slowly so to not wake you. peering out of the window down into the dimly lit forecourt.

that’s when he sees him. sees his car parked hastily next to his van.

his heart drops.

what’s he going to do? bang on every door until he finds the right one? wait outside until you dared to show your face?

he’s seen eddie’s van before, that’s for sure. so he knows you’re here somewhere. he just doesn’t have to know where exactly.

eddie steps into his jeans, pulling his discarded shirt over his head as he rummages through his bag for the gun. he doesn’t have to use it, it’s just a warning. a bit of backup if things went south, that’s what he keeps telling himself anyway. he slides the cold metal into the back of his jeans, hoping it’ll stay there.

he looks over at the bed again just to make sure you were still sleeping before slipping his shoes on. sending a quick nonsensical prayer to his mom before quietly unlocking the door and sliding out into the night.

the conversation is quieter now, eddie can barely hear it without straining but he knows he’s still here. sneaking down the stairs with a single clue what he’s actually going to do when he sees that prick.

as if he was summoned, greg storms out of the reception just as eddie reaches the bottom of the stairs, stood gormless as he gathers the nerve to say something.

he doesn’t have to, gregs eyes are already on him, filled with venom and vitriol. he’s an angry looking fella without knowing his vile history.

‘i fuckin’ knew it,’ greg nods to himself, ‘where is she? we don’t have to make this any harder than it already is.. i’ll take her home and we can forget about this little stunt,’ as if it was ever that simple. so he’s deluded as well as being a little bitch.

‘i don’t think so,’ eddie shakes his head, taking a step forward, keeping his composure despite his stomach twisting into knots. his hand is poised behind his back, fingers resting on the cold handle.

greg laughs, full belly laugh, like some psycho, ‘okay, i asked nicely.. you think i won’t break down every door until i find her?’ they’re almost face-to-face now, eddie can see his cheeks are flushed, sweat dripping from his forehead.

‘i told you.. it’s not happening,’ eddie swallows, fingers tightening around the handle, ‘so you can get back in your car and fuck off,’ his chin tilted slightly, greg has an obvious height advantage but that means nothing to him.

‘and i’m telling you that it is,’ his knuckles coming to shove eddie’s shoulders. eddie’s grateful for the experience, he’s been pushed around his entire life and was yet to let any of those losers win. this was no exception.

eddie’s jaw clenches, pulling the gun from the back of his pants, still hidden behind his back as he works out whether he should blow the brains out of this prick or just scare him a little. he knows that going to jail would help either of you, albeit greg deserves a fate worse than death, he can’t be the one to decide that.

instead, he keeps a somewhat rational mind, pressing the barrel against greg’s ribcage, narrowing his eyes as the other man realises what he was doing. ‘i’m gonna tell you again,’ eddie breathes shakily, ‘fuck off,’ his finger firmly on the trigger, he’s not certain that he won’t pull it.

tempted to just end this whole thing right here right now.

‘what the fuck?’ greg spits, removing his hands from eddie’s chest, ‘a gun?’ he scoffs, his features softening ever-so-slightly, ‘you’re as fucking crazy as each other.’

eddie presses the cold metal further into his skin, hoping at least to leave a sore mark if nothing else, ‘you’re gonna leave her alone,’ swallowing the rising anger in his throat before he continues, ‘you don’t talk to her, you don’t look at her- hell, you don’t even get to think about her anymore because i will kill you next time.. i promise,’ teeth gritting together as the other man trembles.

‘fine.. fucking- fine whatever,’ greg gives in, the beads of sweat now dripping down his face. he’s pale, knees shaking as eddie pulls the gun away, making sure to keep it pointed at his feet as he backs away.

eddie’s eyes don’t falter, stern and unforgiving as he watches the snivelling weasel run off. he wishes he did more. roughed him up a little, maybe even a little warning shot just to show him he was serious but then he thinks back to the image of you curled up in bed, blissfully unaware that he had tracked you down and perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

you’re safe. he’s gone, for now at least, and that’s all that matters. you never had to know this even happened, eddie could keep that secret so long as it meant you were safe. that that man couldn’t hurt you anymore.

‘you deserve each other,’ greg yells before climbing into the beat up old beemer. eddie keeps the gun raised, snarling as he pulls off, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

the adrenaline rushes through his veins, making sure the car is truly gone before he puts the gun away. his first instinct is to rush back up the stairs to check on you, ensure that you’re still there, that you hadn’t witnessed any of that.

but he doesn’t.

rather pulling out the box of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one up, eyes honed in on the entrance to the motel, waiting and perhaps slightly even wishing that he’d dare to come back so he could really kill him this time.

thirty minutes must pass before he sighs, deciding to give up and go back to the room. the wooden stairs creak under his weight, the sun now beginning to peek through the clouds, lighting up the dull sky.

you’re still sleeping soundly when he gets back, soft snores filling the room as he re-hides the gun. there wasn’t a need for you to ever know he’d even had it, not anymore.

peeling his jeans off and climbing back into the bed, cautious not to wake you as his arm snakes around your shoulders, pulling your body onto his. the feel of your sleeping body instinctively moving closer could fuel him for another hundred years. eddie would that again and again if it meant you woke up tomorrow with a smile on your face and healed bruises.

you stir, face scrunching up as you look up at him, ‘where’d you go?’ barely able to keep your eyes open, head nuzzling into his chest as it rises and falls.

‘for a smoke,’ thinking quickly. maybe one day he’d tell you the truth but certainly not today. ‘go back to sleep.. it’s okay,’ he soothes into the top of your hair. you do, body nestled into his side and sleep takes back over.

and for the first time in weeks, eddie lets himself feel tired. with heavy limbs, drooping eyelids as he allows himself to succumb to sleep.

-

going back to hawkins is an ordeal in itself. eddie had expected wayne to be angry over the whole stealing the gun thing, but he hadn’t quite expected him to lose his mind quite so much.

‘you’re a fuckin’ idiot,’ wayne rages and eddie is grateful that he told you to stay in the van while he went to see his uncle at work. his anger doesn’t last long before his arms are slung around his nephew, pulling him into his chest with a loud sigh. ‘i’m glad you’re okay,’ wayne nods, staring into eddie’s eyes, ‘and she’s okay.’

eddie thinks he may just be off the hook until wayne starts up again, ‘but don’t you dare ever take my shit again or i’ll shoot you. got it?’ snatching the gun from eddie’s hand, pointing the handle at his idiotic nephew.

he can’t help but smile as his uncle rambles on, ‘okay wayne.. i’m sorry.’

unsurprisingly, eddie has to make a few apologies. namely to graham after the pair of you go crawling into the bar, tails between your legs, hoping for your jobs back.

‘you are welcome to work for me whenever you want to doll,’ graham points at you, his eyes soft until they turn to a sheepish eddie, ‘but you.. absolutely not.’

he wasn’t shocked, graham was a frugal bastard and eddie had excused a couple of sizeable tabs.. he’s just grateful graham hadn’t called the police on the pair of you.

‘oh graham, please let him work here again,’ you beg, eddie’s eyes flit to you, ‘i’ll control him better this time,’ beaming at the large man, that same twinkle in your eye that eddie could never say no to.

hell, who’s he kidding? he could never say no to you, full stop.

graham sighs, pointing his sausage-like finger at eddie who ducks his head down, ‘one chance.. if you fuck up, you’re gone, ya’ understand?’

he nods, offering a small smile in response. squeezing your hand since he really did owe it all to you.

what eddie never mentions, is how graham had pulled him aside on his first shift back, clapping the boy on the back, offering a sincere thank you for being the one to get you away from that monster. his words, not eddie’s.

eddie shakes his head, refusing to take responsibility, ‘that was all her.. she’s the brave one, not me.’

[luca-just-luca]

Hello Viktor enjoyers I make my return..I have thoughts about this latest season. Before getting into full criticism, huge props to the artistic talent that worked on this show. Fortiche as a whole has genuinely changed tv animation, the combination of 2D and watercolor sequences-the super stylized music and fight scenes, absolutely thee best animation I think I’ve ever witnessed. The music, the art, the animation-even the character designs. While I don’t care for certain choices, the designs have so much artistic talent put into them. I adore cosmic horror, and to see that utilized was very cool!

To see the character it was used for, I have thoughts on. But I enjoyed the design as it was-the writing on the other hand..I’m upset with.

Admittedly, the first watch through I had was pure adrenaline. I went into this season with two things I wanted. I wanted to see Viktor evolve closer to his league self, and I wanted to see what route Sevika and Jinx would take-whether that path be together or as individuals, I wanted to see how they helped Zaun. And technically, in a way, I got what a wanted..for a moment.

There was a rumor in circulation, that arcane was meant to be five season long. I genuinely believe this wasn’t a rumor now. There was so much missing, there were so many interactions that were needed to feel this story the way it was felt in season 1. With everyone, but primarily with Viktor and Jayce. There’s that rebuttal old as season one that goes: “Arcane is meant to be about the sisters!”

Okay, how did the sisters mend their connection? Did they ever talk about it-the fact that Vi made Jinx-or how Vi committed chemical warfare on people-HER people?? Additionally, if Viktor was meant to always be the big bad we absolutely needed more time with him!! We needed to see the wedge driven between him and Jayce, to see when that good intent took a turn to the extreme. We needed to see him have more interactions with different characters-or expand further upon his already existing relationships!

There were seeds planted that the writers completely forgot about and let decay in dried up soil. In act 3 of season 1, Viktor starts getting snippy-and then outright mad at the people around him. Someone on here did address that, Viktor does have a temper. One that we were shown, when he snaps at Jayce on the bridge-literally smacking his hand away when he tries to help him up after being outright discriminative. When Mel even alludes to hextech weaponry, he gets upset-and then outright angry-teeth bared angry at the fact she would bloody their work-HIS work with Jayce in war. He and Jayce linger on it-he begins experimenting on himself because he realizes Mel has gotten to Jayce in a way he can’t pull back. The promise to destroy the hexcore, the thing he MADE Jayce promise his last wish was violated.

He stumbles out of this upright chrysalis entirely changed, amalgamation of flesh and organic looking metal-braces permanently encased to his body. He sees the blueprints for hextech weaponry, he SEES the schematics for Catelyin’s rifle. And he just..leaves, just “I must say goodbye to this place.”

I’ve seen the argument made: “the hexcore is controlling him!”

Then why does he show clear emotion in episode six? Why then and there can he express fear, concern, gratitude, outwardly. Not in the astral realm! Outwardly-his sass is even shown to be intact when Jinx thinks she has jokes! So why the hell did he never once get angry about his agency being robbed, about his life literally being left in someone else’s hands when that was something season 1 was alluding too?

And what about sky? I’m still so throughly confused on what her purpose of being back was about. Writers have had to clarify what she’s meant to do because of the lack of context! It feels like we have four, forty-five minute episodes missing. And not just of context and story for Viktor but of Sevika-of Jinx-The underground-Zaun’s conflict with piltover! The crux of what season 1 was, these two sisters and the two cities. A Zaunite and Piltovian, we had Cait and Vi, Jinx and Silco, Jayce and Viktor-dynamics that were mapped out. That needed to be explored, how did the undercity come to forgive Jinx after her father exploited most of the residents with Shimmer?

There was an entire lead up to Cait’s role as a dictator and we see..none of it? And the aim changes to finding Warwick and then to Viktor and there is so-so so much happening. It really does feel like three seasons compressed into one, but to the worst extent that the characters don’t feel like themselves. Viktor’s confidence he exudes in season one, that defiance, that determination, the anger we see him hone later. It’s gone, we he does fight Jayce there is not a HINT of anger or resentment-just: “Oh well-I was trying to be peaceful-I am going to kill you now though.”

Sevika’s urgency to make topside pay, is still there-she’s rallying people together, but then we just don’t see her until the big fight. Sure Scar is with her there-but that doesn’t say anything about it she’s leading whole different factions of Zaun after the prison break!

The finale left more questions than things answered, and I extremely dislike the usage of a time loop. Jayce’s line to Viktor of about his disability and his disease made my blood boil on my first watch through. There are so many others ways to say humanity’s imperfections are what make us perfectly human. Use emotions for example-scientifically we as humans have the highest range of emotions, but they don’t make us weak. Our ability to feel things vastly is what drives us to do certain things, art, writing, music, creation as a whole is driven by emotion. Creation can be good or bad, enlightening or destructive, but as humans we have that innate urge to do it because of emotion. Especially those who are artists, by far my favorite part of season two is how many artists looked at what was given and went:…so. I’m going to take this, and make it my own because you clearly cannot be trusted.

In conclusion, when writing fanfic or making art it will be of season one Viktor and the Machine Herald, not the Herald of the Arcane. Shoutout to The Boy Savior though, Ekko also has issues but man did he get the best end of the deal. Viktor enjoyers take care of yourselves, canon isn’t the end all be all. Have fun with making your Au’s or fixitfics, have fun drawing versions of characters you enjoy. And if it helps, season one does end on a very bleak point, but it could be seen as the ending.

[deathandnonexistentialdread]

I need a fic where Kim Gaon's bruises (and possible concssions) from the multiple times he was literally thrown or manhandled onto the nearest hard surface acknowledged.

Like Gaon gets drugged and kidnapped by a viglantee group as a dissent against the mockery of justice that the live court promotes and the curroouption in the police force as a whole. When he wakes up while still being looped up he is told that he is being held for ransom until their demands are met whatever those demands are.

And then one of the vigilantees points out the suspicious bruises on his neck and Kim Gaon is all like,'they usually heal faster'. And after some probing on the origin of the bruises he says something like, 'The Sir threw me against the bookshelf a few days ago'.

Cue concerned individual is asking if he is in an abusive relationship and Kim Gaon is all like, 'it's not that bad' and another points out that the bruises could be caused by really kinky sex.

Gaon: No he just throws me around

Vigilantees: this is bad

And when someone asks why doesn't he leave the house:

Kim Gaon thinking about his makeshift family of Yohan, Elijah, Mrs. Ji and Kkomi: It feels like home there.

Vigilantees internally panicking: This is worse than we thought. He's being gaslit

The vigilantees decided to shift the conversation to other things. One of them talks about the motorcycle that they have and Gaon muses about his old motorcycle and when asked about it he tells them that his Professor destroyed it out of concern. Plus points for a throwaway line about Soohyun's controlling but concerned nature.

Visibly Panicking Vigilantees: The gaslighting is so bad he is on fire.

Kim Gaon is not sure why these guys are concerned or where he is but he sure that Kang Yohan would find him and bring him home safe.

Kim Gaon out loud: Sir will find me and bring me back. He always does.

Vigilantees: Panik and Concern.

The vigilantees think about calling the police to inform about the Associate Judges' seemingly horrible home life before remembering that they are protesting against the corruption in the police force and that calling them would be a surefire way for the police to find them. They wonder if they should just return the Associate Judge to his own house.

When asked about his own house Kim Gaon mentions his plant children and how The Sir moved them all to his house so Gaon does not have to make the commute to and fro often.

Kim Gaon about Kang Yohan: He is very awkward about showing how much he cares but he does it in his own way

Vigilantees: Kim Gaon is being trapped and it's worse than we thought

They discuss about just dropping the judge some distance away and let him take a taxi when they notice that his phone ran out of charge ages ago and the warehouse that they're in does not have any outlets. Kim Gaon is not that concerned.

Kim Gaon: My clothes are bugged. It's normal

The Vigilantees: No it isn't you need help

One of the vigilantees gives Kim Gaon a divorce attorney's card.

Kim Gaon: I'm not in a relationship with him.

The Vigilantees: concerned silence.

Kim Gaon then checks the time.

Kim Gaon: It's almost dinner time and I haven't even meal prepped.

The Vigilantees: You cook the guy dinner!?

Kim Gaon: Otherwise they'll eat nothing but packaged ramyun

The Vigilantees: He needs help

In the end everything gets resolved and Gaon makes new friends that won't manipulated him at all and a future support system for the Kangs leave him forever to rebuilt a broken system all by himself.

Bonus points if the Kang Revolution Group TM listens to everything through the bug and their reactions range from sideyeing Kang Yohan real hard to reevaluating every interaction they had with Kim Gaon to questioning how on earth does Kang Yohan not trust this guy but eats his homemade food.

Elijah has a long conversation that Yohan wishes he could unremember and Yohan ends up asking the ai butler to order a book on anger management.

Yohan and Gaon talk everything out and no betrayals happen and Gaon lives with the Kangs in Switzerland happily ever after

[toastling]

Ever wonder what would've happened if The Owl house aired in 2013?

That's right.

We would have had an OWLSTUCK.

They would've been rendered accordingly and there would've been a short-lived comic spoken of fondly by both fanbases.

Anyway here are some kids and their classpects.

Luz Noceda - Page of Light. Duh. Most obvious one on this list. You *could* make a very strong argument for Page of Hope too, but aside from her name literally BEING Light, I think it fits a bit more. Too bad you can't multi-aspect. Though let's be real, if anybody COULD, it would be Luz Noceda, so who knows, maybe that's her special Snest (in-world Sburb variant) given gift.

Amity Blight - Witch of Breath. Breath is a lot to do with one's self in the sense of self-actualization and understanding. She needed a lil help getting there but I feel Amity fits this quite well!

Willow Park - Mage of Life. In Homestuck, Life as an aspect is most closely tied to healing, but it can also be quite literal, as we do see Life aspected characters resurrect dead friends. I think if any aspect would allow one to wield life in the most literal sense via battle plants, it'd be, well, Life!

Gus Porter - Seer of Mind. This is a class and aspect wombo combo that fits him to a goddamn T. He's far sharper about others thoughts and natures than people think, including himself. Learning to trust in his intuition is his arc. He has a pretty good grasp of others, even if he does tend to try to focus more on the good bits than the bad, even when the latter may be pertinent.

King Clawthorne - Prince of Blood. Literal royalty in name and nature, with the Blood of the Titan running through his veins whether he realizes it or not. A Prince is an active destructive class with incredible offensive capability, one that destroys its aspect or through it, in this case, Blood. As a Titan, that potential is there for King. But we know the little guy wouldn't use it unless he had to. Right?

Hunter - Heir of Time. Of all the characters, no one fits the aspect of Time better than Hunter given his relations and just how many of him have existed throughout the ages. And as for Heir, I mean, could it be any more obvious?

Vee - Sylph of Space. Conceptually, Space means a lot of things in Homestuck, and is seen by the fandom as one of the "fundamental" aspects. A common theory is no game has a potential to win without both a Space and Time player. But one thing Space represents is Form and Boundary. It is the amorphous stage the play of reality is set upon. What better for a shapeshifter? Sylphs are essentially a Healer class.

Masha - Rogue of Doom. A Thief steals for their own benefit, and a Rogue for the benefit of others. Masha Stole Doom from the entirety of her Reality Check Summer Camp crew, *especially* Vee, giving her her very first friend, potential crush, and a new home and lease on life.

The Collector - Lord of Void. He is Everything and Nothing and can create or uncreate both at will. The Lord embodies their aspect to the absolute. They are a Master class, all-powerful and uncontested in their domain. He is a leftover from a previous game of Snest, one played between just two people, the other, of course, being...

Papa Titan - Muse of Life. We've never seen an adult play any variant of Sburb. But to deal with the Collector and his games, I think he may have had no choice. A Muse, too, is a Master Class, but far more passive. The Titan is how all life in the Demon Realm exists. The Titan *is* the Isles. How much more Life-aligned can you be? And as effectively just a corpse at this point, obviously, he's pretty passive.

Emperor Belos - Knight of Rage. A perfect mastery of his aspect to both directly harm and to manipulate, a truly terrifying foe. Again, adults aren't normally players, but, you better believe he's the reason this whole damn apocalypse happened in the first place.

Boom wrote that up in like 20 minutes, welcome to my special hell.

If by chance somebody actually *likes* this and wants more for some godforsaken reason, I'll give the kids a strife specibus too.

[madameadelina]

I felt bad at beginning when cupcake put warrens collar back on, but then when i realized that warren was literally lying and manipulating her the whole time it made me not feel bad, and I hate how fast cupcake forgot about everything he did and KISSED him?!? Like bro I would’ve slapped him not kissed him?!?? I really hope cupcake holds a grudge or at least waits to forgive him, because from what we know, he’s the reason why her house burned down and basically ruined her life, yea not cool warren.

Let’s break this down, because there’s a lot to unpack here. Warren’s actions? Complicated. On one hand, we can empathize with the layers of trauma he’s dealing with—he’s a man shaped by survival, desperation, and a broken moral compass. On the other hand, trauma explains behavior, but it doesn’t excuse it. That’s the distinction Warren needs to learn, and honestly? It’s one of the biggest hurdles in understanding why what he did was so deeply wrong.

First, let’s look at the manipulation. Warren didn’t just lie to Cupcake—he weaponized her kindness. He saw someone with an open heart, someone willing to risk it all for what she believed was a shared cause, and he exploited that. Was it calculated? Maybe not in the cold, clinical sense, but his actions were self-serving to the point of cruelty. He let her believe he cared, let her throw herself into dangerous situations for him, all while knowing he wasn’t being truthful. That’s a heavy betrayal, especially for someone like Cupcake, who clearly values trust and loyalty deeply.

Then there’s the house fire. Let’s not gloss over this—her entire life went up in flames. Her plants, her home, her stability—all gone. And for what? For someone who was playing her from the start. Even if Warren didn’t intend for her to lose everything, his choices directly led to that outcome. The fact that he only started to feel remorse after hearing her speech speaks volumes. It wasn’t the harm he caused that got to him—it was seeing her resilience and realizing what he’d destroyed. That’s not regret for his actions; it’s guilt for the fallout. There’s a difference.

Now, about that kiss. I think we need to reframe it. It wasn’t about forgiveness or romantic reconciliation—it was an outburst of raw, pent-up emotion. Cupcake’s been through hell, and in that moment, her feelings—anger, sadness, longing—boiled over. I headcanon that she had started to develop feelings for Warren early in their companionship. She saw glimpses of vulnerability in him, and despite everything, she wanted to believe in his goodness. But that kiss? It wasn’t love—it was a manifestation of everything she couldn’t put into words.

Warren, for his part, wasn’t in the same emotional space. He didn’t allow himself to feel connected to her because he was too wrapped up in his own survival. That disconnect makes their dynamic all the more tragic. They’re two people on completely different wavelengths—she’s trying to build something meaningful, and he’s too blinded by his own pain and goals to see it.

Now, let’s talk about the collar situation. Was it the right move? Absolutely not. It was controlling and deeply problematic, no matter how you slice it. But I can understand Cupcake’s possible rationale. Maybe she thought the apartment was bugged, maybe she was operating out of fear and desperation—but intent doesn’t negate impact. She overstepped, and that’s something she’d need to reckon with, too. This isn’t a one-sided story; both of them made serious mistakes.

However, Warren’s errors loom larger because they were rooted in deceit and self-preservation at the expense of someone who genuinely cared for him. Cupcake’s actions, while misguided, came from a place of survival and trying to make sense of an impossible situation. The scales aren’t balanced, and that’s why it’s so important that Cupcake doesn’t just forgive him outright. Forgiveness, if it happens, needs to be earned. Warren has to show through his actions—not just his words—that he understands the depth of his mistakes and is willing to do the hard work to make amends.

This is about accountability and healing. Warren needs to confront the fact that his trauma, while valid, doesn’t give him a free pass to hurt others. He has to learn that trust, once broken, isn’t easily repaired. And Cupcake? She needs time to process, to grieve what she’s lost, and to rebuild her sense of agency. That kiss might have been a slip, but it doesn’t mean she’s ready to let him off the hook.

If I had to sum it up, I’d say this: Warren’s journey is about redemption, but Cupcake’s is about reclaiming her strength. The narrative works best when both of them are allowed to grow individually before attempting to repair what’s been broken. Forgiveness, if it comes, should be on Cupcake’s terms, not Warren’s. And that’s not just for the sake of the story—it’s what they both need to truly move forward.

THANK YOU FOR THIS, ANON. I NEEDED THIS. and you to, @the-galaxy-fiend for your thoughts too!

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

I am listening to it on audible and am still only half way through but so far have a few thoughts

1. ⁠It is actually very boring

2. ⁠You can feel the treachery, spite, vindictiveness, deceit, victimhood, maliciousness, envy, paranoia, delusion and manipulation in every sentence, Its oozes into my pores and makes me feel unclean just listening to it. I cannot think of a book I have enjoyed less.

3. ⁠The weird and constant mentions of his mum are just bizarre. I understand the tragedy of him losing her so young, but I am sure his reactions to it are not typically normal for what is now a grown man. He is batshit crazy.

4. ⁠He has long gratuitous sections about killing rabbits, deer, pheasants, and talks at length about the blood, gore and disembowelling. It literally made me feel sick.

5. ⁠He has a grandiose sense of self-importance that is utterly delusional.

6. ⁠His constant references to his drug taking are over the top. He acts like it is totally normal. I understand why this plays a part in his autobiography since he seems to have spent so much of his time taking them. But he seems to glorify it with no introspection on the dangers, and revels in spilling all the details with no cares for the people who have loyally tried to cover up for him over the years. Despite the fact he talks about leaking and planting by his family it is obvious how much they have covered for him.

7. ⁠He doesn't seem to give a damn if he destroys the monarchy, and after reading the book that is what I think he is intent on doing. He misses no opportunity to add in any malicious adjectives, unnecessary anecdote, unflattering (and unlikely) quotes about his family and throws shade and blame on to them whenever he can. He comes over as so petty and malicious. You get the sense that he feels that if he can't be king he will blow the whole thing up.

8. ⁠It is abundantly clear he has no real love for his dad, brother, or grandfather from the way he talks about them, and it is questionable that he even loved the queen. He shows no empathy or respect for them and makes them look bad whenever he can. He can talk all he likes about reconciliation but he has burnt every bridge and if he were my son or brother, he would be dead to me. There is no purpose to a reconciliation - if it is not for love then it is for his own self-serving purposes.

9. ⁠When you read the whole book rather than listening to excerpts, some stories fade into insignificance. For example the losing his virginity story is a minor mention in passing. But what you don't get from the excerpts is the whole sense of nastiness pervading every paragraph. Before reading it I really didn't like Harry, but blamed Meghan far more. Never before have a read an autobiography where someone has the chance to write the narrative of their own life in a way that is supposedly flattering, and I have found myself liking them even less, despising them in fact. He is an utterly nasty piece of work......and I am still only half way through the book.

I'm so glad you wrote it up. Thank you.

I think part of the sense of boredom is that the writing gets monotonous after a while. Also, you are immersed inside Harry's head and he really has no empathy for anyone. When I finished the first few chapters, I felt like I was reading one of those 80s anti-hero novels like American Psycho, where you are looking at things from the viewpoint of a sociopath. The way he focuses on the bedroom sheets and the hole in his shoe and even the way he spoke of women ("she was perfect, perfect, perfect") struck as very Patrick Bateman.

I agree as to the nastiness, hence the American Psycho reference above. One of the passages that most struck me was when the Diana Ghost Leopard shows up and his bodyguards are alarmed. He explains that they were alarmed because if the leopard mauled him the headlines would be horrible. It didn't seem to cross his mind that the bodyguards were scared because they did not want him hurt. He only thought of the headlines. That, to me, shows how warped his mindset is.

Ditto on the Diana segments. It feels almost sweet at first because the first chapters of the book deal with his childhood, but then it turns weird really quickly.

I'm surprised not that many people have talked about the hunting gore. It's very striking and, frankly, alien. I know hunters (at least in the US) and I've never heard of any describing the kills like this. It was truly disturbing, and I'm not anti-hunting. It's just that he seemed to enjoy the gore a little too much.

He is very arrogant, particularly for someone who was supposedly raised with an inferiority complex for being a spare.

Drugs seem to be a part of his identity, which surprised me since I'd bought into the "Hero Harry" image. I don't know if that was always the case, or if he bought into the California drug culture when he arrived there, but it's striking.

He does want to destroy the monarchy. That comes across very clearly.

He seems very detached from everyone in his family, and yet passionately attached to the image he has built of his mom (a tabloid-based image!). It's an interesting contrast. He has no empathy for Will's position at all or for his dad's struggles. His family relationships seemed to be stuck at a childhood developmental level--mom is the perfect nurturer, father is all-powerful, and brother is a rival.

It is all very nasty, and I'm surprised someone didn't step in to explain that to him.

[verosvault]

🚨 SPOILER FOR EPISODE 8 OF BURROW'S END!!!🚨

‼️POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR WHEEZING SOUNDS, FLESH TEAR SOUNDS, SCREAMING/CHITTERING SOUNDS AMONG OTHER UNGRATEFUL NOISES‼️

Dimension20 "Burrow's End"

Episode 8

Timestamp: 1:30:19

Video Length: 3min. & 47sec.

THE TAPESSSS!!! OMGGG!!! WHO WAS THE FIRST TO ATTACK!!! IT SEEMS LIKE THE STOATS WERE FIRST TO ATTACK?!!! THIS IS SO COOL BECAUSE THESE STOATS ARE NOW REALIZING THAT THEY'VE BEEN ON THE BAD GUYS TEAM THIS WHOLE ENTIRE TIME!!! AHHH!!! 😱😱😭😭✋✋

I can't believe Brennan just WALKED OUT AFTER THAT! I THOUGHT SOMETHING HAPPENED TO TULA AFTER THAT! BUT NOPE! IT WAS JUST BRENNAN BEING SHOOK AFTER AABRIA'S DISPLAY AND FEELING BEATEN BY HER AND HER AMAZING PRODUCTION!!! 😂😂🤣🤣💀💀✋✋ THIS IS TRUE FEAR FR!!! EVEN BRENNAN HIMSELF CALLED THIS SCARY!!! 😭😭✋✋ OOF! "NEVERAFTER" WAS A WALK-IN-THE-PARK COMPARED TO THIS SEASON FR! 😭✋ THE TRUE HORROR SEASON LITERALLY!! 😭😭✋✋

------------------------------------------------------

1st Tape: [Wenabocker] "I've actually never used one of these before. How does it- just gotta- Hello, my name is Robert Wenabocker. I'm the lead engineer here at Warren Peace Memorial Nuclear Power Plant. Hey guys, give me five minutes. I just got to log it. The time is currently 18:48, and at approximately 5:17 today, this facility registered a Loss of Coolant Accident in Reactor Charlie. At 11:20, all plant personnel were notified via intercom, and of course- (tape clicks)

2nd Tape: [Wenabocker] Hello, this is Dr. Wenabocker. It is 4/21/62 at 8:11. (repeating alarm sounding) The LOC logged on the 18th has proven difficult. Our structural engineers have noted significant integrity loss surrounding Reactor Charlie. Now, this integrity loss may result in repeated incidents of increased severity if left untreated. We are not doing that. We are handling things now with the repair materials on hand, and we should have this remedied within the we-. (tape clicks)

3rd Tape: [Wenabocker] (alarm continues, even louder) I don't care, I want two teams down there right now! Following on the official urgent materials request submitted. All signs, all signs are pointing to sabotage. This is a matter of national security! If we can't fix this- (tape clicks)

4th tape: [Wenabocker] It is 2:22, two hours post order of a full evacuation of Peace Plant by Director Simms. I stayed behind, since I'd already been um...I stayed in hopes we'd get a call from the outside with some idea on how to avoid a full core meltdown. But the cables on our comms are destroyed. Chewed through. You know, earlier this week, my team joked that evil spirits were behind all of this. As a man of science, you know, I...Hello? (creatures chittering) The facility has been evacuated. You need to- (tape clicks)

5th tape: [Wenabocker] (Wenabocker hyperventilating) (creatures chittering) There are five weasels. I don't know how they're doing it. I don't know what's happening. (glass breaking) No! No! (creatures chittering) (flesh tearing) (Wenabocker wheezing) (Wenabocker gasping for air) They're all so sneaky...

------------------------------------------------------

THIS IS CRAZY INSANE AND I CAN'T BELIEVE ALL THE WORK THAT WAS PUT INTO THIS AMAZING SEASON! CARLOS LUNA DID SUCH A GREAT JOB! AABRIA SLAYS! THIS IS CRAZY AND FANTASTIC!!! DIMENSION20 HAS SUCH A PHENOMENAL CAST AND CREW!!! THEY CAN DO ANYTHING!!! THE SKY'S THE LIMIT HERE FR!!! ✋✋🫶🫶❤️❤️

[neechees]

Hi! I’m sending an anon about the humanity invasive species post. To me personally it feels like we’re in the circle of nature and everything, but from destroying the homes to ecosystems all over the world, at least in modern times id say it’s not hard to at least see the resemblance to an invasive species. Is this thinking still based in white Christianity? I hope I don’t come off as rude I’m genuinely curious. Have a good day!!!

Yes, because a lot of modern destruction of nature stems from, again, colonialism, specifically from White Europeans & forced Christian expansion. You say you feel this way in MODERN times, and you know what's modern? Capitalism. & Capitalism is a product of colonialism. Capitalism is a big reason of why pollution is such a big problem, because of a few of the rich and the few that run companies. Most people in the world WANT to save the earth, to do good, and to live in harmony with plants and animals, and DO take small steps (& big steps!) to try help. A majority of the people doing the most damage to the earth are the greedy & the wealthy, and there aren't too many of them, but thry have the most power. And you cannot blame the whole of human condition on a few, shitty humans and end it with "all humans are invasive".

Humans are Native to earth, everywhere on earth, we cannot be "invasive" to a planet we're Native to. We also have positive relationships with animals and plants and the ecosystem, and us dying out WOULD have bad, different effects on various species. Aside from that, this is literally an ecofascist talking point. A lot of far right movements also use this to say certain populations should "die out' for the sake of "earth" while others get to live (*cough* white supremacists *cough*). And I'm not one to believe humans are evil, I think that's fucking stupid. For all our faults, humans deserve a chance at life with the world and have a part to play.

And I've noticed a lot of White people say this in particular l, where they'll blame the crimes of other White people on all of "humanity" and attribute it to "humanity" when it literally wasn't ALL of us who did shit like that. They do this to divert criticism and attention from acknowledging the damage European, Christian colonialism had on the world. They do this with various atrocities too, like the Holocaust or genocide of Native Americans, and say shit like "humans are so evil :( ". We didn't ALL do that shit, fucking White people did. Hundreds of Indigenous peoples around the world lived (and live) in harmony with nature before the arrival of White European Christians, and Indigenous people today protect 80% of the world's biodiversity. Why are OUR contributions to saving the earth not attributed to all of "humanity"? Are we also not human? Why focus on the bad? This just shows that many ppl think White people and THEIR history are the default & "human". My people didnt get genocided, & our way of living called "primitive", just for some idiot to say ALL humans are "invasive".

Capitalism is invasive and destructive, colonialism is invasive and destructive, imperialism is invasive and destructive. Humans are not inherently invasive and destructive, and we are not a fucking "invasive species".

[moongothic]

Yeah hello hi I've been falling deep into the Crocodad Rabbithole and my brain is being consumed by small crocodile-shaped worms

So I've done what any reasonable person would do, I went back to rewatch some scenes from Alabasta and Marinford to psychoanalyze Crocodile and try to figure out what the fuck his deal is because genuinely the more I think about it the more questions I have and the more I want answers. And because I'm deranged I need to write all my thoughts down into an incoherent essay and release it into the world

So please, come along with me while and let's be Extremely Normal About Sir Crocodile Together and speculate about his ~Secret Past~

Quick note, my quickest access to some of these episodes is either through unsubbed episodes (not bothering with getting screenshots since there's no subs, also my Japanese is plenty good enough to not need it here) or through Ancient, Questionable Fansubs so don't get too hung up on the phrasing in the subbed screenshots- like they're not entirely inaccurate but y'know

The reason I want to do this is just that... Like I've been a fan of OP since 2008, when I was in middle school. I don't think I ever really tried to think deeper about this series in general at that time, because I was a kid. For a long time to me Crocodile had just been Some Greedy Asshole who tried to take over a country to obtain a tool of mass destruction and IDK destroy the world? Just a very classic Bad Guy McVillianMan, because I had not bothered to think about his character and question anything before.

But now I have brainworms due to the Crocodad Theory, and this is fucking One Piece, you never fucking know how deep a rabbithole can go with this bloody series. So let's go, let's try to figure out what the fuck is Crocodile's deal, because I need to get these brainworms out of my fucking system

I just want to start with this one quick throw-away line because it's kind of a sidenote. Also like. This is such a funny fucking thing for Crocodile to say if he is Luffy's dad. Like.

That's so fucking funny if he's Luffy's dad holy shit

But what really gets me here is that like... Like while I'm like 70% sure Crocodile is trans, there's still a part of me that's like "there's no fucking way Crocodad is real". Let alone, this be some kind of a hint Oda planted to suggest that this early on. Like it sounds absurd. And yet at this point in One Piece, Oda had already started planning out and laying out the groundwork for so many lore and plot-relevant concepts, ranging from shit like everything about Robin, the Poneglyphs, the Ancient Weapons etc. He had already started the "Prince Sanji ARG" (aka dropping the tiniest fucking hints to Sanji's Hidden Backstory that people were able to pick up on and make accurate predictions with about Sanji's backstory). There's fucking Laboon, and about a bajillion other things. And possibly most importantly, by this point Oda had already revealed both Luffy's father and grandfather to the readers, not to mention he even introduced Ace and vaguely hinted at Sabo! It's not like Oda had everything perfectly planned out from the very begining, that is objectively not the case at all. But it also literally would not be unlike Oda to drop hints to a character's backstory like this. He has been doing that for years, and had already started by the time we met Crocodile. Like it feels insane and yet it's perfectly plausible. And if he had Luffy's dad, grandfather and two siblings planned out in his head already at this point, it should not be that much of a stretch to believe that Oda knows and no doubt has known for the past two decades who Luffy's mom is (regardless of if that's Crocodile or not)

All this to say. Crocodile's comment about what Cobra said to Vivi when they reunited is a funny, sarcastic comment. But it would take a whole new meaning if Crocodad was real. Because it really would be perfectly normal if he did/had wondered what he would say to his long lost child if they were ever reunited. And really that just makes his roast turn sad.

Anyways

In Alabasta, we do get a very clear image that Crocodile does not like the World Government, not just because he's a Big Meanie Pirate who wants to conquer the world, but because he does seem to look down on how the Marines + World Government do their "justice" (which, y'know, knowing what we know now about the Government. Fair. That's entirely fair.)

He also dislikes Vivi's "idealism" of wanting to save everyone without bloodshed or anyone losing their lives (especially for her sake)

We learn that he is a broken man with broken dreams. Also he seems to be aware where he (supposedy) belongs in the Grand Line's power hierarchy, as in, he needs Pluton because he knows he's not strong enough in combat that he could take down anyone, let alone the World Government by himself (though he would still make a beeline for Whitebeard's head the second he saw him at Marinford, which, y'know, bold move)

And of course, we learn in Impel Down that Crocodile and Iva-chan have some beef. We can not say for 100% sure what that beef is (like the theory he's trans is very obvious and plausible, but until Oda spills the beans we won't know for a fact what the beef is), but we know that they knew each other. And if Crocodile knew Iva-chan, a high-ranking founding member of the Revolutionary Army, then it is genuinely plausible that Crocodile could also have known Dragon and/or been a member of the Revolutionary Army as well.

Since overthrowing the World Nobles and the Government are the Revolutionary Army's goal, the fact that they're trying to obtain weapons and people for their cause etc, Crocodile's view of the Government and his "Operation Utopia" does kind of align with the Revolutionary Army's

But we did also learn from Iva that "Crocoboy" isn't quite trustworthy. Needless to say, even if Croc used to be a part of the Army, he most certainly left YEARS ago, and clearly not on good terms.

Also, an interesting note, is that at Marineford when Luffy and co finally arrive at the battlefield (episode 466, 17:25 minutes in), when Garp spots the group, he makes a specific comment about Crocodile being there together with the revolutionaries and the prison escapees, believing they can't all be here to fight for the same cause. Which is an interesting thing for him to point out specifically. Like Jinbei was another powerful person who entered that battlefield at the same time, and while Jinbei did clarify to Sengoku that he's quitting being a Shichibukai and was there to save Ace, it's still maybe a little odd Garp didn't think it was worth mentioning that Jinbei had also "allied" with the prison escapees and the revolutionaries to enter the battlefield. Like it was Crocodile only whom he thought needed to be pointed out. I don't think Garp's comment adds at all to Crocodad because it would frankly make little to no sense (like we're all assuming Crocodile didn't know Dragon's lastname, which is why he never realized Luffy was his son (despite knowing Luffy's lastname), but if Crocodile knew Garp was Dragon's father then surely he'd realize Dragon's lastname would be Monkey, right), but it could maybe add to the idea that Crocodile might've been a part of the Revolutionary Army in the past, as Garp could be aware of something like that, thus he'd be puzzled by Crocodile's presencee. Point is, it's an interesting comment, make of it what you will

EDIT 2: Ended up going back to reread parts of Marineford and turns out ^that^ was an anime-only addition from Toei. Like Garp does make a comment about how these people probs aren't at the battlefield for the same reasons but did not specifically point out Crocodile or anything. So. I wasted enough time adding these paragraphs to the post, I ain't deleting 'em. But y'know.

EDIT: Minor addition, because I just remembered how Crocodile really went like out of his way to taunt Vivi about how she "can't stop the rebellion" and save her people. Which, y'know, is a perfectly normal Villian Thing To Do. But we know Crocodile does not think fondly of the World Nobles just like he dislikes the Government. Even if Cobra was a "good monarch" who genuinely cared for his people, he was still a king, and the Nefertari family and the Kingdom of Alabasta were a part of the World Government. The thing Crocodile specifically wanted to destroy. And this is just another one of those "surely that wasn't somekinda foreshadowing" but god fucking dammit what if Crocodile telling a(n unknowing) representative of the World Government that she can't stop "the rebellion", or the revolution if I may, (regardless of if he's allied with them or not) was actually meant to be like foreshadowing. Oda I swear to fucking god---

Anyway, so, Crocodile might've been a part of the Revolutionary Army at one point (the army was formed after the Ohara Incident 22 years ago, and for Crocodad Theorizing, Luffy was born 19 years ago), but if he did he must have left on bad terms for unknown reasons, and we can tell that although his goals in general could vaguely match that of the Revolutionaries, his methods most certainly don't.

Whether or not his methods and his worldview tie to his leaving the Army is unknown. Because we don't really know when and how his worldview was formed.

Like did Crocodile leave the Army because he became a cynical asshole who was willing to make any kind of sacrifice for his goals (thus he no longer fit in with the rest of the Revolutionary Army), realized he was far too weak to ever become Pirate King and thus decided to go looking for Pluton? Or did Crocodile suggest to the Army they should try to obtain an Ancient Weapon to keep casulties to a minimum (still in line with the Army), only ending up getting kicked out (big weapon bad), and soon realizing he had no chance at making a change in the world without "cracking a few eggs"?

Like it doesn't nececarily make a massive difference,, since the end result is still the same, but it does kind of affect the context and how one might view him, right

Of course, there's then the Forbidden Third Option, that Crocodile left due to

Gender issues (internalized shame of being trans and not having it in him to stay around people who had known him)

Postpartum depression

Dragon just divorced Crocodile either due to being straight (in a sad, accepting way) or due to being simply unaccepting and frankly homophobic, regardless, Crocodile leaves with a broken heart

Something else and/or a combo of the above, really, we could speculate endlessly here about what could've happened

(Though I will say that Crocodile's '"trust issues"' and how he views people as disposable could like. I dunno. Be explained if he had gone through some heartbreak and was left permanently unable to open up to people, let alone trust anyone)

I dunno, there's a lot of options, a lot of things to considder.

But there is one more thing that I do want to note on as it could potentially debunk the Crocodad Theory entirely.

It's that Iva-chan didn't know Dragon had a son.

(Episode 441, 9:50 minutes) By which I mean, Iva-chan wasn't shocked to find out Luffy was Dragon's son, rather, they were shocked there was a son to begin with. (To the point they thought Ace was also Dragon's son until Luffy cleared it up for them later) While it's not a massive leap to believe that Crocodile and Dragon knew each other (since Crocodile knew Iva-chan), nor is it a massive leap to believe that Iva-chan transed Crocodile's gender after having Luffy... It does become a bit of a leap to believe Iva-chan didn't know about Dragon having a child with Crocodile before giving Croc the Magic HRT. Like if they had a relationship that resulted in a baby and a divorce, how did Iva not know about any of it, especially when it's more than likely that Iva could not have transitioned Crocodile until after the baby was born (let's not think about how Iva-chan's powers would work on a pregnant person too much)

We do also get this flashback (in episode 441, immidiately after Luffy reveals his dad's identity to Iva) where Iva-chan questions Dragon about how he always stares out towards East Blue when the wind blows, wondering if Dragon has family out there whom he's thinking about (Dragon refusing to comment on it). This does very much confirm that regardless of who Dragon had Luffy with, Iva has no fucking clue who, where and how any of that happened. And althought I personally feel like Iva not knowing would debunk Crocodad, if Crocodile still somehow was Luffy's dad, Iva-chan would canonically not know about it. If Iva didn't know Dragon had a relationship that resulted in a baby, then regardless of if Iva even knew Crocodile got pregnant once, they would not be able to connect those dots.

Now let's be clear, there's many potential scenarios where Crocodad could still be real, scenarios that could explain why and how Iva-chan didn't know about Luffy nor about Dragon and Crocodile having a relationship*. Like it would not be difficult at all to come up with an explanation for it. But in my mind, I feel like the more you have to figure out and explain how the theory could still be plausible, the less plausible it actually feels. Like the more I need to go out of my way to explain it, the more forced it seems.

*(For example, maybe the two kept their relationship a secret, and when Crocodile got pregnant he """left on a mission""" that happened to take like 4-10 months, during the time realizing he was trans. Once the baby had arrived he returned the baby to Dragon in secret for him to deal with, got a divorce for one reason or another*, and sought out Iva-chan to start a new life, Iva thus never found out about anything, just knew that Crocodile left one day after coming out. Like that's one plausible scenario.)

*Hey remember the potential Forbidden Reasons to why Crocodile might've left the Army? What if it was Dragon's and/or Crocodile's idea? Remember how when Jinbei is trying to escape Marinford with the unconcious Luffy, Crocodile tells Jinbei to do better job at "protecting those he wants to protect", a line that felt really sudden and odd coming from Crocodile of all people? What if the two knew their child would be in grave danger if he was ever raised within the army (absolutely not a place for a baby)? What if they knew their baby would become a target for the World Government to hunt, much like Roger's lost child was, if the Government found out Dragon had a baby? What if they wanted to make sure nothing bad ever happened to their baby and were willing to do anything to protect the baby? Even if it meant they'd never see their child grow up? Even if it meant hiding your child from your best friend, pretending to have a horrible fallout with them and transing your gender because Oda doesn't know what gender dysphoria is? Just so nobody would ever find out you had a child?

Mind you. I do not want anybody to think this is an actual argument for Crocodad. Like I could write a dozen different fanfics about how Crocodile could be Luffy's other dad, and they would all be just as much pure speculation with nothing to support them as the above suggestions. It is an example of what could have happened, and a deeply interesting thought, but it is just a theory at best.

In the end, it doesn't really matter though, because until the day Oda reveals Luffy's mom and/or Crocodile's backstory to us, we will truly never know for sure What The Fuck Crocodile's Deal Is

And I'll be just stuck with these brainworms, making myself sad by thinking about sad scenarios where Crocodad could be real, because truly, if it's canon, ain't no way it won't be sad

EDIT 3: Originally I thought it'd be good enough if I just rewatched some parts here and there, but in the end I just fucking absolutely caved the fuck in and went and reread The Good Parts of Marineford. Mainly because I knew I was forgetting things and Toei adding/changing things can affect a character reading. Also it was just going to be easier to go through the manga and literally just all of Crocodile's scenes into an image folder for easier browsing, mainly because there's so much shit that happens between those scattered scenes it can be hard to like focus on one thing (especially if you're trying to specifically FIND those scattered scenes and appearances)

So yeah. Coming back a few days later to add shit to this god forsaken post. I need help

Actually changed my mind and made a separate post to continue this nonsense, enjoy

[lizaluvsthis]

For your SMG34 headcanon who was the first one to fall in love and when did those feelings turn mutual?

Okay I think I might share some of that smg4 episodes here-

(COUGH this is gonna take too long than just a simple answer. Forgive me-)

I'd be likingly to say that Smg4 felt like he and three somehow 'linked' together after their first encounter. In this time- four thought it was nothing and is just a shove-

But when coming to the episode "The Monster"

Three and four actually made a basic contact with each other. Four asking how Three's day was like- DUDE- HE'S LITERALLY YOUR ENEMY... but three responds back boring than usual.

Then this was their first interaction with each other.

In WOTFI 2012

Three asks four if he really thinks coming to hell would solve all of his problems. Then four responding in agreement. "Yes actually, seeing your face and thinking where did my life go wrong"

He wanted to destroy four so bad until mario saves the day- he never interracted to them after that.

In S.M.G. club. Smg3 happens to be the one who works there. I mean- a CLUB WITH A WHOLE LOOKALIKES OF SMG4?????????????????

WHAT NOW??? But as mario left three the scene ends there from his appearance.

The Mystery of the missing white and blue

This EPISODE is where Smg3 is probably the FIRST one to actually reveal is slightest hint of crush for smg4 when he said he would be his "girlfriend" and he would be the "boyfriend" now I may have thought about it- what if after his interraction with four during The Monster episode is actually where he started to consider having him on part of his life?

Enemy or not.

He worked in a literal look alikes of four in the club. Did he have an obsession with four that much?

Maybe he started to have that thing planted and started growing a tiny sprout during the missing white and blue?

Maybe he was trying to show he wasnt that mean and evil. (Literally saved four's life and everyone here)

In Birthday Freakout

Enzo's birthday- Four asks three "you're gay for me?" Then three punches him out of the room.

Three does change little by little from wotfi 2018 where he called up as a certified psychiatrist, Three's appearance was shown after getting his award for saving the universe and without his help- Waluigi couldve destroyed everyone.

During the episode Mario's spicy day

Four thought three has got something from his sleeve and wrecked the whole place that three worked hard for down.

This made three so sad- and it really did broke his heart seeing the reason why he maybe was wrong to actually change into a good person. And to actually have this deep feeling for Four.

This changed three's perspective change back from where they used to be enemies again. Theres how you got 2020 of wotfi

Back on his world of dead memes- he actually changed- he gave up on destroying four (again) and actually calmed himself down

Perfectly balanced episode is where his feelings with four actually started to plant its seed again. Tho its not visible but it is seen on the 10th year anniversary where he calls him out for a baka- right after when smg4 calls him a tsundere.

And there got the episode after smg0's appearance. MARIOS OKAY⁷

Thats where the two had held hands with each other for the first time and actually the part of also training their meme powers together. (To work it off- from the other episode where smg3 sacrificed terrence in exchange for his meme energy to transport into mario for an escape) he didnt let or didnt used the choice of using anti-meme energy.

He didnt want him and four to go insane even tho the power he gain attraction to. He simply gave out terrence...

Ykw? Theres just too much- lets just include the main one. Mario does tiktok challenges where three and four kissed off screen. (i hate susan for that)

All i want for christmas is mario to FREAKING SHUT UP

Is the episode where smg3 finally has that smile on his face being there with smg4- thats the moment he got mutually connected to him and probably well- starts to have more interactions with eachother offscreen.

-

Smg4 felt like him and three were linked with each other after the first contact. And Three starting to have a small crush on four during/after his job on thhe S.M.G. club.

I have a feeling that he was slowly trying to change after his constant fails from finishing off four with his stupid evil plans.

And starts to change for a chance to make it up for a fresh start.

Three losing his feelings for four but ends up right back again after the arc and does change. He starts to actually have a mutual connection with four.

(Now for four I was thinking that it was his late-turn to actually have feelings for three after wotfi 2021 sorry i couldnt add more because these two are so gay that I could barely say anything-)

[maryonmega]

Twin Stars - Chapter 12

Hold on, let go (how much?)

You don't e even feel like a teenager. You feel like a child. And even that can be a understatement, because Bonnie doesn't act like that. This is stupid. You know it is. You're way too old for that shit. 

 

It's rather frustrating to be self aware but have no idea of what to do about the problem in question. 

 

Just don't look again. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? It won't change anything. 

 

...

 

You...

 

You can't even use the card that he's not your Isabeau, can you?

 

...

 

Of course you can't.

 

Mirabelle broke the spell. 

 

Haha, how fitting. 

 

You take a deep breath and try to just pay attention to anything else around you. Anything to distract you from the stupid blinding torch that shouldn't even exist for you to hold. 

 

"... you have to let them breath, or they're not gettin' tall. That's why the best ones are wild."

 

Oh! Yes! Nille and Madame are having their little thing about the plants. 

 

You look at them instead. That odd defiance is still on Nille's glance. Madame looks more done than anything else. The kid is close to them, and you don't think they're liking it. Being between the botinal tennis. You can't help but smile. 

 

"Why are you even so bothered? It's not like you can grow things now." 

 

The two ladies can't argue with the logic, it seens. They back off from the debate. 

 

"Well I will when I can..." You hear Pétronille say under her breath. You don't even know how you noticed, but, who are you to waste a chance handed to you on a silver plate?

 

"You like growing plants?" You ask, and pace to get closer. It doesn't feel good. Using the woman like that. But, she's the reason you're clear headed right now, so...

 

... Gross. 

 

"Kind of? I can't have big plants, but a couple of pots is undemanding enough."

 

You tilt your head. You let some of your hair cover some of Madame's vision.

 

"Really? You talk like you've done that a lot."

 

She moves her whole body to look at you. It doesn't take a lot to figure she's also avoiding Madame. 

 

"I don't live isolated, Freckles. My home isn't good for plant growing."

 

"Nille used to help the old lady with her garden." The kid says to you, like you know who the old lady is. They look proud. Of course they do. Not so much when they turn to her "Pity the new person didn't want to keep it. You liked that garden a lot."

 

You blink at them. Are they, doing this on porpuse?... Hang on, back in the loops, were those comments on porpuse, too? If so, well, it makes sense looking back. Not that you can comment that you know about that. You can't count the egg inside the chicken. 

 

"I did, yes, but what to do, Bug?"

 

"Still a bummer."

 

You nod. You're not sure if they saw it, you're just glad to be here while Stardust is... is... not. 

 

"Oh! A skill is a skill!" Mirabelle's eyes are shining. You know why "I would like to have a chat about it, if you don't mind? I mean, we already are, but,one that I can... take notes?"

 

Her voice becomes bashful by the end. You know the flower chat didn't happen on the last loop. You're already kind of Sad that you won't hear this. 

 

Nille gives you a look. You shrug, and she looks almost disappointed. Is this a attempt of another alliance? The Late Arrival Alliance? That doesn't sound so bad. 

 

In, out, in, out. You should talk about this, shouldn't you? Stardust is putting on the effort to talk to their party. The least you can do is talk to Stardust. The one who admited that preventing something like that from happening again, wasn't that you?

 

It was, it was. 

 

Doesn't mean you get the courage to do so later on the day. Or the following day. Or the day before you were meant to leave. Yes, in this case, that makes the choice you made even worse, but, can't be worse than to destroy yourself then trying to literally kill to have what you couldn't. 

 

The bed you picked is as comfy as ever, yet you lie awake. The time you spent in this town, this pretty, cosy town, you wasted it. You wasted it acting like you're still following a script. Acting like a sleepwalker despite being awake. 

 

This is a fresh new body. The old role is already casted for. Why are you acting like the old you again? Is that what you have to continue to be? Just an echo?

 

It's not fair. It really is not fair. You were her first. It was yours first. But...

 

But it doesn't feel like it anymore. You look in the mirrors and see him. You wash and see reminders of when your humanity was ripped away. Sure, you change your hair and clothes, but that's barely something. You still feel like you're trying to take a role that has already been fulfilled.

 

If your reward is a life, than it's yours to do what you want. And what you want is to not be a second Siffrin anymore. Wasn't that what you had decided under a cloud of steam? That you want to be Sisyphus?

 

Sisyphus deserves to be a person. Not a distorted mirror of another.

 

Your hand is shaking when you dig into your roommate's bag searching for pen and paper. You find a pen and decide to use the back of one of the bonding papers. It's not like she'll actually need it.

 

Now, this really is childish. Sneaking out like you'll do something wrong. Oh well, you're no stranger to do things under people's noses. You don't want to answer questions and falter. As much as it pains you to admit to it, you don't want to sadden Stardust by telling him, either.

 

You leave the note by the foot of Mira's bed, get out of the room, then pass the key under the door.

 

...

 

You should have expected Houses of Change to be different from one another. They worship Change. It would be peak irony if their buildings followed a model. Still, you're thankful when you walk through the gate and see the layout, the clothes you bought earlier pressed to your chest under the cloak. 

 

You have no idea of how this is gonna go. You'll have to beg some housemaidens for help, that's for sure, which is gonna be embarrassing but you'll survive. You don't know how long it'll take, but that's fine, better to get it over with already than waste time and energy brooding instead of present with... with your friends.

 

You do care if it hurts. You do care if it gives scars. That's the one thing you can't compromise on.

 

Again, better to get it over with.

 

...

 

You ignore the attempts to call you. 

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

Irony might not peak but it's still high. You ended up staying for two days.

 

But it's enough. It's enough. You didn't go there thinking about becoming unregornizable, just different enough.

 

You want to say you like it, but, that's not quite what happened here, is it?

 

After all, when you looked at the mirror, you didn't think anything particularly happy or flattering.

 

Just "it's you".

 

{{{I'm no pro in drawing but I try. I hope it's good enough,}}}