#i might not make sense so ask away if needed

[symphonyofmars]

There was something I wanted to add as i saw people arguing back and forth (and this might be against my better judgement): but I believe the first post I saw referenced Bell Hooks, and then I later saw someone else say that the use of her quote was bullshit. The quote had to do with being compassionate towards men, and then the person responding said that wasn't what the quote is about (iirc, it's been a few days and my sense of time is not great) but having read The Will to Change (which I believe the quote was taken from), that's exactly what it was about.

[adding a read more because this became much longer than I intended it to be]

The book discusses how the patriarchy hurts not just women, but ALSO men, and how it's so much harder to rehabilitate men from it because: they think they stand something to gain from cramming themselves into the box they're supposed to fit into, and, many of them just have no idea that their life could even be different. That they could be an artist if they want to, they could dance if they want to, they could go into childcare if they want to or grow their hair long or write poetry or paint their nails-- that there are no "boy colors" and "girl colors", that there are no "men's jobs" and "women's jobs", that they could just do what they want because it makes them happy. They don't even know that being happy is more important than filling their sociological niche that someone else has carved out for them. It reminds me when I learned the story of Siddhartha Gautama when I was little, and that he had no idea that poverty, sickness, and suffering even existed because he had never been outside the palace walls and, not that I'm saying every man can achieve nirvana in an afternoon (or even in a lifetime), sometimes someone who knows what's outside the walls has to let you know that there is even something beyond the walls.

Which is also not to say that women need to be doing all the work for men. I spent ten years trying to disabuse a man of the "things he has to do to be manly" and it ended with him breaking up with me and joining a trad christian cult.

Some men (like my ex) are just extremely resistant to change because change is terrifying, but they also have this sense of Sunk Cost Fallacy, where if they were doing this thing the whole time and it's not working, then what were they wasting their time on?? (I feel like you see this with a lot of evangelical/trad Christians as well, where the idea that they might have been wrong is so scary that they double down on their beliefs in the hope that it will work out for them.)

But, there are also men like a book reviewer I was watching a few days ago (whose name I don't know), who admitted that he really had no idea women were catcalled as much as we say we are, until he was grocery shopping with his girlfriend and she went into the next aisle (literally like five feet away, just with the wall of food between them) and he heard a man catcall her. Like, the second she walked away from him and she no longer obviously belonged to him (in the mind of horrible men like her catcaller) she was suddenly fair game to be harassed in public. And he said that he never didn't believe his girlfriend, but to witness something makes it so much more real. To use my "wall" metaphor another way: he and so many men are still inside the palace, experiencing what they think is the same life others experience, while women are outside of the walls, struggling. The incident of hearing his girlfriend (who is an adult women and who shouldn't need him constantly around as protection from horrible men) being treated like an object while she's by herself was like someone grabbing his hand and pulling him outside the walls without even asking if he wanted to go, showing him a truth that can only be experienced by someone who is not him.

Back to Bell Hooks because there was something I wanted to add: yes she does say that it is at least partly the job of feminists to help to deprogram men. Men, as a group, have been brainwashed to think that they have to be The Provider, The Protector, The Leader, and not all of them are good at providing, protecting, or leading. Maybe some of them want to do the things I mentioned before like care for others (in the way we would describe as "maternal" and attribute to women), maybe they want to create art or do crafts or other things not considered "traditionally masculine", and that's not even taking into account that the "traditional idea" of a man is to be constantly wanting sex, and that men could never be sexually assaulted because they're in a constant state of wanting to fuck (obviously this is a lie; anyone can be sexually assaulted, and not everyone wants to fuck). You can't just take a dog who was taught only to fight and put it in a house of children, it won't know how to act around them and might attack them: it needs to be rehabilitated first.

And Bell Hooks does note, that the problem with trying to deprogram men comes from how they're raised. I'd like to submit this video about men and empathy, since I've already typed a bunch:

When I was reading The Will To Change and I got up to the part about her dad, I realized how different my dad is. And, because you don't get to choose your parents, I consider myself very lucky that my dad has always been unconditional in his love. For a moment I almost found this strange because his older brother was the "golden child" and his younger brother was "the baby", so he should have been somewhat neglected because they always got more affection from their parents, but I think it's because he was the favorite of his four girl cousins who would take him everywhere and fight over him (even now, he's the one they're excited to see and they shittalk the other two lol). So, I have a sneaking suspicion that the only reason he didn't end up shitty like his brothers, is because when he was a child he had four girls who were showing him what unconditional love was like and that you don't need to meet the criteria of your niche in order to receive love.

Which, I have to thank them for, because it's so much easier not having to decide whether or not I want to talk to my own parents as an adult because they've gone Fox News Insane. Both my parents will actually ask me about things they don't understand - like trans rights, queer rights in general, voting (I made them a paper of who/what to vote for for the election since the props always need extra research), geopolitical things - and I've even caught my dad making fun of conspiracy theorists and the thinking that trans women are ruining sports (he's a big sports guy and he mostly watches women's bball because he likes that they actually have to play as a team in a team sport). Life is a lot easier when both parents have empathy and don't have to be convinced to care about others.

And I think that's why the OG post I saw quoted Bell Hooks, because the "we need to rehabilitate men otherwise we can't have the feminist future we want" contingent of feminism never really took off; there was one-- I believe they were originally called "Meninists" as in "men who are feminists" and I've seen a picture of them from a parade in the 70s, but it died out because they were fighting such an uphill battle trying to convince other men to join. So now, we have more women who are independent and who have de-centered men from their lives, but also a bunch of men who were never rehabbed and who don't know their life doesn't need to revolve around "being a man." Being a man means being strong, it means being able to provide, it means being attractive; and the Tates and Fresh and Fits and all the other scam artists of the world sell them this on steroids: buy my book and you WILL be hot, you WILL be a millionaire, you WILL have women who want to fuck you...

Never mind that those guys are probably on actual steroids, they only have that money from scamming other men, and many of them have been found to hire escorts (which, there's nothing wrong with hiring sex workers, but there's a difference between selling the idea that you'll be so charismatic that women will throw themselves at you and having to hire a sex worker because your personality is so bad that no one wants to go near you.)

They're selling a false ideal to men who don't even know it's false in the first place.

But going back to Ms Hooks again: she did talk a great deal about how we need to raise our boys (as a society). She talks about how the whole thing of telling a nine-year old "Take care of your mother" is an insane notion, because he's nine and he can't do anything, and she's an adult woman who is actually the caretaker; and about how boy babies are treated so differently even to the point of "baby boys should not cry as much as baby girls". Like, the gender requirements are there before they can even talk, no wonder they're so damaged and hard to convince of anything later in life.

Reads with Rachel and her husband, Carlos, had two really good discussions about masculinity; one about real masculinity vs performed masculinity as they compared two books about being a man:

As Rachel says after Carlos complained about being made fun of for cleaning his nails after working on his car ("I work an office job and I have cleanliness standards"): "It's not enough for you to know how to work on a car, you also have to be dirty in order to be the manliest man."

The other is in the context of talking about how Patrick Rothfuss isn't the feminist he thinks he is because he still wants the women around him to perform femininity so he can perform masculinity and feel like "a big strong man" before going into a general discussion about masculinity (from about 9:01 to 53:55):

Together they ask a really good question (pardon me if I don't remember it verbatim): "Why does it take someone acting in a particular role for you to feel like a man?" And it's easier for Carlos to be able to deal with that question, because he started deconstructing from the patriarchy when he was 25 (he said he's 32 at the time of that video). It's something he and Rachel have done together as they learn and grow and live their lives together, him deconstructing from the patriarchy and her deconstructing from her fundamentalist christian upbringing (which is basically just The Patriarchy, but More, and +God.) And they've done this because they came to realize their upbringing was wrong, and they didn't want to raise their sons to be saddled with the same baggage that they both grew up with that made their lives worse.

So yeah, I forgot where I was going with this anymore since finding the one video took so long. The majority of men are resistant to changing their mind and it's because they were raised to be unemotional and not care about others but, sometimes, if maybe you've been friends with someone a while and take the time to explain something in a way they understand, you can change someone's mind. Story time:

I was a mod for a streamer for about a month and a half roundabouts January to February of this year (I ended up leaving because trying to get a bunch of randos to behave was stressful - esp since the streamer's rules weren't clear - and I ended up not really liking the streamer as a person). One person in the discord said that they hated the phrase "It's not my job to educate you" because it was condescending. I defended it as people being tired of having to explain shit to people just because they're black or trans or a woman but a bunch of people latched on and started saying anti-left things, which was weird because the streamer and his discord were supposed to be leftist (it's part of why I left, he was just weirdly antagonistic towards leftist ideals despite calling himself a leftist and he was attracting some *ahem* weird types). Anyway, a day goes by and a trans person comes in and says something like "I don't think I should have to explain my existence to random people on the street just because I decided to go outside," and a bunch of people descended on them, telling them they were wrong, and I'm pretty sure they ended up leaving the server.

[Like, the original group-agreed-upon argument came down to "I shouldn't have to google things or look up books to read or do my own work to discover anything new about the world, I should be able to demand of a random person's time and energy, even though I'm not giving off the vibe of someone who is actually ready to listen" and when I pointed out that people know when someone is and is not ready to listen, the streamer himself asked me how I knew and I was like like "do you think that I, a woman in her 30s, is somehow incapable of being able to discern intent?" Most women and queer folk KNOW who's a bad actor before they open their mouth, the idea that any of us wouldn't was just wildly ignorant.]

I complained to my friend (who I had met in the server) that the streamer was wrong and everyone's reaction was bullshit and, at first, he agreed with the position that a trans person should be prepared to debate people on their own rights if they deign to step outside their home. I countered with "You know, [streamer] doesn't it get it because he's a straight white man. He's the default. Other straight white men already know what it's like to be a straight white man so they have no questions for him. But to be trans or otherwise queer or a woman or any other person outside of a white man, is to have people question whether you have a right to be where you are. Trans women I've known have told me that they've had complete randos ask them if they've had bottom surgery and just-- how is that their business? People act so invasive towards non-straight non-white non-men in a way that no one does towards straight white men that they literally just can't understand what it's like to have your existence questioned just because you went outside. Asking a stranger if they've had bottom surgery is LITERALLY sexual harassment, and no one would ever walk up to someone like [streamer] and ask him like, "How big is your dick?" or something of a similar nature because that's just insane behavior, but when it's a trans person or a woman, it's suddenly okay? Like why do you think that is?" And my comparison to how white men are treated vs everyone else, and my stance that asking a stranger if they've had bottom surgery is sexual harassment (it is, no one needs to know about your genitalia) got through to him and he agreed with me. Awhile later I even heard him saying something similar to someone else about a situation that was similar and taking up the stance that I had given him.

So like... yeah, I probably wouldn't do that for a random man on the internet who is determined to hate me, but I can do it for a friend who I know might be receptive to what I have to say to him, and help steer him away from opinions that could end up dragging him down the wrong path.

As this post's OP said: "it's not saying you HAVE to do it! it's saying you CAN do it!"

It's up to you if you want to try effecting the people around you, but if they've dug in their heels that much then it's okay if you want to leave and not speak to them again. Just know that, it's only so hard for you because they were brainwashed since birth to think the way they think and that's REALLY hard to undo. And that's not a pass, that's just the reason why this is so fucking hard for the rest of us (when they're adults and harder to reason with because they're so invested) and also, the reason why mothers of sons need to maybe rethink how they're raising them. Like, don't raise them with "boy colors" and "girl colors" raise them with "colors." Dance isn't something a girl does, it's something a body does. Women don't cook because cooking is a woman's thing, people cook because they want to eat. And... I'll be honest, I've known a few women who are just so mean to their husbands in a "why can't you be a real man?" way, and I just DON'T see how that makes him want to be a better person, but then again, those woman probably need as much deprogramming as their husbands do since they just keep reinforcing something that (she may not even be aware) is hurting them both.

So yeah, sorry if this was a bit rambling, but seeing people fight back and forth for the past week and seeing people take up some really... Mad Max-ian, like, ultra-anarcho-capitalist positions of "we shouldn't help any man at all, fuck em!" was really weird when it was being said by people who purport themselves as being feminists when feminist ethics is supposed to be more compassionate. There were just a handful of reactions I saw that seemed very "pull yourself up out of the patriarchy by your bootstraps" but like... what if their boots don't have bootstraps? What if they don't even have shoes on? What if they don't even know they could have shoes?

posts about the alt-right pipeline being compassionate towards young men while radical leftists shun and shame them are not fucking saying "the men are becoming violent because feminists are too mean!" and if that is your takeaway you need to get off tumblr until you've better honed your critical thinking skills.

those posts are talking about how effective the language and approach you take in your activism can be. this is literally cult deprogramming 101. if someone is being taken in by a violent or dangerous group, that violent or dangerous group is usually offering them compassion and solace while working hard to convince them everyone else in the world is their enemy. you are under no obligation to coddle or act compassionate toward these men and their violent ideologies, but if you have the means to try, it is something that you can do to make a tangible difference.

radicalized people are often only one loving friend or family member or external voice away from being de-radicalized. of course that is not always the case, but it very often is. a lot of y'all rightfully understand that you do not carry the burden of being that voice, but a lot of y'all also have a lot of internalized ideas about morals and punitive justice and have simply written off these people as deserving of only the worst and not worth saving.

ten years ago, my grandmother was a fox news watching republican who voted red in every election and very well could have fallen down the qanon rabbit hole if not for me and her daughter challenging her compassionately, walking her through hypotheticals that validated her feelings & proving why they were false, & being patient with her despite our extreme division in political ideology. it was frustrating fucking work! but i decided i wanted to do it, because i could see the horizon and i could see me making a difference!

"misogynists have been saying feminists are too mean for years, get new material" that is not the fucking POINT. the point is that you, feminist, can be the compassionate voice that guides your brother, your father, your cousin, your grandfather away from fucking becoming or staying a nazi. you can show them compassion and companionship. you can be the woman they think of when their alt-right bros try to convince them that women are the enemy. and you can choose to crystallize that image of yourself so wholly in their mind's eye as worth protecting that they may very well choose to reject those harmful ideas.

it's not saying you HAVE to do it! it's saying you CAN do it! don't you 'firebomb a walmart' people all love taking change into your own hands? where the fuck is that energy right now, huh?

[mercillery]

ASL BROTHERS WITH A SHY S/O

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

CHARACTERS: Luffy + Ace + Sabo

NOTES: Do Luffy haters exist? It’s a dumb question, yes—but I’m genuinely curious. He’s so cute and dumb, I find it hard to not love him.

LUFFY

Luffy wouldn’t really “get” shyness in the conventional sense. But here’s the thing about Luffy: he’s all about accepting people as they are, no questions asked. He treats you with the same bright-eyed, wide-grinned enthusiasm he shows everyone. The idea of you needing to be more outgoing wouldn’t even cross his mind because, to him, you’re already perfect as you are. Shyness? Never heard of it. Just pass the meat, please.

Now, Luffy’s approach to social interactions is, well, 100% Luffy. He doesn’t really adapt his wild and carefree style to match anyone else’s comfort levels. If you're quiet and reserved, that’s cool—Luffy just goes on living life at full volume like it’s another Tuesday on the Sunny.

At first, you might be left wondering how in the seven seas you’re going to survive the endless hurricane of chaos that follows this rubbery captain around. But soon, and without realizing it, you start to find that his reckless antics and headfirst approach to life are... kind of charming. Sure, it’s like living next door to a tornado, but it’s a tornado that makes you laugh until your sides hurt and never lets you get too deep into your own thoughts.

What’s funny is that while he doesn’t actively try to make you feel more comfortable, he ends up doing it anyway. It’s his Luffy magic. You find yourself smiling more often, your shyness loosening its grip bit by bit as he does dumb stuff and throws himself into trouble that only Luffy would consider fun.

He’ll walk up to you, grin stretching from ear to ear, holding out some bizarre, questionably edible snack and say, “You gotta try this!” And just like that, the nerves you felt melt away—not because he’s making an effort to make you feel at ease, but simply because he’s himself.

And sure, sometimes his energy is a lot. We’re talking sprinting-across-decks, yelling-about-meat kind of “a lot.” But in the middle of all that noise, you come to realize that you feel safer and more at ease when you’re around him. Why? Because Luffy has this way of making everything fun and natural, and soon enough, that includes you too.

Before long, your shyness isn’t something you worry about around him; it’s just another thing Luffy accepts without blinking, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And in his eyes? It is.

It’s cute because you two really are like the sun and the moon, with Luffy as the blazing, never-stopping sun, and you being the more reserved, quiet moon. It’s like a cosmic duo—he’s all light and energy, and you’re the calm, cool reflection of it all. You balance each other out in the weirdest, most wonderful way.

And when people catch wind of the fact that Luffy is dating someone—let alone someone as shy as you—it’s like watching a cartoon character’s eyes bug out of their head. Yeah, they’re not wrong to be surprised, but Luffy doesn’t care. He’s already busy thinking about what’s next on the agenda, probably involving meat or some kind of treasure hunt.

Luffy is anything but shy. He could probably talk to a rock and think it’s the best conversation he’s had all day. So when it comes to affection, he’s not exactly one to shy away from it. He might not be the clingiest partner out there—he’s not going to be hanging off you like a koala (okay, maybe sometimes)—but you can bet he’s there, always.

Whether it’s randomly giving you a hug in or tossing his arm around your shoulder like it’s no big deal, he’s just Luffy—and that means showing affection wherever and whenever he feels like it, no matter who’s watching. Basically, he’s like a “here’s my arm, it’s yours now” kind of guy.

While Luffy doesn’t exactly get what makes you shy, he’s surprisingly good at picking up on your feelings. If you’re feeling anxious, or if you’re shrinking back into your shell a little bit, Luffy has this unbelievable ability to sense when you need a change of pace. Without even thinking about it, he’ll grab your hand and drag you off on some wild adventure, just to get your mind off things.

He doesn’t even need a reason—he just knows that you could use a distraction, and he’s the perfect person to provide it. Besides, that just gives him more time to spend with you! And, of course, he might offer you one of his beloved snacks or a full meal if you’re feeling off. Seriously, do you know how big that is? Luffy parting with his food is like a miracle in itself, so if he’s offering it to you, you better believe you’re special.

And let’s talk about the food thing for a sec. Do you even realize how big of a deal it is that Luffy shares his food with you? Like, do you know how many times he’s turned down offering a bite of his meat to anyone? Probably never. So when he hands you a piece of his prized food, you know it’s a huge honor. We’re talking sacred territory here.

If you ever doubted your place in Luffy’s heart, just remember: he shares his food with you. That’s a level of trust and affection that not even the grandest feast can outdo. Trust me, you’ve got a special place in his world, and it’s right next to the meat and maybe a little bit of the chaos.

Luffy’s naturally the type of guy who’d include you in absolutely everything—because why wouldn’t he? To him, you’re part of the crew, part of his world, and that means he’s going to drag you into every single bit of it.

You’d be minding your own business, maybe sitting quietly with your book or trying to sneak in a nap, when suddenly—BAM! Luffy's in front of you, grinning like a madman, already talking about the next big adventure or game that everyone’s playing. “C’mon, join us!” he’d say, and before you could protest, he’s already tossing you into the mix.

It’s not that he’s forcing you to join, though—Luffy just has this way of making you feel like you should be there, without ever putting you on the spot. His carefree, inclusive attitude makes it feel like the natural thing to do. You never feel pressure; you just feel... valued. Like you belong, whether you’re quietly cheering from the sidelines or joining in with your own brand of awkward enthusiasm.

It’s like Luffy’s energy is so contagious that you can’t help but want to be part of whatever insane thing he’s cooking up that day, even if it’s just watching him eat his weight in food and making random, nonsensical decisions.

If anyone ever crossed the line with you—teased you, made you uncomfortable, or said something that got under your skin—Luffy would flip the script faster than you can blink. That goofy, carefree grin would disappear in an instant, replaced by a rare, uncharacteristically serious expression.

Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you like a human shield, ready to take down anyone who dared upset you. He’s usually a chaotic force of nature, but mess with his loved ones, and that’s when you see a side of him that is all about protecting you.

He wouldn’t hesitate to confront the person, his voice firm and unwavering. “Hey! That’s not cool! You don’t mess with my crew!” He’s not one for subtlety or second-guessing, so you’d know right away that Luffy’s on your side. If someone’s being rude or making you feel small, he’ll make sure they know they’ve messed with the wrongggggg person.

The crew’s used to this by now—because Luffy, despite his childish nature, would go to the ends of the earth to defend the people he cares about. You’d feel like the most important person in the world in that moment because, in his eyes, you are.

Luffy’s loyalty is on another level entirely. Once he’s decided he cares about someone, they’re in—no questions, no conditions, just pure, unfiltered loyalty. If you’re lucky enough to be someone Luffy loves, you’d know it in every grin, in every spontaneous gesture, and in every single, joyfully shouted “Let’s go!” You’d never have to second-guess where you stand with him, because Luffy’s affections are as clear as day, as honest and unwavering as the sea he dreams of conquering.

So whether you’re officially part of his crew or not, in his mind, you’re always one of them, and he’d tell anyone who’ll listen, “Yeah, they’re with me!” with a pride that’d make your heart swell.

The best part? Luffy would constantly invite you to tag along on whatever wild journey or ridiculous stunt he’s about to pull. There’d be no hesitation; it’d be, “Hey! Let’s go on an adventure!” as if going on an impromptu quest was as simple as taking a stroll to the market. It’s almost like Luffy has this unspoken rule: every exciting, crazy, fun thing has to be experienced with you.

From treasure hunts that end up in unexpected fights with sea kings to races through bustling ports (where he definitely has no idea where he’s running but is laughing the whole time), Luffy wants you there, right in the middle of it all. You’d probably sigh at the thought of jumping headfirst into another unpredictable situation, but Luffy’s enthusiasm is like a gravitational pull—it’s impossible to resist.

And thank goodness for that, because your timid self wouldn’t stand a chance at taking the lead in any of these wild endeavors. Luckily, Luffy’s the type to charge forward, dragging you along by the hand with zero doubts and zero plans. He makes all the decisions for both of you, which, sure, sometimes means ending up lost on an island full of very angry, very large monkeys because, “They looked friendly!”

You’d feel a mix of exasperation and endearment at his antics. He doesn’t realize it, but his willingness to be the fearless leader—even if his plans are sometimes made with the strategic prowess of a rubber chicken—takes the pressure off you. You don’t have to stress over decisions or worry about whether you’re doing the right thing, because Luffy’s already ten steps ahead (probably literally sprinting) and dragging you along with a confidence that borders on reckless.

And honestly? That’s part of the charm. His “plans” might be half-baked and a little foolish, but he makes up for it by being completely and unapologetically himself.

You’d find yourself smiling more than you ever expected, getting swept up in the whirlwind that is Luffy, and realizing that being with him means never feeling alone, even if you’re quiet or shy.

His laughter, his outbursts, and his impulsive decisions would all become things you cherish, because with him leading the way, life feels a little less scary and a lot more exciting.

ACE

Ace is all warmth and energy, like a bonfire on a chilly night, and he’d go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable in his presence. Despite his natural tendency for excitement and spontaneity, he’d be mindful of your shyness, making a conscious effort to dial down the volume when needed.

You’d catch him lowering his voice a bit, softening his laughter, or even sitting a little closer with a reassuring grin. His laid-back nature would do wonders for your anxiety, melting it away bit by bit like ice under the sun. He’d take a more casual, playful approach when he’s with you, balancing his liveliness with a kind of gentle attentiveness that makes your heart feel at ease.

Ace has a knack for starting conversations, even if the topic is completely random. He’d sense your hesitance and jump in without skipping a beat. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to cook for the crew and accidentally set a whole forest on fire?” he’d start, eyes twinkling as he watches your reaction.

His stories are always ridiculous—stories of clumsy mishaps, epic pranks gone wrong, or that one time he fell asleep mid-battle. You’d find yourself laughing in spite of yourself, the tension in your shoulders easing as you realize he’s making himself the butt of the joke, just to make you feel more at ease. He’d keep talking until he sees that spark of amusement in your eyes, and then keep going, his smile growing wider every time you giggle.

And Ace’s teasing? Oh, he’d be a master of that fine line between making you laugh and making you blush. He’d lean in, smirking just enough to be charming, and say, “What’s this? A smile? I knew it was in there somewhere.” His playful comments would come with a wink and a laugh, just enough to make your face warm, but never enough to make you feel like you’re being put on the spot.

If he ever saw you growing quiet or noticed that hint of panic in your eyes, he’d immediately back off, switching to a softer tone and throwing in a quick “I’m just messing with ya” followed by that disarming grin of his.

Ace would be incredibly in tune with your reactions, watching for the tiniest signs that you’re feeling overwhelmed. The moment he picks up on it, he’d change gears—maybe suggesting a quiet spot on deck where you could sit together and watch the stars, or offering to take a walk to get some fresh air. He’d brush off the seriousness with a light, “Hey, it’s just us. No pressure, alright?” The way he says it makes you feel safe, like it’s just you and him against the world, no expectations or worries allowed.

Ace is the definition of a warm hug in human form, so being a tactile person comes naturally to him. But when it comes to you, he’d show an impressive amount of restraint—not an easy feat for someone who’d usually throw an arm around a friend without thinking twice. Well, you’re not just his friend but his lover, obviously—but what I’m getting at us that he’s a pretty affectionate guy.

He’d start small, easing you into it with light touches: a friendly pat on the shoulder when you share a joke, a playful ruffle of your hair that would leave you smiling and maybe a little flustered. You’d catch the subtle glances he’d shoot you afterward, as if he’s silently checking, Was that okay? Did that make you uncomfortable? It’s endearing how he’s so in tune with your comfort level, his natural affection turned into a gentle dance of patience and care.

As time went on and your confidence around him grew, Ace would start to introduce more meaningful touches. He’d sneak in side hugs when you’re sitting together, leaning into you with that easygoing smile of his that made your heart race. And when the day finally came that you leaned into him on your own, whether it was out of exhaustion or just because you felt safe, the soft, proud look on his face would be priceless.

Ace would make a big deal out of it in the quietest way possible, his hand finding yours in a reassuring squeeze as if to say, Hey, look at you, being brave. Eventually, he’d graduate to full-on snuggling when you were comfortable, and the first time he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you close, you’d know just how deeply he cared.

And when social situations become too much—because let’s face it, Ace has a lot of friends and a magnetic personality that draws people in—he’d be the first to notice if you’re starting to feel overwhelmed.

In those moments, he’d spring into action without making it obvious. He’d tell a ridiculously over-the-top story, one that would steal the spotlight from everyone else and have the whole room’s attention fixed on him, leaving you a moment to breathe.

Ace would always throw himself into being the distraction, whether it meant cracking jokes or reenacting a failed stunt that ended with him pretending to trip over his own feet. He’d shoot you a quick wink in the middle of it, as if to say, See? I’ve got you.

It’s not that he wanted to be the center of attention—okay, maybe a little, but only when it’s for you.

He’d take on the role of court jester, chaos-maker, or even reluctant hero if it meant taking the pressure off you for a while. If anyone questioned it, he’d brush it off with a laugh and a shrug, all while keeping an eye on you to make sure you were okay.

And if things really got too much, Ace wouldn’t hesitate to steer you away from the noise altogether, leaning in close and saying, “Let’s get outta here for a bit, yeah?” He’d lead you somewhere quieter, a hand on your arm or fingers interlaced with yours, the simple touch grounding you as you walked.

You’d both end up somewhere peaceful, maybe under the stars or by a flickering campfire, where he’d wrap an arm around your shoulder and say, “You don’t have to explain. Just take your time.” And you would, with the steady thump of his heartbeat right next to yours, knowing he’d take on the world just to make sure you felt comfortable and safe.

Ace would be your number one cheerleader, hyped beyond belief over every little victory you achieved. You managed to say something in a group conversation? He’d beam at you like you just solved world peace. “Look at you go! You’re amazing!” he’d shout, probably a bit louder than necessary, with that signature grin that lights up his entire face.

If you reached out to touch his arm or, heaven forbid, initiated a hug, there’d be a solid five minutes of him staring at you in delighted disbelief before breaking out into an excited, “Did you just—? You did! You did!”

What you might not notice is that whenever you step even half a toe out of your comfort zone, Ace is in the background punching the air with all the subtlety of an over-caffeinated kid at a birthday party.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a tiny thing, like making eye contact with someone new, or a big step like saying a few words in front of the crew—Ace is celebrating it like you just discovered the One Piece itself.

He might look a bit unhinged to anyone passing by, but he’s never cared about that. You’re his person, and your wins are his wins. He’s just out here being the proudest guy alive, punching invisible foes and mouthing, That’s my partner!

And the way he looks at you? It’s like you’re the most priceless treasure in the world, and not just in the fleeting, pirate-wants-your-gold way. No, Ace’s gaze is full of warmth and genuine awe, the kind that makes you feel like you’re wrapped in a blanket of sunshine.

When you speak, whether it’s a confident statement or a hesitant mumble, Ace is all ears. His eyes would fix on you with this almost comically serious expression, nodding along like you’re revealing some ancient, life-altering secret.

You could point to the sky and say, “That’s the sky,” and he’d respond with a deep, earnest nod and a wide grin, “Exactly! I love that you noticed!” The rest of the crew might shake their heads and mutter things like, “Here they go again,” but Ace doesn’t care. If it matters to you, it matters to him—simple as that.

It doesn’t matter how mundane your observation is or how shyly you say it; to Ace, every word is golden. He’d hang on every syllable as if you were weaving a tale worthy of a bard’s song. You’d catch him repeating things you said back to you later, just to show he’d remembered, saying things like, “Oh yeah, like you said the other day, the sky really was a perfect blue.”

It’s almost ridiculous, but that’s Ace—he’d make you feel like every tiny thing you did was extraordinary, because in his eyes, it truly is.

SABO

Sabo is the calm breeze compared to the whirlwinds that are Luffy and Ace, which makes him the perfect blend of approachable and comforting.

With his natural ease and warm, diplomatic demeanor, you’d find yourself feeling more at peace around him sooner than you’d expect. Sabo’s the kind of person who could have a conversation with anyone, but when he’s with you, you’d feel like you’re the only one in the world that matters.

He’s just got this knack for making everything feel safe, like he’s a sturdy anchor in a storm. If you ever started to feel overwhelmed, Sabo would be the first to notice, with a quiet attentiveness that doesn’t scream I’m watching you but more like I’m here if you need me.

He’d be a master of subtlety, paying close attention to what made you nervous and what helped you open up, all without making it seem like he was analyzing you. You’d catch him making mental notes when you shifted uncomfortably or lit up at something specific. He’s probably like, “Write that down, write that down!” in his head.

And he’d use those observations to make your interactions more comfortable. If he noticed that certain topics or big crowds made you anxious, he’d steer conversations towards lighter things or find a reason to take a quiet walk somewhere less crowded.

Sabo would never rush you into sharing more than you were ready for. He understands that trust is built slowly, like adding logs to a fire, not dumping gasoline on it and hoping for the best.

Sabo would show his affection in the most considerate ways, taking into account what you’d find comforting rather than overwhelming. That being said, grand and dramatic gestures aren’t his style when it comes to you; he’d save those for his other acts of rebellion.

With you, he’d stick to smaller, more intimate actions. He’d brush his fingers across yours before holding your hand, always making sure it was welcome. He’d lean in a little closer when you’re talking, eyes fixed on you with that soft, attentive gaze of his that makes you feel like you have all the time in the world.

There’d be moments when he’d reach out with a light touch on your arm, or just the simple press of his shoulder against yours when you sat side by side, enough to let you know he was there but never too much to make you uncomfortable.

It’s like he has a sixth sense for what was just the right amount of closeness. And if you ever looked unsure or nervous, Sabo’s eyes would catch yours, full of warmth and encouragement, like he was silently saying, Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.

The patience he’d show would be unmatched; you could almost hear him mentally cheering you on even if you were just picking your words slowly or taking a deep breath before saying something important.

And the way he’d support you? Subtle but powerful. If you ever found yourself second-guessing or fumbling, he’d quietly step in to help redirect the conversation or offer a reassuring comment. “I think that’s a great point,” he’d say with genuine enthusiasm, giving you that extra boost of confidence.

And when you’d catch him watching you speak, the look in his eyes would always be one of admiration—never judgment, never pressure, just pure, patient support. And whether it’s a simple chat or a quiet walk together, Sabo’s presence would be your reminder that you’re valued, seen, and cherished, just as you are.

When it came to conversations, Sabo would be your guy for deep, meaningful talks, but with a healthy dose of humor to keep things light. He’d pick the coziest, quietest corner on the ship or at a café, leaning in with a thoughtful smile and saying, “Alright, you ready to hear some top-secret stories about Ace and Luffy’s greatest flops?” And he’d be off, recounting tales of Luffy trying to eat something he really, really shouldn’t have or Ace’s legendary nap times that ended in near-disaster.

His stories are designed not just to make you laugh, but to remind you that even these larger-than-life brothers were and still are total dorks sometimes. And before you know it, you’re easing into sharing a few of your own stories, prompted by his gentle encouragement and the safety his presence provided.

If there was ever a moment where you hinted at wanting to join in on an activity or step outside your comfort zone, Sabo would light up like someone just told him there was free cake on deck. But instead of jumping up and down and looking crazy, Sabo’s celebration would be the dignified, internal kind.

Picture a boardroom in his mind filled with 10 tiny Sabos all jumping out of their chairs, high-fiving each other, and throwing confetti in the air. On the outside, he’d just offer you that calm, reassuring grin and a simple, “You’ve got this. And if not, we’ll laugh about it later, yeah?”

He’d be your biggest silent cheerleader, always ready with a patient hand to guide you or a subtle nudge if you needed it. If you wanted to join in on a game or join a conversation but hesitated, Sabo would seamlessly include you, making it feel natural and not like he was pointing out your shyness.

He’d say things like, “Hey, I think Y/N would be perfect for this—what do you think?” and then shoot you a wink that says, See? Not so bad, right? And when you took that first step, whether it was a comment or a hesitant laugh at a joke, Sabo’s inner cheering squad would be losing their collective minds.

So while Ace might be punching the air and Luffy would probably shout, “You did it!” at full volume, Sabo would play it cool—at least on the outside. But don’t be fooled. The minute he see’s you trying something new or making a move outside your comfort zone, those 10 tiny Sabos in his head would be throwing a full-on carnival, complete with fireworks and dancing.

And he’d just keep giving you that look that said, You’re amazing, and I’m so proud of you. Because to him, you’re always worth celebrating, no matter what.

If there’s one thing Sabo doesn’t tolerate, it’s someone messing with the people he cares about. So if he spotted you feeling uncomfortable or noticed someone trying to be intimidating, he’d swoop in with the subtlety of a master diplomat. Sabo wouldn’t make a scene, but instead, he’d redirect the situation like an absolute pro.

Maybe he’d throw out a well-timed joke, ask a question that shifts the focus, or suddenly develop an urgent need for your opinion on something random, like, “Hey, didn’t you say you know a lot about… apples?” The offender would be left blinking, and you’d find yourself in a new conversation before you even realized what happened. Crisis averted, all thanks to Sabo’s suave social maneuvering.

And then there’s Sabo’s sweeter side—his covert operation of affection. He knows that grand, dramatic proclamations can sometimes make you want to dive head-first into the nearest bush, so he’s perfected the art of subtle, heartfelt gestures.

He’d leave little handwritten notes tucked in places he knows you’ll find, maybe in your favorite book or slipped under your plate at breakfast. Each note would be filled with the kind of genuine, thoughtful words that would make your heart do an embarrassing little flip. They’d say things like, I know you’re stronger than you think, and I can’t wait for the world to see it, too, or The stars were beautiful last night, but not as much as seeing you smile today.

And don’t even get started on the letters. Oh, the letters. Sabo would write you these intricate, beautifully crafted notes that read like they came straight from the heart of a poet who’s just returned from a victorious battle.

He could have just finished a day of intense Revolutionary Army missions, covered in dust and exhaustion, but you’d still get a note that starts with, Hey, you. I’m thinking about you, and ends with some metaphor about how your presence makes the world brighter, even when he’s knee-deep in chaos.

You’d find trinkets, too—maybe a small charm he found that reminded him of you or a pressed flower from somewhere he thought was pretty. It’s the little things that would make your day and remind you that, no matter what chaos he’s wrapped up in with the Revolutionary Army, you’re always on his mind. And when you’d look up at him, cheeks flushed from finding yet another one of his notes or small gifts, Sabo would just grin that charming, lopsided grin and say, “Did you find it? Good. I meant every word.”

He’s protective, thoughtful, and romantic in a way that feels like it’s tailored just for you. And even if he’s balancing the weight of revolutions and strategic plans, Sabo makes sure you know that you’re not just part of his life—you’re the best part.

[megalony]

Have A Little Faith

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine I had based on a idea after seeing the newest episode. I hope you will all like it.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: Eddie goes to confession because he feels guilty. Guilty for distancing his family from his parents, for not trusting them anymore. And for the memories he has from trying to protect his wife when they didn't help her.

(I'd love any feedback on this one)

Enjoy.

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

"Dios, what am I doing here?"

It sounded like a rhetorical question, but Eddie wasn't so sure if he was asking himself or if he was in fact, asking God for the answer to that.

His head tilted back and his eyes cast high until he was staring up at the ceiling which seemed thousands of miles away just like the stars when he stared up at them at night. He found himself focusing on the arched roof, the vertical beams and slanted wood holding the roof together and the high arches that provided shelter for the birds that often flocked into the church for sanctuary.

Eddie figured all forms of animals needed sanctuary from something at one point or another, not just humans.

His boots clammered against the heavy stoned floor and made it sounded like he was making an entrance, but not the good kind. The vibrating noise his boots made sounded omnimus, like he was making his descent into Hell and announcing his presence. Maybe that was what he was doing, he couldn't be sure.

At least there was no one else here.

It was early. Morning mass had already taken place, but the next one wouldn't be until late this evening. That was why Eddie was here. He knew from experience that hardly anyone came to church at this time and he was relieved to find every pew was vacant. There wasn't a soul in sight, except for the priest who was conveniently stood near the confessionals.

Part of him wanted to turn away. A big part of Eddie's mind was telling him to turn around and leave. This wasn't a good idea. He shouldn't be doing this. He hadn't committed a big sin in order to be here, and he wasn't in a dire situation where he needed to pray to God for strength or a miracle. He hadn't been inside a church since before he moved to LA and he hadn't done confession since he was in school.

But he didn't know what else to do and there was a tiny, miniscule part of Eddie's brain that told him that a confession, or that being inside a church like this, might just give him the sense of peace he was searching for.

His hand stuffed deep into his pocket and his other hand merged with the back of his head so he could scratch his nails deep enough into his hair to reach his scalp and create scratches along the base of his neck.

His head aimed down and his eyes trained in on the slabs of stone beneath his feet as he trudged down between the aisles.

Walking like this reminded Eddie of his first marriage. The one that had gone wrong. The one he was pushed into by his family because of his faith. He didn't want to get married at nineteen. He didn't think being married would make much of a difference between him and Shannon; they had been in love at the time and they were having a baby, marriage wasn't a necessity.

It was for the family, though. And when Eddie signed up for the army, being married seemed like the safer option. If he didn't come home, Shannon and the baby would be okay, and being married gave them both better benefits with the army.

His second marriage was the one Eddie was proud of and happy to remember because it was the marriage he actually wanted. The one that didn't happen in a church. The one with a close-knit gathering of just the main family and a few close friends and the girl who had stolen his heart, vowing never to give it back.

Eddie kept his eyes firmly on the floor when he reached the confessional.

He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, desperate to break out of his body and run away to safety. The panic started to overwhelm his system when he pointed his shaking hand at the confessional without looking at the priest. He didn't want to look.

He didn't want to see who he was going to be confessing to and he didn't want his confessor to see him either. He didn't want to be observed, only listened to and absolved.

The moment he sat down and pulled the curtain across, Eddie dug his short nails into his thighs through his trousers and tilted his head back until the back of his head hit the wood.

He let his eyes fall closed and took a very slow, deep breath. He could hear the old mantra in the back of his head. In, hold for three, out for three. Again. And again.

He could hear (Y/n)'s voice in his mind when he used to suffer panic attacks on a daily basis.

"It's okay, baby. Everything's okay, just breathe with me."

Sometimes, when he heard those words, Eddie could close his eyes and feel (Y/n)'s fingers tracing his face. He could feel her temple pressing against his and her words ghosting across his lips and he could feel her smiling against him. That was how he got through the panic attacks; he either envisioned his wife sat on his lap, cradling his face in her hands. Or he actually had her sat next to him, coaching him through it.

She was a great coping mechanism.

He took another deep breath before he tilted his head to the left and dared to look through the wooden slats that separated him from the priest on the other side. He knew the priest had sat down because he heard the other curtain pull across.

At least they were the only ones in the church. Eddie wouldn't have to hang his head and avoid looking at anyone else when he left and he didn't need to worry about anyone hearing what he was going to talk about today.

What was he supposed to say?

Was Eddie supposed to speak first or did he wait for the priest to tell him how this worked and ask what he was here to confess?

It had been over a decade, almost two, since Eddie had been in this position and it was making him regret turning up at all. Maybe he should have gone straight home. He wasn't even sure why he detoured here on his way home from work.

"What's your name? You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but it might help you relax."

Was he that easy to read, even through the pannels? Did he look that nervous?

"Eddie. It's uh, it's been a while, since my last confession. I haven't done this since school. I haven't been to church since we moved to LA."

Eddie only used to go to church when his mother insisted. His parents went almost every Sunday when his father wasn't away working, and he knew his sister's went to church at least once a month. He may have been raised Catholic, but Eddie didn't instill those beliefs into Chris and he didn't want to follow such a devout life.

He had his faith, he kept his beliefs to himself and he prayed when he had to. His faith never wavered, even if he didn't think or speak to God very much these days.

"That's okay. What do you want to confess?" It didn't feel okay, but Eddie was glad he wasn't being judged.

What did he want to confess? Why was he really here? What had drawn him to this church when he was passing? What caused that instinctive decision to turn right and pull up rather than carry on straight and go home?

"I don't- I don't have to reel off every sin, right?" He almost quirked a smile and when he glanced to the left, he saw the priest dip his head forward and he could just imagine the Holy man smiling.

He must get asked that a lot. There would be some people, like Eddie, who weren't sure they would get resolution if they didn't atone for every sin they had committed since their last confession. But surely Eddie couldn't be asked to recount each and every sin because some were little, and admittedly some were large. He did have the time, the energy or even the memory to recount every time he had sinned over the last fifteen years or so.

"Maybe just the main ones. There must be a reason you decided to come here today."

"Yeah…" There was a reason. Deep down, Eddie knew what had been playing on his mind long enough to make him come here.

His hands switched to clasp together on his lap until his fingers were imbedding in the back of his hands between his tense knuckles that were starting to turn white. He pressed his hands down into his thighs and tilted his head down until the back of his neck ached and his shoulders arched up to try and relieve the tension.

With a deep breath, Eddie tilted his head back up again but he couldn't find the will to open his eyes. He kept them tightly closed as the thought of his parents crossed his mind like a vision from God, telling him the real reason he was here.

"My folks called, they want me to visit." He heard how pathetic his voice sounded and he hated the words as they passed through his lips.

They sounded so ordinary, so normal and usual as if Eddie was talking to one of the guys down at the station in passing. Rather than sitting here in a confessional, opening up old wounds for God to see and resolve him of the sins he was harbouring.

"And you don't want to?" There was an air of caution in the priest's voice because he could tell he was missing something here.

Eddie wished he could open his mind. He wished he could transfer his thoughts, feelings and memories into the mind of the man on the other side of the wooden pannel. He wished he could show him what was wrong instead of having to explain. Eddie was never good at explaining, he could never find the right words or the right way to explain without making a mess of things.

He was surprised he even managed to ask (Y/n) to marry him without blundering it all up. But then again, he hadn't made a huge gesture out of it. He'd had the ring for a few weeks and when he looked at her one night and couldn't think of his life without her, he asked her outright to marry him before giving her a million reasons why he loved her afterwards.

"They're the reason I moved here." A sarcastic, croaky laugh followed Eddie's words as he finally released his hands from his death grip on his lap and tipped his head back again.

"And… you feel guilty, about distancing from them?"

"I guess,"

Maybe it was guilt that drove him here. Maybe that was why Eddie was sitting here asking for resolution. But he knew this wasn't going right. He was talking like he wanted the priest to know the answers without knowing the situation or the problem. He was trying to let the priest lead this conversation but it wasn't working. Eddie had to open up, it had to go both ways.

"Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you, it can't be for deciding to move away. People grow, people move, that's not a sin."

He could see the priest looking- or at least trying to look at him through the wooden pannels and it made him shiver. He didn't like to be observed. He didn't like opening up like this. Eddie was used to bottling things up, that was the example he was led by with his parents and the way he always dealt with things since he was little.

It was hard to rid a lifetime of practice like that and install a new technique to open up and make himself feel better.

Eddie knew moving away wasn't a sin and he knew it wasn't the reason he was here, at least, not the main reason. But it had something to do with the guilt he was feeling. Moving his family down to LA had been a big step and it had been the best decision he'd made, but it didn't let Eddie run away from his fears and his memories.

"I feel guilty for not trusting them around my family." The guttural, choked sound Eddie let out sounded like he had just swallowed poison when the words were finally off his tongue.

The guilt was weighing heavy on his heart. It was the reason he could never find the will to talk to his parents for more than a few minutes at a time. It was why he avoided their calls and tried not to talk to (Y/n) about his folks either. It was why whenever the kids wanted to talk to them, Chris would simply call his grandparents rather than ask Eddie. Chris knew his dad wouldn't speak to them, even if he didn't know why.

Eddie loved them. He loved his parents, but things were strained between them and Eddie couldn't get over how he felt and how guilty he was for distancing them from his family. It was like he had two separate families to live with. He had his home family, his wife and kids, and then he had his external family, his parents and sisters.

His abuela and aunts mingled somewhere in between those two groups because they weren't the ones he had problems with.

"Why don't you trust them?" The priest rolled his lips together and clasped his hands together while his head inclined in Eddie's direction like he was trying to make sure he didn't miss a word.

Why didn't he trust them?

That question was enough to have shivers crawling down Eddie's spine and he looked up at the roof of the confessional like he was waiting for God to leer over him and tell him how stupid and selfish he was being.

He could feel sweat glistening on his skin and trickling down his neck as he grated his nails over his knees.

All he could see was (Y/n).

Her image flashed before his eyes and when Eddie snapped his eyes closed, he could feel water splashing across his skin. Luke warm droplets of water trickling down his face. Tidal waves splashing up his arms, soaking into his shirt and drenching his thighs.

He could feel (Y/n) in his arms. He could feel his throat rubbing raw and he could remember the screams he had let out that made his jaw ache and almost made him lose his voice.

Eddie didn't realise he was crying until he felt a single tear jump from his chin and land on the back of his hand. He quickly swiped his hand beneath his eyes and took a deep, gasping breath to wake himself up. He wasn't back in that memory any more. He was here. He was in church, somewhere he never thought he would find himself again. He was okay and (Y/n) was safe at home with the kids.

Everyone was safe.

"There was an incident. I'd- I'd been out at work, and when I came home, my wife was- she was passed out and they… they weren't helping her."

His hands ran up and down his face and he clicked his jaw into place while he took a few deep breaths to try and settle his system once again. He shook his head, but he could still see that memory flashing before his eyes and it made him want to scream. If he were in here alone, maybe he would of. He might of screamed until his lungs deflated and he passed out. Because that was how he felt when he thought back to what had happened.

"She's epileptic, my folks knew that, and I told them. I told them what to do if something happens, how to help her, what she needs, everything. They've seen it before, seen me help her. But they… they put her in danger. If I didn't get there, she could of- I could have lost her."

Shuddering breaths left Eddie's lips but he managed to reel them back in and get back to a normal breathing pace. He didn't want to be having a panic attack here, in church, in front of a priest. That would be one of his regrettable nightmares.

"I see. And you don't think you can rely on your parents anymore?" His words were careful and calculated, he didn't want to upset Eddie or get this situation the wrong way round.

"Our daughter's epileptic too. My job's hard, we need people around us, but I don't think I could risk my folks trying to help like that again."

(Y/n), Chris and Bella were Eddie's world.

They meant everything to him, always had, always would, and he and (Y/n) were trying for another baby.

Having a family to look after was stressful, Eddie's job was hectic and they needed people around them who could help. People who could help with the kids and who could be there for (Y/n) if she wasn't well or if she was having a bad day with seizure flare-ups.

Both Eddie's girls were epileptic and Chris had CP, and if he couldn't rely on his parents to help look after them properly then he couldn't be around them. How could they stay in Texas after what happened? How could Eddie ever ask his parents to watch the kids?

If Bella had a seizure while staying with his parents, they might not help her properly, the same as they hadn't helped (Y/n). Eddie couldn't risk Bella's health, her safety, maybe even her life, if he couldn't trust his parents. He couldn't allow them to look after the kids and he couldn't have them around to help (Y/n) if they weren't going to take things seriously or listen to them.

Eddie would never stop his folks from seeing the kids and he didn't want to cut them out of his life, that wasn't his intention or what he was doing. But he had to have some distance from them, it was the best thing he could do to look after his family.

"What does your wife think about all of this?"

Eddie's lack of response made the priest suck in a deep breath and he couldn't help but look through the pannels to see what Eddie was doing.

He looked in distress. Both hands back to clasping together, his elbows on his knees and his knuckles pressed deeply into his lips like he was trying to silence himself and stop from saying something he shouldn't.

"She doesn't agree with you?"

"She doesn't know."

Eddie could feel another tidal wave of tears welling up in front of his eyes, blurring his slighted vision of the tiny darkened confession cubicle he was sat in. The lack of lighting in here made Eddie feel like he was in some kind of warped dream or like he was on his descent down to Hell. It didn't do his anxiety any good.

"I don't follow."

Eddie knew his words wouldn't make sense, he knew he wouldn't be able to explain, but he had to talk to someone. He had to get some clarity and resolution and have someone put him on the right path so he knew what to do next.

"The seizure was bad, she woke up in hospital with no idea what happened. She thinks it was a bad seizure, a-and when I said about moving, I didn't mention this was another reason."

Did that make him a bad husband?

Eddie had been torn. He didn't know what to do.

When (Y/n) woke up in hospital, it was much the same as her other bad seizures. She couldn't remember most of the night, she didn't know the circumstances around her seizure or the aftermath. She remembered feeling sick and then waking up with a blank space of almost twelve hours erased from her mind.

Eddie thought he was doing the right thing. He thought telling (Y/n) it had been a bad seizure- which was the truth- was better than saying his parents hadn't looked after her properly like Eddie asked them to. Like they should of. He thought it was better than having (Y/n) be upset or distrusting towards his parents. And he thought it would be easier on his parents.

When they talked about moving, they had reasons. A fresh start, get away from Texas and everything there, family, old memories, old jobs they didn't like. They knew people in LA, there was a good job going for Eddie down here and he'd already done all his training for the LAFD, he only needed to do a prohbation period and then he was fully classed as a fireman. And (Y/n) had a good opportunity down here at Dispatch.

When Eddie told his parents they were moving, they hadn't been happy, they wanted their grandkids and their son close by. But they didn't argue, they knew they couldn't change Eddie's mind. And they knew he didn't trust them anymore, even if his love for them didn't change.

"Then maybe this is a conversation you should be having with her. You might be protecting her, but you could make the situation worse. She's bound to talk to your parents at some point and you're putting yourself in an impossible position between your family. I think you're being weighed down by the truth, it's making you think you're guilty of something you're not."

"Maybe."

"I don't think you need much resolution here, the only sin in that situation is taking all this responsibility on your own."

Eddie didn't know how or why, but those words lifted something from his shoulders at the same time that they sent his heart dropping down to the pit of his stomach.

That was what he wanted to hear. He needed to be reassured that he wasn't a horrible person, that he hadn't committed some increadible sin that he needed resolution from. He was justified in some aspects and that was all he had to hear.

But he had also heard something he was afraid of. That he needed to talk to (Y/n). He had to explain what was weighing heavy on his mind and how it was affecting him. He had to tell her what happened and see what she thought about things and what she wanted to do regarding his parents and moving forward.

But Eddie didn't want to explain. He didn't want to tell (Y/n) about that night.

How could he talk to her about it when that memory plagued his mind and fuelled most of his nightmares?

***

[1 Year Ago]

Moving his hand to cup his forehead, Eddie scratched his nails into his scalp as he closed the front door behind him.

It felt strange to be walking into his parent's home like this, as if he had reverted back to that seventeen year old kid who went out to work in the morning and went out with his friends on an evening- if he wasn't conscripted to babysitting his sisters. He felt like that teenager who had finished a double shift and who was crawling through the door, trying to wake himself up enough to make his way to bed.

The only reason Eddie was coming to his parent's home rather than his actual home was because he knew his family were here.

He had dropped (Y/n), Chris and Bella off here this morning on his way to work and he had talked to his mum before he left.

He kicked off his boots by the door, remembering his mother's rules and traditions that shoes were always left at the door. Something Eddie often did back home because of how instilled those rules were into him.

The tiredness within him started to wash away the moment he headed through into his parent's living room and caught sight of his boy.

Leaning over the back of the sofa, Eddie gently cupped Chris's chin and tilted his head back so he could press a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

"Hey buddy, you had a good day?"

"Yeah, we watch a movie now?"

Eddie danced his eyes up and down Chris's frame and around the sofa. The eight year old was curled up in the centre of the sofa, already in his pyjamas and he had a fluffy blanket strewn across his lap. Eddie hadn't been sure if they would be spending the night with his parents but if Chris was already settled for the evening, he figured they were clearly spending the night here. That was good, Eddie wasn't sure he could find the will to drive back home, even though home was only ten minutes away.

"Give me five minutes and we will." He promised with another kiss against Chris's cheek before he looked around.

He slowly reeled up from the sofa and trudged towards the kitchen to find the rest of the family.

(Y/n) hadn't been well yesterday and most of the night last night she hadn't slept properly. At one point Eddie had spent a good hour cradling her in his arms as she cried because she could feel a seizure oncoming but it took its time.

It didn't seem like a good idea for (Y/n) to stay home today with the kids on her own. Eddie's parents had helped Shannon look after Chris while Eddie had been in the army and after the divorce, they had been there for him and Chris. They had been very welcoming to (Y/n) when she and Eddie got together and now they had Bella, they were one big unit.

His parents never minded helping with the kids and when Eddie rang them this morning and asked if they could help with the kids and keep an eye on (Y/n), they instantly agreed.

A light sparkled in Eddie's eyes when he walked into the kitchen and saw his mum. She was stood at the fridge, a beaker of juice in one hand and Bella in the other. The toddler was sat on her hip with her head on Helena's shoulder and a pacifier in her mouth. It was her bedtime now.

But when the two year old tiredly looked towards the doorway, her lips curved into a grin and she stretched her arms out in Eddie's direction.

"Daddy!" She squealed tiredly around the pacifier between her lips and started to wriggle until he headed over towards them.

"There's my baby." He cooed and carefully took Bella from his mother's arms once she turned in his direction. He lifted her up high before settling his girl down on his chest and pressing a few dozen kisses to her cheek to make her giggle.

Her hands patted his face and she nudged their noses together before she laid her head right against his neck beneath his chin. Her arms cuddled up in between them and she settled comfortably in Eddie's arms, tilted on his chest so she could doze off to sleep if she wanted.

"How's everyone been?" Eddie kept his left arm beneath Bella to hold her up while his rhythmically rubbed his right hand up and down her back and he found himself swaying from left to right to settle her.

His lips formed into a gentle smile when his mum leaned up to kiss his cheek while she set the beaker in her hand down and started tidying up the kitchen while they talked.

"These two have been fine. (Y/n) had a few of those little seizures today though," Helena waved her hand near her temple as if that would help explain what she was talking about, but she knew Eddie would understand.

"Absent ones?" He muttered while he looked down at the little girl in his arms and started to kiss the top of her head.

He could feel Bella's breaths fanning against his chest through his shirt and he could tell she was already halfway to sleep. It was a good thing they would be staying here tonight or she would be unsettled being moved to the car and then back home again.

At least absent seizures were better that full on clonic ones where (Y/n) would tense and spasm and thrash around. And those kinds were easier for his parents to help with. They weren't used to seeing people suffer with epilepsy until (Y/n) came into the family and now Bella had just been diagnosed too.

"Hm, she was drained and looked groggy, so she's gone for a bath." His mum waved her hand up near the ceiling to signal upstairs at the bathroom before she turned around and started cleaning the counters.

But her words made Eddie's eyes narrow and his lips fell into a frown against the top of Bella's head.

"What?"

What was his mum talking about? Why had (Y/n) gone for a bath? Did that mean she had just come out the bathroom or was she still in there?

"She's in the bath, honey." The way his mum cast her head over her shoulder and raised her brows at him made Eddie feel like a teenager just being told some kind of obvious answer. But her words did nothing to calm him down, if anything, they ignited the fire that was starting to rage in his system.

"Who's with her?" Eddie couldn't help the sense of urgency in his voice as his arms tightened around his daughter like she was a comfort teddy in his arms.

"Hm? Eddie she's not a child, she doesn't need supervision."

Helena looked perplexed and she tutted at the end of her sentence with a strange smile on her lips. She shook her head at him before she looked back down to the task she was completing, but she barely managed to swipe the cloth along the counter before Eddie suddenly gripped her arm. He tugged until she had no choice but to turn and face him and his grip tightened to keep her attention on him.

"Ma I told you she's been seizing all day- if she seizes in the bath she could drown. You know someone has to stay with her."

Eddie knew his wife wasn't a child and he would never treat or talk about her as if she were. But he was protective. (Y/n) was epileptic and on a bad day like his when she was having multiple seizures, she had to have someone with her to make sure she was okay.

(Y/n) never took a bath unless someone was in the room with her. Whenever she wanted a bath she would sheepishly ask Eddie if he could sit in the bathroom with her. And nine times out of ten, she ended up pulling Eddie into the bath to lay with her.

It was too risky to get a bath alone, especially if she was suffering bad seizures during the day because if she had a seizure in the bath she could slip under the water and drown. It was why (Y/n) stuck to taking showers because at least if she had a seizure during a shower, she could hurt herself but she wouldn't choke or drown.

"Oh Eddie calm down. She was very tired but she was fine, I helped her get into the bath and the tremors seemed to stop, she was quiet and content so I left her to it."

Eddie's heart plummeted down to his chest as if the organ had been disconnected and felt like a stone dropping into his intestines.

"She was- oh Jesus!"

A disgruntled sound left Bella's lips when she was suddenly jostled from her father's arms and thrust back into her grandma's hold. She whimpered and reached out for Eddie but it was too late, he was already skidding out the kitchen and running for the stairs in the hall.

No, no no. Please don't be happening now!

If (Y/n) was quiet and still trembling when his mum got her into the bath, that meant (Y/n) could possibly have still been enduring a seizure.

Eddie knew his wife. He knew she would protest if she was left in the bath on her own, she was petrified of having a seizure and not having anyone with her when it happened. If she was unusually quiet and trembling Eddie would guess she had been slipping back into an absent seizure and with all the seizing activity today, (Y/n) was liable to go into a tonic clonic seizure at any point.

His feet smacked harshly against the stairs as he thundered up two at a time, grabbing the bannister to propel himself faster until he was at the top.

He spun to the right, almost crashing into his dad at the top of the stairs but he paid him no mind.

Eddie prayed. He prayed he was wrong and he was panicking for nothing. He begged and pleaded to be overreacting and to crash into the bathroom and find (Y/n) laid there, relaxed and calm as ever. Or to walk in on her getting changed and have her flash him that cheeky, flirtatious smile and ask him what he was so eager for.

"Eddie-"

But the moment he flung open the bathroom door and peered inside, he couldn't feel his heart anymore. It felt like someone had thrust their hand inside his ribcage and physically tore out the organ that no longer seemed to be pulsing and beating within his chest.

"Dios- shit- somebody call an ambulance!"

He hurtled into the bathroom, his knees crashing down on the tiled floor with such a thud that it felt like he'd dislocated both his knees.

Without a second thought, Eddie slammed forward until his abdomen was splitting apart with the edge of the bath imbedding into his waist and he surged both arms into the bath.

He could feel the lukewarm water sloshing around and gulping up to his elbows as he joined in the tidal waves that were splashing up either side of the bath. Water was already coating every square inch of the rim around the bath and large puddles were splotched onto the floor around him.

She was seizing.

(Y/n)'s head was periodically slamming back into the bottom of the bath so much that Eddie was surprised there wasn't a dent or even a crack in the tub. But each horrid thrash of her head was dulled down by the water slowing her movements. Her arms were pinned against her chest like she was trying to cover her modesty, but her hands were bent at odd angles and her fingers were curled in odd positions like she was playing an invisible piano.

Her elbows were jabbing at the sides of the bath and causing great waves to splash about her body and her feet were crammed at the other end of the bath while both legs were jerking up and down like she was trying to back stroke in the bath.

Eddie wasted no time in sliding his hands beneath (Y/n)'s jerking body and he reeled her up until she was thrashing in the air, her back barely touching the surface of the water to keep her fully afloat.

He could see tiny marks in the back of the bath where (Y/n)'s head had clearly slammed into the bath before she went under the water.

But he had no idea how long she had been under the water or how much water she had inhaled and had been choking for. It could have been seconds, it could have been a minute.

"Fuck! Fuck!" He didn't care how loudly his voice resonated around the walls as he all but screamed.

Why had nobody listened to him? He told his parents about (Y/n)'s condition, they had known about it for years, since they met her. He told them how to look after her if she ever stayed with them like she had today. He showed them what to do if she seized and started throwing up or choking. He showed them the best positions to lay her in and how to administer emergency medication if needed.

He told them what not to do, don't let her to go sleep after a bad seizure, call an ambulance if she had continuous seizures or started biting her tongue or if she'd injured herself. And he strictly told his mum to stay with her if she was having a bad day and wanted a shower or a bath.

His mum made it sound like she had gotten (Y/n) into the bath and then left her. Did (Y/n) even want a bath? Had she even been lucid, or had his mum decided this would calm her down and helped her strip and then left her to it? Why hadn't she listened to him? Why didn't she check back in and make sure (Y/n) was okay?

"Okay baby, okay, come here. I've got you." Words tumbled past Eddie's lips as he held (Y/n) in his left arm and used his right hand to reach out and pull the plug. He heard the drain gurgling as it drank up the water.

His right arm then slid beneath (Y/n)'s thrashing legs and Eddie did his best to stop the adrenaline from making him tremble all over. He pushed up from his knees so he was crouching beside the bath and tried to be as careful as possible when he lifted (Y/n) from the bath.

He cringed at how her head bent around his arm and pushed her neck out and the strangled noises she made were breaking his soul.

Once she was in his arms, Eddie backed up and went back down to his knees so he could lower (Y/n) down onto the bath mat.

As soon as she was laid out, Eddie got to work. He rolled (Y/n) onto her left side so she was facing the bath and he was knelt behind her. His hands moved to her throat and he leaned over her with his ear as close to her mouth as he could without (Y/n) head-butting him.

She wasn't breathing properly.

She was gasping and spluttering. Her head was still jerking back and forth but water was steadily pouring from her lips. Eddie pulled back and started to pat the heel of his hand between her shoulder blades while his other hand gripped her chin and he tried to pull her head down so she could cough up the water she had inhaled.

It seemed to work. A great surge of water left her lips and spluttered onto the bath mat and her chest seemed to stop convulsing as much as the rest of her body.

"Good girl, breathe for me." Eddie's voice shook as he switched to rubbing his hand all along her back to try and keep her lungs stimulated and open so she would take in proper breaths.

He reached out and yanked a towel from the rail and draped it across (Y/n)'s waist, keeping it loose so it wouldn't tangle or consctrict her while she continued to thrash around.

"Eddie?!"

His head snapped to look over his right shoulder and daggers shot from his eyes when he looked at his parents. His mum was stood in the doorway, Bella in her arms who was thankfully looking the other way over Helena's shoulder. And his dad was stood beside her, trying to crane his head around the door to see what exactly was happening and why he was on the phone to 911. He was asking for an ambulance but he had no idea why.

"She was under the water!" Anger flooded Eddie's gritty voice that was an octave lower than usual.

This was why he was protective. This was why he asked his parents to help (Y/n) today. This was exactly what he feared happening to (Y/n) when she was alone, but not when his family were here to help her.

How was he supposed to trust them when they had let his wife drown? When they had completely ignored his advice and (Y/n)'s state and left her on her own when she was in a bad state.

What if this happened with Bella? What if Bella was playing outside or she was having a bath and they took their eyes off her for a few minutes? Would they let her drown too? Would they take proper care of Bella, or would this happen to her as well?

If Eddie hadn't of come home when he did tonight, (Y/n) would of drowned. He dreaded to think how long it would of taken for someone to check on her and find out what was happening in here.

Terror flooded Eddie's veins as he turned his attention back to (Y/n) when her arm jerked out and slammed into the edge of the bath with a horrifying thud. He gently took her wrist and bent her arm back near her chest so she wasn't at risk of hitting anything else.

When he heard Bella whimper and fidget, he looked over his shoulder to his parents who were still in the doorway.

"Take her downstairs- papi tell them she was fucking seizing under water!" Eddie clicked his fingers and waved his hand towards his parents who were being more of a hindrance than a help tonight. He knew his father hadn't told them the situation and Eddie wanted an ambulance now, this was high priority.

If (Y/n) had been under water for long she could still have some water in her lungs and she could contract pneumonia from this. And all the seizure activity she had been having yesterday and today wasn't good, she needed to go to hospital and be observed and looked after.

He was glad when both parents retreated and he heard his mum hurrying downstairs, although he heard his father standing in the hallway, shakily reeling off the situation to the dispatcher on the phone.

A sigh tumbled past Eddie's lips and he leaned over when (Y/n)'s limbs slowly started to tremble rather than thrash around. She was reduced to shaking instead of violently throwing herself around and it made him feel like a weight had been lifted from his stomach.

His lips attached to the top of (Y/n)'s head and he began gliding his hand up and down her arm over the top of the towel while his other hand brushed her wet, tangled hair from her face and his knuckles glided across her cheek.

"Okay, mi amor. You're okay, it's gonna be just fine. Good girl, I've got you."

His lips stayed against her neck and he shuffled a bit closer when a tiny murmur left (Y/n)'s lips along with another splutter and a trickle of water. He carefully curved his arm around her waist and let her lean back on his lap, but Eddie felt like his heart was beating out of his chest and trying to transfer into (Y/n)'s chest instead.

This wasn't going to happen again. Eddie couldn't let his family stay with his parents like this if this was how they were going to be looked after.

He almost lost his wife.

Eddie wasn't losing (Y/n); not for anything in the world.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hey cats, I was the one who sent you that anon that's alright with me, I don't mind but is an gen z reader yeeted to the dc verse be okay? I could picture Bruce almost growing white hair because of reader who is an epitome of ✨unhealthy coping mechanism✨

Oh yeah, a reader just yeeted in there... Some universe doing some shit and Bruce adopts him... While also losing his mind. I love it. Lets go. It's a bit short, but... I like it.

Summary: (Y/N) is Gen Z. Bruce is loosing his mind.

Warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms, Gen Z ones at that.

Bruce knew that each generation is different. They have different opinions, don't like to be told what to do exactly, although that's more specific to the newer generations. That is something that Bruce knew all to well. Gen Z wanting to have a balance between work and personal business. Bruce could respect that. But one other thing that shocked Bruce about Gen Z is the fact they have so many unhealthy coping mechanisms.

How would Bruce know?

He has adopted a teen who simply got, according to Jason and other younger heroes, yeeted into their universe. Universe where Justice League and it's heroes are real. And where DC comic universe is real. (Y/N) was forced to explain to the entire Justice League what DC is, what does it contain. And that has only applied to comic books. Then he had to explain cartoons, movies, video games... Absolutely everything.

Bruce found it to be interesting, the entire multiverse essentially, all of them are carefully planned out... Bruce found them to also be a great source of information. What to avoid, what to do... It was an incredible well of information and has decided to investigate this even more.

And while doing so, keep (Y/N) close to make sure that he has the information he needs.

And while (Y/N) is a nice kid, he has some unhealthy... Coping mechanisms as he calls them.

First one being jokes. Humor is something that can help a person if they feel down. Or if they simply want to deflect. And (Y/N)'s sense of humor is rather... Dark, to say the very least. Bruce would more often than not get gray hairs if he heard (Y/N) joking about his will to live being gone. He knows that (Y/N) is not suicidal... Right?

Humor is simply used to deflect... Right?

Bruce didn't quite like how (Y/N) was chronically online. Sure, teens spend time on their phone, but this is borderline an addiction. Bruce has tried to solve the problem with putting restrictions, taking the phone away. Put settings that don't allow (Y/N) to be online from certain times. That was to try to make (Y/N) sleep better, since he's clearly online into the late hours of the night.

Bruce simply wants the only child in the house who is not on patrol to have a normal sleeping schedule. Is that a crazy thing to ask for? It should be a normal thing to ask for, right? Being chronically online is far from good. Far, far, from good.

Also, hyper fixation.

(Y/N) was more invested in fiction rather than reality. Which would be fine. If it didn't interfere with his life. In what way, I might hear you asking? He's been neglecting his hygiene, gets angsty and anxious if he is not near his hyper fixation. Bruce never knew that Gen Z is this... Bruce shouldn't say annoying, but this was getting out of hand. Rather fast.

Bruce had to take action.

Otherwise he would get a lot more grey hairs. Way more. Way more.

" (Y/N), go to sleep. " Bruce pleaded, suited up and ready to go on patrol, however, he can't go, knowing that (Y/N) won't go to sleep. And everyone needs their 7 to 9 hours of sleep. Besides Bruce and the boys that are... On their night job. To put it mildly.

" I'm not tired Bruce. "

A common response in the most recent days from (Y/N) to Bruce.

" I swear to God, I'll sedate you with ketamine if you don't go to sleep. I'll knock you out with it to the point you'll be sleeping for days. " Bruce threatened and then came the infamous two words.

Alright, bet.

Bruce was seeing red at the mere thought of those words. They were both taunting and dismissive. Not something to be saying to an already stressed father anyway. And while Bruce has grown to love (Y/N) as his son, he was going to lose his mind with him.

" Alright, here's a deal. You go to sleep and sleep through the night and I'll take you to see your favorite artist. "

(Y/N) tilted his head, frowning.

" Promise? "

" I promise you. I swear it to you. I'll get you VIP tickets. I'll make sure to take you myself and pull strings. But for the love of God and everything else, go to sleep! "

[hoshinasblade]

you are so close to gaslighting yourself into thinking that maybe, just maybe you have already told hoshina's mom in the past what your favorite tea is.

the problem with that thought is today was the first time you met the mother of your boyfriend.

you denied it in your head - for all you know, perhaps mrs. hoshina is just really a good at guessing. that, or you are going batshit crazy.

because at that very day, people you have met for the first time - people who may be friends with hoshina soshiro but are practically strangers to you - seem to be aware of small details about you.

captain ashiro complimented you on your blue dress after shaking your hands, saying it's obvious why it is your favorite color, emphasizing how it brings out the intensity of your eyes. even okonogi, who you know works directly with the third division's vice-captain, had a specific joyful aura on her friendly face as she offered to hang out with you in the future, mentioning how she is a fan of true crime documentaries too and suggesting in the same breath that you should try the pudding sold in the headquarter's cafeteria.

you could have let all of that go if only you did not blush like a teenager after hoshina's own older brother called you by your childhood nickname during family dinner.

"i'm sorry." hoshina's hand found yours, his thumb drawing patterns on your wrist. he knows you'd been on edge since morning, and although this is entirely your idea - meeting his friends and his family in one day - he wouldn't blame you if you're overwhelmed.

"they did their research on me or something," you tried to laugh the nerves away. it didn't work.

"ah." hoshina suddenly looked guity. " that. well -" he stopped for a moment, gathering his wits, choosing the right words to say. "i mean, it makes sense that everyone who actually knows me would know about you, really."

you wanted to joke as a response; you wanted to say that he's talkative and tends to yap for hours about stuff he loves so yes, people around him would naturally know things about you. but then you caught yourself because this is yet another confirmation of what hoshina soshiro had been telling you for months now - that you are someone he loves.

you did not know being known could feel this sweet.

"huh. do you reckon i can extort them for information about you next time?" this time it was your turn to grab hoshina's hand, and with your forefinger, you traced three little words on the warm skin of his palm.

[author's note: hello guys, i know i haven't been posting a lot anymore, but i am thankful to everyone who still remembers this blog - yes i can read your asks, yes i see that you've tagged me in a fic, yes i checked my notifications in this blog every now and then. it might take me long to respond most of the time so apologies in advance but please know that i appreciate all interactions from everyone.

also i dont need to remind you but i don't tolerate copy-pasting or reposting any of my works anywhere. i read a lot from here too, and other writers can attest to this as well - we know if a line or a paragraph from any of our works is copied and/or reworded. ]

[theunholybastard]

Bad Day (Papa Emeritus IV x Gender-Neutral!Reader)

Requested by @ollies-station !!! <3

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Is Hinted Trans But It's Pretty Vague, Mentions Of Body Dysmorphia/Dysphoria, 2nd Person POV

Copia hovered over you, paints smudged and halfway wiped off. He stopped in the middle of washing his face when he noticed something wasn't right with you. You lay face down in the bed, unmoving, just so done with life.

"Eh... t-tesoro, what's wrong?" Copia asks warily, head tilted like a confused puppy, eyes darting around the room awkwardly. He was never very good at comforting people. But you were the love of his life, how could he not at least try to be of help? He just can't stand to see you like this.

"Everything." You reply hoarsely, muffled by the pillow you were crying into earlier. You were hardly exaggerating, everything seemed to be going wrong and sending you further down a spiral. Not to mention, you've not been very kind to yourself today either. When you first woke up, things immediately felt off. You felt off. Looking into the mirror, you instantly felt dread, like something wasn't quite right with you. Deep rooted insecurities bubbled up to the surface, your body not feeling like your own. You just want the day to be over already, but every passing moment feels like eternity.

"Bad day, huh?" Copia sighs, sitting down on the bed with you, mindful to give you a little bit of space if you needed it. You finally lift your head up, and the sight makes Copias heart ache. Red, puffy face, tear stains down your cheeks, hair tussled and greasy. You hadn't even gotten a chance to shower that morning, notably the first sign today wasn't going to be all that great. You probably looked like a hot mess right now, but to Copia, you were the most beautifully ethereal being he'd ever laid his eyes on, no matter what state you were in.

"Is there anything I can do?" Copia asks concernedly, softly stroking your back with a gloved hand. "Do you want to talk about it? It might make you feel better."

"Maybe... But there's still so much stuff I have to do today-"

"Non importante. Whatever needs to get done today, I will do it for you. You've had enough stress put on you today, now it's time for you to relax. Now, tell your Papa what is wrong, okie dokie?"

You couldn't help yourself, airing out all your grievances to him. You spared no details, every little thing that went wrong and every little worry you had was brought to his attention, and he listened intently to every word. That was the one thing he's always been very good at. Listening. And he was right, it did make you feel a little better, especially with how earnest you could tell he was.

When it was all said and done, he said nothing at first, simply holding you close to his chest, his warmth and sweet smell of cologne quickly lulling you into a sense of security and comfort. You knew you always had a safe space with him.

"Bad days come and go, amore. You must keep in mind that this won't last forever. The good days will come back sooner than you think. And yes, maybe they will fleet sooner than you want them to as well, but the important thing is that they will come again. Look outside, tesoro..." You did as you were told, gazing out the window to see the sun slowly setting over the horizon.

"The day is almost over, you see? And tomorrow is a new day. A better day. Why don't you sit here for a moment and focus on that while I run you a nice relaxing bath, hm? I'll quickly run whatever errands you have left today, and after that I'll order some takeout for the two of us, how's that sound? I'll get you whatever you want."

"And... And can we maybe watch something after? And cuddle?" You sniffle. A comfort show would be great right now. He smiles. "Of course! Anything for my baby." He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, pulling away to get up and do the tasks he promised. You quickly grab the lapels of his jacket, keeping him from leaving you so soon.

"Copia... You know you don't have to do this, right? I'll be fine, really." You murmur, self conscious and worried that you're asking too much of this sweet, perfect man you've somehow managed to claim as yours. He chuckled.

"I know, amore; I want to. I want to make you happy, I want to make things easier for you. Because I love you. Because you deserve that. Capisci?" He says, a gentle firmness in his soft-spoken voice. Hesitantly, you nod. Still, you don't let go of his jacket just yet.

"Could you stay with me for just a little while longer?" You ask, hopeful and bleary eyed. He grins.

"As long as you need, tesoro."

-

[nadas-dirthalen]

A Veilguard Achievement Icon Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore... but Was I Right?

PART TWO: What Veilguard Did Narratively, and What That Tells Us Going Forward

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Hello again, friends and travellers. Now that I've beaten Dragon Age: the Veilguard, I wanted to go through all those 30,000 words of predictions that I wrote in the ~11 days leading up to its release. I'd seen an achievement icon that pieced together a lot of Dragon Age lore for me.

But, I hadn't played Veilguard. All I had was the footage from September 19, the achievement list, and anything else BioWare had released.

So... was I right? And if so, how much was I right about?

This is your warning:This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.

(my davrinmance is going great as i try and collect every codex, thanks for asking!)

Today's Discussion: to Understand Dragon Age, We Must Understand Its Writing.

Before I can go any further on why I think the way that I think, or why I imagine the story might take us in certain directions, it's essential that you all understand where I'm coming from. Veilguard, like any game, is a piece of art. Its bones are built with similar narrative structures to novels (though not identical, and that's important!). To make sense of what's to come, we must examine Veilguard's bones the same way.

I've seen a lot of people wondering why, for instance, the Inquisitor is not Veilguard's protagonist. I've seen people lamenting the fact that there were not on-screen clarifications of popular lore theories. Before this series goes any further, I need to say my piece about why I believe that it was essential that Veilguard was written as it was, and why its writing does in fact help us better predict Dragon Age's path forward moreso than even Inquisition.

That said, today I hope to cover:

What Veilguard Demanded of BioWare's Writing Team, and Why

The Protagonist: Why Rook's Perspective Matters

The 3 Act Structure: Our Lens

The Companions: Paths to Our Answers — and Future Games

What Veilguard Demanded of BioWare's Writing Team, and Why

Let's get this out of the way right away: it has been 10 years since Inquisition. And, like it or not, that means one gigantic thing for BioWare: if they wanted to have any hope of making more Dragon Age, they needed to bring in new players and resuscitate the interest of many old players who did not stay in the fandom the whole time. They didn't—and couldn't—write Veilguard specifically for you or I, people of Tumblr. If they did, it would've pleased us... and then cost them so much money that we'd never get any more Dragon Age.

That doesn't just mean modernizing the game's aesthetics, or providing a glossary in its Codex. It means they would have to balance all of the following (just at a glance):

Managing the learning curve in general. Not even I looked in the glossary as I played. Me, supreme enjoyer of all codices ever. It's just not something most players are ever going to do, as much as it the lore is such a fundamental part of the game in general. That means simplifying terms where possible — elven gods in place of Evanuris, for example — but also trimming down what would have to necessarily reference past games. Only a tiny fraction of the fanbase has played Inquisition in the last 3 years, nevermind this year.

Recontextualizing the lore. That does not mean rebooting it, it means situating all we have learned so far in a framework that fits all we have learned so far. Much of what we learned about the Evanuris seemed, for so long, to be totally separate for the things we knew about the blight and Blights. Veilguard needed to show us how those things relate, and to do so in a fresh context that would allow everyone to develop new understanding.

Pushing us one step past Inquisition's knowledge. Veilguard, after reframing the lore, had to leave us a path for new lore, and increased understanding. I think the devs put it really well when they say that their aim is to give us some answers, but leave us with even more questions. More on that later, and in future posts.

Updating Thedas' ethos. Let's face it. It has been 15 years since Origins came out. The things that were more typical of scifi/fantasy (SFF) then are just not the same now, and would not be perceived by 2024 players in the same way as by those who started Origins in 2009. The world has changed; our cultural understandings are broadening and need to continue broadening. BioWare is doing a good thing by incorporating things like nonbinary identities into Veilguard, and it is good that Veilguard is progressing the world of gaming in that way, especially considering its success. (This is also, I wager, why we choose an Archon out of two choices who want the same thing, rather than leaving that open to a more "evil" option).

Dislodge older fans from their Solas headcanons to get everyone old and new to the same confusion and potential distrust. Hear me out. Everyone who's stayed since Inquisition has beliefs about Solas. Even me, who got here in March of this year, whose fic reads overly soft now because I just didn't know Solas' grander plan until 48 hours before Veilguard came out. Everyone has had headcanons for so long that everyone has had time for their opinions of Solas to cement themselves. In order for Veilguard to work as a story, they had to debunk what everyone thought they knew: both lovers and haters of the famously controversial egg. By breaking down our existing beliefs, the devs open up essential curiosity from the players as to who—and what—Solas really is, which propels us through the narrative and has us absorbing information.

And this curiosity? It is why Veilguard could not have the Inquisitor as its protagonist. To keep us curious as players (and "readers" of the lore), BioWare needed a new protagonist.

Specifically, they needed Rook.

The Protagonist: Why Rook's Perspective Matters

Here's the thing. The protagonist is not just the face of the game. They are our vehicle to understanding that game. The plot follows their wants and responds to their understanding. What they don't know, what they want to know, is what makes up our every objective. Their emotional journey through the game is our emotional journey through the game. Following it, going after the things that matter to our protagonist, is how the entire game (including its lore) takes shape in our minds.

That's why it's essential that they don't know everything—especially after a ten year interim between games.

Veilguard's plot and twists proved that the Inquisitor did not know everything. They, in fact, knew less than half of everything. If we had kept them as the protagonist, all of our knowledge and curiosity would be shaped by the Inquisitor's understanding: a wrong understanding. We could constantly be fighting with what we think the Inquisitor should know, what should be true because we had seen it through the Inquisitor. We would be set up to be at odds with the very events of the game. Rook is a blank slate, barring a few key tonal indicators, and that blank slate allows for us to fit all previous lore into its new, recontextualized shape that I mentioned above. (Again, note that I am not saying rebooted.)

That, and Rook has multiple motivations. The Inquisitor is focused largely on stopping or saving Solas; Rook is charged with figuring everything out as it is happening to them in real time with almost no context or experience, AND stopping or saving Solas. The Inquisitor has existing allies and resources; Rook does not. Rook must build their own campaign from the ground up, and that means the player is building their own experience from the ground up. Their allies, abilities, and home base, yes, but also their knowledge. Discovering things at the same pace as Rook, with a similarly urgent drive to do so, keeps the game from infodumping at us. It keeps the reveals evenly spaced, but also immediately interesting to the player.

And best of all? Rook allows the writers to do what they want to Solas without breaking his dynamic with the endless sea of Inquisitors (or, at least, with way less risk of doing so). We needed to have our theories about him broken down and rebuilt as players; to do that to the Inquisitor would damage an entire sea of headcanons. We'd never get the Solavellan ending we wanted, for instance, if Solas had played mind games with Lavellan for that many months. And if Solas didn't do those things, if he'd been wholly defanged, he would have lost his appeal and importance in the narrative. He wouldn't be the Dread Wolf in the ways that matter to Veilguard.

It's important, then, that Rook has just the slightest bit of backstory. They care about their allies. They are not a potential political force like the Inquisitor. They have many options to be impulsive. Every single Rook has rebelled against authority. Every single one has a stubborn streak. BioWare put all those qualities there on purpose, because Solas uses every single one, in every single Rook, as a tool. That was all essential for his character development in this game! At the same time, they couldn't do that with the Inquisitor as protagonist, because after 10 years, no two Inquisitors are similar enough to predict/script their actions and responses in that way.

Those twists are perhaps the most important tool for forward momentum in the game. The more they keep us guessing, the more we'll play and seek new information, the more we'll learn. Which brings me to...

The 3 Act Structure: Our Lens

Like I said: BioWare couldn't just infodump at us in Veilguard. It wouldn't be interesting to even half the fans that stayed, these ten years. To keep us engaged as players, they had to string the lore through a series of engaging events. Keep the momentum up, so we would not be lazily looking over codices, but chasing new knowledge and understanding. It all had to be emotionally relevant and resonant to keep us caring, because very few people play games they don't care about.

Veilguard, like a lot of written art, follows the three act structure. Though there are a lot of variants on the more precise beats, they all broadly follow the same-ish path.

Hook: The opening image. In Disney movies, this is the song where the character sings about all the things they want in their journey, and what they truly need is only implied. It gives an opening note for the theme by showing what the character lacks, and what they might need to gain before defeating the final villain. In Veilguard, this is our prologue, centered entirely around Varric: the big red herring where we see that Rook is out of their depth, opting to push over a support beam rather than take on the Dread Wolf. Off-screen, it is also the background information about Rook, showing us who they are and what they want before we play.

Inciting Incident: The event that kicks off the main plot. In DA:tV, there's a big collection of these (because every companion needs one; we'll get to that). The first big one is, of course, the failed ritual. The death Rook doesn't see. The Evanuris are freed, but Rook has only half the information.

First Plot Point: "Plot Point" means "big/defining decision" in writer-speak. This is the moment the protagonist decides to go forth on their adventure. In video games, this is more or less determined for you, but you have the option to flavour this moment in Veilguard. You can choose how to tell Solas that you'll do what he wants: either by appeasing him or angering him. You do the same for Neve and Harding afterward, and then again in Arlathan and D'Meta's Crossing. You state that you're doing this, no matter what it takes.

First Pinch Point / "The Setback": "Pinch" means "twist" in writer-speak. It's the first time the narrative is shaken up, and is also usually the first time we see the true scope of the villain. In Veilguard, the first big twist has been called "the Setback" by some of the devs (notably, I heard it at a panel in September). For Veilguard, this is Weisshaupt. We see the true scope of Ghilan'nain's horrors, but we also see the first BIG hints (outside of Varric) that Solas is manipulating us—because he really doesn't seem to hate the Wardens as much as Inquisition enjoyers like myself expected. This event concludes act 1.

"New World" / "Fun and Games": The devs have remarked that they wanted to see the tone of their setback (Weisshaupt) threaded through the rest of the game, and we do: through Davrin and Lucanis' banter, through the reflections on the consequences of Weisshaupt, through every character struggling with their confidence and identity after that point, through the blight getting worse and worse and worse. That's what the New World is: the characters getting used to new circumstances after that first big twist. The Fun and Games are the slow and steady recovery from the twist, warming and solidifying formerly tenuous relationships. This is where we do a lot of companion and faction quests.

Midpoint: In a narrative that ends in a victory (so most games ever), the midpoint is a false victory. We think we've nailed something, only for something else to happen that begins to seed doubt in the protagonist's capability and/or ability to solve the plot. For Veilguard, this is the blighted dragon fight: we think we've got Ghilan'nain, but then Elgar'nan shows up and demonstrates that Rook is in so, so over their head.

Second Pinch Point: The second twist. The villain's identity is crystal-clear, and by now we've definitely interacted with the villain more directly. This is Arlathan, Elgar'nan's mind-trap—and Solas' "rescue" of Rook, showing his duplicity in full. Elgar'nan notably says a line about not falling for Fen'Harel's tricks again, and it foreshadows what we will see of Solas.

Disaster / Crisis: This is the event that triggers the protagonist's downward spiral. Not a twist (necessarily), but a catastrophe. In Veilguard's case, it's both: the Ghilan'nain fight leaves one companion dead-dead and another presumed dead. Then, the twist: Solas using Rook's sharply felt regret to pull his gambit and swap places with them. A series of events that literally had me gasping so frequently I got dizzy. Thanks, BioWare :) Many people say that this event, or something between this event and the "All is Lost" beat, conclude act 2. For games, the pacing is sometimes different, as is the cutoff mark, because otherwise the third act has the potential to be very short.

"All is Lost" / The Dark Night of the Soul: It's exactly as the name suggests: all has been lost. The protagonist doubts themself completely. It seems like nothing more can go wrong, and like nothing might ever go right again. The protagonist is at a loss for how to move forward. In Veilguard? Varric is dead. Davrin/Harding is dead. Bellara/Neve is dead. Rook is literally trapped not only in their regret, but in a reflection of Solas' regret. And to get out, they'll need...

"The Epiphany" / Second Plot Point: "Plot point" means "big/defining decision" in writer-speak, as stated above. Only this one contains more layers than the first. This is where the thematic statement of the piece comes out: the lesson that the protagonist must learn is stated, clearly, for all of us to see. It is the thing that picks them up off the ground, giving them strength to face the climax and the danger it promises. In Veilguard, this is Varric saying to Rook, "Have you learned nothing here?" and reminding both Rook and player that he chose this; Rook's companions chose this; we cannot blame ourselves for the actions of others. We cannot carry grief for other people, or we'll drown in it. Sound like any other character we know?

Climax: The big fight! But also, the big moment where the theme is shown to be the narrative key. In every ending of Veilguard, Rook being Solas' perfect mirror is the key to winning the day against the Dread Wolf. It just depends on what facet of Solas Rook chooses to mirror: the trickster, the nasty combatant, or the person who was haunted by their own failings and lost companions.

Resolution: Narrative threads are tied up, or a promise is made to tie up those loose ends in future installations. Veilguard's credits do both of those things. :)

Why am I telling you all of this? Because the lore must follow that skeleton. Every reveal we get must fit into both the timing and the feeling of those events. It would not fit to suddenly drop everything about the Titans right after Rook gets to the Lighthouse, which is why those enemies you need to kill to get the last memories are level 30-40. It would not fit to uncover everything about the blight's origin before Weisshaupt. If they forced us into that as players, all the casual fans and new players would duck out, feeling overwhelmed.

Even for us older fans, narrative structure shapes significance. You can tell a lot about a codex's overall importance and tone just by understanding where you find it, and when. That's why the Trespasser codices carry so much weight, even the ones about the Evanuris' actions that we don't see on screen at all: they are at the bitter end, and so they carry all the bitterness, longing, and mourning of that ending. Without the context of Trespasser, they mean less.

This is also why Veilguard paces its companion quests this way, not allowing you to complete them until later in the game. Every companion has something to teach us, and BioWare wanted to give each companion's narrative the weight it deserved.

The Companions: Paths to Our Answers — and Future Games

Anyone who's played Inquisition knows that companion quests shape entire facets of the lore in individual games, as well as set us up for the trajectory of the next games. Just look at Solas and Cole: together, they shaped our whole understanding of spirits in Veilguard. They set us up to ask all the right questions about not only spirits being bound as demons (Solas' quest), but about spirits being able to manifest in physical shape (Cole's quest). Together, their narrative conclusions foreshadowed much of the Evanuris' reveals in Veilguard: that they were spirits who could manifest into corporeal shape, and that they had the ability to ask others to manifest—and then bind them.

Again, these quests are paced throughout Inquisition's main plot. You cannot do their before Skyhold, and you cannot do them after the cutoff of (I believe) the Temple of Mythal. Inquisition forces you to see those quests' endings in the exact right spot: sometime around the midpoint (Adamant/WEWH), but before the disaster/dark night (the Temple of Mythal). They do that so you will feel that those things are significant.

Veilguard does the same thing. Every companion has a facet of the lore attached to it, but you cannot follow those threads to their conclusions at the beginning of the game. The game won't let you, because the moments need to be spaced out properly and carry the necessary emotional weight. Not all of their quests promise speculative material for future games in the same way, because some explain the context of the current game (Varric, in DAI, accomplished both with the red lyrium content, for instance; Leliana, meanwhile, dealt with the theme of faith in DAI and did not promise future speculation).

These concepts will all get far more attention in due time, but in short, here's what I think is associated with each companion:

Harding: Titans! But also, angry titans, and the difference between "angry titan" and "source of blight." In the same vein, what the dwarves should do going forward, and where they should place the titans in their culture.

Neve: The soul of Veilguard; her narrative is very current to DA:tV, in my early understanding. But she brings forth a lot of nuance to the themes of regret, and what that regret looks like on a smaller scale (a city, rather than a world). She does a lot of work in showing us that regret is regret, no matter the scale, and that the work we do to do better matters, no matter the scale. Additionally, her personal quest foreshadows Solas' use of blood magic against us being more than we thought by showing off Aelia's puppets, suggesting to us (tonally) that Rook may be Solas' puppet.

Bellara: The Forgotten Ones!! Anaris! Also, the place of ancient elvhenan in the future of Thedas, and what the elves should do/feel going forward.

Lucanis: I think they were going for some Forgotten One/Forbidden One hints, judging by some notes from the Ossuary and some banter between Lucanis and the others. This needs more dissection. Lucanis sort of does both what Bellara and Neve do: the Forgotten Ones, and also the heart of Veilguard's theme, with a lot of found family vibes thrown in.

Davrin: The blight itself, and the future of the blight without any archdemons left to cause capital-B Blights. Thedas' path to healing its nature.

Emmrich: The nature of what spirits are. I need to go screencap more specifics, but I swear this necromancer has referenced the difference between spirit and human soul and has stumbled upon saying that the two might not be so different at least once. Also, the Formless One centers around the Necropolis, and I'm thinking "spirits seeking bodies" and this whole idea of unlife/undeath is going to be explored later.

Taash: Remember how I said BioWare needed an ethos update? I think we see that most predominantly in Taash, whose entire personal quest is an examination of the values and priorities of different cultures, as well as the place of gender and gender ideology in Thedas. We saw this with Dorian and Krem in DA:I, but Taash modernizes that conversation (10 years has changed a lot!) and brings it front-and-center. At the same time, their existence is referencing (potentially) the Scaled Ones, and showing us that the kossith (Qunari) might have far more ties to Evanuris shenaniganry than we thought—and that those shenanigans did not happen on Thedas, but potentially far across the sea. (Neve and Lucanis accomplish this, also, with the Shadow Dragons and Crows, but not to the degree that Taash does).

This is why the companion quests MATTER, and (at least partially) why the game asks you to complete these quests or suffer consequences in the finale.

You know what else happens, upon completion of these companion quests?

You get codices. In Dragon Age, they are the threads that tie the seemingly disconnected pieces of the plot together, and that's on purpose. This time, they automatically unlock upon completing different stages of companion quests—and as far as I can tell right now, days after completing the game for the first time, the ones revealed later DO contain spicier hints about future lore than those revealed earlier.

And between ALL of these things—the demands Veilguard's timing placed on Bioware, the need for Rook as a protagonist, and the structure for every companion's quests—I think BioWare did an amazing, genius job with their narrative. Yes, I have seen some of the art book content, and yes, it would have been so cool to have those things, but... I truly do not think BioWare needed them, as close as I would have held cameos like Cole to my heart.

From a lore perspective? They knocked it out of the gods-damned park with Veilguard. They did an amazing job with each of their quests, and I promise: there is no shortage of juicy lore to be found in Veilguard. Now that I've inflicted an outline of what I know about stories upon you, I promise: all of this serves as context for everything I look forward to saying in future posts.

_____

If you got this far, thank you, as always!

This series is going to take a turn toward what I noticed in Veilguard, how I feel that Veilguard adds to my theories (or perhaps debunks some of them), and where I think the series is going to go from here. But in order to write all that properly and miss as little as possible (even though, in November 2024, with no wiki or transcripts, I am guaranteed to miss things), I need to keep playing the game and keep reading the codices I find.

Stay tuned for the next instalments, though I cannot say how quickly they will come after this. <3

[ceasarslegion]

Please tell me about the guy in your college dorm who got scurvy, I love a good modern day scurvy story. Like bro, have a delightful lemon-parm chicken

So in uni I lived in a co-ed dorm building where we had single-person rooms and shared a common room, washrooms/showers, laundry, and a kitchen. We also had a dining hall that we could purchase meal plans from (which i also had all 4 years, because i juggled full time school and 2 jobs at the same time. I did NOT have the time to cook for myself and I would not have done so in that kitchen to be frank). The building was split up into a bunch of different houses which we took personality quizzes to get assigned to in order to limit the amount of conflicts that would happen in this living situation. I was put in the smallest house (there were only 20 of us) and it was full of real chill like-minded people who liked to watch movies with me. This guy was the next door away from me, but wasn't my immediate next door neighbour because the stairwell broke up our house down the middle.

He was the house shut-in. He didn't really join any of the hang outs in the common room, or go out clubbing with us, he just kinda shut himself in his dorm room and never came out. Eventually we stopped slipping invitations to things under his door like we did with everyone else because there was no point. But I saw him in the dining hall and I saw him swiping a meal card a few times so I knew he was on the meal plan, meaning i KNEW he had access to fruit and veggies and even just like, juice. The food wasn't good but you had all the opportunities in the world to make it good FOR you, if that makes sense.

One of my jobs at this point was as an overnight security guard for an apartment building. I would come back around 4am and then crash out until 11 or 12 and then go to my afternoon and night classes. This is relevant because I was coming back into the building after a shift once in full uniform while he was sitting on the front steps and looking like he was hungover to the point of near-unconsciousness. I ask if he's feeling okay, if he needs anything, he waves me off and says he just needs some air. I'm like okay well, you know which doors mine if you change your mind bud.

He was an enigma who never spoke to us so I waved the situation off as too much college partying or something.

Over the next few days this becomes a common sight among everyone, who says they would also come back from their part time jobs or outings to him nearly passed out on a courtyard bench or something, a few people said they heard someone throwing up in our floor's shared bathroom.

About a week later I come back from my shift as usual and crash in bed until noon, expecting to wake up and go to my classes as usual. I grab my school bag and throw my regular coat and boots on and walk to class. I liked to sit in the back of that lecture hall because that prof had a rule that you were allowed to eat in his class as long as you sat in the last 3 rows, so I'd bring my breakfast and coffee in one of the dining hall to go boxes. I did not end up eating my breakfast or drinking my coffee.

In fact I did not make any notes on my laptop.

In fact, the house discord server blew up while I was asleep.

This guy, this fucking guy, had gone to our don (RA, basically) and told her he needed to go to the ER and then passed out on her couch. She doesn't have a car because none of us did, so everyone who was there and awake ended up dragging him to the closest hospital that was a few blocks away from campus on foot. Why they did not call an ambulance or at least an Uber is beyond me, but panic does weird things to people.

Reading through this in the corner of my eye before class starts, I have forgotten about class entirely. I have forgotten about my breakfast and my coffee. A few people were asking if they should ask for the don's master key and wake me up, thinking that i might have training in these things from what my job was (i did), and then others shut them down saying "no, let him sleep. He gets home at 4:30 in the morning" (WHY DIDNT YOU WAKE ME UP I WOULDNT HAVE CARED IF YOU SAID SOMEONE WAS HAVING A MEDICAL EMERGENCY. I COULDVE AT LEAST KEPT YOU ALL CALM AND DELEGATED TASKS)

I send a message in just saying "guys I'm up now what is going on" with an @everyone attached.

Instantly get "several people are typing." That's never a good sign.

So this guy was in the ER for hours getting IV-fed. Because he had scurvy. And they had to vitamin C infuse him. Because he hadn't eaten a single fruit or vegetable or anything derived from a plant the entire school year. He got SCURVY. IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2019.

Bro eat a fruit. EVER?? But he just didn't. He just never did. He had fucking scurvy. He passed out and had bleeding gums and his teeth almost fell out. Because he had scurvy.

He did not come back the next school year because his parents pulled him out of the dorms on the basis that he couldn't be trusted to take care of himself after that incident. And I do not blame them at all. Ma'am your kid can't be trusted to eat one (1) orange all year.

[leonawriter]

Thinking about the engine room again, and how the difference between Akechi living (wanting to live) and dying (being satisfied with this sort of end) isn't how invested he is in Joker, but how invested Joker is in him.

Although he instigated the confidant, and although in vanilla he constantly kept seeking Akira out, it's only in Royal's max confidant that he has the impetus to fight back.

Simple thing, right?

Because the reason is even stated earlier in the same scene, that Akechi would do "[anything] just so someone would want me around!" - so if he hasn't put the effort into creating a two-sided bond with Akira before this, he feels that this need is never going to be fulfilled, and effectively that no matter how much he himself wants anyone else, no one will care about him enough for his continued life to matter.

What keeps him around, gives him the will to fight and endure on, is quite literally the promise Akira makes him. That "I'll hold onto your glove" isn't just asking for a rematch, or the "no, don't go!" that in their situation wouldn't be weird; it's the culmination of their bond expressed like that, in a way that gets Akechi to realise that someone really does want him around the same way (better than, even) he'd been searching for in all the wrong places up to then.

It's down to Akechi asking for Akira's number, Akira keeping on meeting up, and neither of them giving up on the other even when it might have been easy to. I think it's important, really, that Akechi's the one who starts it off, because in a sense he's taking a leap of faith and hoping that it pays off, especially when he seems to "not have time for" other friendships.

I'm reminded of BSD Atsushi saying "People have to be told that it's alright for them to live," and how you as the player gave no option but to do so for Akechi if you've maxed his confidant. Joker WILL give him that reason to keep fighting, one way or another, if they're close enough for him to do so.

And Akechi will go from feeling like he might as well die in this place, to realising that... for whatever reason, in ways only they can understand, he hasn't been able to push even just this one person away from him. No matter what he's done, who he's hurt, what he's said. He doesn't just have words, but an understanding of Akira's character and experiences that back up him saying "I want you alive [for our rematch], isn't that enough of a reason to stay alive?"

And, judging by the view out of the train window in the true ending, it is.

[signanothername]

With one of the recent asks you answered being nm growing to care after going through a lot of MTT, do you think before he actually DOES start caring, or is still in denial at least, he keeps some of the old one's rooms? Maybe one he was fond of, even if he won't admit it, that he...it's not regret he feels, but he's not happy with the death of them. Or maybe a Killer's cats given to Ccino, because NM doesn't think he could care for them, but who else could right now?

(The ask Anon is referring to)

See, I was generally talking about the trope much more than Nightmare himself as a character (and certainly was not talking about my interpretation of him in that ask)

That being said, when it comes to Nightmare as a character (talking about NM in general and not specifically my own interpretation of him here) I at least believe he doesn’t have the capacity to care to that extent

Not to the extent of actually mourning them or keeping memorials of them at least, they’re expendable to him, and if he actually started caring, I think he won’t care in the way people seem to think where he genuinely sees them as irreplaceable, but rather “hey, there’s a million of you, and no matter the differences, it’s still you regardless”

So when it comes to their rooms, they just get passed down to whoever Nightmare forcefully takes away with him to replace the one before, whatever love Nightmare might hold for the trio will be close to the edge of possession, I don’t think Nightmare would hold genuine pure love for the trio, not in a way that makes sense to other people anyway (and he certainly wouldn’t show it in a traditional typical way either)

Even if we talk about Nightmare after he genuinely started caring, his way of showing care wouldn’t be the typical “taking care of your needs” type, but rather, “I will be a lot less of an asshole moving forward, and provide you with what I can”

As for things like Killer’s cats, I think Killer’s smart enough to already have them within someone’s care and it’s definitely never gonna be Nightmare (even after Nightmare’s supposed change of heart)

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Ok, now that I’ve mentioned how I think both Vil and Riddle’s overblots could’ve been prevented, I also think Jamil’s could’ve as well.

If someone realized a little earlier in the chapter that Jamil had a problem with Kalim and he was up to something, then there was a real chance to prevent this situation from getting so out of hand.

If you told him, “hey, you know Kalim is dumb. If you don’t tell him you have a problem with him, he’s not gonna know. You got all the brain power out of the two of you. That being said, Kalim is a very empathetic and generous person. He cares about you. He think you’re his best friend. If you just told him how you feel and how you have a problem with some of his behaviors, then he would do everything to make your relationship work. He knows that he’s not the best dorm leader, but you’ve never told him that you felt that it was taken away from you. It might seem really obvious to you, but clearly nobody else has noticed, so there’s a problem. If you just told him, he would give you the seat. It’s not even like a possibility situation, he straight up would. He doesn’t care much about it, so if you do, he would give it to you in a heartbeat. He values your relationship above all else. It’s not that hard. I don’t know why you’re trying to do this in such convoluted way. It’s not efficient and really risky.”

I can’t imagine he wouldn’t take this advice. He’s not my favorite character, so I’m not sure, but he seems to value efficiency. It would make sense cause he’s always babysitting Kalim and having to run around.

He would bring up the whole family expectation problem, but there’s a counter to that too. “While it’s true that nobody in our vicinity knows the answer, somebody does. Kalim has the resources to get you that help and is more than willing. Get a professional. Go to a therapist. They’ll tell you how to navigate this situation. Why aren’t you taking advantage of Kalim’s resources? If you feel that you’re taking an unfair advantage of him, then make your relationship work with him. That’s something that’s going to be a challenge for you, but that’s what he wants. He has all the physical needs he could ever wish for, but the most important thing to him is his relationship with you.”

You would also have to bring up how to solve his feelings and problems with Kalim, because that was what has really been getting in the way and fostering his feelings of condescension. “You need to put boundaries on your relationship. He wouldn’t be offended and would understand. If you don’t want to be stuck in a servant role, you’re gonna have to set boundaries. Kalim is under the impression that you would tell him if something’s wrong even if that’s not how you feel. He doesn’t mind changing if it will help you. That’s enough of a motivation for him to push through hard times and overcome some of his weaknesses. Besides, the reason why he doesn’t know anything is cause you do everything for him. You’re enabling him. If you want to get out of this role, you’ll have to tell him some of the things you’re really worried about if you leave him. He would listen to you. He would do what you ask even if he doesn’t understand everything. That’s how much he trusts you. So, you might have teach him things you would have to watch out for like poisoning and assassination attempts, but he can learn. It would be a good idea to find someone who meets your standards in terms of a replacement to your job. Kalim isn’t that self sufficient, but you’ll be able to find somebody and would’ve already created a fail safe so that if something happens Kalim knows what to do.”

You would also have to address Jamil’s fear that if he becomes his own persona and drifts away from Kalim that he wouldn’t help and support him. Just tell him “Kalim thinks of you as family. You’re gonna always be important to him no matter how close or far apart you are. Kalim cares about you and loves you unconditionally. If you need his help, you’re gonna be his first priority. That’s never going to change. He’ll give you anything you ask for.”

I’ve stated my case and I’m sticking to it. Tell me what you think

[storges-oranges]

I do think that if you're close to them, Mhin and Vere are the best at figuring out when you're upset or feeling melencholic. But they figure it out differently.

Mhin knows because they are observant and and have a habit of monitoring your behavior and file it away in their mind (and maybe notebooks whos to say really) so they have already identified your nervous/sad ticks before you let out a sigh. They would have ALOT of trouble just... to bring it up to you i think. So they would just... find ways to distract you. By leading you to an alleyway filled with cats and giving you little factoids about cats, plants in Eridia, or anything else. They might try to weave a metaphor in their exposé. Stuff like plants that survive the fogfall by shedding aerial parts and continuing on throughout a cimolex root system of roots and bulbs. And when you inevitably exclaim "like a potato?". They just turn away and chuckle. Before you can revel in this first of its kind achievement, they turn on their heals and invite you to dinner, "since you're so hungry", and they add that a couple of baked potatoes would suffice as payment for the day. You're much more animated as you follow along. Good. Thats how they like you.

Vere figures it out with his keen sense of smell. His way of asking you if you're ok is to remark on the suffocating stench of your misery (not the kind he could put you through. that is to say, the good kind, the only kind, you're his plaything". He also asks if this is your attempt at killing him. He assures you that it wouldn't come close, but he is bothered enough by it to remedy it personally.I think he would try to distract you too. By taking you to see his favorite performers (that luthist really does have talent) or activating your fight or flight instinct. Depends really. If it can be fixed by getting rid of someone, he takes care of it. Brings you their bloody fingers, to offset this uncharacteristic show of empathy. He can't have you going around thinking you'll always be in his good graces you know? If it can be solved with money, he steals it for you. Also brings you fingers, or hands you the coins in a bloody pouch. He fully expects gratitude btw.

Now the rest of the cast also catch on pretty quickly, mind you, i just think these two are the first .

As for Leander, he would also catch on quickly by interacting with you and picking up on subtle clues. If you spent enough time with him you develop a knack for knowing when his mask is thicker than usual. There is just, a glint in his eyes when he speaks about certain things that makes his usual demeanor look... unauthentic. And when you're upset, truly upset, his praticed lines irritate you. You might be tempted to yell at him to leave if he's just going to throw some half hearted words at you, even if those words are tailored to you and your responses.

Tbh i dont think that would ever be enough for him to open up completely, but he might give you a vague, roundabout inch. By, for instance, showing you something and vaguely mentioning that it was crucial in helping him become the man he is today, and that he holds it dear. That its a testament to his resilience, a trait he knows you share.

And while small, and practiced there is a hint of vulnerability there. You know that its the most he could ever give (at least at this point), and it warms your heart. Leander is happy to know that he could help ease your pain a little, but he looks at you and this valuable object and he makes a connection: both you and it have come to him at a time of great need. This connection places yet another green seal on your fate.

[chiorisgf]

❕nsfw childe x f!reader

summary : his dear siblings were in need of a babysitter, and he wasn’t informed.

tartaglia, or, ajax — was ecstatic to be back home! his warm smile could almost melt the snow around him as his boots clicked against the icy sidewalk. snezhnaya has always been cold, he hopes his dear little siblings were warm at home! what about his parents, he wonders.

as he step foot onto his front porch, he couldn’t help but eye the smaller footsteps in the snow of his backyard. visiter, perhaps?

he shrugged it off, knocking on the door. he always enjoyed the smile of his family whenever they’d open the door, expecting a mailman or someone else — only to be surprised when the face of their beloved ajax appeared.

he could almost see it now, they’ll all be so happy!

just as he was in the middle of a happy little daydream, the door opened.

“hey every! — one,” he blinks at your figure, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks down at you. “and who might you be?” he raises an eyebrow, his bright blue eyes glaring down at you with coldness almost as unforgiving as the harsh weather outside.

“o-oh, you must be—“

“brother!” little teucer squeals excitedly, running quickly towards the taller man as two other children emerge, peeking over your body.

“their older brother.” you smile, gently urging his younger sister and brother to greet him.

as he bent over and hugged the young kids, he couldn’t help but eye you as you walked away from the group, choosing to give them some privacy.

after a few moments of hugs and smiles, the younger children pulled their older brother inside into the warmth of his home.

oh, how he missed this place.

“this is name, she’s our babysitter!” tonia smiled, walking over to you and grabbing at your hand gently. “she’s really nice, come say hi to her!”

tonia was the sweetest, she almost reminded you of yourself when you were her age. she was well behaved, and a good cook aswell.

“hello.” you smile shyly at the man in front of you, offering a small wave.

he simply nodded his head with a tight lipped smile, before turning back to his siblings, tonia giving you a cute little giggle before rushing back to the others.

they’re so adorable, you think, turning away from them to finish the dinner you had made. it was fortunate you made extra, that leaves some for.. ajax, was it?

by the time you were done, tonia was already by your side, helping you hold the plates.

“oh, my brother likes this!” she smiles, before looking up at you. “you two are gonna get along so well, i can already see it!”

if she had to admit, she really wanted you and her brother to become friends. you’re so kind, how could he not like you?! she thinks.

“that’s so sweet of you, tonia.” you smile, patting her head gently before picking up the pot of soup, being careful not to burn your slender fingers. “but i really should be going when we’re done setting the table, seeing as your older brother is home.”

you don’t miss the way her smile drops at your words, and a pant of guilt stabs at your heart. you feel sorry, you really do, but you can’t help but sense that the man doesn’t like you.

you’re not the only one who noticed tonia’s expression, childe did aswell. he can’t help but frown as he watches his dear sister walk into the dining room, holding a few bowls in her delicate hands.

as she busies herself with setting the table, he walks over to you, who’s carefully walking to follow the younger girl.

“hey,” he stares down at you, his face hardening as he watches you flinch slightly and stumble to keep a good hold on the hot pot in your grasp.

“c-can i help you?” you ask with a slight gulp, nervousness washing over you as he steps closer to you.

“would you like to tell me where are my parents are? ” he frowns, eyes narrowing. you were quite suspicious, if he was being honest. he got no letters for message from his parents warning him about a babysitter — but you seemed to make his siblings happy, so he won’t complain too much. “or would you prefer for me to throw you out into the snow right now?”

“they’re out on a trip—!” you stutter, the air around you growing colder as his expression dulls. “please— please don’t do that. i was going to leave, anyways.” you say, fingers twitching slightly against the handles of the pot.

ajax glanced down at the soup in your hands, before looking back up at you. “i’ll get the dinner table ready, and you go to my room, it’s the one next to my parent’s room. i’ll be there after in a little while.” he says curtly, taking the pot from your hands and returning to the dining room, smiling as the children greet him.

you can’t help but sweat nervously as you walk towards his room, what does he want? is he really going to throw you out into the cold?! maybe you should wear a jacket. or should you just run away?

well, it’s too late now, you think as your trembling hand holds onto the doorknob and slowly turns it. the door opens, and his room is revealed.

it’s not, plan, but it’s definitely not very decorated. there’s no time to dwell on that, though — the sound of his heavy footsteps echo through the hallway and it seems that your heart has begun to beat faster.

you quickly shut yourself in his room, eyes darting around as you begin tremble.

he’s getting closer, you can hear him. is this really it? you’re going to die because you needed money?

“name, was it?” his voice sounds from behind the door, it’s low, and almost attractive. “i’m coming in.” he says, slowly cracking the door open and peering inside.

you look back at the man, eyes slightly wide and you really can’t stop the shaking. how humiliating, you think!

he steps inside, before shutting the door behind him and locking it with a soft ‘click’

“so,” he starts, inching closer to you. “my family seem to love you.” he hums, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “and i have to admit, you are quite cute.” ajax grins, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

you freeze, warmth creeping up your neck. “especially when you’re scared.” he pokes at your chest, leaning back. “like a terrified mouse.”

your eyes meet his and he simply smiles. has he always been this hot? and what’s with the change of attitude?

“you know, teucer, tonia and anthon have talked about you a lot. they say you’re really sweet,” he purrs, stepping in front of you.

you take a step back, and away from him, only for him to step forward again. you back away from him as he moves closer until your knees stop at a bed — his bed, and you fall onto it.

it’s not long before his hand is beside your head, and he leans down with a teasing smile. “do you think that’s true? i wanna see just how sweet you really are.”

you hate how he’s getting to you — the warmth of his breath tickling the side of your neck as his lips grow closer. you’re supposed to be scared, so scared! but how can you be scared when his free hand is gently smoothing down your clothes.

teucer was right, ajax really is sweet — even if he can be scarily overprotective.

“okay,” you whisper, your head turning to the side slightly as you feel embarrassment flush over your features. why did you let yourself get into this situation?

his lips connect with your neck, ajax’s hands trailing down your body before he hooks a finger around the waistband of your pants.

he slowly tugs them down, smirking slightly as he notices your flustered expression. a finger pulls your panties down soon after, and he swears he’s gonna start drooling.

in a few moment his pants are pooled at the floor, his boxers following as his hardening cock springs free, pre forming at the tip.

“now, be quiet for me.” he whispers, a hand cupping your cheek as the other guides his cock to your entrance. he’s sure your little hole can take him, considering how wet you are.

each inch you took was painful at first, soft sounds escaping your lips as you squirm against his hold; but when he’s fully sheathed you can’t help but squeal. you’re so full, and it feels so good when he moves like that.

his first few thrusts are slow, but when the pain has fully shifted to pleasure he quickens his pace, the squelching sounds of your wet pussy being pounded bouncing off the walls of ajax’s room.

your cute little pussy was so good, and childe couldn’t help but moan, before leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss, his hips snapping against yours.

something about you, childe thinks, is just so hot. so alluring.

maybe it’s the way you’re moaning so quietly into his ear, your breath brushing against his skin. the freezing temperature outside stood no chance against the warmth of your body, oh and that look in your eyes — he just can’t resist pecking you on the lips and thrusting particularly hard into your wet folds.

the way your gummy walls wrapped around his shaft and sucked him in was just so nasty, yet he couldn’t bring himself to care.

each hard stroke of his cock sent you into a frenzy of moans, and ajax had to place his palm on your mouth to keep you quiet. while he loved your sounds, he knows he shouldn’t let you get too loud; his siblings are only a few doors away after all.

“a-jax,” your voice is sugary, and the way you arch your back so far off the bed is practically knocking childe out. he can’t handle it — you’re so cute, so perfect!

he knows you’re close, he can tell by the way your hands are clutching onto him, your pussy hugging onto him so tightly. he can feel your breath tickle against his palm and at that moment he knows he’s going to invite you over more often.. to “babysit” his siblings.

yeah right, he thinks.

“you’re gonna— babysit our kids, that’s what.” he huffs breathlessly, his cock pounding into you tougher than before at his newfound idea.

“cum with me, angel.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, grinning when you nod obediently and just as you’re about to snap, he cums and he cums, letting you milk him dry as you come undone around him.

you’re such a good listener, such a good girl for him. with a few more thrusts, he finally stops his movements.

his warm palm slowly pulls away from your mouth to stroke your hair, and he can’t help but pull you onto his lap, sitting down on his bed.

it’s moments like these that he’s grown to enjoy, aswell. holding you on his lap and kissing your cheek, whispering encouraging words into your ears like moments ago.

“you’re not leaving tonight, you know that right? wouldn’t wanna disappoint my siblings..” he chuckles at your expression, offering one last kiss before tucking you into his bed.

[himluv]

Ok. Here's my first attempt at writing Lucanis and Spite. This isn't my favorite piece of DA fic I've written, but I had to get it out of system.

Also, I am writing Lucanis as demisexual. That is my accepted headcanon, and I am writing it from personal experience.

Enjoy, I guess? 😂

(below the cut because spoilers?)

Lucanis leaned into his palm where it pressed against the stone just above Rook’s head. He felt drawn to her, pulled across the floor until there was just a feather’s width between them. It was such an infrequent feeling – this wanting – that he almost hadn’t recognized it the first time. Now, the thrum of desire through his body was unmistakable.

But did she feel it too?

“This isn’t a good idea,” he said, offering her a convenient escape route.

She smiled. “Sometimes the bad ideas are best.”

He couldn’t help smiling at that. It seemed she always knew just what to say. Like that night at the cafe. He’d felt a slight thrill at the table, a rush at how easily the conversation volleyed between them. It wasn’t until much later that night, replaying her voice in his head, that he’d ached with realization. She’d been talking about much more than how she liked her coffee.

“You like walking a little too close to the edge.” Again, a warning. He would push, gently, until she saw reason. Because, surely, once she looked close enough, she would turn away.

“So do you.”

She reached for him, and for a moment Lucanis thought she might hook her finger through his lapel chain and tug him toward her. His stomach flipped, his smile widened, and he couldn’t avoid glancing at her lips. Mierda, he wanted to taste her.

But she did not touch him, her hand hovered there at his sternum and a desperate flash of want pulsed through him.

This was dangerous territory. She had no idea just how close to the edge they were. How easy it would be for her to push him off this cliff, and Lucanis would fall helplessly in love.

He looked right at her, his gaze heavy. “At least I know when I’m doing it.”

At the edge of a cliff…

What if he chose to jump?

He closed his eyes, tilted his head and leaned toward her, felt her do the same –

– Crisp air, sunlight on water, smells like trees and magic. Arlathan.

Lucanis’s eyes snapped open and he pulled back so quickly that Rook gave him a startled look.

“I… need to clear my head,” he said. As if he could do such a thing with Spite taking up so much space.

Space, he needed space. Between him and Spite, but also between him and Rook. He needed to breathe. Why did his chest feel so tight?

He stepped away from her, his palm now pressed to his waistcoat as he gave her the tiniest bow. “Excuse me.”

Then he turned and hurried out of the room, ignoring the weight of her gaze on his back. He brushed a hand through his hair, tugged at his waistcoat. Lucanis was not a tall man, but it took surprisingly few strides to cross the dining room and step out into the courtyard. He took a deep, shaky breath and quelled the urge to rub at the constant itch behind his eyes.

This wasn’t like him. He felt jittery, out of control. Perhaps all the coffee mixed with the sleep deprivation had finally gotten to him?

She makes you nervous, Spite sneered.

Lucanis said nothing. There was no point lying to Spite, it would only encourage the demon to keep talking. Instead he headed toward the library balconies – they were the closest thing the Lighthouse had to a rooftop. He needed height. Needed perspective.

Surprisingly, Spite was quiet until Lucanis stood staring out at the blank expanse of the Fade and his heart rate had settled some in his chest.

Finally, the demon asked, why?

Lucanis sighed. “Why what?”

Spite growled, irritated at having to explain himself. Rook. Makes. You. Nervous. WHY?

Lucanis winced as the word rebounded inside his skull. “You don’t have to shout.”

Spite made an unconvinced noise.

“And besides,” Lucanis said. “You know why.”

Make it make sense. We. Like. Rook.

Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose. “A little too much.”

Ahhhhh. Spite sniffed, as if savoring something delicious in the air. Scared.

Another truth he’d have to let lie between himself and the demon.

Let her in and get cut deep. See inside then turn away. Won’t want you. Oooh, or worse, she does want and then she di–

“Enough!” The word echoed out into the Fade, silencing the demon. “Enough,” Lucanis whispered. He didn’t need Spite to help him overthink all the ways kissing Rook could go wrong.

Want more than that.

The most surprising truth of them all. Lucanis could count the number of people he’d felt genuine attraction for on one hand. The only one he’d ever tried to pursue had misread him so completely he’d just given up.

As much as he longed for romance, he just wasn’t good at it. Love was something meant for characters in novels, or people like Teia and Viago. Not him.

Not love. What?

Before the Ossuary, Lucanis would have had an answer to a question like that. The Crows. House Dellamorte. Mediating peace between Illario’s ambitions and Caterina’s wishes. He liked being a Crow. He was good at it, and had never wanted more, a fact that had vexed Illario and pleased their grandmother.

And it was all gone.

Caterina was dead. In his current state, Lucanis was not fit to take her place as she’d desired. Illario would become First Talon, like he’d always wanted. If Lucanis somehow survived this contract, perhaps House Dellamorte would allow him back. Perhaps the future he and Illario had fantasized as boys might actually come to pass. Perhaps he and Rook…

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps! Bah!

Lucanis sighed and shook his head. Then he and the demon walked back to the dining hall in silence. And in that silence was another, terrifying truth.

For the first time in his life, Lucanis Dellamorte didn't know what his future held.

[littleclosetofbyler]

I personally don’t really want Byler to hook up in season 5 purely because it doesn’t feel like something either Mike or Will would jump to doing immediately, especially not Will (though we may see a more confident side of him in season 5 that might want to especially with an “end of the world” vibe weighing on them), I could see Will wanting a more “ease into it” or “sweet romance first” type of relationship, and having both Mike and Will go from deep in the closet to immediately dtf doesn’t feel right.

But I understand why people want it especially since in season 5 they’ll be older than Nancy was in season 1 and the same age as Jonathan and Nancy in season 2, and in season 1 Nancy hooked up with Steve and in season 2 Nancy and Jonathan hooked up, so by having Byler hook up, it does equivocate them with the other older teen straight ships we’ve so far seen be romantically entangled. A lot of media, especially teen media (which ST isn’t, but the majority of the characters are young) feel the need to “purify” queer ships, so Byler not hooking up may come across as trying to do just that.

But again I personally don’t want them to hook up because I don’t feel like it makes sense right away immediately after a confession or kiss for Will and Mike specifically. If there was to be a season 6 then that’s when I’d want them to have their own implied hook up scene because I think both characters wouldn’t be able to go from repressed in the closet to immediately hooking up at the drop of a hat, they already have enough to process and come to terms with regarding their sexuality, sex itself just seems like it would be something to build up to together.

(I’m aroace though so maybe that’s affecting my personal opinion?)

Anyways I do think the Duffers will give us a kiss, I think they’ve set it up where it’ll be this incredible moment of joy and catharsis, and I don’t think the Duffers are cowards, I think they’ll push for this especially since it’s the final season. Fuck Netflix, this is the culmination of a slow burn friends to lovers romance and I think they’ll want to do it justice.

I got indeed a lot of hate for that post, and your message. Thanks for being civil.

I think the opposite, it's not about being pure, it's about it needing to be just a friends to lovers without going overboard with hypersexualization or fan service.

The thing with S1 and the teens is that we as GA at the time, never saw them as teens, because we didn't know them at the time, they were new and getting into show for it.

In S5 when the kids will be that age (20-24 actors, 16 characters) it's "okay" but it's also weird as hell because they entered the story at 11... i don't know about you but I would rather no see this kind of scene with anyone I would have meet at that age.

When I say a lot of you are young for this, I mean it in the sense that you haven't seen the fandom act; the same happened with Harry Potter in 2001 when we didn't even know how to stories would end, everyone was insane for it.

Then the infamous scene in that last part happened and... everyone was weirded out.

Media is a weird format, and a lot of fans are weird, doesn't matter which side we are from.

And people just leave a comment, I don't go well with asks, I don't even know how they work, i am here for the theories.

[anavilante]

Not his omega.3

Part 3: Tension Mounts Between John and Gale as Secrets Begin to Surface

Despite the difficulty of being near Gale, John is determined to help, but Gale’s reluctance to share his past complicates everything. As John tries to understand his actions, especially around his pregnancy, their fragile connection strains toward breaking.

Word count: 3K

You can find all the released parts of the fic Not His Omega at this link.

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Sleeping in warmth and safety, on a soft bed that smelled of his owner’s calming scent, reminded Gale of his carefree past, where his main concerns were good grades and successfully completing flight practice. It was indescribably pleasant, so the omega didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to stay in this bliss a bit longer, but something was teasing and stirring him, pulling him out of Morpheus’s cozy embrace. Gale frowned and tried to bury his face deeper into the soft pillow. It helped him relax a little, but now his baby kicked impatiently against his stomach. He tried to soothe the child by placing his hand where the kick had landed and gently stroking it. Usually, that worked, but now the baby pressed insistently against his hand.

Sighing in disappointment, the omega propped himself up on one elbow and immediately realized what had so rudely pulled him from his sleep—it was a smell. Not John’s scent this time, but the incredibly delicious aroma of food coming from the kitchen. Gale’s stomach growled angrily, and without a moment’s hesitation, he headed toward the source of the amazing smell, which he felt he could have found even in a stranger’s house with his eyes closed.

He tiptoed downstairs and peeked into the kitchen, where John was bustling by the stove with pots and pans, filling the room with that wonderful aroma. Gale, sticking only his head out from behind the door frame, carefully scanned the kitchen to make sure John was alone, he was worried he might catch him with someone else. The thought unsettled him, and even though the alpha had said he lived alone, Gale decided to play it safe.

John turned around immediately, not seeing or hearing his presence, but simply sensing it, “In our café today, we have two breakfast options: chicken fillet with rice or an omelette with tomatoes and mushrooms.”

“I want…” Gale averted his eyes shyly and shuffled his bare feet on the floor. “Both.”

John smiled, “All right, but promise me you’ll eat slowly and chew well.”

Gale eagerly raised his hand, signalling his agreement to all conditions, and then sat down at the table in anticipation.

John had to reluctantly acknowledge that the symptoms of being around another’s omega, which had entirely faded overnight after sleeping in his locked room with an open window and the icy autumn air, had returned in full force with Gale’s reappearance. His heart was racing, his hands were trembling, his palms were sweaty, and the terrible pounding of his heart in his ears drowned out everything else. He felt awful—broken, miserable, useless, unfit for anything. He wanted to throw down the pan and run far away from this house, away from this kitchen and Gale within it, out to the field behind his home where he could collapse onto the cold ground, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

Yes, he knew it was just physiology. That damn scent of the mated omega was doing this to him. He understood with his mind that he was needed, that he was helpful, that he was assisting his friend who was in trouble, but his body kept telling him he was a useless piece of shit and relentlessly demanded that he crawl away from this place as far as possible.

The omega, a little embarrassed by the silence hanging between them, unexpectedly asked playfully, trying to lighten the mood, "Where’s your moustache, Bucky?"

"Where’s your alpha?" John snapped in response.

Shit, that was rude, he thought. His nervousness, caused by his bad condition, was showing, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself in time.

Gale blinked, confused, and placed his hands between his knees. He stared out the window and said, sounding sad, "Well, looks like it’s 1:1."

John hung his head, irritably stirring the contents of the pan. As if it wasn’t obvious that his relationship with his alpha wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss, he thought, feeling frustrated.

He wanted to change the subject, so he said, "When you were sleeping, I took some bruise ointment to your bathroom. It helps them heal. And I also left some shaving supplies in case you decide to shave..."

Gale thought about it for a moment. He must have fallen into such a deep sleep if he hadn’t noticed someone else nearby. Normally, that didn’t happen when he slept on the streets. There, you had to stay alert, always sleeping with one eye open. But here, it was so warm, calm, and safe that he had let his guard down and fallen asleep without a care, and it felt... strangely pleasant.

He suddenly felt the urge to look in the mirror and see how he looked, a thought that hadn't crossed his mind in a long time. Damn, probably awful, Gale thought, Bucky had never once said that I needed to tidy myself up. And now it sounded like exactly that to him. The omega, somewhat confused, scratched his fingers over his bristly cheeks and chin.

"Ugh. I’m not shaving right now," he said apologetically. "My skin’s too sensitive after... after the pregnancy, and it irritates easily. If someone kindly lets me tidy up a bit, I use a trimmer, if there’s one." John walked to the table to lay out the food onto plates, and Gale blurted out suddenly, "It’s not as bad as it seems! My stubble isn’t too harsh or prickly, and it grows really slowly... Touch it!"

He closed his eyes and stretched his neck, tilting his face as if inviting John to feel it.

What the hell? John thought. I must be dead. I must be lying somewhere on a dirty street with a cracked skull after a fight, and my dying brain is racing with last fantasies. But who said fantasies have to be sweet and pleasant? No, my fantasies are straight-up John-style. There’s a guy in my house that I had a crush on, but it's almost torture, and I can barely be around him without some weird panic attack. At flight school, I was always finding excuses to touch him even just for a second because I was losing my mind over him, while he was cold and detached, and now he's actually offering me to touch him, but I just can’t anymore. Yeah, I must be dead, and this is my personal hell.

John thought about what it would be like to cup his chin with his palm, run his thumb over the already decent stubble, find out what it felt like... Then slide a finger over his plump lips, enjoy the difference in sensations between the skin, thickly covered with hair and the smooth hotness of his lips, press on his lower lip a little bit, hinting that he wants to get inside his mouth and freeze in anticipation, would Gail allow him? Feel like heart would nervously break into a frenzied pounding when, after some doubt, Gale would open his lips and allow him to dive into the heat of a wet, tender mouth, slide over the hardness of the white teeth and touch his tongue, which would immediately rush towards a light caress, lips closed around his finger, capturing it and Gale would begin to suck it a little, caressing it inside with a gentle tongue, making him think about how it would feel if it weren’t a finger. Press a finger abundantly covered with saliva on the deft tongue, forcing to relax and slightly pull his jaw down, hinting to open the mouth and look at the pink tender wet mouth of the omega, eager to fill it with his own tongue or dick.

The Alpha blinked, snapping out of the sudden fantasy that had gripped him. What was strange, however, was that his dick remained unresponsive to the vivid images flooding his mind, as if some connection between his groin and his brain had been severed. This was something new.

I don't know what the hell is going on, but something’s definitely wrong, John felt it deep in his gut as he watched the omega eat his breakfast. He doesn’t want to talk about his alpha. Whatever happened between them, that guy is obviously no help in this situation. He shudders at the mere mention of the shelter, and frankly, I can barely bring myself to be in the same room with him.

An alpha during an omega’s pregnancy isn’t just a husband, friend, lover, or protector. Through daily affection and intimacy, he provides essential substances that help the baby grow and develop healthily. The omega’s body can’t produce these substances on its own because it’s not as autonomous as a beta’s body. These substances are important for neutralizing the negative elements the omega’s body produces during pregnancy.

If the alpha and omega are separated for any reason, the omega must receive special medications to replace the alpha’s substances at a shelter. The omega will be registered there as an omega without an alpha. These medications can’t be bought at a pharmacy, and they aren’t prescribed by a doctor. They can only be obtained in a shelter by taking tests and proving that there is a deficiency in the alpha substances. These aren’t vitamins or supplements that might have a small effect on your body; they’re more like a poison, which doesn’t suit everyone, but they can save the child’s life. Therefore, they are a last resort, and they’re taken by omegas whose alphas have died, become seriously ill, or are otherwise separated.

“Do you have the medication?” John asked a little sharply.

Gale froze with a fork in his mouth and a single grain of rice awkwardly hanging from his lower lip. His eyes darted around the kitchen, unwilling to meet John’s gaze, and he mumbled, “Yeah, there’s a little left…”

“Where are they? I threw away your dirty clothes and didn’t find anything there.” Gale swallowed. “So you must have hidden them in the clothes I gave you, there’s no way you’d hide them anywhere in my house.”

Gale lifted his eyes to meet his, blue and tense.

“Show me your pills, Gale,” John said flatly, not taking his eyes off him. Omega flinched at hearing his name from John’s lips, as if he’d been struck.

He awkwardly shifted in his chair, wondering how fear had instantly wiped away any trace of appetite. He desperately searched for a plausible explanation.

John smirked crookedly, though the smile was anything but cheerful.

“You don’t have anything.”

The corner of Gale’s mouth twitched, but he remained still, staring vacantly at the surface of the table.

John threw his head back in despair, making a sound of almost animalistic frustration.

“Are you trying to get rid of the baby?” he asked directly, no longer bothering to beat around the bush.

In his house, there was a mated omega who belonged to another alpha, and for that, he could go to prison. The fact that this omega was pregnant meant he faced a sentence of 20 years in prison. And if the baby died as a result, he would be facing life in prison. John laughed silently and bitterly: he could be sentenced to life just because he tried to help the guy he once loved—how’s that for irony? Isn’t that the universe laughing right in his face?

Gale’s blue eyes flashed at him like knives.

“Not at all.”

“Then what? What’s the plan?” John looked him straight in the eye. And… incredibly, Gale’s sharp, angry expression faded, and he backed down, clearly bewildered.

John shook his head. He hadn’t paid much attention in sex ed classes—mostly he’d spent that time filling his head with fantasies about how to fit his dick into the bodies of betas and omegas. But he remembered one thing clearly: it’s either the presence of his alpha or the pills—there’s no third option if he wants to keep this child alive. Maybe because of this dependency, omegas were often viewed with contempt as weaker or more inferior beings, unlike betas who could autonomously carry a child without needing an alpha's involvement.

John saw no other option. If Gale cared about this baby, he needed the shelter and the right therapy—no question about it. John picked up the phone hanging on the kitchen wall.

Gale wasn’t a fool—it took him only a few seconds to react, during which John had only managed to dial a few numbers before Gale practically leaped across the table like an enormous, furious cat and lunged at him, grabbing the receiver out of his hand.

"YOU’RE NOT MY ALPHA!" he shouted so loudly that John winced. The neighbours had probably heard it, too. "YOU’RE NOT MY ALPHA, YOU HEAR ME, YOU BASTARD! YOU DON’T GET TO MAKE DECISIONS FOR ME! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

He was so furious that it looked like he might actually hit John, who still had the words "YOU’RE NOT MY ALPHA" ringing in his ears—words filled not only with anger but also something that sounded like accusation. Gale slammed the receiver down with a loud clatter and hissed at the alpha, driving him away from the phone. He was quick and strong, but John was still bigger and stronger than him, and right now, that felt like a disadvantage. Sure, he could restrain this furious omega and wait for the rage to pass, but John was afraid. Gale’s now visibly pregnant belly and the bruises covering his body acted like the most powerful restraint, forcing John to simply back away under the omega’s assault. He wondered how Gale’s emotional range had grown so intensely over the past year. Just a few minutes ago, omega had seemed like he wanted to nuzzle his face into John’s hand, and now he looked ready to punch him in the face. Whether it was the pregnancy or life on the streets triggering such extremes in the once-reserved omega, alpha didn’t know.

Gale stepped back a few paces, throwing angry glances at John as he paced the kitchen like a large, furious animal. If evolution hadn’t robbed him of a tail, alpha was sure he’d be lashing it against his sides right now like some caged tiger.

“Buck—” was all John managed to say before Gale darted toward the door.

"I won’t be a burden to you."

John was faster and blocked his way. He didn’t touch the omega; he was still afraid to. Gale was a storm of anger, desperation, and a painful need for control.

The omega felt cornered, as if others were making all his decisions, especially over something as personal and important as his body and his future, leaving him bitter toward a world that seemed to have stripped him of choice and respect.

Gale had almost reverted to a primal state: anger, wariness, and constant readiness to defend himself. John was taking a huge risk by standing in his way. Omega’s emotional wounds and tension made his actions abrupt and nearly unpredictable. If he decided to scream now, call for help, and accuse the alpha of harassment, John would face a minimum of 20 years in prison.

Judging by Gale’s narrowed eyes, clenched fists, and rapid breathing, he seemed to be thinking the same thing at that moment.

But it wasn’t in John’s nature to back down or lack the courage and recklessness to put his life on the line, so he stepped firmly in Gale’s path to the door.

"Please, don’t go."

Gale let out a silent sob, his shoulders shifting nervously as though he were trying to decide whether to push past alpha and escape into the darkness or stay in his house.

"I’m not your alpha," John said gently. "And even if I were, I’d have no right to make your decisions for you. I’m sorry."

The omega bit his lower lip, as though weighing whether he was just saying what he wanted to hear or if he truly respected his choices.

“Please, Buck, talk to me,” John asked, and Gale could tell it was sincere. “We were best friends once, shared everything…” He swallowed. “Almost everything. But now, I feel like I’m only seeing the tip of the iceberg, and I have no clue what’s going on. And as usual, you’re staying silent.”

“I—” Omega began, stepping back, caught between running and staying. “I’ll tell you everything, Bucky,” he promised, his voice almost pleading. “But I need time.”

John wanted to reach out, to comfort him, sensing the pain in his voice, but he knew now wasn’t the right moment.

“You have all the time you need. I won’t interfere anymore, I promise.”

Gale bit his lip again, a hint of desperation flickering in his eyes as if he wanted to say something but forced himself to stay quiet. He stood there for a moment longer, unwilling to yield too quickly, and then, slowly and tensely, he returned to his seat, signaling that the outburst had passed.

John resumed cooking, moving around the kitchen carefully, as if he were in a minefield. After a moment’s thought, he said hesitantly, “I have work tomorrow.” Flights, Gale thought. John was a pilot for a small private airline. Omega hadn’t gotten to fly after graduation, but his friend had a stable job that still kept him connected to the skies. “I’ll leave food in the fridge and some snacks on the table. There’s a TV in the living room and books in the library upstairs.”

Gale’s blue eyes bore into John’s back until he turned around, “Aren’t you worried I’ll rob you blind and disappear?” He lifted his chin defiantly.

John shrugged and gave a small smile, "Sometimes, knowing what your friend is worth is worth more than money, you know?"  Gale’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but he continued, "What could you steal from here? A few hundred dollars? An old TV from my late aunt? A barely working toaster? Knowing that my best friend is an asshole is worth way more."

The omega snorted. Bucky's always been like this, he thought. Risky. Ready to gamble everything, lose it all, and not even blink. John had always been willing to take desperate measures to achieve his goal, unafraid to take risks, and genuinely believing in success even when there was no reason to.

Sometimes, he reminded Gale so much of his father, the only difference being that John actually cared about him.

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A huge thank you to @caterina07121 for reviewing my text for readability and major errors! I appreciate you taking the time!💖

@amiserableseriesofevents @bottomab @gramaphonejammin @mazikeen @umika Guys, if you no longer want me to tag you, please let me know, because updates are coming out slowly, and you might have already lost interest in the fic.