#i say likely because there could still be some exceptions to this i feel

[stilljuststardust]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Things to remember about shifting

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

1:

It's ok if you can feel your CR. Your awareness shifts and THEN your senses follow.

YOU as a consciousness shift before your senses do. Don't sit and obsess over what you are experiencing physically because your senses are not the determining factor of your reality your awareness is.

2:

You always have the ability to shift. It doesn't go away just because you're "stuck" in this reality. It is an ability that you have always had. You can shift ALREADY.

Stop telling yourself that you have to do something before you can shift. You don't have to solve every blockage you've ever had, you don't have to drink a magic potion, you don't have to obtain some "key"

You are not trying to obtain the ability to shift. The ability to shift is inherent.

3:

You are not waiting on anything but yourself.

I know that may be triggering to hear and you're probably saying "well then why haven't I?". That is because you are consistently selecting a reality which proves to you what you already believe.

Your subconscious mind believes ANYTHING you tell it and then provides proof of it. If you tell it you're stuck it will do its job and prove that to you.

4:

You are more than your body. You have the potential to be anything that ever was or ever could be. You are not your senses you are not your body you are not your thoughts. You are pure potential. You are the universe experiencing itself.

There are no limits except the ones you give to yourself. You are the operant power of your reality. You alone have full control over when you shift.

5:

You cannot shame yourself better. Hating yourself, comparing yourself to others, being cruel to yourself because you "aren't doing good enough" has never helped you. If you only have one person in your corner it should be you. If you have only one person telling you to keep going it should be you.

On days when everything seems out of your control you can control how you treat yourself. You deserve kindness and patience too. It's ok if you have setbacks. It's ok if you got off track.

It's ok to trust yourself. It's ok to tell yourself you're good enough and that what you're doing is enough. It's ok to tell yourself that you're good at this.

6:

You can feel like shit and still shift. You are not doomed to this reality just because you feel things deeply. It's ok to feel scared or sad or disappointed. You are doing good enough even if you're feeling like total shit. Suffering is not evidence of damnation.

7:

If you repeat something enough it will become true.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[jjunieworld]

EASY ACCESS ˒˒ 이희승

after a whole year together, heeseung suddenly breaks up with you, to your surprise. mere days later, you see him at a party with another girl. you decide to do the only thing you could think of—get back at him. except… it doesn’t go quite to plan.

pairing ⸝⸝ lee heeseung 𝑥 fem!reader feat. ꔛ 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥!𝘫𝘢𝘬𝘦

genre ⋆ 📄 ⸝⸝ exes to ???, smut with a tiny bit of plot, some angst because i can’t control myself i’m sorry

warnings ⸝⸝ unprotected sex, hard dom!heeseung, jealousy, possessiveness, mirror sex, bathroom sex, very very messy and rough sex (he loves it messy), multiple orgasms, ruined makeup, fingering, clit stimulation, slight dacryphilia, hands on neck (not quite choking), overstimulation, creampie, hair pulling (f. rec), backshots, brief blowjob / deepthroating, manhandling, dirty talk

kipo’s note ⸝⸝ once again pushing the wc for my drabbles lmao.. haven’t wrote exes getting together again in such a long time, so here you all go, served up to you on a silver platter!! sorry for all the rough sex lately, i’m such a hard/mean dom girlie… hehe enjoy!! ^^

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ❨ 2.8k ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝓶.list ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

you didn’t even need to feel his burning gaze following your every move to know that his eyes were on you—and only you. it was what you had hoped for, and everything was going to plan.

to be honest, you weren’t listening to a word that jake was saying. you were too busy looking at heeseung from your peripheral vision, seeing the anger build up in him brick by brick until you practically saw steam coming out of his ears.

you subtly watched as he glared at jake, glared at how close you were to him, and glared at how you smiled at whatever he was saying. you felt as his eyes trailed your body and the dress that you were wearing that was so short that your ass was almost hanging out and that barely covered your tits.

you were laying it on thick, but you didn’t think either boy knew it. jake told you a joke you didn’t care to listen to and you laughed flirtatiously, laying your hand on his bicep as you leaned into him. “you’re so funny,” you smiled, batting your eyelashes at him.

bullseye. you saw heeseung down his drink and push away from the wall he was leaning on, completely abandoning the girl he had brought with him to the party just mere days after the two of you had broken up. a whole year together completely forgotten, just like that.

well, two can play at that game.

you pretended not to notice him coming up to you. you acted shocked at the way his arm possessively wrapped around your waist and pulled you into him. inside, you were laughing at how heeseung had barely contained the anger radiating off of him. “i think she’s had too much to drink,” was all he said, looking—or more like glaring—at jake instead of you. you didn’t even get to protest since heeseung was already dragging you away.

he pulled you into a less crowded hallway and you pushed him off of you. “you don’t get to do that—not anymore,” you exclaimed. you haven’t even had anything to drink tonight. there wasn’t even a cup in your hand.

heeseung didn’t get to act like the jealous boyfriend when he was the one who broke up with you. you just wanted him to get a taste of his own medicine. see how much he likes it when you’re all up on a guy days after your breakup.

“i can do whatever i want,” heeseung said matter-of-factly. he dragged you into the nearby bathroom and slammed the door behind you, locking it. “because whether you like it or not, you’re still mine.”

his words went straight to your core and you leaned backwards against the cold marble of the sink, trying to subtly press your thighs together. heeseung’s eyes trailed your body again—focusing particularly on the way the dress you wore adhered to your body—like a hunter watching its prey.

heeseung’s eyes snapped abruptly to yours and you watched the corner of his mouth curve into a smirk. “besides,” he said, stepping towards you and caging you against the sink with his body, “i don’t remember you telling me to stop.”

his finger hooked under the thin strap of your dress and slowly started to pull it down your shoulder. he leaned down and his breath fanned against your jaw.  “just like you aren’t stopping me now,” he continued. “this is what you really wanted, wasn’t it? were you that desperate for my touch after i dumped you that you resorted to making me jealous? you know i don’t play nice.”

you inhaled sharply, words caught in your throat. instead, you pushed him away from you again and heeseung stumbled backwards a few steps with a laugh. “you forget that i know you like the back of my hand,” he said.

glaring at him, you crossed your arms over your chest and the action only made your tits spill out of your dress more. “you don’t know anything!” you spewed.

in one swift motion you were pulled towards him and spun around so your ass was pressed against the bulge in his pants. heeseung held you flush against him, his lips at the shell of your ear. you let out a small whimper and he chuckled. “i know that all this was purposeful,” heeseung started. “like this dress you wore… you’re practically begging me to fuck you.”

his hand slid down to your lower stomach, pressing down onto it so you felt just how hard he was through the material of your dress. you breathed heavily as you fought the thoughts of his hand sliding down farther, of him touching you where you really needed him. you were dripping at the idea and your pussy throbbed.

“i bet if i move my hand down further…” his hand trailed downwards, just barely hovering at the bottom of your dress, “…we could both see how wet you really are. so needy… are you even wearing anything underneath?”

instead of checking for himself, he trailed his hand back up your body and cupped your tit. you swallowed the whine that tried to escape your mouth and heeseung’s rich laugh filled your ears. “i know that you know i don’t like being jealous,” he spoke as he pressed a kiss to your neck.

your eyes met his through the mirror in front of you and you looked at how pathetic you looked. your chest rose and fell heavily and if weren’t for the way the two of you were standing your thighs would be squeezed together too. heeseung was barely doing anything to you and you were already falling apart. you didn’t even have to say anything for him to know that he was right.

with one hand, heeseung took hold of your chin so your gaze stayed focused on the two of you in the mirror. he made you watch as he trailed his hand down your stomach, his touch lighting up your body and making you breathe harder. he leaned towards the shell of your ear, a smirk on his lips. in a low voice, he said, “you know i don’t like people playing with what’s mine.”

heeseung grabbed the bottom hem of your dress and yanked it up to reveal the tiny thong you wore underneath. he then yanked down the straps of the dress so your tits sprang free of it. finally, his hand cupped your heat, the tips of his fingers grazing along your clothed clit and making you jerk as he pressed his hard-on further into your ass.

he hummed as he lightly rubbed his fingers against the soaked fabric, his eyes still on yours. “what was that about me not knowing anything?” he asked smugly as his free hand squeezed one of your tits.

you couldn’t help the way your hips grinded against his hand and your eyes fluttered closed at the sudden pleasure. “what did you expect me to do?” you asked. your words lacked the punch you intended them to have and instead came out breathless and a bit defeated. “a whole year together and then you leave out of nowhere. now i see you all over some girl days after you left me like i didn’t matter to you. who does that?”

heeseung’s pulled his hand away so he could instead slip it under the thong you were wearing, his fingers spreading your arousal through your folds. you gasped softly, your back arching and your ass pressing more into him. “why lead me on for that long if you didn’t want me?” you continued through a small moan.

“when did i say i didn’t want you?” heeseung retorted. “that you didn’t matter to me?” slowly, he pushed his fingers into you and you moaned louder, grateful that the loud music on the other side of the door drowned it out.

your eyes fluttered open, your mind barely able to form a coherent thought as he started to finger you. you watched as his hand moved underneath your thong and barely covered his actions. you met his gaze through the mirror once more. it was embarrassing that you were so wet that you could hear the sounds his fingers made as he sped up his pace over the muffled music. the loud moans that left your mouth were even more embarrassing.

“why leave then?” you managed to ask him.

“i like the hunt,” heeseung said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. his long fingers reached deeper into you and pressed against your sweet spot, making you gasp loudly. your wetness dripped down your thighs and your moans got louder as you tried to move away from him. heeseung’s hand moved to just below your neck as he kept you against him—a warning.

all you could manage was shallow breaths as his fingers rammed into you. you stood up on your tip-toes as your knees began to wobble. you were so close to the edge that you mind was clouded and you could barely remember the words he said, only the hurt that followed after. that was, until heeseung spoke again, his eyes boring into yours. “and you were starting to bore me.”

tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, both from pain and pleasure. you came undone on his fingers, covering them in a creamy white that left lewd sounds in its wake as heeseung’s hand continued to move. you brows knitted together as the tears fell down your cheeks. “b-bullshit,” you moaned out.

heeseung might’ve known you like the back of his hand but you knew him like the back of yours. he was lying. if he meant what he said then he wouldn’t be in this bathroom with you, his hand covered in your release and his fingers inside of you knowing exactly what to do. he wouldn’t even let his jealousy get to him—or even be jealous at all.

“you're lying.”

heeseung pulled his fingers out of you and pushed you against the sink. he moved the two of you closer to the mirror so that you were almost face to face in a way. saying nothing, he stared intently into your eyes through your reflection before leaning down and turning your chin so you faced him.

now that you were actually face to face, your breath hitched in your throat. his lips hovered just over yours, barely an inch apart. “i didn’t know how to express how i felt…” heeseung said, “so i didn’t say anything at all. i left.”

he closed the distance between the two of you in a rough and sloppy kiss. distantly, you heard the zipper of his pants and the sound of denim. he yanked the thong you were wearing to the side, just enough for him to have easy access to your already messy pussy.

you gripped tightly onto the marble counter of the sink as heeseung pushed his thick cock inside you, stretching you more than his fingers ever could. you moaned against his lips. you missed the feeling of him inside you, of how full you felt as his long cock went deeper and deeper. heeseung didn’t waste any more time as he roughly thrusted into you, pushing your body further into the sink and towards the mirror.

“and you already told me you loved me.” heeseung pulled his lips off of yours and grabbed your chin. he faced you towards the mirror, the two do you almost cheek to cheek as he made you watch him fuck into you roughly at a fast pace. you felt your previous release drip down your thighs and your tits bounced at the vigorous pace. heeseung looked at you through the mirror, “…you deserve better.”

heeseung moved away from you and grabbed your hips with his hands. you watched as his hips rutted into yours and skin loudly slapped against skin repeatedly. you could barely think, much less move with the way he was fucking you. it was as if all of that anger and jealousy from earlier flooded through him, only this time more towards himself, and he was taking it all out on your needy and waiting pussy.

you were a moaning mess, mouth agape and drool almost spilling from the corners as heeseung fucked you stupid. you fought to process his words, realizing too late that he was telling you all of this with his cock inside you to distract you.

he was hoping that if he left you ruined enough that you wouldn’t think twice about his words, that you would instead focus on your trembling legs and white knuckles as your hands cramped from how hard you gripped the edge of the marble counter. it almost worked in his favor.

“i w-want you,” you stated, head lolling to the side before falling down to the counter completely. “f-fuck!” you whimpered, your voice muffled. you were so close to cumming again and you didn’t know how much more you could take.

“look at me,” you heard heeseung say and when you didn’t immediately obey he roughly pulled your head up by your hair and then towards him so your back was against his chest. you whined in protest that was quickly smothered by another one of your moans as his fingers suddenly dipped down to circle your clit.

heeseung was breathing heavily and he grunted at the way you were clenching down around him. shallow moans left your lips as he thrusted into you and it wasn’t long before you were cumming again. it dripped down your thighs and left you a sticky mess. more of your release dripped down heeseung’s cock and left a white ring at the base. if it weren’t for heeseung pressing you against him you would’ve fell to the tile below.

“can’t t-take anymore!” you cried with furrowed brows as you met his gaze in the mirror. the bathroom was filled with the sounds of your skin slapped against his and the wet sounds of your messy cunt. “t-too much!”

your body shook and heeseung just shushed you. “the things i touch, i ruin.” he placed a soft kiss onto your jaw, completely contrasting his other movements. “just look at you,” he stated.

he released his hold on you and you tumbled back down to the counter. heeseung groaned as he gave you a particularly harsh thrust. tears streamed down your face from the overstimulation, ruining the makeup you spent so long on, but a part of you also didn’t want him to stop any time soon.

his warm cum filled you up impossibly more, spilling out of you and mixing with your own cum down your thighs. you forgot how messy heeseung likes you to be once he’s finished with you. ruined, like he said.

heeseung stayed deep inside you and you managed to lift your head to look at him through the mirror. his hand wrapped lightly against your throat for a moment before sliding up your neck and lifting your head higher. he gave you an almost satisfied smile. “i love how messy you are when i’m done with you,” he said as he pulled out of you and his cum went rushing down your thighs. “and always so fucking needy for more too… like you can’t ever get enough no matter how much i give you.”

shifting away slightly, he leaned down and spread apart your asscheeks so he could get a better look at his work. “i-i like being ruined by you,” you sniffled as you breathed heavily, words coming out almost strained. “i like that no matter how undone i become, there’s still more threads you can pull. pull them.”

heeseung’s eyes flicked to yours. “it’s not worth it. you’ll only get hurt in the end.”

you turned towards him, “you won’t hurt me.” you wiped the tears and streaked mascara from your cheeks with the back of your hand. heeseung was closer than you thought he was as he leaned over you. he leaned back and pushed you down to your knees.

he looked down at you through hooded lids. “you deserve better,” he reiterated. you grabbed his hard cock and licked a stripe up it before sucking lightly at his mushroom tip. he moaned, his hands coming to rest at the back of your head.

“that’s what you think,” you replied. “doesn’t mean it’s true.”

heeseung sighed deeply. he then pushed your head fully down his length, causing you to gag around him. you looked up at him with teary eyes and spit spilling from the corner of your mouth. “you talk too fucking much,” heeseung said.

you then smiled, fisting his cock and watching as his eyes fluttered shut. “then make me shut up,” you responded. an amused smile lifted heeseung’s lips and his eyes opened to look at you.

he gave you no time to say anything else before his cock was down your throat again. heeseung grabbed a fistful of your hair. “suck,” he demanded instead, and you obeyed.

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ] ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

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[buckevantommy]

Buck could fill a small bakery with the amount he's baked in the past few weeks. He cleaned out the flour shelf at his local corner market, used a coop's worth of eggs, pushed his mixer to the limit, and had his oven working near constantly. Every neighbor on his floor and everyone he's passed in the lobby has had a loaf of some kind left on their doorstep or politely shoved into their hands. Everyone at the station is begging him not to overload them on anymore sugar - they'll take the carb-loaded meals he makes at work but avoid Buck the moment he enters the bay doors with a basket of saran-wrapped sweet bakes.

The worst part is that it's not even working anymore. It never really distracted him enough to not want to call Tommy, just put his hands and head to use for an hour or two at a time so that he couldn't text or call.

But now there's nothing left to bake with. And Eddie is looking at houses in El Paso. And everyone has family to go home to, except for Buck. And every reason he has for not being the one to reach out first goes out the window.

After a few rings, Tommy answers with a questioning: "-Buck?" and it's a gutpunch he doesn't need today but he's already feeling like shit so the pain just gets absorbed into the rest of it.

"H-hey, Tommy." It feels good to say his name under- well, not better circumstances than addressing his broken heart, but something with a bit of tentative hope at least.

And it's good to hear his voice. The voicemails and audio notes and videos from their time together have soothed him and tormented him at different times, but hearing Tommy respond sends a pang of longing through him.

"Um. I-I, uh."

"Are you okay?"

A bitter sound trips its way out of Buck's mouth. "No. No, I-I'm not okay."

"Are you hurt?"

The urgency in Tommy's voice thrills him; he still cares. But Buck doesn't want to misrepresent himself, doesn't want to trick Tommy into caring about what he's going through.

"Guess that depends."

"On what?"

"What kinda hurt you mean."

There's an inhale across the line. "What can I do?"

Tears prick at the corners of Buck's eyes. "I just- need someone to talk to." He doesn't say: even though we're not together anymore, can we still be friends? because even though he's missed Tommy being in his life, he doesn't know if he could be just friends.

"Okay." Buck hears some rustling in the background, footsteps, background noise receding. "I'm here. Talk to me."

Tommy wants to hear what Buck has to say, he always did. So Buck talks. He tells Tommy about Eddie moving away, and Tommy listens. And when it gets too much he tells Tommy about a new niece or nephew of his on the way, and Tommy offers his sincere congratulations. And then he tells Tommy about his baking coping mechanism and Tommy quiets.

So much so that Buck checks to see if the call dropped.

"I'm on my fifth engine," Tommy admit. "I keep taking them apart and putting them back together until they work better than before. But everytime I was done I had to start again, fix another broken thing, because I couldn't fix.."

Buck takes an unsteady breath. Us. "Me."

"No," Tommy says emphatically. "I couldn't fix me. Too broken to be good enough for you."

It's a heartwrenching confession, but Buck feels a smile beneath the tears sneaking down his face. "You don't think I'm broken? Nobody stays for me, Tommy. At some point I gotta realize I'm just not someone people wanna stick around for in the long run."

"Evan.."

Buck breezes over the sound of his name in Tommy's mouth, can't dwell on how good it feels because it won't last. "Guess neither of us are forever guys, huh." His heart, bruised and battered, bleeds a little more. The tears stream freely now. He sniffles, but manages to steady his voice as he says: "I loved you. That was real."

Tommy's breath hitches. "I was a coward."

Buck nods. Cries some more. They're both fucked up.

Tommy hesitates, but then: "I'm off-shift soon. We could.."

He leaves it hanging. There's so many ways Buck could finish that sentence, most of them unbearably hopeful. He doesn't want to stay in his empty apartment anymore. "Yours?" His voice is a little wet. "Maybe I could help you with that engine."

Tommy's breath of amusement is a balm to Buck's aching heart. "You know something about vintage cars I don't?" It's teasing, and gentle, and Buck has missed this.

"Maybe. Maybe trying to do it alone is the problem."

Another breath of laughter, followed by resignation in Tommy's voice. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

Buck listens to him breathe for a moment: in, out, in..

"I'll meet you at mine."

Buck's poor heart beats a little stronger.

*

It was more than an hour later, of battling crosstown traffic and then letting himself into Tommy's house because Tommy had explicitly told him to use the spare key. They never gotten to the point of swapping keys. That probably should've been a step they didn't skip over. Buck's too-long legs had skipped too many for Tommy's comfort.

He pushes all thoughts of that aside. He's not perfect, he's too much, but Tommy agreed to see him. Tommy wants.. he's not sure.

Buck stands in the little living room, surveying Tommy's space while his mind spirals, heart yoyo-ing between hope and hopelessness. He doesn't know how much time passes when the front door opens and Tommy appears in the entryway.

He looks good. Tired, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by, but good. His hair is a little longer all over, and it suits him. Buck wants to tell him as much but he can't seem to say anything.

Then Tommy says, "Hey," soft and concerned and fond, a sad smile at the corners of his eyes.

And Buck's tears threaten back into his own. "Hey." His voice is watery and brittle.

Tommy's there in three strides, gathering Buck into his arms, and Buck lets himself be wrapped in an embrace. Winds his arms around Tommy and presses into his solid warmth. Breathes him in as the tears come.

He feels safe. Seen. His heart cradled in care the way his body is cradled in Tommy's arms.

Buck takes a deep, steadying inhale of Tommy's scent and pulls back enough to look him in the face. His hands loose their grip at Tommy's shirt, smoothing to palm him through the cotton.

"About that engine.."

Tommy's smile is wide enough to crinkle his eyes in that way Buck loves, with joy etched in the creases.

"I wanna help you, if you'll let me. We could make it work. Together."

Tommy's eyes glisten. His smile breaks into a grin. "I'd like to try that."

buck probably called tommy every chance he got when they were together. driving home from work and stuck in traffic, it’s time to call tommy and tell him about his shift. late night in bed and he’s struggling to fall asleep without him, tommy’s soft voice will lull him to sleep from the other side of the phone. both on shift and the calls had been particularly slow, he will go and sit on the roof with tommy on loud speaker and they will just talk about anything and everything.

and when buck finds out that eddie is thinking about moving back to texas, tommy is the only person who he wants to talk to about it. so he finally gives in and calls. and of course, tommy will answer.

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about kid wade sick days.

Not for littles who don't like violence.

Wade has been curled up in the corner of their bed, sleeping on and off for hours, shaking, trying to stay silent as if he would get introuble if he made any noise. He had the comforter over top of him, holding pillows tightly as singular slow tears ran down his face. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to eat. He didn't want to play. He didn't want to pet puppins. He didn't want to go to the park. He didn't even want Vanessa.

Once inawhile, Logan would hear a soft "....oow." Come from the room, but his voice was tight and high pitched. If it wasn't for their super hearing they wouldn't hear him at all.

Al had suggested that they just leave him alone. That there was nothing they could do for him and bugging him was probably making it worse. "Logan.. Just let him cry himself to sleep.. its the only thing he can do right now."

"I can't just let him cry himself to sleep. He hurts."

"Sugar, he's hurting 24/7. It's only showing today because he's little and doesn't understand. If there was something I could do, I would. But for now it just seems he wants to be alone."

It hurt Logans heart to hear this. No one should have to be alone and suffer except for him. Wade didn't deserve all this pain. He especially didn't deserve it now.

".. He only wants to be alone right now because no one ever took care of him. He was left alone his entire life... you get used to it.. well too fucking bad." He mutters, deciding to bring him some orange juice in his cup.

"Wade?" He had asked. But he didn't awnser.

".. Kiddo?" Logan whispers, setting the cup down close to his head, rubbing his back softly.

"....ow" he whimpered

"I know.. can I come in?" He asks, sliding his hand under the blanket, wiggling his fingers slightly.

"Ow.." he says again, not budging.

"No? Okay... well... I'm going to stay here.. okay?" He says, laying back, letting his weight sink Wade close to him, hoping he would cuddle up to him instead of feeling so alone.

The small slide that he did was silent, the "bmph" being the blankets and pillows protesting but not Wade.

".. ok"

So Logan laid with him, humming and rubbing his back until he moved on his own to curl into his side. "Hey.." he whispers to him, only getting another "..ow.." in return.

"I know... i know." Logan would shush him, keeping him warm and, at one point, let Wade hold his entire arm under the duvet. It was a bit too warm for him. The feverish skin, his fluffy pants, the thick blanket, the pillows. It made him so warm. It was an uncomfortable type, but he enderred it anyway, letting Wade cling to him like it was the cure to cancer itself.

It eventually turned into Wade putting his head and arm on his chest, bringing more of him into his cocoon to the point it looked like over time the blanket was eating Logan until Wade was fully curled up on top of him, no longer shaking.

He let Kitty hold him, rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothings to him. It was so warm under here that you could probably remove the blanket, and the amount of heat Logan has conducted would have probably been enough to still keep him warm.

"Alright.. come on." He says, feeling a bit too much on fire, imagining how terrible and delusional he must be with this.

"Ow.."

"I know, but you're too hot Wade."

There was a little giggle under the blanket as Logan scoffed. "Not like that and you know it. I-i mean. You are but.. not now- t-The temputure kind!" He explained, kind of hating that he understood some flirt terms.

"Come on. Up."

"No... owie."

"Wade, you have to eat something. It's been 6 hours since you've drank anything."

"b-But my tummy hurts.." he whimpers, not wanting to move. He felt like if he did, he would vomit instantly and collapse from the stabbing and twisting pain in his gut.

Sighing, he pulls him close, his hand starting to rub his stomach in hopes the heat from his hand would help.. if not... he had other ideas.

"Here?" He asks, massaging his belly more.

"Mhm... ouch." Shifting himself, he put a hand on logans, keeping his hot hand against his stomach, letting him rub where he pleased, but the tears started back up. It hurt more to be touched, and the fact that he hasn't eaten either made it worse.

"Shh... it's okay... Kitty's here." He whispers, slowly pulling his arm around his neck, pretending just to be cuddling with him in that playful style they did often. Kissing his tears away, Logan mentally had to prepare himself for the worst. Though at least he was conscious enough to understand he was helping. If not, he would have told him to stop touching his tummy by now. "Better?"

Wade shook his head, trying to press Logan's hand harder onto his gut, squeezing his eyes tight. The preasure felt good, and with how desperately he was clawing at him to keep him close, Logan had a feeling that subconsciously, Wade knew what he wanted.

Scratch that. He knew what he needed.

"Here?" He asked, to be sure.

Wade nodded.

"Deep breaths.. It's okay.. Kitty will fix it. I love you, Wade." Logan whispers, cletching his fist as he forced the metal through his stoamch, skewering him.

Wade had gasped, freezing for a moment as the blood came piling up through his throat. He had tried to scream, but it was quickly filled with a choking gurgle as Logan put his head to the side, letting him drain out onto his chest.

"Shhh.. it's alright. Kitty fixed it.." he mutters, an instant wave washing over him as he held the claws deep for a few seconds, pulling them away, begining to kiss his thick tears away and placed his nose to his head.

"It was for your own good... promise."

For a second, he's quiet. Just that. A quick second before he coughed up the rest of the blood and began crying, not out of pain, rather emotionally wounded, his physical one perfectly healed.

"Hey, shhh I know, I know Im sorry, you didn't do anything bad. Im bad. I know- Shhh" He mutters to him, holding him close and kissing his forehead, letting him metaphorically and physically come back to life in his arms. "Shhh hey, did you see that pretty lady again? Hm? Its okay. Was she nice to you? Hm? Hey, shhh, no need to cry. Just a nightmare." He lies, needing Wade to catch his breath, sometimes forgetting to breathe when sobbing like this.

He nods, face still soaked with snot and tears as he nods softly, both confused and panicked.

"Oh yeah? Did she give you a hug and say nice things?" He wasn't actually sure, but the way big Wade described it, this is kind of what happened each time he died for even a moments notice. He wondered if she was aware of him in this state. She had to be right? With how many times he's had to give him to her before...

He blinks, as if finally realizing where he was and what had happened, becoming grounded. Slowly, and confused, he nods. ".. yeah.."

"Yeah? That's good. Does your tummy still hurt?"

He thinks for a second before shaking his head. "..no"

"Good. Are you hungry?"

He nods.

"Come on. Let's go get you some nuggets and cookies. Kitty's gotta do laundry now." He muttered. "...again."

Coming out of the room, Wade was much more chipper, holding his Fluffy Wovie and skipping to the kitchen with his cup, getting into the cookie container.

Al tilted her head, wondering why the apartment suddenly smelled like rusty copper.

"What did you do to him?" She asked.

Logan, who now came out with a the bloody blanket, and blood caked onto his clothes, sighed.

"You don't wanna know..." unaware of how weird this sounded.

"Kihhy 'ixed me!!" Wade shouts from the kitchen, several cookies shoved into his mouth, puppins next to him, struggling to chew on one too.

"Uh... huh.... rrriigghhtt.."

"Like I said.. don't ask... now, where's the peroxide?"

[hyperions-light]

hey I was planning another post today but instead let’s talk about how much I love that there’s not really a ‘good’ ending to the companion plotlines in Veilguard. It reminds me of Leliana and Alistair’s plotlines in DAO in that what you choose says more about the player/protagonist than anything

I just finished Isana Negat a second time, and I did the other ending and I thought it was just as good. Like, yeah, Harding does deserve to be angry! They did fucking get everything taken away from them! It’s so painful and horrific; yes you can, and should, be mad! But also Harding prioritizing her very real love for and compassion towards other people is not wrong. It’s just different! It’s just Rook’s friend/lover asking them for advice, and Rook giving it! You know, like in real life except with huge magical rock giants

And okay I’m never going to kill Illario because I think it would make Luca really sad and he has enough problems, Whoops I misremembered this, I don’t think you can kill Illario actually. I love that for Luca <3 But yk, I’m probably still not going to imprison him. but I can see it! Because the cycle has to end, right? The violence and infighting of the Crows endlessly attacking each other over power is part of what allowed the Antaam to get a foothold in Antiva, because there was like a double agent or something (if I’m remembering right from Tev Nights). Some kind of ending needs to be made to this endless violence. And I suppose it depends on how retributive Rook is, which is a great question to ask of the player (one that is asked repeatedly throughout the game). It’s not like Illario didn’t do anything, you know! He probably deserves punishment. But Rook, as they always can at various points, can be merciful, can choose absolution. Wow no, I’m glad I was wrong I love it more like this.

And oh boy, I LOVED the ending of Emmrich’s quest, don’t even get me started! Like!! I thought it was going to be ‘well obviously we HAVE to save Manfred’, but how Emmrich talks about accepting his death and his sacrifice convinced me! I was like alright man, this is a real choice! I actually did make him a lich last time (made a lot of sense from a Watcher perspective, imo) and not only was the cutscene sick as hell, but the follow-up was so funny and I got some really sad Spite dialogue which fucking wrecked me. It was great— seriously, his plotline is one of my favorites in the whole game.

And Davrin’s! I’ve already expounded at length about how much I like his quest line and how it ties into the Grey Wardens, but I really think both of his options for the griffons are so workable, because you know the Grey Wardens, especially under Antione and Evka, aren’t going to hurt those little guys again! But also the scenes with Eldrin are so endearing, and Davrin’s hope for a brighter future for them is so sweet and genuine. It’s hard to pick! It’s about Rook's perspective!

Neve's I'll admit I don't vibe with as much just because of the like 'trust the authorities' angle, but i haven't tried saving Minrathous yet and I think it would be sooooo involving as a Shadow Dragon especially. Because that's what they're fighting for, right? That better Minrathous where they CAN be sure that if they send the insane cultist lady to prison she’s going to stay there? But there’s always the practical consideration of people’s lives being at stake NOW, of Neve needing her friends safe NOW. And just killing Aelia ensures she will never be an issue again. So I can see both angles for sure

And Taash ;-; oh, Taash. I haven’t posted about them that much yet because they make me very emotional and it’s hard to organize thoughts like that. But I really love their quest, and their struggle to define themselves. And look, I know people wanted the option to tell them they could be both, but like as a person who has lived a similar experience, it really feels sometimes like the world is making you choose. It can feel like you’re not enough of either thing for anyone. And there are parts of your identity that you will have to make a choice on, and I think it’s trying to speak to that. I did the Rivaini one, and it’s like… well, they’re embracing the culture of Rivain, but it’s not like anyone is ever going to look at them and NOT see a Qunari. You can’t get away from that. What you choose to do in response is a real dilemma and I think that if you engage with the text genuinely you can see what Trick was doing. Also, there is a really great dialogue from Rook that I think gives more context to the discussion; they can say that they have been many things, and it’s important to take what works from each experience and make it part of yourself. So I don’t think Taash’s plot is trying to make them throw away any of themselves, just defining priorities. (Sorry, that got long. Feelings, opinions about that one)

And I don’t think Bellara’s is obvious, either, especially with how they involve the Nadas Dirthalen in her personal plot. This is a thing that is really emotionally and culturally significant to her, but at the same time it is part of what hurt her brother and ultimately took him away from her. She’s really preoccupied with not causing harm by her actions; she spends the whole game worried about it! And even though Rook doesn’t see the dangerous elements of the repository, that doesn’t mean they’re not there. The puzzle quest you can find in Arlathan proves that other people besides Cyrian were taken in by Anaris. And also, there’s the plot thread they briefly touched on in the last game which is that the culture the Dalish have built, that they have RIGHT NOW, is not wrong. But it’s also important to remember history, even if it’s unpleasant or could be dangerous, which is another thing you can discuss with Bellara during the game. So there’s no wrong choice! It’s just about Rook and Bellara and what’s important from their perspectives.

Anyway it was super refreshing to have these kinds of choices! It reminds me of the best character choices in DAI and DAO, especially, and I’m so happy they carried those things forward and improved on them.

[leoisstillalive]

i have this. horrid yet incredibly amusing vision. of marc and pecco next year on the podium.

pecco wins, marc comes second, and so valentino (having attended the race) thinks it reasonable to go and congratulate pecco for his win. give him a bit of a morale boost for the championship fight. nothing drawn out- he has a debrief to do with franky and diggia- just a quick hand shake.

so he goes to the barricade at parc fermé and pecco is there and he's grinning and he looks hungryyy because he's made ground on marc's title lead. vale pulls him into a hug, clasps a hand on the back of his neck, etc, and it's nice and easy.

so far so good.

then marc appears. seemingly from nowhere. vale hasn't been watching out for him- maybe he should've been. he definitely should've been.

marc shakes pecco's hand, claps him on the back. they're all giggles and heavy, panting breaths. and marc is sweating still and his hair is parted in damp, messy clumps, cheeks rosy and youthful and vale smacks his lips; tries to disappear back into the crowd but

it's packed tight. and nobody seems to be giving because they're all reaching over him to congratulate marc-- of course. they're on the same team. vale isn't a child, he doesn't let it anger him. he instead keeps his eyes fixed on his academy student as pecco smooths back his hair.

marc finishes with pecco and brings his obnoxious, bubbly laughter to the barrier and starts grabbing hands and letting people pat his head, moving down the row, and then.

vale jumps back when marc's sweaty palm locks against his own. marc's fingers curl tight around the ridge above vale's wrist and vale's mouth is agape and he can't tell if he's offended or shocked or- just a bit- pleased by the large, firm hand encasing him. and marc isn't looking at vale-- hasn't looked at him once, vale's not sure if he even knows he's there, caught up in the whirlwind adrenaline, almost post-coital ecstasy of getting a podium.

but vale knows. and the people around vale have noticed. and vale is frozen still like a tree- everything in him tense as hell except his heart, which is rattling like an alarm. he is afraid marc can feel it hammering through his skin.

marc's brows curl together and his smile turns confused as everybody quietens down, all eyes turned to the two men like some sort of baroque painting.

marc lets his gaze fall on valentino at last-- at long last, but vale would not, could never admit this. and his smile wobbles at the edges, goes sharp and thin. he releases vale's floppy hand and blinks a few times, pupils blown wide like he’s spotted a lion in the reeds. valentino is absolutely stunned. can't say a word. can barely breathe.

and pecco shares his surprise- only, a small, sly smirk has crooked at one side of his mouth and he looks nigh on laughter. valentino would be too if he wasn't so. astounded. his hand is tingling from the contact, heavy as if packed with mud.

marc bites and licks his lips. habit. vale does not track the movement-- he doesn't. but he spots it in his peripherals and is glad for the shield of his sunglasses.

marc lingers. for some reason. like he is waiting for something- for valentino to speak or retake his hand or dissolve into smoke like a super villain. nothing happens. they both just stare until it becomes. very awkward for their spectators.

finally, valentino clears his throat and turns back to pecco, gesturing him over for nothing in particular- simply trying to get marc out of the way, trying to pretend none of..... that just happened.

marc seems just as eager to move on, shuffling away to the corner of the barricade. but there is a crease of sadness or loss on his face for a moment- only long enough for valentino to spot it. and then he is smiling again, laughing and shaking hands, while everybody just watches. slightly confused, very amused.

vale hopes the cameras didn't catch that but. fucking. of course they did. now he's in for it

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Gorgeous ✧˚ · .

JJ Maybank x Reader

“Ocean blue eyes, lookin’ in mine. I feel like I might sink and drown and die” ࿐࿔

Inspired by Gorgeous by Taylor Swift

Warnings: MDNI. Contains sexual content, cursing, mentions of alcohol, toxic (ex)boyfriend, fluff in the mix, ideation of cheating, underlying manipulative JJ

Summary: You’ve always been attracted to JJ Maybank. But the fact that you can’t have him kills you more than he knows.

You were sitting on your phone texting as usual. Lazing around, arm draped around the arm of the couch as you chatted to your friends and scrolled through social media listlessly. Liking posts and rolling your eyes at girls bragging about their all-around-boring lives.

Sure, there were more productive things to be doing. You could be doing chores, washing the dishes, or hanging out outside. But really, who cared? It was a still day in summer, a day where most Kooks and Pogues alike would be enjoying the weather by surfing and swimming. All you felt like doing, however, was pretty much nothing.

Your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen as usual. The last time you’d seen him was that morning, after he waved goodbye without so much as a “See you, babe,” or a kiss on the cheek. When he’d be back, he hadn’t mentioned. You knew, though, that it wouldn’t be until late that night.

He still acted as though he cared about you. In the evenings he’d tell you he loved you, and that he needed you. But you always found yourself questioning those words even as he fucked you in the bedroom.

You couldn’t remember the last time you enjoyed having sex with him.

You were planning on going to the boneyard party tonight. Hang out with your friends, maybe grab a few drinks. What you weren’t anticipating, though, was seeing one person with sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and tan skin. That person was JJ Maybank.

And yes, he was heading over to you now, a plastic cup in his hand. He held the cup out to you, saying “Hey there. Care for a drink?”

You were distracted by those deep blue eyes. “I, uh…” 

“Here, take it. It’s on the house,” he placed the cup in your hand, winked, then walked away. You saw him rejoin his group of Pogues around the campfire. 

“What’s between you two?” Your friend asked teasingly with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you said, rolling your eyes. But you knew that wasn’t quite true.

It wasn’t like you and JJ were strangers. He always said hi to you when he was around, and you would occasionally engage in informal conversation.

There was something about him though. Something that made you turn your head every time you saw him. You knew it was wrong. You have a boyfriend, you scolded yourself sharply.

But you couldn’t help it. He was… handsome. No, that wasn’t it. He was gorgeous. Indescribably so. That’s why you always found the picture of those mesmerizing ocean blue eyes trapped in your head, never leaving you alone.

There was one thought that bothered you. You didn’t know if he had a girlfriend or not. You’d seen him around Kiara Carrera, the Kook-turned-Pogue girl with long brown hair and olive skin. Had she already taken him? But what if she hadn’t? For some reason, the idea of him being entirely free for the taking left a sick feeling in your stomach.

Because no matter if you wanted to be his or not, you couldn’t. You already had a boyfriend, a couple years older than you. Whichever way you put it, you had been dating for nearly two years. Even considering cheating on him was out of the question.

It made you angry. How JJ Maybank was allowed to be this gorgeous and get away with it. You had to stop thinking about him. Period.

That’s what you tried to convince yourself as your boyfriend pounded into you on the bed later that night. 

“Good girl,” he muttered in your ear. “Fuck.” As you looked up at him, you saw that his eyes were emotionless as usual. You felt a sinking feeling that wasn’t unfamiliar. Should you ever believe that he loved you?

You were at a party again. Except this time, it was at a Kook’s house, the property so big it reeked of money from a mile away.

The main room was so big you were sure it was equivalent to the ballroom of a castle. The Pogues were all here— why the hell were the Pogues invited?— but it seemed the entirety of the Outer Banks was here. Girls and boys were all dancing to the music underneath the disco ball hanging from the ceiling.

You had worn a black sparkly dress tonight, along with a pair of heels. After a while of catching up with others, you stood to the side of the dance floor, pouring yourself a glass of champagne.

“That looks good. Wanna grab me one?”

You turned around, and there was JJ again, good-looking as ever. 

You smirked at him. “You should get one yourself. Be careful though, it’s a little strong.”

He grinned back. “Don’t worry, I can handle it.” He moved to the refreshment table. As he was filling up a glass, his eyes met yours. You felt your cheeks burning. Then he looked away, and it was over.

“So, uh— where’s your boyfriend?” JJ asked casually.

“Don’t know. Probably in the club with the guys.” You felt like shriveling underneath his gaze. How could someone be this attractive?

He sounded skeptical. “Not at the party?”

You chuckled a bit. “No, he never goes to these.”

“Alright then. Well, I’ll see you around.” And he disappeared.

Somehow you found yourself pulled into the midst of the dancing, twirled around, from one person to the next. Then the music changed to a slow song. A romantic one, with the lights switched to dim and deep red.

And just for a split second, you felt someone’s hand brush against yours. Without turning around, you instinctively knew it was JJ’s.

Why? Why would he do that? He knew you had a boyfriend. Had it been an accident? But something about the deliberate gentleness of the gesture made you know it hadn’t been.

He made you so angry. How dare he tempt you like this? He would pay for this. You just didn’t know how. You downed too many more champagnes, then left, dazedly, for home. Alone.

You didn’t sleep at night anymore. The image of JJ’s face refused to go no matter how hard you tried. Your boyfriend still spent time with you, but it was less and less, and you had no idea where he went half the time.

So you were left restless by yourself, slowly falling apart as you cracked at the mere thought that you couldn’t have what you truly wanted. You hated JJ Maybank. Hated him. Without him realizing one bit, he was making you fall apart.

You were sitting in the hammock in your yard, on your phone again. You were too tired to pay attention to the endless pages of meaningless posts. 

You heard the gate to the backyard open, and you looked up. It was one of your friends.

“Hey, what’s up?” you called to her.

She walked over and looked uncertainly at you, nervously fiddling with her hands. “Hey, I came to tell you about something.”

“Yeah? What is it?” you narrowed your eyes in concern.

She hesitated. Then she spoke. “I found out from someone else that your boyfriend has been cheating on you. With a girl from the club.”

“What?” you exclaimed. The outrage must have shown on your face, because your friend took a step back.

“I’m sorry.” She gazed at you sympathetically.

You were speechless. It couldn’t be true. Not knowing how else to console you, your friend left quickly.

Your boyfriend had cheated on you. After all this time, being loyal to him and trying your damndest to keep a good relationship with him, he had gone and found himself another girl. You waited in dread for him to return. 

When he opened the front door, you immediately started yelling at him.

“What the fuck?! How could you cheat on me like this? I thought you loved me!! And don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about!”

He dropped the blank expression and instead stared at you coldly. “So you found out.”

Your eyes started filling with tears. “How could you?”

“I just didn’t think we were a good match. Oh, don’t act so surprised. You were good while it lasted. But I found someone else now. Don’t take it personally.”

“Don’t take it personally?” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. “What kind of a shitty boyfriend are you? Who’s this new girl, anyway? Is she so much better for you?”

“Yeah. She is. We’re over.” And with that, he walked out of the door. 

That’s how you ended up crying in the bathroom of the local cafe the next morning. It was Sunshine Bakery, a cheap place where countless OBX residents went to grab their daily coffees.

You sobbed on the tile floor, hair falling over your face in a tangled mess.

You were too lost in your own misery to notice the door handle turn and someone step in.

“Hey, I thought I heard— whoa, are you okay?”

Your head snapped up. And of course, it was fucking JJ Maybank, looking surprised to see you soiled on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest.

“What are you doing here?” you sniffled softly, failing to hide your ruined state.

“I heard someone crying in here and came to check. What happened?” His blue eyes held a genuine concern.

“My… boyfriend just broke up with me.” You looked downwards. Your brain couldn’t decide if you should be willing to accept his comfort or not.

His eyes widened. “He did?”

You could only nod. 

“Well, I can’t imagine anyone who would want to do that.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. “What?”

He grinned at you. “I just mean you’re so beautiful, you deserve better.” He closed the door behind him and sat down next to you. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” The tiniest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Of course. Who wouldn’t?” His voice lowered, and he gently wiped away your tears, brushing your hair behind your ear.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You thought you’d never get this close to him, yet here he was, touching you.

“Want me to make you feel better?” His voice was really low now, and there was something unreadable in his expression.

The word “yes” had only just left your lips before he gently tugged your shirt and bra down and pulled off your shorts. Then he unbuckled his belt, the metal clinking as it fell to the floor.

You thought your heart was beating out of your chest. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked you steadily. When you moved your head in a silent yes, he pressed his lips to yours tenderly, slowly and with precision.

You relished his feel, closing your eyes as you allowed your arms to wrap around his neck. His hard cock brushed against your stomach, already wanting you.

As he guided himself inside little by little, it was a feeling you had never felt before. Nothing like what it had been with your ex, and the thought brought guilt to your mind. But it was soon forgotten. JJ was here now, and only JJ. Your walls tightening around him was your only thought. How could you hate him? He was handsome as hell, after all.

He rolled his hips into you back and forth, taking care that you were comfortable. Every touch sent waves of electricity through you. Your little moans of pleasure spurred something inside JJ; your sweet sounds were a music to his ears he had never dreamed of before.

“Shit, you’re so good for me.” His hands twisted in your hair while your leg came up to grab onto his waist. Your breathing was heavy. In this moment in time, it was only the two of you, everything else forgotten. Any past pains were gone. This was how it was meant to be.

When you came, your juices dripping out of you, JJ lapped it all up, his tongue swirling around your pussy.

“You taste so good, do you know that?”

When he stood back up, he pulled you in for another kiss, spreading goodness through your veins.

He pulled away. “Was that okay, princess? You’re sure it wasn’t too soon, after…” he glanced at you anxiously.

“No,” you told him immediately. “JJ, I… thank you.”

He softened. “Don’t worry about it. Anytime.”

You began to blush. “Maybe we could meet up sometime soon?”

“Sure, baby. How about tomorrow at twelve? At my place?”

“That sounds great. Really.”

He smiled charmingly. “See you there, then.”

You watched him go. You finally had what you had yearned for. It was possible to be a daydream, but now he was yours. Gorgeous JJ Maybank.

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[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Luke/Andreas; wined and dined

For the prompt: Andreas and Luke meeting/hooking up the second time

I literally finished this before I realised you guys probably meant like, the second time they hooked up, not the whole second time 'round. Mea culpa, everybody. And for those who interpreted it the same way I did...you're welcome?

Andreas can’t remember the last time he was wined and dined.

Though maybe that isn’t the best way to describe it — Andreas has dinner meetings all the time, has sat beside clients at the best restaurants in almost every NHL city, sampled from the menus of half of New York's most exclusive restaurants. Always on the agency’s dime, of course, or his multi-millionaire client’s, or the teams they play for, or the teams who want to sign them.

There’s plenty of wine involved — though Andreas always restricts himself to a glass when it's business — plenty of dining. But a meeting’s a meeting, whether it’s in a conference room, patiently waiting for a GM who’s been around since there were still six teams in the league to figure out how to unmute his mic, or eating something exceptional at a Michelin Star restaurant.

So obviously that’s not what he means. It’s not that he hasn’t been dating either, though admittedly, he had less and less time to spare for it as he got older. And not that he hasn’t gone on dinner dates specifically, where he allows himself a second glass of wine, orders what he’d like, rather than ‘what he’s having sounds good’, unless, Andreas supposes, it truly does sound good. So there has been wining and dining, in fact. Possibly even a surplus of it.

And yet.

At a certain point Andreas thinks he just stopped expecting romance. It wasn’t any sort of resigned, jaded disappointment at the dating scene. Not that it isn't a shitshow, but it's probably better here than just about anywhere else. More an acknowledgment that most guys didn’t seem to be looking for romance, at least the ones Andreas was dating.

And that was fine, because Andreas wasn’t really looking for it either. Romance was undeniably nice, but he worked long hours, put almost all of himself into his job, and what he had left didn’t require much more than good conversation and some companionship, a spark of attraction, mediocre or better sex. Romance might have come along down the line, but things didn’t tend to last long even when he did find someone who met his simple — yet almost impossible to find — criteria.

That one, he thinks has more to do with him than it does with them. Andreas’ career is one of those things that’s attractive in theory, but significantly less endearing when he’s slipping in and out of bed at all hours, constantly checking his email or ducking out to make a call, flying off to who knows where, sometimes with plenty of notice, sometimes with none at all.

Maybe his life just isn’t conducive to romance. He doesn’t like to think that, but there would be worse things, wouldn’t there? He has a job that he finds fascinating, a job that offers something different every day, a job that, incidentally, pays him more money than he has the time to spend. He could retire tomorrow if he wanted to, live the rest of his life in comfort, dedicate all his time to searching for true love, but why would he want to? It sounds excruciatingly boring.

So he works — he works a lot, works more than he should, at least according to everyone he knows, including Dave, the giant hypocrite — and he — well, he works. But it’s fine. Most people have to search for meaning in his life, but he has his. If anyone asks about it — and they all ask, except Dave, that gem of a fucking man — he says he doesn’t feel like he’s lacking anything. He’s not lying, either.

That doesn’t mean something doesn’t squeeze tight when Luke conveniently ‘happens to be in town’ — though if there’s any town that actually applies to, it’s New York — when he figures they should ‘catch up’. Even as he tells himself that he’s just catching up with an old flame, one who doesn’t even live in the same country as him anymore. Even as he tells himself once for old time’s sake, and then twice doesn’t hurt considering they’ve still got chemistry, then when it’s been three, four, half a dozen, and if Luke’s got a return ticket Andreas doesn’t know when it’s for, but it doesn’t feel like it’s any time soon.

Luke has always been a romantic. He’d deny it up and down if Andreas said it, and it wouldn’t even be a kneejerk macho shit — Andreas doesn’t think Luke even knows he does anything out of the ordinary. Andreas doubts he was thinking ‘I’m going to woo Andreas’ as he asked him out to dinner, not the first time, or the second, not when he came with a bag of groceries and a bottle of wine from a vineyard Andreas mentioned in passing, said he’d cook for him, laughing as he fought with Andreas’ temperamental bottle opener, scoffing when Andreas impatiently intervened before he could ruin a good bottle of wine.

Technically, he doesn’t even know if 'wooing' is Luke’s aim at all. He could just need the change of pace, miss the city, the speed of it, the convenience, and while he was here, Andreas was just as convenient as the rest of it — good conversation, good companionship, Luke more attractive than ever, the sex still fantastic. And they didn’t even have to get to know one another. What could be easier?

But Andreas doesn’t think so, at least not judging by the way Luke’s started looking at him.

Andreas doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him like Luke does, the complete focus of it. Looking isn’t a strong enough word — it’s more like he’s taking him in, trying make sure that he gets every single detail correct, the way Andreas imagines a painter would gaze at their subject, a poet at their lover. Luke’s no poet, but, well — maybe he is, a little, minus the words. There’s something about the way Luke looks at the world. Something about the way Luke looks at him.

It used to unnerve Andreas, a little, especially because Luke wasn’t only looking at him like that over romantic candlelit dinners and endorphin fueled pillow talk, but also during the most mundane moments. Andreas would be scowling at his phone, pecking out an answer to a client who decided he urgently needed to discuss his contract on a Sunday morning, a full season before it expired, and he’d look up and there Luke was, visibly taking him in. Sometimes there’d be a little smile on his face — the moments Andreas let himself be a little cranky there often was — but often there wasn’t, just Luke’s eyes on him, taking him in like he was never going to see him again.

It was — a lot. Luke was a lot, almost from the very beginning. Andreas thought he was going to get a regrettable hook up out of things, and then he thought it was going to be a few of them, and it was like a switch was flipped, and Luke went from the hot, fun, surprisingly good in bed client Andreas had completely unprofessionally fucked — and not just once, but a few times, and then a handful — to even more surprisingly good company outside of bed, to something Andreas didn’t quite have a name for. Someone who was gone even more than Andreas was, someone Andreas started to miss when he was gone. Andreas was the one staying put, most of the time, but Luke was the one always watching him like he’d disappear the moment he closed his eyes.

The look hasn’t changed, and Andreas imagines it means the same thing now as it did then, Luke who doesn’t blink, Luke who jumps both feet first, Luke the romantic.

It doesn’t feel as overwhelming now, though Andreas suspects he’ll be spending some time thinking about just how quickly Luke was on board. How quick they both were — Andreas can’t pretend he doesn’t know what’s coming, what’s already here, can’t pretend that isn’t something he wants, when he could end things with a word.

But he doesn’t. This time Andreas lets himself look back, and when Luke catches him at it, he doesn’t let himself look away.

[lillypad-monopoly]

Wild Life Episode 5 Thoughts

(Except I'm insane about Martyn's ep)

LIFE SERIES TRIVIA is DIABOLICAL! The watchers literally being like "how well do you guys know your pain and suffering?" (also sorry only winners remember theory truthers)

The way Grian and Scar are such bitter ex-soulmates that Mumbo has to point it out is hilarious. (also them getting even and saying "Just like Third Life" hurt my heart)

Grian not remembering iconic moments from his own series is so funny. What do you mean he only knows Martyn beheaded Ren with an axe from fanart? Grian gaining possession of the Red Winter Axe was a whole plot point.

MUMBO FIRST OUT! IN SESSION 5! The canary curse is broken for real now guys but at what cost.

Grian standing on the ruins of the tower by himself going through the five stages of grief over Mumbo's death as the sun rises in the background is a gorgeous piece of fanart waiting to happen

Martyn you didn't need to start the episode by talking about how Ren is providing for you, you're asking for the shipping at this point 🤣

MARTYN YOU DO THE LORE OFC JIMMY AND TANGO WERE OUT FIRST. Also REN YOU WERE LITERALLY IN DOUBLE LIFE. RIP Ren/BigB we know where his true loyalties lie

THE TWO NICKLES MEME BREAKING CONTAINMENT I CAN'T

Ren inviting BigB to join the RenWood Mound alliance WITHOUT REMEMBERING DOUBLE LIFE is so insane I don't even know what to say.

OF COURSE SCAR REMEMBERS THE DESERT DUO FLOWERS I'M GOING TO BE SICK

Martyn and Ren saying they're going to be boat bros. This has been coming since last session but I NEED Joel and Etho to call them out on it

"We're boat boys," MARTYN INTHELITTLEWOOD WHEN I CATCH YOU-

Etho yelling for Bdubs to hit him so they could test if the wildcard affected damage and then Tango going "smack me harder~" in the background was diabolical. Suuuure you guys are all PG.

Etho sitting in a boat for Joel to jump over him feels like some boat boys relationship symbolism I'm not smart enough to explain

So Etho is currently living with team BET, but allied with the Four Gs, and in the family with Gem and Joel. Wildcard Etho is so back!

Of course Impulse immediately remembered the clock question.

Joel boasting about how he immediately knows all the questions is peak Joel form and I would expect nothing less. It is kind of warranted though because everybody else is waffling on the simple ones.

Joel is now two for two on unquestioningly trusting Etho only to have something bad happen to him and not even being mad about it what is wrong with this man 😭

Does Joel have the censor bleep on his keyboard or did he just straight up start swearing at Tango and know they would both have to censor it in post to get the effect that he was also making the noise?

Scott's gone from a creaking fanboy to a body horror situation and I'm living for it (also considering he's agreed to "go wild" this session--am I sensing a Scott corruption arc?)

Scott cutting directly from saying he and Jimmy were never married even though they called each other husbands to a scene WITH Jimmy was kind of an insane choice

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Girldad has been confirmed by Scott as the actual reason for the 4Gs. I still think Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss ImpulseSV is funnier but good to have an official ruling

Scott giving up his life for Pearl and them being good natured about it and calling it therapy! I love them so much!

Lizzie being the only person who's not exicted when a trivia bot spawns is so funny. Even the other players who weren't in all the seasons don't seem to be as miffed by them as she is.

Lizzie's flaming snail arising out of that hole while smiling is potentially the funniest thing I've seen all day. Why did it look like that 🤣

[beevean]

I understand the miscommunication now. However, there is a difference between saying "I never played the 2000s games that gave closure to ShTH, and I like how SXSG handled things" and

I think what I appreciate most about Shadow Generations is just that it gives Shadow ACTUAL, CANON closure for his struggle between good and evil.

If you missed out on the games, fair enough, it happens. Personally, I played Heroes and ShTH some years before Adventure 2, and it shaped my perception of Shadow. But if you put it in an objective way, as in, "Shadow never got proper closure before", then I would say "no, he did, multiple times, here's proof - you may not like the writing, but it still happened".

I didn't even talk about '06 itself because I am not going to think about its place in the canon timeline lol. But in a meta sense, it counts for my point: we players experienced Shadow's story and how it precisely exists to show us "look, he has moved on, he can no longer be swayed or manipulated, he knows who he is and what he's fighting for". Sure, the events with Mephiles didn't happen or he forgot, but that game still counted as closure to us after playing ShTH.

I really like that Shadow Gens doesn't emphasize his promise to Maria - he's not doing this out of obligation, but because he chooses to.

It's true that Shadow doesn't talk about his old promise, it's good and shows that he has grown. To be fair, though, another reason for this could be that the story is much more focused on Shadow's biology and ties to Black Doom than his relationship with the world (plus, it wouldn't make sense for him to tell Maria he had promised her to make people happy when she hasn't died yet lol). And, this is an issue I have with the part where Shadow briefly contemplates to stop Rouge and use Chaos Control to freeze Maria and Gerald in White Space: the fact that he has to be told to let them go is still, conceptually, Shadow needing Maria as moral guidance.

As for the mandate bit, I'm aware Boom isn't canon and Forces shows Shadow cares about his team (shout out to their banter in Team Sonic Racing for backing it up as well); I was more referring to the general 2010's vibe. Once you get past 2010, Shadow appears in Generations, where he just wants to "finish" Sonic… And then nothing until Forces, with everything extracurricular from Boom and IDW (while not being strictly canon) pointing to Sega and the writers… not treating his character well.

I disagree. I don't think it makes sense to talk about "general vibe", when the list of Shadow's appearances in the 2010s is so small they can be dissected one by one. Once you remove Boom, which again doesn't count at all as Boom Shadow is a different character from main Shadow (or you might as well argue that the 2010s as a whole turned Knuckles into an illiterate Kronk-like idiot or Eggman into a softie who is frenemies with Sonic), his portrayals in the games are generally decent, with perhaps the one exception of Free Riders where everyone was a dick for no reason lol. Speaking of Gens, sure Shadow challenges Sonic out of nowhere, but then he cheers for him to defeat the Eggmen and then even sticks around for his birthday, so he's not just "the Vegeta" as he has been described since then.

We can argue that Shadow was used very sparingly in the 2010s, which is true. The 2010s were a response to the backlash of the 2000s, and one of the complaints was precisely that Shadow stole the spotlight, along with all the "shitty friends", so they all took several seats back. The reason I insisted that Boom and IDW don't count is that they aren't canon, they shouldn't be used as proof to talk about the character, and they aren't proof of how SEGA sees the character - although they certainly didn't have an iron grip on the external writers except for some basic guidelines, and maybe they should have. I think we are still feeling the consequences of the series stumbling 10 years ago (that 2013-2017 gap was painful), and the fandom growing sour because of it.

I don't think SXSG is a bad game. I have a couple of complaints with Shadow's writing, but they mostly stem with how the story uses him, other than that I can see they tried to make him sound like he did in '06 and he works. My issue is wider: I would like these characters to move on and stop clinging onto games that are by now older than the average fan. We had Frontiers which mostly retreaded character arcs that we have seen in Sonic Adventure, way back in 1998; and now we got SXSG, which was a long, long way to tell us "hey remember ShTH? Now Shadow is tired of BD's shit. Here's a reminder of that game's twist regarding Shadow's biology, but he doesn't care. Also he still misses Maria." So I'm here like... the older games are there. Shadow's multi-game arc is there. Couldn't you have just re-released them? Couldn't you have announced a sale for SA2 on Steam? Or ported Heroes and ShTH, which would have been appreciated by a good chunk of the fandom? SXSG may be fun to play and a testament of ST learning lessons on level design and gameplay style, but the game itself was not the point of the experience, right? It's for newcomers attracted by the incoming movie to get an idea of who Shadow is. I understand and respect that I am not the target audience here. But that doesn't mean the older games are suddenly invalid or should be forgotten.

i guess tl;dr please port shth and battle and then let's write new scenarios for the cast

(Spoilers for Shadow Generations)

I think what I appreciate most about Shadow Generations is just that it gives Shadow ACTUAL, CANON closure for his struggle between good and evil.

By the end of Adventure 2, he remembered his promise to Maria and made his choice to save the world, but then he "dies".

When Heroes revives him, he doesn't remember any of that.

His namesake game (and I say this as gently as possible), as cool as the multiple endings were, feels so unsatisfying. We get to see Shadow's potential for good and evil, sure, but then the true canon ending comes, and it doesn't specify what he did (or even what exactly he remembered about his past) to get there, and then he just decides not to let his past control him. Which isn't a terrible direction on paper, but the symbolism of him literally throwing away a picture of his family just seems... Like the opposite of what made this character appealing in the first place?

And from there, the games kept giving mixed signals. Sonic '06 shows how deeply he and Team Dark come to care for each other, but then its events get literally removed from the timeline. Sega begins to pretend that Team Dark aren't even friends in their mandates for a while (despite the fact they clearly care for each others' wellbeing before anybody else's). Shadow becomes practically a popsicle stick puppet for "angry, serious, violent rival", and they never feel a need to explain his motivations or reactions beyond waving at that four word character description again.

Shadow's appeal (at least to me) was never that he was a character who didn't care about anything - it was that he cared very deeply, actually. (Someone who nearly lets the world be destroyed as revenge for losing his family is the exact opposite of someone who doesn't care!) He may not be cheerful, he may be quiet and stern, he may have a temper and be capable of terrible things if he isn't careful, but he isn't heartless.

And Shadow Generations FINALLY got it right, I feel.

There's now no doubt that he remembers his past, and that it did matter to him. It still does, in fact, and we're dropping the idea that he'll move on from it like it never happened. That's not how tragedy works.

But he will be able to move forward.

He has finally, WITHOUT GETTING AMNESIA, IN THE CANON TIMELINE, gotten to become the hero Maria wanted him to be.

That doesn't mean his story's over: I'm sure they can still find adventures to send him on. And that doesn't mean he needs any kind of complete personality overhaul, either. He can still be more aggressive than Team Sonic, and more stern, and maybe even more willing to resort to questionable methods to fight next week's bad guy.

But all of Team Dark has gotten to acknowledge that they do, in fact, care for each other, even if their attitudes aren't as chummy as Team Sonic.

Shadow has gotten to hear from his family that they are proud of him, weird alien DNA and all, and that even though he will have to go the rest of his long life without them, their love will always go with him, and give him the strength he needs to overcome any of his darker parts.

Shadow having a darker edge than Sonic and Shadow being a hero are things that can and SHOULD coexist, and I'm so glad we finally got to see it for him without it getting wiped from canon or his own memories again.

[faiell]

yapping about fics and commenting

sorry to yap but work is boring today and tumblr isn't blocked on my work computer LOL

ok it's abt that post where the writer friend stopped writing because they weren't getting the comments/kudos they wanted.

i'm like. an overeager fandom person. like i cannot get into a fandom without wanting to meet new people and make friends. i love yapping about whatever silly gay idiots i'm hyperfixating over. i'm all about community, and sharing the joy of fandom, and all that fun positive stuff.

i don't post my art for stats but like. that means nothing coming from me tbh. i get stats. i can't accurately predict what would happen if i stopped getting notes on my art, but i would probably keep drawing and keep posting, just maybe less confidently, and less often. i recognize that stats make it much easier and while it’s not my primary motivation, it definitely motivates me to keep posting.

and yet. for years, i never commented on fic. i think i left kudos? and i saw posts like this all the time about how writers were so sad they didn't get comments. and i would feel super guilty about it all the time. but i still wouldn't do it! it sounds stupid, but i would feel pressured. if i liked a fic a lot, it felt even more difficult to comment, because i thought i would have to somehow give back to the author everything that fic gave to me. i wanted to craft the perfect comment that could perfectly encapsulate everything a fic made me feel. and that was way too much pressure so i would just not say anything.

when i got into drarry, i started reading a shit ton of fic. and i still wouldn't comment. i left maybe... 2 or 3 comments, maybe, i think. i can't remember. but i had a lot to say and i WANTED the writers to hear that i had read it and liked it. i just... didn't comment! u know what i did instead? i just fucking straight up DM'd writers on discord and started gushing to them that i liked their fic. somehow i was confident enough to do that, but writing a comment still felt like too much pressure. ?? i don't understand it either, but in my head it felt like a writing assignment, but when I was in DMs it felt more like a conversation and so there wasn't any pressure to make it "good"? idk!! it's very weird.

then i wrote and posted my first complete fic. just a oneshot, nothing special, and i was like. UNREASONABLY nervous about posting it. like. i am a confident person, okay? i was going to make a burner AO3 account and post it under a different name so nobody would know it was me, and then never mention it to anyone except MAYBE super close friends. i got talked out of doing that (thanks i feel a bit silly about considering that now). and then i received my first comment on it, which was basically a two-liner where someone said they liked it and thanked me for writing it.

and i was like. ??...?????? ???????? ...??!!! because i felt like... uncontainable glee? i was freakishly happy. the amount of serotonin those two sentences gave me was definitely unnatural.

is that healthy? idk. will it continue? idk. LOL. i hope so? but idk, some people said it wears off if you write/post for a while. but whatever, the fact that one little comment like that could make my entire day blew my mind. tbh i thought writers were just exaggerating when they said stuff like that.

ever since then i started leaving comments! that shit's easy! like what was i overthinking for? i'm such a fucking tryhard! all i gotta say is that i liked it, and even the bare minimum can bring lots of joy to someone.

so basically what im trying to say is that negative reinforcement doesn't do shit!! it just makes people feel bad about themselves. that post is nasty for guilt-tripping readers like that, and i bet you it's going to have the opposite effect (or no effect tbh).

YAPPING FINISHED. for now.

[thefallenangel2008]

I came up with new stuff about my take on the Relativity Falls AU! Ok, so, I talked about it here (and here are some design choices in case y'all are interested). Although these are with Bill like he is in cannon because I hadn't come up with that idea yet but these were mostly concept plans for this AU, SO IT'S OK.

ANYWAY, so, at first I thought about leaving Bill kinda the same, but at school I was blessed with enlightenment by the gods of hyperfixation and I realized. I COULD SWAP HIM WITH CANDY. AND HERE'S WHY.

Okay, so, I think you remember that in the show there was an episode in season 2 where Stan took the twins plus Candy and Grenda on a road trip and Candy had a crush on Dipper which was one-sided on her part. And it reminded me of how in Billford the feelings are one-sided on Bill's side after the betrayal (whether those feelings are romantic or pet-owner thing is unclear, but yeah). So I thought to myself "What if Candy saw Dipper, was fascinated by him and his nerdiness and also figured he could help her with her plans for Weirdmageddon (of whichever the motives I'm still trying to think)?" And then Candy would actually fall in love with Dipper while Dipper stayed the same. He would of course be fascinated by her but he wouldn't have developed any romantic feelings towards her. Just admiration.

I feel like she would also like pain like Bill but because humans feel pain differently than her kind does, it would be mostly because of interest and for experiments. She would be mad at Dipper after the portal incident and him giving up but would try not to show it (much), so when Dipper would fall asleep she would possess his body and work on repairing the portal (and maybe slap his face and stab a few objects on his arms for leaving her after he found out her plans) until Dipper got that metal plate inserted.

Also Candy would be a circle. I came up with that thing mostly so that Mabel can joke about knowing that her brother liked curves, lol. Btw Dipcifica is happening because I swapped Pacifica and Fiddleford together (and in this after the Northwest family kicked Pacifica out they left Gravity Falls out of shame that one of them lost her mind, and the mansion was empty until the Mcgucket family, a rich, country family moved in. I might change that bit, idk).

Also, since I swapped Candy and Bill, I thought about Bill and Stan being friends, but their canon rivalry is just too funny to pass up so maybe whoever swaps with Grenda (maybe Pyronica? I low-key like that. If I keep that idea her name will change to Veronica or Pyronica is gonna be a nickname cause she would like arson) will be trying to make them boys get along, and the only reason Bill wouldn't leave would be because that person is his only friend. One reason why Stan would hate Bill (other than him being a spoiled little brat) is because he likes his brother and Stan KNOWS he's gonna be a bad boyfriend for Ford. Also Bill and Fidds would have some beef (Robbie and Dipper kinda vibes) because they would be both crushing on Ford while Ford would remain completely oblivious and be head over heels for Manly Dan (who is swapped with Wendy).

But Ford would be fascinated by Bill because he would know how to do magic tricks. Bill in this is VERY Helga Pataki codded because his parents would be mostly focused on his successful, normal, with-no-eye-deformities older brother Steve (yes, I came up with it rn while writing it, and yes, I'm putting Pyramid Steve there CAUSE I CAN) and because he would hide his true feelings for Ford (everyone knows but Ford). Bill wouldn't outright bully Ford, but sometimes Ford would wonder if Bill likes him or pretends to because he's "friends" with Stan due to the jokes he makes.

Bill would come from a kinda wealthy family and his parents would give him everything he wanted (except their attention) which is why Stan calls him spoiled. Bill here also has a false schizophrenia diagnosis because when he was little he would say he saw some weird stuff (they're real cause, yk, it's Gravity Falls) and he takes a bunch of medicine, both for schizophrenia and anophthalmia (which is a rare condition where you're born with only one eye. Bill hides his missing eye behind his hair). The medicines make him feel drowsy, and like he's not really there, but he's good at masking it behind a wide smile and a cocky personality.

At some point Bill will come to the conclusion that he doesn't deserve Ford because he can be so kind, and sweet, and understanding (everything that he's not) so he would (begrudgingly) let Fidds have Ford and step out of the unofficial "contest".

One last thing, I'm swapping Soos with Durland and Melody with Blubs.

[latexb0n3z]

Unrequited Love, Lots Of Blow, and a Visit From Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man

CW; self-harm, sexual mentions, drug use, mental illness yadayadayada.

This was kind of a vent in some weird way. Crashed out earlier and had to write something to cope.

Logan woke up to the sound of something(s) shattering. Again.

“Goddammit, Wade,��� he muttered, dragging himself off the couch. It wasn’t even 8 AM, and his roommate was already tearing through the place like a tornado.

Roommate. Logan still wasn’t sure how the hell that had happened. Wade had been crashing at his place “just for a few days” six months ago, and somehow, he’d never left. Logan had considered kicking him out more times than he could count, but something about the mercenary’s manic energy—and the raw, broken humanity underneath it—kept him from following through.

Logan pushed open the door to Wade’s bedroom, which looked like a war zone. Clothes, weapons, and takeout containers were scattered everywhere, and Wade stood in the middle of it, panting, holding the remnants of a lamp in his hand.

“Morning, sunshine,” Logan grunted. “What’s this about?”

Wade didn’t look at him. His face was bare, his scars catching the dim morning light. “It was an ugly lamp anyway.” The more Logan looked, the more was wrong. There was blood, literally everywhere. The bathroom mirror was broken, glass and MORE blood everywhere— the living room was a disheveled mess, a broken bottle of Jack, and a shattered cup like Wade had just grabbed the first thing that was near.

Logan crossed his arms. “You gonna tell me what’s really going on, or should I start charging you for broken furniture?”

Wade flinched, then dropped the lamp base to the floor with a clatter. “What’s the point, huh? You don’t care.”

Logan frowned. “You think I’d let you live here if I didn’t care?”

Wade laughed, sharp and bitter. “Let’s not kid ourselves, Logan. You let me stay because you feel sorry for me. Big, bad Wolverine, taking pity on the ugly stray.” He gestured to himself. “Well, guess what? I don’t need your charity! I’ll leave— and like you said, it’s ‘God’s best joke that I can’t die’ and it’s on all of us!” Even though dying is all he wished he could do.

Logan stepped forward, his voice low and steady. “This about the girl?”

That did it. Wade’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. “Oh, so you did notice. Good for you, Sherlock.” He took a shaky breath, his words spilling out in a torrent. “Yeah, it’s about her- and everything else- and- and, It’s about how you’ve been all smiles and soft eyes around her. How you go out on these little dates, come home smelling like flowers and happiness or whatever the hell normal people do!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You jealous?”

Wade barked out a laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. “Oh, I’m so jealous, Logan. Not because I want her or anything—God, no. I’m jealous because she’s… she’s normal. She’s pretty, and soft, and someone you could actually care about.”

His voice cracked, and his hands clenched into fists. “Not like me. Not like this.” He gestured to his scarred face, his mismatched, worn-down body. “You could never like something like me, right, Logan?”

Logan stared at him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the room was silent except for Wade’s heavy breathing, his manic pacing, his sniffles.

“You done?” Logan finally asked.

Wade blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I said, are you done?” Logan stepped closer, his voice gruff but calm. “Because if you’re waiting for me to tell you you’re wrong, I’m not gonna do it.”

Wade’s face crumpled, but Logan kept going.

“You’re a pain in the ass, Wade. You’re loud, and messy, and half the time, I don’t know whether to strangle you or buy you a drink.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But you’re wrong about one thing. I don’t let you stay here because I feel sorry for you. I let you stay because you’re worth putting up with.”

Wade looked up, his eyes glassy. “You’re just saying that to make me stop crying and breaking things!”

Logan snorted. “Trust me, I’m not the type to say things I don’t mean. And I don’t give a damn what you look like.”

Wade swallowed hard, his hands shaking. “I don’t believe you.”

Logan grabbed him by the shoulders, his grip firm but not unkind. “Then believe this: If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here. Got it?”

Wade nodded slowly, his breath hitching.

“Good,” Logan said, letting go and stepping back. “Now clean this mess up before I start charging you for rent.”

But Wade didn’t move and inch. He just looked down at the floor, and cried and cried. He just stood there, vulnerable, without any quips or witty comments to defend himself. Logan thought it was a pain in the ass, but he was still himself— empathetic no matter just how much he wanted to just tell the son of a bitch to get out.

“Wade?” He was sort of at a loss for words. Wade having outbursts wasn’t anything new— but just… standing there, crying. That was a sight to behold. His expression dropped,

“You have no idea, Logan.”

“You think you’re special, bub? I’ve been alive for two-hundred fucking years. I saw the invention of machine guns for one. You have no fucking clue what ideas I have, Wade.”

Wade finally looked up at him, his milky, yellowed eyes glazed over.

“Do you think I’m hideous?”

“What? I just said I don’t give a shit what you look like.”

“That wasn’t my question. I didn’t ask if you cared- I asked if I’m hideous.”

Logan gave him a once over. Wade already had the answer made up in his mind regardless of what Logan said.

He didn’t think Wade was hideous, but he wasn’t in attracted to him by any means.

“Okay, Wade! Yes, fine, you’re hideous— that’s what you wanna hear right?! Seems like you’ve already made up your damn mind about the answer.”

Wade gave a half smile, and then just turned on his heel and left, slamming the door so hard it made the whole apartment vibrate.

—

And then weeks passed, and Wade never returned. He’d left all his things there, and Logan considered throwing them out after a while. He’d even left his mask on the couch, which Wade never left without.

Annie was her name, the girl. Soft, brown eyes and strawberry blonde hair, and a round face full of freckles. She wore blouses and skirts, and wedges with white little bows on top.

And Logan liked her. Loved her even. Fell for her harder than he’d wanted to. At first their relationship was casual— cute little dates that made Logan feel normal. And the best part— she was a mutant too. It was nothing impressive, mild telekinetic abilities. She could lift small objects from across the room and shut doors without touching them.

She was peaceful, and domestic and a soft body to lay on. He felt safe with her. She’d spend nights at his place since Wade had left- cooked food for him and let him rest his head on her lap while he stroked his head. Things had gotten serious between them in the weeks Wade had been gone.

They had hot, passionate, electrifying sex- made each other laugh so hard they cried and kissed- and then had more sex. Logan would take her against the counter, in the bathroom, on the couch, in the bedroom. Parts of their lives mingled together. Some of his stuff stayed at her place, and parts of her lived at Logan’s. It was unlike anything he’d had in a long long time.

Meanwhile Wade had been doing as much blow as possible and fucking off. Logan wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard from him. Nobody had. He was torturing himself. He knew he couldn’t die, but he could feel pain. One night he’d played Russian roulette with himself off so much coke it would kill a normal human. He savored what intoxication he could get from alcohol for a couple minutes before the joy was killed by his healing factor.

He’d shoot himself in the head, blow his brains out only to come right back with only half the memories. He’d slit his own throat to choke and watch his ever replenishing blood gush out. He’d cut his fingers off one by one after each line, only to watch them grow back after a couple of hours.

He hadn’t showered in weeks, and smelled like death, blood and straight ass. He didn’t change his clothes, didn’t speak to anyone. Just restarted the same routine he did when Vanessa died. Trying to kill himself but never really dying.

Oh how he missed her. He wondered what she would say to him now, what she would think of who he was. He wondered if she’d be horrified seeing him, or if she’d have loved him anyway. He’d escaped the Weapon X program only to find out from Weasel that she’d been shot and robbed while hooking after he’d disappeared.

He’d had a couple years to reconcile with that… only to fall in love with Logan. What a fucking idiot he was, right?

Unrequited— though he knew Logan had considered him… sort of a friend.

Wade knew he was a pain in the ass, and pissed himself off too most of the time.

It didn’t matter though. He was hundreds of miles away from his life now, taking his shit show all the way to New York City, in the good old United States of America.

—

The New York alley smelled like garbage and rain, a mixture Wade found oddly comforting. The dumpster beneath him was cold and sticky in a way he didn’t want to think too hard about, but it didn’t matter. He was home. Or something like it.

He lay flat on his back, arms spread out like he was trying to make a snow angel on the grimy metal surface. His mask was half-pulled up, just enough to let him belt out an off-key rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart.

“There’s nothing I can dooooo… a total eclipppse of the heaaaart!” he howled, his voice echoing through the narrow alley.

Somewhere nearby, a rat squeaked in protest.

“You’ve got an audience,” came a voice from above.

Wade froze mid-note, craning his neck back to see a familiar figure hanging upside down by a thin strand of webbing. The bright red-and-blue suit was unmistakable.

“Spidey!” Wade gasped, sitting up so fast he nearly fell off the dumpster. He was hopped up on cocaine, meth, angel dust, anything he’d managed to get his hands on tonight. “My second-favorite insect-themed hero! What brings you to my garbage palace?”

Spider-Man tilted his head, his mask’s lenses narrowing. “You’re laying on a dumpster and singing power ballads. Should I be concerned, or is this just a Tuesday for you?”

“Wednesday, actually,” Wade corrected, wagging a finger. “And I’m celebrating my triumphant return to the Big Apple! Came here with nothing but a bag of cash and a dream. And maybe some mild emotional baggage. But mostly the cash.”

Spider-Man flipped down to the ground, landing lightly. “I’m pretty sure that was illegal cash.”

“What isn’t, these days?” Wade said, waving him off. “Besides, it’s not like I’m hurting anyone. Unless you count your ears.”

Spider-Man crossed his arms. “You’re avoiding the question. Why are you really here, Wade?”

Wade leaned back against the dumpster, sighing dramatically. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s a tale as old as time. Boy meets mutant, mutant moves in, mutant gets jealous of said boy’s weirdly functional romantic life and flees to New York to sulk in an alley and reevaluate his choices.”

Spider-Man blinked. “Okay, wow. That’s… more personal than I expected.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the Deadpool Show.” Wade gestured broadly at himself. “We like to keep things raw and unscripted. Keeps the audience engaged.”

Spider-Man crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I know we don’t… vibe exactly, but you seem like you’re going through something. Do you need help?”

Wade laughed, a sharp, hollow sound. “Oh, Spidey, my sweet, built like a gymnast summer child. I’m beyond help. I’m like a car that’s been totaled, set on fire, and then run over by a tank. But thanks for asking.”

“You’re not that bad,” Spider-Man said, though his tone was hesitant.

“Aw, you think I’m redeemable,” Wade said, clutching his chest. “You’re adorable! Like a little web-slinging therapist.”

“Seriously, Wade. You don’t have to do… this,” Spider-Man said, gesturing to the dumpster and the alley. “Whatever’s going on, there’s got to be a better way to deal with it than running away and singing ‘80s ballads in the rain.”

“It wasn’t raining when I got here,” Wade pointed out. “But, fine, I’ll bite. What do you suggest, Dr. Spidey?”

Spider-Man hummed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Maybe talk to the person you’re running from instead of hiding out here. Have an actual conversation.”

Wade snorted. “You think I’m the ‘talking about my feelings’ type? Adorable. Really, top marks for optimism. I already tried- got blood all over the poor guys’ apartment and broke his mirror… Oh- you know Wolverine- Wolvie- Logan? Yeah he’s alive again and I haaaave itttt bad, Spidey.”

Spider-Man sighed. “Wolverine… like? Like… The X-men’s Wolverine? He died! How the hell is he alive again?— wait, don’t tell me he came from a different universe or something.”

Wade tilted his head, clicked his tongue and made finger guns, “Ding Ding Ding! That’s exactly right.” He dropped his hands but remained looking up, studying Spider-Man for a long moment. “You’re way too good for this city, you know that? It’s like watching a Disney protagonist in Gotham.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Spider-Man said dryly.

Wade slid off the dumpster, landing with a flourish. “Fine. You win. I absolutely cannot go back to Canada anytime soon but— I will try to stop doing massive amounts of narcotics and cutting off my limbs are even though they just regrow.”

“You’re really a strange guy, you know that, Wade?”

“Yes— quite intimately actually. Very large part of the reason I’m torturing myself out here in the good old United States of America.”

Spider-Man rolled his eyes. “Quit your sulking, grab my hand.”

Wade raised a… well… what would be his eyebrow if he had any, but said, “Fuck it,” and took his hand.

Suddenly, he was suspended in the air, wind whipping past his ears as they swung through the towering skyline of New York. Wade let out a loud, exaggerated scream. “OH MY FUCK, SPIDEY, THIS IS THE CLOSEST I’VE BEEN TO FLYING SINCE THAT TIME I STRAPPED FIREWORKS TO MY BACKPACK!”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Spider-Man shouted back, his voice barely audible over the rush of the wind.

“BECAUSE I’M AN ICON OF CHAOS!” Wade cackled, twisting his body mid-swing to strike a pose, one hand outstretched dramatically. “LOOK AT ME! I’M PETER PAN BUT WITH MORE TRAUMA!”

Spider-Man groaned. “Do you ever stop talking?!”

“Do you ever stop being an uptight boy scout?” Wade shot back.

Spider-Man didn’t dignify that with an answer, instead twisting midair and flinging a web to the next building. The sudden shift sent Wade swinging wildly, his legs flailing.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” Wade yelled, clutching Spider-Man’s arm like a terrified cat. “Careful there, Spandex Man! Some of us are delicate flowers who bruise easily!”

“You literally can’t die,” Spider-Man said, exasperated.

“Emotionally, Spidey!” Wade quipped. “Emotionally!”

Spider-Man sighed, expertly landing on a rooftop and depositing Wade less-than-gently on the gravel.

Wade sprawled out on his back, catching his breath. “That was either the most fun I’ve ever had, or I’m having a stroke. Maybe both.”

Spider-Man stood over him, hands on his hips. “You’re impossible.”

“Ha! Logan says that too!” Wade sat up, pulling his mask back down. “So, what’s the plan, boss? You didn’t just web-nap me for a heart-to-heart, did you?”

Spider-Man crossed his arms. “I didn’t exactly plan this. But you’re clearly in a mood, and I figured some fresh air might knock some sense into you.”

“Aw,” Wade cooed, “you do care about me! Admit it. I’m growing on you, like a sexy barnacle.”

“Don’t push it.”

Wade leaned back on his hands, glancing out at the city below. The lights of New York twinkled like stars, and for a rare moment, he was quiet.

“…It’s kind of nice up here,” he said after a beat.

Spider-Man sat down beside him, still keeping a cautious distance. “Yeah. It is.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the noise of the city far below fading into the background.

Finally, Wade broke the silence. “You ever feel like you’re just… too much? Like you’re this big, messy disaster that everyone tolerates but no one really wants around?”

Spider-Man glanced at him, surprised by the sudden vulnerability. “I think a lot of people feel like that sometimes., and trust me, you’re definitely a disaster. But… you don’t have to be.”

Wade turned to him, his tone light but his voice just a little too tight. “Wow, Spidey, you’re really laying on the compliments tonight. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.” He said, sarcastically.

Spider-Man rolled his eyes. “Okay, and we’re back to that.” He blushed under his mask, a bit bashful. Everything was an innuendo to Wade somehow.

“Hey,” Wade said, nudging him with his elbow. “Thanks for this. The swing, the chat, the unsolicited life advice… it’s nice to know someone’s got my back, even if you are a dork in pajamas.”

Spider-Man smirked under his mask. “Anytime, Wade. Just… try not to end up sulking on a dumpster again, okay?”

“What a sweetie pie you are, Peter.”

“How the hell do you know my name? It’s not like yours is a secret… but I thought I was doing a good job at this secret identity thing…”

“I’m a mercenary, I know everything even if I don’t want to.”

Peter huffed. “That’s not an answer but… okay, Wade.”

Wade huffed and then tried to push his luck.

“I don’t suppose your kindness extends past swinging… like- a place to-“

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh come onnnnn! I thought you were all about being helpful.”

“Hey- I’m all for giving a little support but how do I know you won’t just break my stuff too?”

“One night?”

Peter bit his bottom lip under his mask in thought.

“Ugh, you’re such an ass. Give you an inch and it turns into a mile.”

Wade just stared at him, expecting.

“Fine! One night and then you’re back to whatever you have been doing.”

[especially-obsessed]

#icanteven

pt. 1

#icanteven - The Neighbourhood

"I can't even, I can't even believe what you did to me You can't even, you can't even say I'm overreacting I can't even, can't even hear your side Shame on me, you fooled me twice"

Summary: series; Sam cheats on you.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader, Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: descriptions of depression, guilt, anger, infidelity, fluff

Word count: 1.1k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The Night

The morgue. Your favorite place! Not. Dean had convinced you to go to the morgue with him (after hours) because of a hunch he had. Something wasn’t sitting right about the bodies that had turned up. Sam stayed back at the motel to do some research. And you thought nothing of it.

Dean pulled into the motel parking lot, rambling on about some Led Zepplin album you asked about. The Impala came to a halt at the curb, right outside your bedrooms. The weight of the days work suddenly wore down on your body, and you could physically feel your shoulders slouch. And then you heard it. The long and low bellow, deep from the pit of your stomach. You looked over at Dean, food in hand, and burst into laughter. 

“Did that sound really just come from your stomach?” Dean joked, opening the driver side door. You balanced the food in one hand and you used the other to open your door. Dean walked around his car and held open the car door for you. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I just want to eat real food,” you said, handing the drink carrier off to Dean. 

“Yeah, who orders health food from a place like that?” Dean said, genuine disgust painted on his face. “Imagine the chemicals they put on that stuff!” 

“Like the saturated fats in the rest of their food is so much better,” you countered. Dean was ready for a full argument about this, even though you agreed with him. Before he could get any more worked up, you turned to him. “You eating with us?” you asked him, waiting outside of your motel door. You were eager to see Sam, even though you’d only been gone for three hours. Dean nodded and waited for you to open your door. You quickly fumbled with your key, clutching the bags of food tightly. You couldn’t bear another car ride with Dean after a food mishap. 

The lock on your door beeped, and you pushed open the motel room door. Instantly, you noticed something was off. Sam was in bed. He wasn’t clothed, and you could clearly see where the thin motel sheet met his hip bone. 

And he wasn’t alone. 

You could see blonde hair sprawled out on the pillows. The outline of her feet entangled with Sam’s outlined by the sheets. Sam was hovering over her body, his toned biceps on either side of her head. He slowly knelt down, bringing his face to hers. They were completely ignorant of the company they now had. They were still going…

Everything around you faded. 

Except for them.

You stood in the doorway, shell-shocked. Stuck in place. The soles of your shoes super glued to the floor. Dean pulled you from the doorway, pulling your line of vision away from the bed you had just slept in last night. He quickly opened the door to his room next to yours and let you in. He closed it gently behind him as he left again. But you were unaware of what was happening. You drifted into the room, letting your feet carry you aimlessly. You ended up at the edge of one of the beds in the room. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. A shadow of who you were moments ago. You felt numb. There was commotion next door. Someone was shouting. Someone else responded. The door slammed, and then the lock clicked and Dean walked back through the door, your duffle bag in hand. You couldn’t even lift your head to look at him, staring blankly at the pale-colored wall in front of you.

“You’re gonna stay the night in here with me sweetheart. We’ll deal with this in the morning,” he spoke softly. You were completely still, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Your chest barely moved as you breathed shallow breaths. 

Dean was angry, but knew now wasn’t the time to show it. His chest ached with the pain he knew you were feeling. He gently guided you up and to the head of the bed. He knelt and helped you take your boots off, then your socks. He gently pushed on your shoulder, helping you lay back. You rolled away from him, not wanting to see his face. His pity. He pulled the bed covers to your shoulders, and rubbed your back softly, before settling in for the night himself. 

You could hear Sam talking through the paper-thin walls, worry seeping out of every word. You could tell by his rushed tone. He was talking to whoever she was. And you didn’t even want to know. All you wanted to do was leave. You couldn’t face Dean in the morning, feeling his pitying glance every time you made a move. And you couldn’t face Sam. He would just make the situation worse. 

 Soon the voices faded and you were left alone with your thoughts. Warm tears trickled over the bridge of your nose and down the side of your cheek. 

You needed to get out. You needed to leave.

Hours later, once you heard Dean’s heavy breaths from the bed next to yours, you knew it was time. You sat up slowly, glancing over to make sure that he was asleep. He was belly down, head tilted to the side with one arm resting under his pillow. Surely, he had a pistol of some sort tucked under his head, hand on the trigger. Any sudden sounds triggering his fight or flight reflections, and he would have that gun pulled on you. 

You swung your feet over the edge of the bed and placed them on the carpeted floor. As quietly as possible, you put on your socks and your boots, feeling like you were banging on pots and pans with every lace you looped. It took only a few seconds for you to compose yourself and grab your duffle bag. Your heart ached. This didn’t feel right. Not like this. But you needed to be as far away from the Winchesters as possible. 

You quickly scribbled Dean a note on the stained notepad and placed it carefully on the table by the window. You slipped out the door without a word or so much as a glance back at the motel. 

And you disappeared into the night.

Series Masterlist

A/N: <3

Likes, reblogs, and follows are never expected but greatly appreciated! These let me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing! (:

[pippin-katz]

Random Cute Moments From Dead Boy Detectives - Part 1

Episode 2: The Case of the Dandelion Shrine - Edwin writing new notes into his notebook while Charles watches.

This has to be some of the cutest shit in the entire show to be honest. I mean, just look at them. 🥺

Sorry for how poor the quality is!! I'm not good at this, and they are literally out of focus of the camera for this part, so it's like, doomed to look like shit 😭

There's lots of different interpretations of how Edwin uses his notebook, and how open/closed off he is about sharing its contents. This is mostly because there aren't many scenes of him showing other people, or someone else going through it. No one else but Charles even holds it let alone reads it. Because of this, there’s no evidence from the show itself to determine his real attitude towards other people reading his notebook. But it’s easy to draw the conclusion that Edwin is very protective and attached to the notebook, and many fanfic writers take it a step further into that to make it something that no one else is allowed to touch or look through. Full stop. He will get aggressively defensive if someone tries to. There are plenty of interpretations that are less intense than that too. There’s no wrong answer when writing fanfiction.

But regarding canon, it’s crazy how long it took me to notice, but evidently Edwin is comfortable enough to write in it while Charles hovers. He’s definitely watching what he’s writing down, evening nodding occasionally. I imagine Edwin would stick to case details and whatnot rather than personal entries, but still, the notion is there. While he might try to only show pages with case notes, there’s always a risk that he might open to the wrong page, or pause too long in between. Charles could absolutely catch a glimpse of something Edwin might have wanted to keep to himself. Given Edwin’s level of introversion, it’s probably a safe bet to say that he wouldn’t want anyone to see personal entries. I feel like it says a lot that he allows Charles to hover that close and watch him write.

I tend to agree with the headcannon that Edwin doesn’t allow people to see his notebook, but Charles is always the exception, isn’t he? 🥺

(ko-fi)

[itssomeonetofightfor]

Things I hate about part 2 of Cobra Kai (a rant if you will)

This is an absolute deconstruction of everything that was set up for the last 6 seasons!

Johnny and Daniel STILL fighting about idiocies instead of focusing on the absolute fucking mind fuck that has just been played on both their kids ( not blaming Tory by the way) . Robby is her boyfriend and the last I knew Johnny was aware of Sam and Tory's budding friendship. They decided to best do nothing for them except blame each other. YAY! Off to a good start.

Lets follow it up with the least efficient support system in the world for your captain. Apparently Robby is not allowed to be fucking devastated by the fact that the ONLY person that he trusts fully has abandoned him . Apparently they, and by they I mean Miguel and Sam ( who should know better by now) , in spite of hearing endless Johnny sob sories of how he left his child behind, decides to chide him and undermine him about how he doesn't deserve to be captain. Even though we have had to put up with all his girlfriend drama, INCLUDING him re- dislocating Robby's shoulder to get a win in season 1 because he was jealous. You want to be a leader? Prop him up! God knows he needs it after everything, but NOO lets make him feel less than. And please, when he asks you to back him up you stay silent. Thats the way! It doesn't help whem Sam piles on with half winded information. That is enough to get the rest of the team to demoralize him some more..

Hawk and Demetri becoming the most hypocritical and spineless duo of the season, reverting all the work done in previous seasons. They were annoying as all hell and I couldn't care less if they were there or not. If I was an athlete on their team I would rather withdraw...what a draaag. How they acted about Kenny was so ludicrous that I wanted to punch them in the face. They also acted as if it was only Robby's fault they were failing FUCK OFF!! AND FUCK MIT HAHA.

That's how the writers made me feel, undoing all the greatness that these characters once were. I loved Miguels struggles and Sams defiance of her father. I loved the picked kid Eli becoming Hawk. I even loved Demetri's neurotic insecurities maqueraded in a ball of sarcasm. But what the writers did this season is make everybody useless so that one common purpose could be reached...MIGUEL AND JOHNNY! It would be beautiful if it wasn't at the expense of every single character in the show.It was built up only to be flattened down at the end. That's what pisses me off.

Daniel has all but forgotten the he had a mentee once. Let's give him a pointless kiddnapping story only for him to be off balance and be obsessed about Miyagi ( who these writers should not be messing with btw).

Let's keep Robby off balance for most of the five episodes. Which became a fucking nonsensical plot point by the 1000th time he looked at at Tory.

Yes, Miguel shines as the glue and hope of Miyagi-do..the only one who can keep it together for everyone., and it would be fine IF it wasn't at the expense of everyone else performing down and out of character.

But ALAS!! His lightbulb moment comes only after Johnny assures him that he is is top dawg even if he alludes that he supports Robby ( must have missed it, but if you SAY so) and finally he starts giving Robby some encouragement.

Only then, they let Robby have his well earnt moment, not only with his protegeé Kenny but for himself. IT. IS. GLORIOUS! But then, they undo it the next day by returning his rival to the tournament just to swiftly kill him... why all this you ask? Well to set up the next rival. Who for? Yes you guessed it it's for Miguel using Sam as bait.

My question is why the writers went this way and now unfortunately, because the internet internets I know leaks.

 Why? Why kill Cobra Kai's captain in the most idiotic way.

Why make Robby seem like the most undisciplined and unfocused member of the team?

Why make Sam the most irrelevant party in this tournament (unless it has to do with next rival drama).

Why neither Sensei is there for their kids (Except Miguel of course, how silly of me).

Why keep Tory in Cobra Kai?

Because in one season they are going to deconstruct all of this for it to fit Johnny and Miguel winning together as father and son as it was always meant to ( nevermind his own son who he hasn't had a scene with, but they are going to gaslight you into thinking they did)  All in the name of unity and family. They have done all characters dirty, including Hawk,  Demetri, Devon, Kenny and lets not forget..lets get Daniel distracted with Mr. Miyagi ( and ruin his legacy in the process) so that there can only be the sole father and son combo for the win. Why else make a fake miscarriage about if not for them to be reignited in the fight for the win. Miguel and Johnny. Our heroes!! They will never take accountability or flack for anything. Just as fan service in media loves it. Fuck the overarching story.

Don't get me wrong, I love Miguel and Johnny, I just don't love how they want to get to their endgame.