#ill probably get over this eventually and then maybe consider watching it

[toytulini]

im willing to believe yellowjackets is a good show but im not sure im willing to forgive it for that title which makes me have to specify "yellowjacket BUG" if i want to see the actual bees

[nadvs]

push and pull (part two) (end)

pairing twin!rafe x female reader x twin!zach

summary life felt complicated enough when you started falling for zach. then you meet rafe. he’s the complete opposite of his twin brother, but he captures your attention just the same.

content warnings alcohol use, mental illness, mentions of parental abandonment

» intro post | part one

» masterlist

When Zach wakes up the next morning, he fully understands the term hangxiety.

His temples pound as he stares at his ceiling. At some point last night, he slipped from tipsy into drunk.

Thankfully, he didn’t get so wasted that he’s forgetting anything. But then again, that means every time he made an ass of himself is a memory etched into his brain.

He remembers welcoming his date. Having a decent time with her. Walking her downstairs. Her lips on his cheek when she kissed him goodbye. Feeling like something was missing, and then, that something wasn’t missing anymore when you came downstairs to let him in.

And he remembers looking over at you across the party. Wishing he was next to you. Feeling crappy for thinking about you while he was with another girl. Knowing he was idiot for thinking he could ignore his feelings for you and date someone else.

Talking to you in the elevator. Crap.

He buries his head into his pillow. Why did he blabber to you like that? His brother would kill him if he knew what he said. He probably already wants to kill him for loudly proclaiming how much he loves him in the hallway. Rafe’s not one for any sort of PDA.

Zach picks up his phone to text you: Trauma dumping to you was just a dream I had, right? Please tell me it didn’t actually happen.

You reply minutes later: you mean in the elevator? definitely a dream.

Despite his embarrassment, he smiles at his screen.

He replies: Sorry about that.

You send another text: it’s no problem. i’m guessing you have a pretty bad hangover.

He replies: Everything hurts.

You text back: make sure to hydrate and rest ok?

Zach smiles again. He can’t help but daydream about you coming over, taking care of him, cuddling him.

He’s worried about the consequences of things going wrong if he got into a relationship with you. But God, does he want you.

He replies: Ok :)

When he eventually leaves his bedroom, he sees Rafe lounging on the couch, still in his pajamas. Surprisingly, his brother actually tidied up.

It gives him hope that Rafe really is trying to improve himself. He’s had his fair share of meltdowns and Zach’s had a front row seat to all of them, watching his brother break down into tears, spiralling into his toxic, self-hating thoughts.

Once he calms down, every time, Rafe talks about how he knows he’s not a good person, that he wants to be better. But then, he sticks to his bad habits. He never gets the help he needs, even though Zach encourages him to.

Nonetheless, Zach never saw the bad in Rafe that he’s so adamant is there. At his worst, he can be violent, drunkenly throwing punches at parties, but Zach knows it’s a result of his emotional scars.

“Shit,” Rafe chuckles when he sees Zach. “You’re alive.”

“Barely.” Zach sinks onto the other side of the couch, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back. “You cleaned up for once.”

“Did you just say for once? I’m always cleaning up, asshole,” he mutters, making Zach laugh.

“I hope the neighbors don’t hate us,” Zach says. “The party got kinda loud last night.”

“This guy’s thinking about the neighbors,” Rafe says with a scoff. “The girl you were with looked like she was into you. Bet she would’ve stayed the night.”

“Maybe,” Zach says with a shrug, thinking back to his date.

Then, Rafe says he thinks you might be into him, too, considering he caught you staring. And Zach’s pulse picks up.

He loves and hates hearing that. Because if you really do like him back, it’s exciting, but that makes it even more crushing that he can’t pursue anything.

“Maybe,” Zach echoes.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Rafe laughs, thinking about how good you looked last night. “I’d jump on that if I had the chance.”

“But you don’t have the chance,” Zach murmurs. “If you love me, you won’t jump on any of my friends.”

Zach sits up and looks at his brother.

“By the way, you never said you love me back last night. I’m still waiting.”

“Yeah,” Rafe snorts. “You can keep waiting.”

────୨ৎ────

On Monday morning, you finally get a response from a student you found online who’s selling a used textbook you need.

You’d rather not go by yourself, so you text the group chat: i need to go to a stranger’s house to buy a textbook tonight. is anyone down to tag along so i’m not alone?

To your relief, Zach texts the group a minute later: I got you :)

That evening, you’re knocking on his front door. Instead of Zach, though, Rafe answers.

“Hi,” you say. “Is Zach around? He’s supposed to come with me to pick a textbook up.”

“Haven’t heard him since he got home,” he says, turning to look up the stairs. “I’ll get him.”

A minute later, Rafe comes down, keys jingling in his hand.

“He’s sleeping,” he says. “I can take you. I was about to go for a drive anyway.”

“Cool,” you say. “Thanks.”

You watch him lean over to slip on his sneakers, his frame broad and tall. It’s surprising that Zach, who’s usually reliable, forgot about your plans. And that Rafe, who you’ve come to known as hot and cold, is willing to help you.

He locks the door behind him before you make your way down the hallway together.

“He must be tired after practice,” you say, well aware of the team’s training schedule.

“Yeah, when he’s asleep, he’s out.”

You smirk to yourself, imagining Zach adorably bundled up in his bed. You already know he’s going to apologize profusely once he realizes he accidentally bailed on you.

“It’s only ten minutes away,” you tell Rafe. “I just wanted someone with me since it’s some random guy I don’t know selling it.”

“Zach didn’t offer to just buy a new one for you?” he asks.

“No,” you laugh, entering the elevator. “Why would he?”

Rafe doesn’t get Zach sometimes. It’s insane that he’s not into you, that he sleeps through plans with you, that he doesn’t offer to buy you something that probably only costs a few hundred dollars.

“Want me to?” Rafe asks. You have to laugh.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I already set all this up. Do you always offer to buy girls school supplies?”

He bites his tongue. If Zach wasn’t so adamant about m not being allowed to try to hook up with you, he’d flirt and say yes, he buys all kinds of things for beautiful girls.

“Not always,” he settles for.

The elevator doors open. You enter the parking garage and follow Rafe to his car, settling into the cushioned passenger seat. He starts the engine, then offers the cable hooked up his radio to you.

“Already know you have good taste,” Rafe says. You smile, plugging your phone in.

You’re Zach’s friend, but he figures you can be his friend, too. Because he wants to get to know what he can about you, to flatter you and joke with you and talk to you, even though the night won’t be ending with you in his bed. He has fun with you. He’ll take what he can get.

He backs out of his parking spot, putting his hand against the back of your headrest as he looks through the rear window. You gaze up at his profile, taking in just how handsome he is, how nice his cologne smells.

Rafe doesn’t know the song you put on, but he likes it. He turns forward in his seat, driving out of the garage.

You chat about your days and even though it’s small-talk, it doesn’t feel like it. There’s an ease with Rafe that you can’t really compare to with anyone else.

Still, he’s kind of intimidating, but you naturally want to keep challenging this way he makes you feel, cracking the wall he has up.

When you reach the house at the end of a dark street, Rafe parks in the driveway, turns his key and takes it out of ignition.

“You can wait here,” you offer.

“Nah,” he mumbles. He unbuckles his seatbelt. “I’m not letting you go alone.”

With Rafe standing behind you as you knock on the front door, the feeling of him protecting you is intoxicating, making your heart pound harder.

The door swings open and you greet the man you’ve been messaging. He’s holding the textbook you need and when you offer him four twenties, he looks through the bills and shakes his head.

“We said $100,” he says.

“No,” you reply. “$80. You said $80 was good.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I have the texts to prove it,” you laugh in disbelief.

“Really, man?” Rafe mutters. “Just give her the book.”

“$100,” he repeats.

“Forget it,” Rafe says. He steps forward, roughly taking your money out of his hand and pulling you by the waist. “I’ll just get you a new one.”

“No, wait,” the guy calls. “$80’s fine.”

“Get fucked,” Rafe mutters. You follow him to the car, still mentally catching up to what just happened. “Trying to scam you over twenty dollars. What a joke.”

You settle in the car, feeling Rafe’s warm, big hand curl your fingers open so he can give you your money back.

He’s fuming, beyond pissed off that someone would try to trick you like that. He’s glad you didn’t come by yourself to have to deal with this idiot alone. And he’s not sure how Zach would’ve handled it.

“How much is a new book?” he asks.

“Like, $250,” you tell him.

“I got it covered, alright?” he says. “Give me your phone.”

You comply, still a little jarred but appreciating how quickly he swept in to help you. You watch him enter digits, call himself to get your number, then hang up.

He returns your phone and takes his out, taps on your number, and quickly opens up a bank app.

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

“It’s fine.”

Within a minute, he sends you $250. It’s bizarre how he’s acting like that much money is nothing. Like he’s giving you change he owes you.

Rafe exhales slowly, starting his car again, coming down from the daze. This happens a lot. It’s like he blacks out when he gives in to his impulses.

But what can he do? He has a weak spot for you and he hates the idea of someone doing you wrong, of him not helping you when he’s totally capable of it.

He scratches his forehead. Zach’s words resonate in his head, telling him he needs to cool down and think before he does things. Sometimes his temper flares with no warning.

He’s sure he came off way too intense. He doesn’t know how to apologize for it. Before he can speak, you do.

“Can you come with me every time I have to buy something?” you say lightheartedly. It eases some of the tension in his chest.

“Was that too much?” he says, tone low.

You smile to yourself. You wouldn’t call it too much. He seems like he’s an intense, passionate person. Beneath the surface, Rafe feels more than he lets on.

“You didn’t let a guy con me, then you bought me a $250 book,” you reply with a laugh. “Trust me, you’re good. Thank you.”

Your phone buzzes with a text from Zach as you back out of the driveway. Crap I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember falling asleep. Did you come over?

You reply: all good! i figured you were exhausted. rafe went with me.

“Guess who’s awake,” you say, the smile apparent in your tone. Rafe glances over at your profile as you text back.

He hates this about himself, the envy that pushes him to be sure that Zach is so much better than him. That every girl, if given the chance, would pick his brother over him.

“So, you were going to go for a drive?” you say, tucking your phone away. Because of his kind gestures tonight, you’re pretty sure that he likes hanging out with you. “Want company?”

Rafe taps his hand against the steering wheel. Even if this is just platonic, he doesn’t want you to leave his car.

“If I can pick the music,” he says.

“You said I had good taste.”

“Mine’s better.”

You laugh, and because he held your waist just a few minutes ago, you don’t feel apprehensive to touch him. You nudge his shoulder. He smirks.

An hour goes by like a minute. When Rafe and you part, your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing with him.

You talked together nonstop, touching on the most random subjects, finding similarities and differences. You have a deep crush on him. There’s no denying it.

When Rafe watches you step out of his car, he realizes that this isn’t just attraction like he’s used to. He feels like he knows you. And he likes you. It’s exciting and scary.

When Rafe makes it home, Zach is in the kitchen, the whole loft smelling like delicious food.

“You actually remembered how to get home?” Zach teases over the sound of ingredients sizzling in a pan.

“Lost track of time,” Rafe says. He settles on a barstool as Zach stands at the range, trying not to burn dinner.

Zach is glad his back is to his brother, because when Rafe tells him that he was with you that entire time, driving around and talking, his eyebrows furrow in anger and jealousy before he can subdue it.

“But before you lose your shit,” Rafe adds, “it was all friendly, okay?”

“Right,” Zach mumbles. He stares down at the pan, trying to breathe through his prickly frustration. He’s unbelievably mad at himself for falling asleep after practice.

You can do whatever you want, he knows that, but he feels that even though it’s just as a friend, you’re his, not Rafe’s. And his brother getting to spend time with you feels painfully unfair.

────୨ৎ────

The bright stadium lights pool over the deep green soccer field. It’s a cool evening, perfect for a match.

Cold seeps in through your jeans as you sit on the metal bench on the sideline. You have your phone at the ready to film the team as they rush the field for a home game.

You’ve grown to love your job. You found great friends, the TikTok account is earning more traction, and you’ve started to genuinely enjoy coming out to games and cheering on your school’s team.

It’s been almost a week since your night with Rafe. You haven’t seen him or Zach since. You welcome the distance. Liking them both is ridiculously confusing.

Minutes pass. The crowd is getting louder. The team still isn’t out on the field. Your dad runs a tight ship, so it’s weird that they’re late.

You head into the stadium tunnel towards the locker room, curiosity nagging you. A group of players are standing outside the door and you approach Chance.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Something’s up with Zach,” Chance tells you. Alarm rushes through you and you step into the locker room without a second thought.

Zach’s sitting on the bench by his locker, hunched over, surrounded by your dad, the team’s medic, and a few other players.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

Zach looks up at you. His eyes are sunken, his lips parted. And then, he loses consciousness.

When his eyelids flutter open, the brightness of the room is so painful that he has to squint.

“He’s up,” he hears. It’s you. He hasn’t heard your voice in a while. He misses it.

He slowly comes to, realizing he’s in a hospital bed. You’re sitting to his left. The team medic is standing at the end of the bed with a doctor. He’s hooked up to an IV.

“What happened?” he rasps.

“You’re dehydrated,” the medic explains, leaning over to hand a plastic cup of water to Zach. “You’re at Trinity Hospital. You’re okay. Drink.”

Zach weakly picks it up, downing the cool water, his throat feeling raw. He rolls his head to look at you again. He knows it’s wrong, but he’s relieved that you look so concerned for him. That you’re here.

The doctor introduces herself, then explains that Zach was unconscious for so long that she’d prefer to keep him overnight to monitor him.

The news makes everything in him twist with worry and frustration. He just wants to go home. He doesn’t want Rafe to spiral.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m alright, though?”

“I’m not worried,” the doctor replies. “I just want to be sure you’re in good shape before I send you home.”

Within a few minutes, the doctor leaves the room. Then, the medic encourages Zach to drink more fluids, calls the coach to update him, and asks if you want to head back together now that you’re sure Zach’s okay.

You politely decline. You’re too worried to leave him alone so fast. And shortly after, it’s just you two in the room, listening to the beeps of Zach’s pulse.

“Dehydrated?” you say playfully, but still worried. “What the hell, Cameron?”

“I know,” he says with a smile. He regrets going hard at the gym today. He’s sure that’s what did it. “Rookie move.”

“I specifically told you to hydrate like, two days ago.”

Zach’s laugh is boyish. He reaches for your hand and squeezes. You remind yourself it’s likely nothing more than a friendly gesture.

“That was hangover advice,” he says. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand.

“It was life advice, actually.” You inhale slowly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He lets go of your hand, remembering you can hear his pulse right now and not wanting to risk you witnessing it beat faster.

“It was way more than two days ago, by the way,” he says. He threads his fingers through his hair, suddenly self-conscious of how bad he must look right now. “Where’ve you been?”

You look down at your lap. You’ve been declining all the invitations to hang out in the group chat because the past few days have been so confusing.

Seeing Zach with another girl was painful, and then, you realized just how unimportant you felt to him when he slept through your plans, even though it was by mistake. You need time and space to stop liking him before you can hang out again.

“School’s been kicking my ass,” you lie.

“Do you need help?” he asks. He’d do anything to have you around again.

“Leave it to you to be in a hospital bed asking if you can help,” you mumble. Zach laughs. You try and fail not to fawn over his perfect smile.

“Did I faint in front of everybody?” he says, fixing his hair again.

“Not everybody,” you half-laugh. “But, seriously, everyone was really worried. We all care about you a lot.”

His heart warms. He may be in the hospital, but right now, he’s grateful for having people who care about him. It’s all he ever wanted.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Zach says softly. “And for staying.”

You nod. You were so worried that you told your dad you were going with the paramedics when they arrived, not even considering that you had work to do, that Zach was already taken care of.

“Of course,” you reply. “You said you don’t like being alone, remember? In that dream you had?”

Zach huffs a laugh and looks away, embarrassed as he thinks about that night in the elevator, but still appreciative.

“Did anyone call my brother?” he asks.

“I texted him that I’m with you at the hospital. He hasn’t replied yet.”

Zach nods and thanks you. He tries not to fixate on the fact that you have Rafe’s number. He looks at the clock hanging on the wall to see it’s late in the evening. He figures Rafe’s out with friends or with a girl, not paying attention to his phone.

He wishes he could just talk to him. With every second that passes, he worries more and more about Rafe’s reaction to him being here.

“I should’ve grabbed your phone from the locker room so you could talk to him directly,” you say regretfully. “But I told Chance to get your things for you after the game. Is there anyone else I should contact?”

Admittedly, you’re bracing yourself for him to mention the girl from the other night. Or any girl, really. But he only shakes his head no.

A nurse comes in to remind you that visiting hours are up soon. Zach sits up, visibly on edge, asking her when he can have visitors tomorrow. She tells him 9 a.m.

Knowing he won’t be able to see his brother in person tonight makes him anxious.

After the nurse leaves, Zach frantically asks if he can send a voice-note to Rafe on your phone. You open the conversation and hand your phone to Zach, noticing the nervous way he’s chewing on his lip.

“Hey,” he says into the speaker. “It’s nothing. I passed out from dehydration and I’m at Trinity and they’re keeping me overnight just to be sure I’m good, but the doctor’s not worried.”

His eyes flit to you and he swallows hard.

“This is nothing like the last time, okay? I know your mind’s gonna go there and this is not even close,” he continues. “You can come see me at nine tomorrow. And you better bring me food.”

Zach ends the recording, sends it, and gives you back your phone.

“Thanks,” he breathes. You nod, your eyebrows knitting in confusion and worry.

“Sure,” you say. “Is there anything I can do?”

Zach scratches the back of his neck.

“When he answers, please tell him that you saw for yourself that I’m okay,” he says. “He might be a little freaked out.”

You agree, not wanting to pry, and start to collect your things. There’s no television in the room and you feel bad that Zach’ll be left alone with nothing to entertain him. You want to help.

You tell him you’ll be right back, then rush downstairs at a vending machine you saw when you came in. After, you drop by the gift shop. It’s closed, the flowers and balloons locked up, but you’re still able to pick up a book sitting on a rack.

You leave behind more than enough cash for the book on the counter and go back to Zach’s room.

“Snacks,” you say breathlessly when you enter, dropping the bags of chips and candy and the paperback on the bed, “and a book. Hopefully, this’ll keep you entertained. And don’t tell my dad about the junk food. You know how he is about an athlete’s diet.”

Zach smiles at you, his eyes soft. With everything you’ve done tonight, you could simply be showing what a good friend you are, but what if you feel something for him, too?

The mention of his coach is reminder enough of why he doesn’t pursue this. It could get messy. But maybe he should be more like his brother. Taking risks. Allowing himself to do what he wants to do.

“I should go,” you sigh, looking at the clock. “Feel better, okay? We don’t stand a chance of winning without you.”

He laughs, his eyes lingering on you.

“Thanks,” Zach says. You turn to leave. He stops you with a gentle, “Hey.”

You stop, turning back to look at him. Zach takes you in, how good he feels when you’re around, how there’s still a little bit of worry written into your cute features.

He won’t tell you that he wants to you to be his girlfriend. Not like this, when he’s hooked up to monitors, stuck in a bed. He’ll do it when he’s out of here. He’ll do it when he can hold your face in his hands and tell you how much you mean to him.

“Seriously, thank you,” he tells you. “You’re amazing.” You smile at him again. If only he knew how much his words mean to you.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

You’re pacing through the parking lot when your phone buzzes. It’s Rafe calling you. You answer quickly. He says your name, his voice strained.

“I’m here. Is it too late to see him?”

“Yeah, visiting hours are over. I’m just leaving now,” you say, looking around the dark lot in case you can spot him. “But, honestly, he’s okay.”

“Does he…” Rafe pauses. “I think I see you.”

You approach each other under the starry sky, meeting by a line of parked cars.

His eyes are glossy. He’s been crying. No wonder Zach was so worried. He must have known the effect this would have on his brother. There’s more to this than you realize.

“Hi,” you say softly, ending the call. “It’s okay. He’s acting totally like himself.”

“He doesn’t have his phone?”

“No,” you say. “But I made sure someone’ll pick his stuff up for him.”

“What happened?”

“Before the game tonight, he was in the locker room and he looked really tired,” you explain. “He passed out, but he was already sitting and someone caught him, so he didn’t hit his head or anything. They have him on an IV and drinking lots of fluids.”

“Okay,” he mutters. “Fuck. I was at a bar and I wasn’t checking my phone… I got into a cab as fast as I could.”

“It’s okay,” you console him. “He’s good. He was more worried about you than himself.”

Rafe sighs, hands on his hips as he looks down and paces back and forth, hair hanging over his head. You can hear him panting.

“He was worried about me?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d he say?” Rafe asks the question the same tense way he did the night of the party. He’s so closed off, clearly upset at the thought of you knowing anything he doesn’t want you to know.

“I heard the voice-note he sent you,” you admit, “and he said you might be freaked out, but he didn’t tell me anything else. I didn’t ask. It’s not my business.”

Rafe chews on his lip the same nervous way Zach does. For once, you see a similarity between them.

His breathing gets even shallower. He rests his hands on the rear window of the van parked next to him. His body curls forward. His skin is flushed.

You step a little closer, searching his face in the light of the lamps lining the parking lot. He’s distraught.

“Rafe,” you say quietly.

His stare is on the ground, his chest heaving now. Something bad has been triggered in him.

“Hey,” you say.

“You can go home now,” he mutters breathlessly.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” you say. You take a risk, placing a hand on his back, feeling it rise and fall quickly.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” you say evenly. “I get that this is scary, but I promise you, everything’s okay. Zach is okay.”

Rafe’s chest is tight. His veins are made of ice. He feels like punching something. He hates this familiar loss of control, this shock of the world crumbling around him with no warning.

Yet while he thought that he’d hate someone touching him like this, that he’d hate being so vulnerable, he actually feels a little better.

You continue to rub his back, sweetly and tenderly. The touches he shares with girls are never like this. They’re always superficial, fuelled by lust. But this feels like real, sincere care.

“You took a cab here?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

“Did you talk to the driver?”

“What?”

“Did you?” you say. “What kind of car was it?”

It’s all in an effort to distract him, and while Rafe stammers his way through his answers about the driver and the car and the bar he was at, you notice his breathing start to even out.

Minutes later, his heart isn’t racing as fast. His chest isn’t as tight. He can think clearer.

He’s embarrassed, but relieved you were here to talk him down before he ran into the hospital and demanded to see his brother. He now realizes how bad that could’ve gone.

“I don’t…” he stammers. He doesn’t know how to say that this doesn’t happen all that often, that this is a piece of him he typically buries deep from everyone.

“What?”

“You probably think I’m crazy.” Saying the word out loud hurts more than he expected. It’s what he’s felt all his life, that something isn’t wired right in his brain.

“No. I get it,” you say. You shake your head. “I mean, I don’t know what happened, but… I’m guessing he was in the hospital for something before, right?”

Rafe meets your eyes, straightening.

“I get why you’re freaked out,” you say. “I would be, too. Memories can mess with us.”

The way you just calmed him down, the sympathy in your tone, the alcohol swimming in his system are what push him to actually be honest with someone for once in a long time.

“We almost lost him,” he admits. “A long time ago.”

Your face falls in sorrow, eyes searching his face. He looks down at the ground, too uncomfortable to meet your gaze again.

“I almost lost him,” Rafe mumbles, his voice thin. Because, really, he knows he would’ve felt the loss the hardest. His brother is the most important person in his life. Always has been.

And to lose him, someone so irreplaceable, someone he was with from the moment he was a living thing, would kill him. Zach’s right, even though he’s joking, that Rafe doesn’t tell him he loves him enough.

“I’m so sorry,” you say. “How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” Rafe says.

It was mere months after their mother abandoned them, saying she couldn’t stay with their father anymore, that she did everything she could do as a mom, that she was done.

It left a hole in Rafe that he feels every day. If Zach feels it, he does an incredible job hiding it.

He still doesn’t know what the final straw was. Why fourteen years of her sons’ lives was enough for her. How could a parent decide that they had enough of their kids forever?

She wasn’t the best mom, unpredictable and erratic, but he loved her. There had to be something wrong with her mind for her to act like that. To leave. Something that Rafe is sure skipped Zach and was passed on to him.

“That’s so young,” you say sadly.

“He was really sick for a while.” Rafe’s heart twists thinking about it.

How a freak case of pneumonia had Zach bedridden, his lungs fighting to keep breathing. How mad Rafe was at his brother, as if he did it on purpose. How sure he was that in some twisted way, his mother’s sudden abandonment triggered it.

He still regrets how he acted when Zach was discharged. He couldn’t talk to him for days. He was too angry for scaring him into thinking he was going to lose his best friend, his anchor.

“How long?” you ask.

“Weeks,” Rafe tells you. “And you know Zach. He kept telling everyone he was fine. Even as a kid, he didn’t want people to worry about him.”

“He is like that, isn’t he?” you say with a soft chuckle. Since you met Zach, you quickly learned he dismisses any notion of needing any sort of help. “But I promise, this isn’t one of those cases. I saw for myself. He’s good. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Rafe nods quickly, finally looking at you.

“You’ll see him tomorrow,” you say with a small smile, sad but touched that he opened up to you like this. “Until then, just try to relax.”

Rafe loves the feeling of your hand on him. He can’t remember the last time he loved someone’s touch. If he ever even did.

He’s keeping his promise to Zach. He won’t hook up with you. Because he wants more than that. He wants to know you and for you to know him. He wants you to stay the night, every night. He wants you to be his.

And he needs to be sure you don’t feel anything for his brother.

“Are you and him…” He swallows hard. “Is there anything there?”

Your forehead crinkles in confusion. Zach had told you that his brother was his best friend. You’re sure he would’ve told him if he felt something for you.

If he has to ask, Zach must not talk about you much at all. You’re nothing but a friend to him. Although you do have feelings for him, you were right to be apprehensive from the start. He doesn’t like you like that.

“No,” you finally say.

Rafe nods. At least there’s no unrequited feelings on either side. He must have been reading into things, imagining you looking at his brother a certain way.

“You wanna grab some food?” Rafe asks impulsively.

You agree. Right now, there’s nothing else you’d rather do.

Rafe’s been on a handful of dates before, but sitting across from you at a quiet late-night diner, sobering up, getting to know you more and more makes him feel like he’s living in a dream.

He’s never felt this way about a girl before. Scared in a good way. Slowly, he opens up little by little, peeling back layers of the wall he’s been hiding behind for years.

He shares what happened with his mom. How Zach was the strong one, while Rafe acted out and made his life hell. You take in every word, seeing just how much guilt and shame and pain he carries around.

You open up, too, sharing things you don’t tell many people. He’s a good listener, and the eyes you thought didn’t have much hope behind them at first aren’t cold at all by the end of the night.

It’s one in the morning when you part ways. Rafe shares a cab with you, making sure you get dropped off first, watching you step through the front door.

Everything in him wants to invite you to his place, but things are going to be different with you. He won’t rush into numbing himself with sex like he always does, because he refuses to be numb or absent or checked out with you in any way.

────୨ৎ────

“What kind of grown man forgets to drink water?”

Zach looks up from his orange juice to see Rafe walking into his hospital room.

He chuckles, asking Rafe not to give him shit for this because you already did. The mention of your name makes Rafe’s heart feel lighter in this tense moment.

Because of how good it felt to be so open with you last night, expressing just how important Zach is to him, remembering everything they’d gone through together, Rafe doesn’t shy away from leaning over to hug his brother, who stiffens in his bed.

“Uh, good morning to you, too?” Zach laughs. “Is this a hug? What the hell? Who are you?”

“I love you, too,” Rafe mumbles, pulling back and holding up a paper bag of breakfast for him. “And I got you your food, princess.”

“You try eating hospital food,” Zach replies, taking the bag, feeling ravenous.

Rafe settles on the chair, remembering his brother at fourteen, picking apart at the food they served him with a look of disgust, yet telling the nurses ‘it’s good, thank you’ when they asked if he was enjoying his meal.

Rafe urged his dad to bring his brother home-cooked food almost every day of his hospital stay. It was one of the little ways he showed up for Zach, taking care of him instead of the other way around for once.

“What’d the doctor say?” Rafe asks. “Do you feel better?”

“She hasn’t come to see me yet, but I feel totally fine.” Zach digs into his breakfast. “How are you?”

Rafe looks down at his lap, sighing before he speaks.

“I freaked out,” Rafe admits. Zach stills. “She told me you said I would and you were right. But, man… she knew exactly what to do.”

“It happened when you were with her?” Zach knows what Rafe’s breakdowns look like. He has full-blown panic attacks. He’s nearly inconsolable. He wonders how jarring that must have been for you.

“Out in the parking lot,” he says. “It was just too much. All that shit came rushing back.”

Rafe shrugs, defeated. Sometimes, he’s able to give into the fact that he can do nothing but surrender to the chaos in his mind. He felt safe doing it in front of you last night. He felt safe every second he was with you.

“Are you okay now?” Zach asks. He notices the hint of a smile in Rafe’s face. A brightness he hasn’t seen in him in a long time.

“Yeah,” Rafe says. “I gotta ask you something, though.”

“What?”

“Does ‘off limits’ mean I can’t date her?”

“Date her?” Zach repeats, in disbelief. “You want to date her? Like, commit to her? You don’t commit to anyone.”

Rafe breathes a chuckle, pursing his lips.

“Well, now, I want to.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

Rafe looks like he got rid of a ten-ton weight that was sitting on his shoulders. He’s relaxed. He’s content. Zach can’t remember the last time he saw him like this.

Zach became hyperaware of other people’s emotions at a young age. When their parents would argue, he saw what it did to Rafe, who would shut down and lash out. Zach would distract his brother in every way he could.

Then their mom left and it became ten times harder to keep Rafe steady. But Zach did it and he never stopped trying. Because helping others, putting their feelings first, really does make Zach happy.

But right now, he feels really far from happy.

He looks down at his food. He had it all planned out. He’d get in his best clothes, find a nice place to take you, give you a whole speech about how he hasn’t stopped thinking about you for days and how happy you make him and how happy he could make you.

“She feels the same way? Did something happen between you?” Zach asks. His chest is a hole. A pit.

“Nothing happened,” Rafe says, scratching the back of his neck.

It was nearly impossible for Rafe not to give into the impulse to hold your hand in the booth you sat at together last night and tell you how pretty you are and how much fun he has with you.

But he really does want to be a better person. He wants to think before he acts. And that means checking in with Zach that he’s okay with this, considering how tense he is about Rafe getting involved with his friends.

“But I think she might like me, too,” Rafe says. “And I made sure she’s not into you. I guess I was just reading into stuff before.”

That’s the moment Zach’s heart breaks. He licks his lips, his stare low. So, you would’ve just rejected him.

“You really like her?” he asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” Rafe says.

“Why?”

“Don’t make me be corny,” he groans.

Zach’s head is pounding. He wants to be mad at Rafe. But he had so many opportunities to tell him that he likes you, and he was too chicken to admit it. And now, his brother is falling for you. And he looks so happy doing it.

“You’re gonna have to be corny,” Zach says. “I need to be sure you’re not just messing around.”

Rafe sighs. It’s always Zach doing this, gushing over a girl, freaking out over if she hasn’t texted him back, getting all nervous before a date. Rafe used to tease him about it. He gets it now, though.

“You suck,” Rafe scoffs, tensing up. It’s hard for him to talk like this, but he forces the words out. “I don’t know. I like who I am when I’m around her. And it’s… when she’s in the room, everything’s better, you know?”

“Yeah,” Zach says. He knows. He feels the exact same way.

“Is that corny enough for you?” Rafe says with a scoff. “Are you cool with this or no?”

Zach chews his food slowly only to buy time before he has to speak again. He’s trying to act unbothered and it’s working, considering how in the clouds Rafe seems.

He has no idea that Zach is falling for you. Because he’s too busy doing it, too.

He meets his brother’s eyes. He takes a deep breath. And, because Rafe’s happiness has always been more important to him than his own, he gives him his blessing.

“Go for it,” Zach says. “And don’t hurt her.”

He’s never felt so bitter. He hates that he hopes you’ll have a change of heart. He hates that he feels like he’d treat you better. He hates all of this. But he stays silent.

────୨ৎ────

You’re having a late breakfast when Zach replies to your text asking to keep you updated.

Doctor cleared me. I’m home and I got my stuff from Chance. Thanks for everything.

His message is cold compared to how he usually texts. But maybe he’s just tired from the hospital stay.

You gaze out your window, thinking about everything that happened last night. Rafe isn’t as different from Zach as you first thought. Behind his hard exterior, he’s sensitive and gentle and so badly wants to be loved.

He confessed to feeling like something was missing in him since he can remember. The look in his eyes when you told him that to you, he seems perfectly whole, is one you won’t forget.

Being with him for hours was a wonderful haze. You didn’t want to part. He made you feel heard. It’s a joy that you’ve been lacking for a long time.

Minutes later, Rafe texts you asking if he can take you out to dinner tonight. You smile at your screen. You love how you don’t have to wonder about if he wants you.

The restaurant he drives you to is lavish and elegant. Rafe is unbelievably handsome across the table over the candlelight, his dark button-up making his eyes look all the more blue. Your stomach is full of butterflies, yet a sense of calm fills you when you’re with him.

You pick up where you left off, conversation flowing without any effort. He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. You’re sure you look at him the same way.

When Rafe pulls the car up to your place, in an effort to keep you from leaving right away, he presses his palm against the back of your hand.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, tone low, adorably nervous.

“Of course. Did you?”

Rafe chuckles at the question. Good doesn’t begin to cover it.

“You’re…” he begins.

“I’m what?” you laugh.

He squeezes your hand gently, turning it so he can lace his fingers with yours. The contact is warm, his ring hard but smooth against your skin. Your heart pounds in your ears as he stares at you.

“Beautiful,” he says. “In every way.”

His tone is sincere and firm. He says it like it’s a fact.

“And I want to keep doing this,” he says. “Seeing you. If you want to keep seeing me, too.”

“I do,” you say. When he leans forward, his kiss is soft but hungry, making your mind spin.

Zach fakes a headache when Rafe gets home. All he needs to hear is that the date went well. He doesn’t want the details.

────୨ৎ────

You’re wrapped in Rafe’s arms, your back flush against his chest, as music and chatter float through the air around you.

You’re settled on his couch, talking with your friends as the party rages. Rafe’s still getting used to what it means to be a boyfriend, tense and quiet around your friends, but he’d get used to anything if it meant making you happy.

You’ve only been dating a few weeks, but he’s sure if this isn’t love, he’s damn close to it. Aside from his brother, you’re his best friend.

You smile when you feel Rafe’s lips press against the side of your neck. He’s ridiculously affectionate, touching you whenever he can, spoiling you, whispering sweet things to you all the time. He’s completely unguarded.

Zach’s in the kitchen, as far away from you as he physically can be. After the hospital, he hasn’t been himself at all. You can tell he’s trying to be, though, forcing smiles around you.

It makes no sense. He called you amazing that night. But, then, he pulled away. It’s like he’s mad at you for dating his brother, but he refuses to admit it.

You’ve asked him multiple times if things are good between you. He reassured you over and over that they are.

Maybe someone else would believe him, but after you pined for him for so long, you can read when he’s trying to hide that he’s upset. At parties, at casual get-togethers, even at work when you’re making content for the team, he’s absent-minded and disinterested.

And whatever’s wrong, he prefers to hold inside.

Nonetheless, while your feelings for Zach have faded, you genuinely hope he’s happy and that you can be friends with him again one day.

The next morning, you wake up in Rafe’s bed. His arm is around your waist, his breath warm against your back. He’s still snoozing when you slip out of bed to get water.

Zach’s sitting at the kitchen island, staring down at his coffee. It’s almost funny how just over three months ago, you were here for the first time, yearning for Zach to give you a hint that he liked you. Now, you’re falling for Rafe.

“Morning,” you say kindly.

Zach looks up from his coffee. His smile doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey.”

You open the fridge, the awful feeling he’s been giving you lately sitting heavy on your heart. He makes you feel unwelcome, which is something you never expected from him.

“Just getting some water,” you say, searching through the shelves. “He’s definitely gonna wake up with a headache.”

Zach tenses. You’re doing for Rafe what he daydreamed you doing for him. Sharing a bed with him, nursing his hangover, touching him and smiling at him and giving him what Zach would die for.

You look so pretty in the morning, your bedhead adorable, your pajamas complimenting your figure. Why won’t his heart just catch up with his mind? He keeps telling himself to get over you.

He notices that you have Rafe’s ring on your finger. He used to imagine you wearing his things. He’d love to see you in his team hoodie. But he never will.

In another world, you’re in this kitchen as his girlfriend, talking about last night’s party, sharing kisses and laughs. But not in this world.

“I never asked you,” you say, your back to him, “how was that book I got you?”

You hope it serves as a reminder for how much you did for him and how much you care about him. It hurts, the way he’s been keeping you at a distance.

Late at night, as your mind drifts away from you when you try to fall asleep, you’ve considered the possibility of Zach being upset because he’s jealous of Rafe and wants to be with you.

But Rafe told you he checked with Zach to make sure your relationship was okay with him and he even said he didn’t feel anything for you. Maybe Zach thinks you’re not good enough for his brother and he’s too nice to actually say it out loud.

“Good,” Zach says.

You grab two water bottles and close the fridge door. One word is all he’s willing to say to you.

You can’t do it again. You can’t ask him for the hundredth time if you did something wrong, just for him to say you didn’t and he’s sorry that he made you feel like you did.

You leave him alone in the kitchen, padding up the stairs. Zach looks down at his coffee again. His eyes are starting to burn with tears.

He wants to remind his brother that they agreed they wouldn’t let people overstay. And you being here for even one night feels like overstaying. He can’t have you and every time he’s reminded of that, it hurts.

He can’t stop thinking about that night in the elevator and wishing that instead of drunkenly rambling about his brother, he rambled about his feelings for you. At least then, everything would have been out in the open long before you really got to know Rafe.

The girl he met through the video messaged him last night, asking if he was up to hang out again. She’s cute and nice. But she’s not you. And it’d be wrong to pursue someone just to numb the pain of not having you.

That’s all he wants. You. And because he was such a coward, he’ll never have you. Maybe at some point, he had a chance. Maybe you would have grown feelings for him if he was honest with you.

But you seem happy. So does Rafe, who actually wants hold you and kiss you in public. He was never like that with any other girl.

Zach realizes that while he was always so sure he coped with everything that life hurled at them better than Rafe, he wasn’t paying attention to how destructive he is to himself. His martyrdom was never a virtue.

He’s too late. He self-sabotaged. He has nobody to blame for his aching loneliness but himself. That’s the most heartbreaking part of this whole thing.

Rafe’s hair is tousled, his smile lazy when you come back to bed.

“Thought you left me,” he murmurs tiredly into your hair, pulling you tight against his warm body. You smile, your cheek pressed against his chest, breathing in his comforting scent.

Rafe’s sure you can feel his pulse on your cheek. He feels like you own every beat of his heart.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” you tell him.

The tension from what happened downstairs leaves your system. You swallow down the tears that threatened to fall when you left the kitchen.

You plant a kiss on Rafe’s chest. You know where you’re wanted. And you’re happiest staying there.

(the end)

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[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I’m having too much fun with this someone stop me—

Important to note that I have wanted a speech-capable bird as a pet for pretty much my entire fcking life and have yet to have had the opportunity. Parrot, crow, raven, I care not, just. Chatty bird please.

I did get to meet a parrot one time when I took my niece trick-or-treating and I was dressed as a pirate who tf woulda guessed right not like I have a ton of clothes in my closet that I can use to throw together an impromptu pirate costume at a moment’s notice or anything hahahahaaaaanyway, and one of the people handing out candy was this older gentleman dressed as a pirate WITH AN ACTUAL FUCKING PARROT AND I GOT TO HOLD IT ISTG I ALMOST CRIED

My niece and I got extra candy out of the deal, too. Best Halloween ever.

ANYWAY. Writing a character in animal form is always a shitload of fun, and I am living for this nonsense.

And how mad this sassy mfer is going to be when he figures out what's going on SCREEEE

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch.5 of who even fcking knows,probably at least seven at this point

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time.After finally arriving at Kuraigana Island after months of training, you discover that the Red Hair Pirates are also docked there while their Log Pose syncs and they repair their ship after a small battle...and, on the verge of fighting with Mihawk after spending the past half an hour or more taunting him, Shanks is the first to notice you perched in a nearby window in your devil fruit form.

Previous chapter, First chapter

Next chapter

SFW for now, but not in later chapters

No Trigger Warnings in this chapter. Possible future Trigger Warnings for imprisonment, mild torture (definitely psychological, maybe physical)

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count:3,618

Taglist:@i-am-vita

♫♬Acid Jazz Singer- The Fratellis♬♫

And it’s one time, keep it slow, wind them up and here we go

Get it right today and you may still be here tomorrow

Your entire world slowed around you as you considered the situation you had just embedded yourself into. Not one, but three powerful pirates, two of whom were staring straight at you.

One of whom looked as though he had just won his weight in gold at the mere sight of you.

Your act, you had to remember your act, your persona, a simple pet of one of many ill-fated pirate crews on the Grand Line. Fear was surely still a reasonable enough reaction to the sight before you, then.

So, without another thought, you ruffled your feathers out into a defensive stance, throwing your head back and flapping your wings rapidly, shouting, “Danger! Danger! Danger—”

“Oh—no, no, no, no, no danger, it’s—stop that, I’m busy—”

Shanks shoved Mihawk’s sword away and slowly sheathed his own sabre, holding his hands up as he slowly inched toward the window you were perched in, as if to show that he posed you no thread.

“It’s fine, we’re all friends here,” said Shanks went on softly, hands still raised, inching ever closer to the window of the castle you remained perched in. You took a cautious step back in spite of yourself, your eyes darting around, quickly assessing the situation at hand.

Mihawk was all but gawking at Shanks in a mix of utter disbelief and quickly growing rage—Shanks had, after all, spent the past half hour antagonizing him into a fight, only to withdraw the moment he was distracted.

Beckman’s gaze remained far more level, his brow furrowed as he watched your reaction to Shanks’s approach.

So you quickly ducked backward into the darkened room of the castle behind you, hiding behind the corner.

“N—no, no, don’t hide, it’s alright—we were just having a little a fun, isn’t that right, Hawkie?”

“I swear to God, Red-Hair—” you heard the other pirate respond through gritted teeth, clinging to the wall just inside the window with your talons, your heart racing.

“See?” Shanks went on, ignoring his murderous tone. “Just a little fun, that’s all, you’re safe—”

You stared in growing trepidation as he reached his hand slowly through the window, and the moment it was an inch away from you, you bit down hard on one of his fingers.

“Ow—” He pulled his hand back in an instant, and you could practically hear him pouting when he spoke again. “...it bit me.”

“What the hell did you think it was going to do, join your damned crew?” said Mihawk, giving a derisive scoff.

“Yes,” said Shanks, defensively.

“No,” said Beckman firmly.

“But—!”

“I spend enough time cleaning up your messes, I’m not cleaning up bird shit all over the ship on top of it.”

“I’d clean up after it.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, come on—Hawk-Eye, you’re part bird, help me get it—”

“I’m not part bird, you complete moron,” snapped Hawk-Eye. “Get the damned thing yourself.”

Shanks was quiet for a long moment as you fought to gain control of your breathing, to calm your racing heart...and then—

“Fine, if you wanna clean up bird shit all over your castle—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

You heard quickly approaching footsteps following the irritated grumble, and part of you considered ducking further back into the castle...but you knew you couldn’t. You shouldn’t. This was your opportunity.

A moment later you let out a strangled squawk as his hand closed around your neck and he jerked you away from the wall you were clinging to. He held you out at arm’s length, still scowling. Shanks slumped back against the castle wall, still pouting. “How come it didn’t bite you?” he complained.

“Because I was smart enough not to give the damned creature a chance to,” he shot back, tossing a brief glare at Shanks before turning his yellow eyes back on you.

You steeled your nerves before tilting your head to the side and blinking a few times, and forced out in the most chipper tone you could muster, “Hiya!”

Shank’s jaw dropped in borderline outrage, but Mihawk only lifted an eyebrow. Beckman gave an amused scoff as he ashed his cigarette. “Looks like you made a friend, Hawk-Eye.”

“That’s not fair,” said Shanks, pushing away from the castle wall and approaching. “I was being nice and—”

As he drew closer, you ruffled your feathers out again, shouting, “Danger! Danger!”

“I’m not the dangerous one, he is!” Shanks shouted back, gesturing at Mihawk.

“Yelling probably isn’t going to help, Cap,” Beckman pointed out, crossing his arms and smirking at the spectacle. Mihawk was still holding you at arm’s length as you continued shouting, his yellow eyes shifting between you and Shanks. He shifted his arm, holding you further away from the redhead, and you quieted down. Then, just as slowly, with the slightest spark of interest in his expression, he shifted you closer to Shanks again.

You immediately resumed shouting.

“I don’t think it likes you very much, Red Hair,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk at the dejected look that fell over Shanks’s face. Mihawk held you further away from him again, his grip loosened around your neck now, and you expelled a sigh, your feathers smoothing back down. You still remained tense, well aware that he could easily snap your neck in a moment’s notice if you made a single wrong move...but his amusement at Shanks’s disappointment was likely a good sign. If all you had to do was continue to insult him, then you were sure you could manage.

“Stupid bird,” Shanks complained, kicking at a piece of rubble and slumping back against the pile of stone next to Beckman, crossing his arms.

“I’m fairly certain there’s only one birdbrain in the immediate vicinity, Red Hair,” said Mihawk.

“Birdbrain!” you repeated, and his eyes shot back over to you as Beckman gave a snort of laughter. You tilted your head again. “Hiya!”

“...Hello,” he said dryly—and finally released you from his grasp without any notice, causing you to drop to the ground before you could so much as flutter your wings. You quickly hopped back up to your feet, ruffling your wings out a bit to shake the dirt off of them, and flew back over to the windowsill you had been perched in, turning your head around to preen your feathers while the three pirates watched you in bemusement.

“Strange creature,” Mihawk commented after a moment, turning and striding back over to the broken wall and taking a seat again.

“I don’t think they usually talk in wild,” said Beckman. “Probably came from a ship.”

You turned your head quickly at the word ship, squawking out, “Wind in your sails! Wind in your sails! Hard to port, boys!”

“Aaaagh!” Shanks groaned again, flopping his head back dramatically. “It’s not fair, I want it—”

“Birdbrain!”

“Oh, shut up,” he snapped, and it wasn’t entirely clear whether it was in response to your comment or Mihawk’s small chuckle of amusement.

“Well.” Beckman straightened out, stubbing out his cigarette on the crumbled stone behind him and flicking the butt away. “I think it’s pretty clear the locals don’t want us here, Captain.” Shanks tossed a glare at his first mate, but straightened out himself, arms still crossed over his chest, lips still pursed in a pout.

“Fine…” he sighed, his arms falling limp at his sides. He rolled his eyes over to Mihawk, quickly regaining his composure and giving his so-called ‘friend’ a debonair grin. “I look forward to our next little visit, Hawk-Eye.”

“That makes one of us,” Mihawk commented in his typical dry tone, laying his sword out across his lap again without so much as glancing up.

You watched from the corner of your vision as Shanks and Beckman disappeared into the shadow of the surrounding dense forest, relaxing only the slightest bit at their departure. You had managed to fool all three of them so far, and evidently made a good first impression on your target. That was good. That was progress. You turned your gaze back toward Mihawk slowly, swallowing, debating on your next move.

And froze when he lifted his head suddenly, looking directly at you as if he had sensed your gaze.

He then rolled his eyes and went back to detailing his sword.

“You’re free to leave any time,” he said.

You quickly perked up, letting out another excitable, “Hiya!” He let out a small growl of annoyance in response, grumbling something under his breath about that idiot Red-Hair, to which you responded, “Birdbrain.”

He let out another amused chuckle, before freezing and looking back up at you with a frown. “Stop that. Just—shoo.”

It seemed his annoyance stemmed more from his own reaction to you rather than toward your presence itself, from the fact that he was already interested in you and your presence seemed to threaten his solitary existence.

This could be a good thing, you decided. If nothing else, he was intrigued, and you knew you could work with that.

Once he had turned his attention back to his sword, you hopped down from the edge of the window and to the dusty ground below, keeping your eyes trained on the pirate as you inched slowly closer, sidestepping against the edge of the castle wall.

Freezing in place when his eyes shot toward you again.

Inching a little further, a little closer when he lowered his gaze again.

Freezing yet again when he looked up. He frowned at you for a long moment, standing still as a statue, your gray plumage blending you right into the stone castle wall behind you. Several tense seconds passed before he heaved a sigh, leaning back the slightest bit. “You’re a persistent little pest, aren’t you?” he said, lifting an eyebrow...and then slowly, almost reluctantly, he raised his arm, holding it out toward you.

Progress.

You fluttered your wings, flying the short distance over and landing on his forearm near his wrist, wrapping your talons around carefully to keep your balance. He lifted an eyebrow at you as you perked up and let out another enthusiastic, “Hiya!”

“Yes, hello,” he said, almost dismissively.

“Hiya!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he grumbled, shaking his head and running his free hand back through his hair. “What are you even doing here? Lost your old crew?” He gave a small scoff as you tilted your head. “What were they? Pirates? Marines?”

As if prompted, you immediately ruffled your feathers out around your neck, flapping your wings in agitation—”Danger! Danger! Dan—”

He jerked back the slightest bit at your reaction, and you snapped your beak shut at the sudden motion. He turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing, his expression more curious than annoyed. After a moment he spoke, almost carefully. “Pirates.”

He was testing you. You ruffled your wings a bit, and turned your head around, preening your feathers without showing the slightest sign of interest.

“...Marines—”

“Danger! Danger! Hard to port! Fire at will! Fire—”

“Alright, alright, enough,” he snapped, shaking his arm, wincing a little as you tightened your talons a bit. He heaved a sigh when you settled down. “I suppose it’s safe to assume you’re not particularly fond of...er, the bureaucracy.” He lifted an eyebrow as you loosened your talons, and inched sideways across his arm, your movements slow and cautious. “What are you doing?” You inched a bit further, keeping your eyes trained for any sign of him striking out—and you saw none.

A little closer, until you were nearly on his shoulder, deciding to push your luck to gauge his reaction.

You leaned your head back, and let out a dramatic, “Mmm-mwah! Pretty bird.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression deadpanning, blinking at you slowly.

“You’re worse than Red-Hair,” he said finally.

“Birdbrain!”

“Indeed he is,” he agreed—and then shook his head, shifting his shoulder toward you as if to shift you further away. “Why the hell am I talking to a bird—shoo already—”

You gave a startled squawk, shifting quickly back down the length of his arm, settling closer to his elbow and tilting your head to the side. His mouth fell into a frown, and he shook his arm a bit, in more an experimental manner than an aggressive one, testing your reaction again.

“Shoo,” he said once more, far less firmly.

You lifted one of your wings, ducking your head back behind it...and slowly lifting it to peak out at him, noting the small spark of interest in his gaze despite his best attempt to continue appearing annoyed.

“Pretty bird!” you exclaimed once more, a bit more quietly this time, before ducking your head back down behind your wing again.

He remained silent for some time, and you remained still, waiting for any sign of reaction from him. Finally he heaved out a long sigh, his posture relaxing again. You lifted your head to peak out over the top of your wing again as he looked at you with an irritated sort of resignation. “Yes, fine,” he said dryly. “Pretty bird.”

“Pretty bird!” You folded your wing back behind you, bobbing your head up and down a couple times, your own tension easing as he let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head. “Pretty, pretty girl,” you added, punctuating the statement with a low whistle.

“Oh, so you’re a lady, are you?” he said with a wry smirk. “I suppose I should apologize for my rudeness.” Despite his clear sarcasm, he gave another small chuckle, tentatively lifted his free hand toward you, and lightly brushed his index finger across the gray feathers at the side of your head. “You know, you’d likely have been far better off following that idiot Red Hair back to his ship.”

“Birdbrain!” you commented, tilting your head toward his hand as he gave a small snort of amusement.

“Yes, the birdbrain,” he agreed with another light chuckle, his wry smirk shifting toward a small, genuine smile. He went on stroking your feathers idly for a moment, shaking his head. “And what, precisely, am I supposed to do with you?”

If nothing else, it was comforting to know that his violent nature didn’t extend beyond humans. He was warming up to your presence far more quickly than you had anticipated he might, but your own knowledge was limited solely to the intelligence the Marines had gathered from his reign of terror and bloodshed across the vast expanse of the Grand Line. His interactions with Shanks suggested he certainly preferred a solitary existence, and that his initial dismissive attitude toward your presence may have been more for show than anything, for the very sake of keeping up his reputation.

Nothing about his present demeanor suggested any of that. The fondness in his eyes as he surveyed your own reactions was almost comforting in itself, almost familiar—you had seen the same look in you mother’s eyes when she cared for the birds at the aviary, felt the same fondness for the creatures when you helped look after them.

It took some effort for you to remind yourself that you were dealing with an incredibly dangerous pirate, dangerous enough that the World Government considered him a threat.

“Pretty bird!” you said again, cooing the words out, watching as he let out a huff of amusement.

“What a vain creature you are,” he commented, smoothing back the feathers at the top of your head. “Though I doubt you can survive on compliments alone. And if Beckman’s correct, you’re likely not suited to living in the wild...the humandrills don’t particularly take kindly to any new creature in their territory…” You only tilted your head in response as his words turned toward introspective mutterings, his mouth turning down into a thoughtful frown.

At length he let out a sigh, rolling his eyes and lying his head back for a moment. You tensed as he stood up, lifting his sword with one hand and resting it back across his shoulder, clearly making an effort to hold his opposite arm steady in front of him as you remained perched there, still frowning at you with an air of resignation.

“I suppose I have some reading to do if you aren’t going anywhere,” he said.

You could hardly believe your luck as he shook his arm out slightly, directing you to shift over to his shoulder. You followed the wordless instruction quickly, your talons grasping lightly at the fabric of his shirt to keep your balance as he stooped down to pick up his plumed hat. Rather than the obstacle that Garp and Bogard had assumed they would be, the brief presence of the Red Hair Pirates on the island had practically ensured your initial success at winning over the otherwise reclusive target of your mission.

If you managed to come out of this mission alive, you were going to be certain to rub that in both of their faces.

Minutes later you were perching in one of the high windows of the castle, watching as Mihawk drew his fingers across the rows upon rows of dusty books in the orange glow of the candlelight in the library, his head tilted and his sharp yellow eyes scanning across the titles etched into the spines of the innumerable tomes.

“Nothing about birds so far,” he said, mostly a quiet utterance to himself, but he still glanced toward your silhouette in the window as he spoke. “I do hope you don’t end up being more trouble than you’re worth, bird.”

You ruffled your feathers a bit, tucking your head down and nearly closing your eyes. He gave a small scoff at the sight of you relaxing, rolling his eyes before resuming his meticulous perusal of the books in the library.

“You’d best hope I find something if you don’t want to starve to death,” he commented. “I have no intention of going out of my way to accommodate you.”

“Pretty girl,” you responded, along with a brief series of kissing noises and a low whistle, and you would have been smirking yourself if you could have when he let out a quiet, amused chuckle in response to your commentary.

“Yes, yes, we’re all aware you’re a pretty girl,” he responded airily from behind a row of books.

Some time passed before he finally gave up, propping his sword against one of the many shelves and falling back into an armchair near the empty fireplace at the center of the room. You hesitated at your perch on the window for some time, watching him run a hand back through his dark hair in clear, stretching his arm out across an arm of the chair and strumming his fingers, his lips turned down in a thoughtful frown.

You finally decided to join him there, flapping your wings a few times to gain enough momentum to glide over and perch at the edge of one of the arms, tilting your head when he glanced over at you, waiting to see whether he would shoo you off or welcome your presence. He frowned at you for a long moment, before finally rolling his eyes and holding out his hand.

“Troublesome creature.” His tone was still light, almost affectionate, his mouth curving into a small smile as you crept from the edge of the chair to perch on his arm. “I suppose I do need to make port for supplies soon. It wouldn’t be too much of a hassle to learn a bit more about you, would it, pretty bird?”

“Pretty bird,” you responded, inching closer, settling yourself just above his elbow.

He brushed his knuckles against your feathers at the side of your head, giving a small chuckle as your eyelids drooped in response to his touch, before tucking his hand behind his neck and shifting back into the chair, his eyes slipping shut.

“Yes, pretty bird,” he repeated in a resigned sigh, his tone quiet and almost gentle.

Your eyes slowly drifted back open, watching him as he relaxed, your mind racing in spite of your own exhaustion. You hadn’t expected it to be this easy. Your target was supposed to be a terrifying, murderous sociopath with no regard or concern for any life apart from his own, an enigma that the Marines regarded as an unfeeling monster. Instead you found yourself staring up at a perfectly normal, albeit somewhat reclusive man, his mouth still curved into a small, fond smile in response to your presence. His smile lingered even as his breathing grew slower and deeper as he drifted off to sleep, just as your gaze lingered on his features.

He had been far kinder to you than the vast majority of your supposed comrades even had.

He could have easily snapped your neck the moment he first touched you...but he hadn’t.

Once more you shifted up his arm, perching yourself on his shoulder, and just to test his reaction, you nuzzled against his neck.

He lifted a hand in his sleep to absently swat at the disturbance, his expression twitching toward irritation for a moment—and then softening as his hand settled lightly into your feathers, his fingertips brushing across your wings before his arm fell across his lap, still fast asleep.

Little as you liked it, you were quickly becoming as interested in finding out more about him as he seemed to be interested in learning about you.

You liked it even less that you already felt comfortable enough to let your own eyes drift shut, the sound of his own slow breathing lulling you toward sleep.

Next chapter link again, for your convenience

[plaguedocboi]

(Heyyyy this is a very personal post that includes discussion of mental illness, mentions of suicide and related topics!! I don’t usually post things this personal!)

Over the past three years since I read Moby Dick, I’ve obviously been absolutely fucking enamored by my horrible little man Ahab. Recently, with whale weekly ending and my dashboard being filled with posts about it, I’ve been thinking even more about him and considering exactly why I relate to him so much. I can’t diagnose what’s wrong with him due to the fact that I don’t know him personally and also he’s fictional, but I’ve (at some point in my life) had almost every mental illness symptom he displays over the course of the book. I’ve been severely depressed, paranoid, anxious to the point of having disabling panic attacks, irrationally angry at the universe and lashing out at everyone around me, developed insomnia due to the terrifying nightmares and hallucinations I was having, and even had delusions that I had been to hell and was sent back to fight god (yes I’m being serious). My life felt out of my control and I couldn’t imagine my future because I was blinded by my own pain. I never expected to survive this long either because I imagined something horrible would happen to me or I would eventually kill myself. And, honestly, that thought didn’t bother me very much.

The main difference between Ahab and I is that I was a teenager in the 21st century so I got professional help and medication instead of fucking off the sea and trying to kill god. Watching him get worse and die during the story is like watching a horrifying alternate version of myself. I absolutely understand why he made the decisions he did, even if I know logically that they were the wrong decisions. If I hadn’t had access to modern mental health resources, would I have followed a similar path, eventually destroying myself and everyone around me? If he had lived today, could he have found peace? Maybe. But we will never know because our circumstances were different, regardless of how similar we may have been. I don’t think I’ve encountered another character to whom I relate so deeply and see so much of myself in and that’s why I will probably never be normal about this stupid 200-year old book, but it feels so strange to admit that because he is widely regarded as a raging lunatic and not exactly someone you “should” relate to or even particularly like. Maybe I’m more like Ahab than is socially acceptable to admit. I survived and I’m better now but that will always be part of me, and it’s not a part I’m ashamed of. Let’s get this whale, boys.

[ghostly-wisp]

MR. LOVERMAN 

CHAPTER 4

warnings — angst (fighting !) this one is super long (3,115 words)

[chapter 3] | chapter 5 | series masterlist | page masterlist

It was slow enough at first that you didn’t notice, but at some point you did, honestly, you thought it was your anxiety for a while – you thought he hated you because that's what your brain wanted you to think. So to ease your mind you’d text him more often or try to have conversations when neither of you had students, but he wasn’t saying much. It was starting to make your anxiety worse, and you’d get that anxious feeling in your stomach whenever you saw him. No matter how much he wanted to pull away from you, it would still be a lot. Considering his classroom was across the hall from yours, though he didn’t anticipate that to be for too much longer – rumor has it another science teacher on the first floor was retiring and his room was considerably bigger than Pedro’s, he was hoping that perhaps he’d be moved to that room instead of being in the English hallway.

He missed your presence, he missed seeing you all the time. He missed your laugh and the smile lines you got whenever he made his stupid dad jokes. He missed the way you’d always compliment his ties. He eventually started wearing solid-colored ones instead, he had no point in his fun ones without you. In this mind, this was never of ill intent, this was solely for you, and he never wanted to hurt you. His stupid ties, as stupid as it sounds, reminds him of you, because most days he wore them for you because you loved them. The more he pulled himself away from you, the more he seemed to get these feelings for you. A sense of longing, he just wants to see you. He doesn’t think it's pure attraction, but it's not entirely platonic either. He wants to hold you and never let go sometimes, other times he wants to watch stupid movies and eat like pigs with you and only you. This is what he's afraid of, though, that he gets too attached and gets hurt or he hurts you. His defense mechanism might not exactly be healthy but he's the only way he sees this working out for both of you. In his experience, love is just a long cycle that ends in pain and misery that is not worth it for the good part of it anymore. He believes in love, just not for himself.

He wishes he still did, he wishes he had met you before he got this mentality of love is nothing but a world of hurt, maybe you could’ve changed his mind – if he's being realistic you have that power over him now, he's just too scared to admit it. He's too vulnerable to think that way of someone else right now. Once the whole thing with the crush is over, maybe things can somewhat go back to what they were. Stupid jokes and making fun of each other playfully in front of students, speaking of which – he thought that they wouldn’t realize the less amount of time you were spending in the classroom, but he was stupid to underestimate the memory of teenagers hellbent on something (they were hellbent on the two of you being in love, unbeknownst to him apparently).

He had them silently filling out a lab report whilst he graded papers from another class, one kid leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking over to his desk. “Mr. P,” he says, which causes Pedro to glance at him from his desk, “What's up, Arthur?” he asks, the student gets up from the lab chair, makes his way to the front desk, and grabs a tissue box. “Why doesn’t Ms. L/N come by anymore?” he asks, and Pedro’s stomach pangs – he quickly has to come up with a lie, he realizes that most of the kids in the class must be curious, too, because he can see them staring as he stiffens, but he takes a deep breath and says, “She's probably busy, she has work too,” he turns in his chair to look at Arthur, “She's probably busy and didn’t want to disturb the class anymore.” 

He heard a few whispers about a big fight that you two allegedly had that the kids were making up, some said it was about how often the two of you were visiting each other and others said some personal relationship stuff as their guess. Some kids even pick teams – he wants to scream. Everyone should be on your side, you're the innocent one here. He's just the broken-to-pieces new teacher, and there was no fight anyway! At least, he didn’t think so. 

Come to the end of the day he's packing up his bag, and cleaning up his classroom (sometimes you’d think he was babysitting third graders), but he gets distracted by knocking on his door, he looks up and sees you. You’re wearing this dress he likes, and your hair is styled in a way that he could just swoon for, but he can’t, so he stands up straight as you speak.

“Hey, long time no see.” 

“No kidding.” 

You chuckle a bit, stepping a little further into his classroom, and taking a seat on top of one of the desks, the one that he hadn’t put in the seat on top of yet. “Can we talk?” he thinks that he knows what this is about, but he doesn’t want to give anything away, so all he does is nod, set his broom down and close his classroom door before taking a seat in his chair. His focus on you for the first time in a while, sitting in front of you and consumed by only you. His mind wants him to run, to run far away, but he can’t, now after you asked to talk to him so sweetly. Though you did everything “sweetly” because you were a sweet person. You sigh, trying to think of the best way you want to phrase your question, but you just blurt it out – “Are we okay?” He pauses, thinking of the nature of his question, and he nods, “Yeah, why would you think otherwise?” He watches your face turn into slight anger, perhaps some sadness in it too. “Pedro, you act like I don’t exist,” you said it a lot harsher than what you intended, and yet, you didn’t regret saying it. He isn’t sure what to do, because honestly, he hadn’t expected you to say anything to him so he never planned for this. “‘m not,” he says flatly. “I'm just busy, Y/N.”

You consider that you’re being too far in your head, too accusatory of him if he was actually busy and you were coming out wrong in the situation. You take a deep breath, trying to think of a better way to express your feelings. So you start again, “I just feel like you’re avoiding me, and I’ve been trying to assure yourself that you’re not but it's getting harder and harder.” He knows you’ve made the effort, he's been getting more messages and you would offer your assistance in certain things more often than he did before. He feels bad, and it feels worse now that you’re in front of him expressing these feelings. “I had some kids tell me today that they’re on my side, and I don’t even know what that means.” he huffs, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t worry about it–” 

“I’m pretty worried, Pedro!” again, you didn’t want to come right out and say your feelings like this, but you couldn’t help it. Once you realize his eyes are on you and he's calculating his response, you continue with what you were saying anyway. “They're talking about some fight that I didn't even know we had!"

“We never fought–”

“Really? because it feels like it.”

silence. 

He doesn't know what to say, and you feel like you have nothing more to add. You're waiting for him to add anything, to assure you more than “don't worry about it” and “I'm just busy”. Maybe it was ridiculous of you to think he owed you an apology, he didn't owe you anything. For sake of mind, though, you wanted him to tell you everything was okay between you two without brushed off excuses.

But he stays quiet, he doesn't say a word, he just looks at his hands on his desk, maybe he's thinking or maybe he's waiting until you leave. Either way, he was getting what he wanted, because you slipped yourself off your desk trying to blink back whatever tears were accumulating, and opened the door to his classroom, you looked at him for a second, trying to think of something else to say but nothing came to mind — so you just left. Any other circumstance and you would've waited, but all you wanted was a simple we're okay, I've been distant because ___. Not just “I'm busy. ” When you leave the room, you're sure to close the door behind you. You return to your classroom, closing your door as well.

When you leave his room, Pedro finds it difficult to keep his emotions contained, he wants to go into your classroom and yell at you—for making him care so much, making him scared to hurt you, making him miss another person like you're a part of him. He also wants to cry, and tell you exactly why he's doing this. He's not doing it maliciously, he's doing it to protect himself the only way he knows how. He also wants to protect you, but he sure as shit shouldn't make that decision for you. So all he does in the moment is cry at his desk. 

He wishes he met you sooner, maybe before he met Annabelle, or if he never met you at all, none of this would've happened. He has a printer at home, he could've just waited, but no he had to talk to you. He only did so because he saw no other opportunity, he wanted to meet you and didn't know how else he would've. Meeting you was both the best and worst thing to have happened to him since he got his divorce—and he thinks that he fucked it all up. You only want answers to his behavior and explanations, and you can't even get that from Pedro. If you did something, you want to know what exactly you did. He wouldn’t even give you that.

He was busy now, trying to formulate his thoughts. He started this, he knows that. He knows he has no right to feel this terrible about something when he started the situation but alas, he was fighting back the tears as he closed out his windows account and packed his things up for the day. He puts his backpack over his shoulder and leaves his classroom, closing the door behind him.

He looks at your room, and he thinks about going over. He stands there in thought for a while, all it takes is a couple steps – a couple steps, an apology and perhaps everything can go back to normal. All he has to do is knock on your door and beg for forgiveness and maybe you’ll be kind enough to forgive him. He doesn’t deserve it, though, at least he feels that way. Hes sure you do too. The only thing thats stopping him is his own mind, but his own mind is what got him into this mess in the first place. Fuck it. 

You’re packing your things up slowly, assuring you don’t forget anything that you may need behind. You’re still upset, angered, and its making every small thing annoy you – like the water bottles your students left behind or the pencils that were forgotten about. Of course it wasn’t really about the bottles or the pencils, but they were inconveniences to your attitude right now. 

You’re just about done, you’re ready to leave when the door opens and you assume its Sam – so without even looking, all you do is sigh and say, “Not today, Sam. I don’t have the energy.” but what shocked you was the fact that it wasn’t Sam, it was Pedro. You could tell he had tears ready to break in his eyes but he was doing everything to avoid that from happening, his vision busy be blurry. You both stand there in silence for a moment looking at each other. Is he going to say something? You’re about to come out and say something, but he finally speaks. 

“I’m scared.” his voice is quiet, it cracked, too, theres this emphasis on his words that make your body shiver, you’re stunned, unsure on how to respond, lucky for you, he continues. “I’m scared of being hurt. I’m scared of hurting you. I’m scared of liking you.” he gives up on keeping his tears, he feels just how wet his cheeks are and how warm his face is. Hes suddenly aware of how congested his nose feels. “I miss you, you know that? But I can’t do this. I can’t allow myself to be hurt.” 

“You think I would hurt you?”

“No!” he quickly exclaims, putting his bag down on the ground. Hes suddenly aware that he might be here longer than he thought – in his mind, he was already begging you for forgiveness, or maybe you understood his point and the two of you were friends again, not whatever this limbo shit you two were doing. “I’m so vulnerable right now, Y/N, I just got divorced. I can’t be around someone like you – so.. Perfect. Annabelle took a part of me and I can’t let myself be in a position where someone can take more pieces. I wish I met you sooner.” You’re confused, because everything hes saying sounds like a breakup, but you weren’t in a relationship – unless this was his way of ending your friendship, you’re not exactly following most of what hes saying. Though still, you have that pang in your heart and your blood runs cold. You’re frozen in his face, even when he steps closer to you. “If I met you sooner, I would love to know what could’ve been, if anything, but Y/N–” you put your hand up, and he pauses waiting for you to add something. 

You take a shaky breath, “I get it, Pedro.” your voice is quiet, like hes fragile, if your voice is too loud that you’ll break him, and perhaps you’re right about that. “You don’t have to say anything more. I get it.”

You knew that whatever feelings you had for Pedro you couldn’t indulge on anyways, the age gap, the fact that you worked together, his divorce, nothing was working out for you two. Its not meant to be, all these things you wanted to ignore became so clear to you, it felt like a slap in the face. “I want–” he says quietly, “I want to be with you all the time, you don’t quite understand how much I think about you. But I think about how I will only hurt you and that kills me.” 

Its true, he thinks about how happy you could be before he goes to bed and sometimes he doesn’t know what he dreams of – but he knows that when he wakes up he feels a tightness in chest like the saddest thing in the world happened to him. He dreads going into work because you’re there and you seem so happy, and he wants to preserve that happiness. You look best with a smile on your face, you make so many other people around you smile, who would he be to take that away? He can’t do it, no matter how much hes willing to risk the chance just to be around you more, he thinks about risking it to see if perhaps you would make him happier. Then he comes back to reality, the moment in front of him. He realizes that hes hurt you, hes made you sad, and that feeling of tightness in his chest returns. He can’t even recognize himself, this isn’t how he normally is. “Please understand,” he whispers, his hands reach out for yours, but he quickly takes them away when he realizes what situation that might put you in. “You’re the first person since my ex-wife to make me feel the way I do, I feel so scared to have these feelings. I don’t know what to do, how to care for you the way I should. I don’t know if its still too soon.”

He feels the kind of hurt only love makes, he hopes you don’t feel the same, but deep down he knows you do. He knows that he caused it, he knows that theres nothing he can do to fix it now. He can ramble all these excuses but your heart is hurting because of him. He doesn’t know how to fix it, if he can, but he so desperately wants to. He stands in your colorful English classroom – a place so familiar to him, yet suddenly the room seems strange. Like he doesn’t belong in there, and maybe he doesn’t anymore. You’re standing in front of him on the brink of tears and he doesn’t know what to do. He takes a step back, his heart pounds faster and his chest tightens, he suddenly can’t breathe and the room is spinning. He’s only able to whisper out a couple of apologies before he grabs his bag and scurries out of your room. He wants to run, he felt like running away was the only relief he would get from the panic he felt, the anxiety, but the hallways of the school feel like they’re getting longer with every step he takes. Hes in an endless loop, this was an absolute nightmare and he doesn’t know what to do, he regrets going into your classroom, but he feels like at the same time it was the best thing hes done since he started distancing himself away from you. 

He wonders if you’re okay in your classroom, there's an itch in him to go back and check on you but he just can’t, not now, because he knows that would only make him feel worse. He hopes you know how sorry he is, he hopes you know that he didn’t mean for things to end up like this. He knows he fucks up; he just doesn’t know if he can fix it.

TAGLIST (some people only asked to be reminded for part 2 but I put your name here to make it easier, if you want to be removed just let me know I won't be hurt) + sorry if your tag isn't working:((

@djarinsstuff @doodlebob-mp3

@wanniiieeee @zeyzeys-stuff @jay1bird23 @corpsebridenightamare @queerponcho

@peqchsoup @surazim @melanie451 @krisviciousx @elliescumsl0t @theanxietyqueen17 @vasiliki-koshka

@figusquibis

[youabandonedthem]

intermission characters incl.team sleuth's opinions on the chemical imbalance theory

spades slick: .

diamonds droog: doesnt really care because hes not mentally ill nor does he personally know anyone who is mentally ill. he sees mentally ill people on the street. is inclined to disbelieve anything slick is this impassioned about. doesn't care to learn anything about it until slick puts together some kind of debriefing-style presentation about it and medical abuse and the industry. doesn't take slicks word as complete truth but won't bother to debunk it. wants him to stop acting like this

hearts boxcars: heard about it sometime many years ago and passively accepted it while not having any reason to think further on it. at some point he hears about it being a disproven theory, maybe from slick, and noncommittally looks online about it when he remembers/has free time/is in the mood to confirm. feels shocked at the information but knows on a greater level what large industries do in the pursuit of money. moves on afterwards because it's not relevant to his life

clubs deuce: trusts in it and believes one in him to be the reason for his anxiety and bouts of sadness. has been told by doctors and infographics about it. believes he is mentally ill but would never make any big deal about it. eventually does online research and comes to a conclusion that the environment can also be a factor in an individual's mental illness, which the chemical imbalance makes them more vulnerable to. (believes in mental illness as defined in DSM)

problem sleuth: has no reason to ever have heard of it, thinks anyone who gets involved in anything mental health related, such as therapy, must be very mentally ill or has been in an asylum (but holds sympathy for these poor insane people), but if it were hypothetically mentioned in his presence he would internally confirm it to be a supporting factor in female hysteria and would make further speculation on how women's brains must be intrinsically different from male brains as a result.

pickle inspector: thinks its a bit rub but uses it to validate his differences and says that everyones brain chemicals "balanced" or "imbalanced" are what make them all very unique, doesnt care to think about it further

ace dick: thnks its very plausible. probably has seen a therapist or gone to some kind of couples therapy involving wife and has heard of it. has no reason to disbelieve. probably takes pills for mild depression/anxiety on doctor's recommendation and has some kind of noir fanfiction scene about it

itchy: wouldn't focus on one topic long enough to learn about it… he would probably love tik tock…. watching it out loud all day long… after crowbar bans tick tock he switches to youtube shorts and watches a 'pop psychology' video talking about it and takes it as fact. however has no personal reltaion to the topic. it is merely one of many things he sees on a short video and regurgitates to others.

doze: i dont believe anyone has ever exposed him to this topic in any form.he must have a very isolated mind. he may have formed some of his own theories on many topics but i think everyone talks over him most of the time so we would have no way of knowing

trace: only formed an opinion if he heard someone he considers smart talking about it first. otherwise he didn't really think about this

clover: completely irrelevant to his life. he seems to note immediate behaviours only so he can choose some way to act or narrate a situation based on whatever is physically happening. may note trends in a detached way

fin: knows it's true because he thinks some people are just very stupid and others are masterminds from birth. the phenomenon must apply to other variables. tries to remember the name,because he knows a few people who have those kinds of problems in their brain, and then refers to his fellow gang member die, who is crazy in the head, and his fellow gang members eggs and biscuits, who are stupid, and they were born that way so it makes sense that the chemicals in their brain must make them that way.

die: uses it to affirm that there is something extremely wrong with him that makes him fundamentally different from everyone else. goes on and off of various medications that he is recommended to try. probably eventually settles on some kind of cocktail involving medications to offset the side effects of other medications but will sporadically quit the cocktail and experience withdrawals. has therapist appointments that he skips occasionally. passively thinks he will never "get better" and that nothing can ever "fix" him. however is not too concerned about it and often just focuses on whatever goals he has rather than spending time thinking about his mental state

crowbar: thinks it's somewhat plausible, somewhat rubbish, knows that depression is a symptom of vitamin D deficiency and connects it to the 'imbalance' of brain chemicals which gives it some credibility in his mind but he doesn't want to assume before doing his own research. learns about it during his spare time and shows his nuanced, informed opinion saying there's not any one 'big pharma' organisation that promoted the theory while it was widely believed in part due to medication advertisements… statements that his gang members derive very little out of. otherwise regards an individual and their personality first rather than any mental illness. describes his gang members as having "mental problems" due to their behaviour the way mark linkous describes his dog but thinks no further on the statement

snowman: doesn't have much concern for the topic and has no reason to do any research of her own. but if she hypothetically had a close contact suffering from issues she didn't understand she would feel curious and go out of her way to seek information about it from a trusted source (professional individual or written, NON-internet based knowledge). what this source tells her is what she would believe. still doesnt care and wouldnt use the knowledge for any purpose merely her own personal records

stitch: thinks of depression as an emotion, knows some people have more struggles than others, believes everyone can overcome any issue with hard work and mental discipline and would laugh if someone thought they were fundamentally broken

sawbuck: no clue just no clue

matchsticks: not enough information to say

eggs/biscuits: they have both formed their own rudimentary, spiritual ideas of a 'chemical imbalance' from being told all the time how fundamentally stupid they are

quarters: not enough information but he seems like he would take the concept of depression very seriously and could be unexpectedly sympathetic to anyone he thinks has a mental illness

cans: not enough information..

[masked-and-doomed]

...if I think the largest majority of fics I crave for it are fix-its, nobody-dies-everybody-lives, fluffy fics of my OTP, pining fics for my OTP, or plot heavy Gen stories?

...what attracted me into checking it out.

...which characters I think should have interacted more in canon.

guity gearrrr

1. Largest majority of fics I crave for? Well, if we're thinking within the categories that question is in, then probably. The second. And I mean I'm technically writing it also. Question mark. I just want Conclave to be alive and. See them for longer. 😔😔

If we're not bound by those categories given, then just. Just Conclave centric stuff. I need them. Ouhck. Save me Conclave.

2. Mutual Robin !! :) @/robins-den. I saw his Robo Bo posting through another mutual reblogging it (I think) and thought "wow! That's a neat guy!" Then I found out Faut was in the same universe and thought "ooh! Another neat guy!" (I found out about Faut way earlier. That's a whole nother story eheh)

And then I think I listened to like. A 40 min video regarding the timeline. Didn't really absorb most of it. But I think the tipping point of my really wanting to know GG was. When I watched toxic-pyro's vid of Faut. And subsequently went ill over Faut. Ah. February..... So eventually I wanted more context for everything, since it seemed neat. Here we are. Vastedge my beloathed.

3. Conclave with- Asuka / the OG / Chaos. Hell, maybe even Ariels. I wanna see more in depth with these bitches that have fucked humanity over. What the hell were they like before? How do they feel about each other now considering everything ever that happened in fuckin 2187.

Fuck. MAYBE EVEN JUST CONCLAVE WITH EACH OTHER. 😭

Judging by the available content of Vastedge, it doesn't seem we get a scene of the Conclave together that includes Baldias. Which means! We will not see him when he's with. His colleagues. Which is 😔 to me. I mean with my personal perception of him, I doubt he's that much less of an asshole to his co-workers. But also I kinda really really need to know for reals for realsies here. What is his perception of them... !

[timaeusterrored]

(2015, Kerry’s apartment)

Kerry knew who the banging on his door was before he even opened the door. When he opened it, Rogue shoved right past him, into his apartment like she owned the place.

“Did you know?” She asked softly, but she knew the answer. Of course Kerry knew, when was he not with Johnny? Well now, Johnny had gone out and he could assume he’d be equally pissed when he got back.

Kerry nodded, shutting the door before she could get any louder. She nodded, rubbing a hand over his mouth before kicking over Kerry’s coffee table in anger. She put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. Kerry knew this all too well, he had been through it many times before, the anger of being second in Johnny Silverhand’s eyes.

“Ill get you a new table.” She muttered, swallowing. Kerry flexed his hands, unsure of what to do really. Rogue was the first girlfriend Johnny had that Kerry actually liked, and he could tell it was a mutual thing, they talked about whatever the fuck Kerry and Johnny had going on and she didn’t understand, but she seemed to like Kerry enough to not get pissy.

“I only knew about Alt. I didn’t know about the other two.” He said softly, approaching slowly. She shook her head, rubbing her face again. “You wanna go on a drive?” Kerry offered.

Rogue blinked for a moment, then nodded, crossing her arms. Kerry went to get dressed, questioning why Rogue came here. They got along, but Kerry didn’t know if Rogue considered him a friend or not. He was some rockerboy that cared more about music than anything else, not a wannabe merc like Johnny.

He walked out, offering a jacket to her out of habit with Nancy and Denny. To his surprise, she actually took the jacket, and put it on. It was his own, not Johnny’s. “Come on, anywhere particular you wanna go?” He asked.

“Just drive, I can think better and not crash the car.” She stated coldly, and Kerry didn’t take it personally. He just walked outside and she followed, and he noted how haphazardly her bike had been parked.

The drove for a while, neither spoke. But both had a general understanding and now another shared thing, a broken heart by the hands of Johnny. Eventually she turned on the radio, and changed it to a heavy metal station. Kerry didn’t mind, maybe it helped her sort things in her head, but then she turned it down instead of up.

“How do you do it? Deal with him?” She asked suddenly, and Kerry wished he had a damn answer, he had been asking himself that question for years.

“I dunno.. can’t stay away. Being with him if fucking torture, but being away is agony. Can’t stand to be around him, can’t stand to be away.” He said softly, knowing it made him sound fucking insane, but she simply nodded.

“I like you, Kerry. Always have. I think that’s why I didn’t mind him running off with you every now and then, mainly because I knew he’d be looking out for you.” She said softly, numbly looking out the windshield.

“I like you too, Rogue.. you’re probably the first girlfriend he’s had that I actually liked hanging out with.” He said, and she snorted.

They went quiet again, the music playing on low still. “Why did you come to me?” Kerry asked after a moment.

“Because you know Johnny better than anyone ever will, and I just.. I’ve seen the fights you two have, how you watch him get with other women… how he pisses you the fuck off but you still bounce right back to him like he didn’t just shatter your heart for the 20th time…” she looked over at him, finally.

“Just.. wanted someone that understood.” And Kerry got it. She was still in love with him. He knew that pain all too well. He nodded and swallowed. They both deserved more than that.

“Man.. we would have made one hell of a team.” Kerry said, earning a surprised laugh from Rogue.

“No think about it, Rockerboy Kerry Eurodyne, Princess of the Afterlife Rogue Amendiares, and Johnny Silverhand? We could have owned this fucking city if he wasn’t such an asshole.” Rogue had a smile on her face now, shaking her head. “I’m not wrong.” He points out.

“No.. you aren’t wrong. That’d be a hell of a team.. maybe one day.”

“I’m holding you too that.”

[badedramay]

You're probably sick of Fairytale asks so feel free to ignore this, but rest assured I don't bear any ill will! I shared a very similar frustration with Umeed (and the sheer unreality of her circumstances) when I started watching the show. But eventually, I did come to enjoy how one of the main focal points of her growing relationship with Farjaad was for her to learn the consequences of her immature, haphazard actions and to be more patient and grateful for what she actually has. Obviously, you don't have to pick it up again if you really don't want to, but if you happen to continue, you may come to enjoy that aspect. I certainly don't believe Fairytale is the most unique story, but it is sweet to see how much Farjaad cares about helping her understand she should pave a path for herself on solid ground and take more time to consider the consequences of her actions. To me that is what really ended up enrapturing people. There are a lot of drawbacks to the story (e.g., few of the side characters are well developed, some of the plot stretching to meet the full thirty days of Ramadan gets exasperating, and whenever the focus moves away from the leads the show is horrifically boring), but I have a feeling you would at least enjoy what Farjaad and Umeed's relationship becomes eventually in the latter half of the show. It reminds me a little of the affectionate scold-teasing from Wali and responsive cluelessness from Faarah (although obviously Diyar-e-Dil has a way, way more well developed story). Hamza and Sehar get really good at dealing in the wholesome friends to lovers banter.

Anyway! I hope this ask doesn't bother you, and I'm sorry other people feel so entitled to judging you for having an opinion. I wanted to maybe be the one person sensible enough to extend an olive branch, lol. The fandom for the show is arguably over-the-top and exaggerative, but I have a feeling you may not hate the show as much if you see it through. And if you still do hate it, no hard feelings. Thanks for always posting great commentary on here, and have a nice day!

lol i am not tired of the FT asks (itne zyada mile bhi nahin tbh)..i am just super convinced that no matter what anyone says it will never push me to watch this show xD the comparisons to DeD will only strengthen my resolve to never give this a try. of all the shows in the world to draw comparison with, doing so with Wali and Faraa of all the people who were both individually so complex as characters is just...c'mon, you can see how ridiculous it is right? anyhoo..I guess the bottom line is just this: i am too old to enjoy a narrative as lacking as what Fairytale is. I don't want to resort to projecting my fantasies and inserting headcanons in a story to make it enjoyable for me (been there..DONNEEEE that!). cool that there are people who enjoy it such but just as they are allowed to hype the show for how they interpreted it to be rather than what it was, I am allowed to not be fond of what it is.

y'know..I legit thought maybe FT was another case of Ishq Jalebi for me. where maybe *I* was the odd one out for not being able to enjoy a drama which has a significantly enduring fanbase. but when I watched IJ, I really found nothing special in it and my initial thoughts about it remained unshaken. FT is gonna be like that for me. even if years later i find myself giving it a try..i am 99% convinced it will do nothing for me. also "hate" is a rather strong word. I just have some passionate disagreement over this show's perceived uniqueness, that's all. hate is what I feel for Ishqiya's finale.

[ayotamacheck]

I just read the first part of "I've got you," and it's so good@ im really excited for where you're going to take it! I don't see a lot of fics exploring the relationship between families often (especially with Coral Island but there's not much content made about that right now anyways, so maybe we'll get more eventually!) but I really like to see how other people portray the family life of characters that we don't get a lot of info about! the Sanchez family seems to have a good bit of angst to dive into as well, and despite knowing it will break my heart, I can't wait to see more! I already teared up a bit just from the chapter you wrote already, you managed to give a lot of depth to their situation (pablo unintentionally hurting rafaels feelings but only bc he just wants to enjoy his life before he has to settle down with a job, and rafael quietly watching as his parents barely acknowledge his existence while fawning over his brother) and I love it a lot! sorry if this doesn't make much sense, not great at putting my thoughts into words! but I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed it so far haha

omg thank you so much!! this literally just made my day 😭😭 i appreciate it!! ive definitely seen that there are not a lot of fics/content about coral island in terms of families or npcs without tying it back to shipping with the farmer, so i really wanted to explore some of that stuff and im excited to do so with this fic. the sanchez family is definitely my favorite, and ive got sooo many ideas for them!! i could probably make a few full posts just with all my headcanons about them all haha. i think the dynamic between pablo and rafael is super interesting; it's very obvious that pablo loves his brother and vice versa, but he tends to be blinded by his wants over considering rafael's, which is something we even get to see in his heart events. it's like, i like this thing, shouldn't everyone? there's no ill intent, but it happens anyway, and rafael seems like the type to really struggle voicing his frustrations especially as a kid growing up in a household where he's never the priority.

anddd golden child blindness...im sorry, i love pablo but i definitely feel like he would not comprehend just how much his parents favor him growing up. i mean, even in the game he excuses them misspelling rafael's name in their letter as just a little mistake. like hello??😭😭 thats your son how to you mispell his name YOU named him 😭😭

ANYWAY sorry that turned into a rant i have a lot of thoughts about them. trust me it's just gonna get worse LMAO u kno pablo ain't going into any art career in canon. buuuut thank you so much!!!!! <3 im so happy you enjoyed!

[elphabaoftheopera]

HELLO!!!! how are you? it's been a while haha 😅... but, long story short, after watching wicked last night im back in the fandom! and what better way to celebrate than read a fic by my favourite author 🥳 ? so, i read "In Any Universe", and boy do i have a lot of good things to say about it!!!!!

this fic is awesome, im sad that i didn't read it earlier! it had my favourite tropes that were amazingly executed, along with so many wacky and interesting alternate universes 😁😁! some that stood out to me were fake dating, masquerade, family and musical. to say that i really enjoyed these would be an understatement!!!! first of all, fake dating is my absolute favouriteee trope, so i was so so excited to see it applied to fiyeraba so well! the masquerade was honestly a really interesting plotline, and the musical universe was cool to see referenced! and family au was soo adorable, and parents fiyeraba make me feel so happyyyy ❤️❤️! overall, they were all so so romantic and cute and made me realise how much i miss fiyeraba 🥺!! i also really liked the general storyline, and the pipeline of fiyero coming to terms and accepting his situation was so lovely and satisfying to read!

i was wondering if you had any little facts about this fic? it was super creative and i couldn't help but love every separate storyline!!!!!

sorry for gushing, im just super happy to be back and reading your fics again! ill hopefully in the fandom again for a while, so i can find the time to read some other works of yours and maybe reread 😁😁😁

@melop-sia!!!!! It's so wonderful to hear from you!!!! Welcome back to the Wicked fandom! Your message just made my entire day, I actually screamed when I read that I was a favorite author of yours, words like that TRULY go a long way. thank you for your thoughts on In Any Universe. I had so much fun writing that one!

Welllllll since you asked, I'd love to share a little bit about it!

Light spoilers for In Any Universe below the cut!

The idea came to me when I was just thinking a lot about fanfiction tropes in a loving way, inspired by fanfiction writers and our tendency to put the same characters into countless different situations/lives and have them fall in love all the same. I got the idea when I was driving (most of my ideas come when I'm driving) about my otp essentially going on a "tour" through the different tropes. Initially it was supposed to be 100% comedic and self aware.

I didn't have a strong throughline planned out in the beginning that would set them off on their journey. I thought about (and even drafted) Fiyero mentioning how "random" it was that they got together and if any one thing was different they'd probably not be together, then I'd have Elphaba take offense to that. But it just wasn't working, especially because I was clinging to the idea that I wanted Fiyero to be human in the present timeline. Once I finally released my hold on that idea and let him be a Scarecrow, the story throughline became much clearer to me! It was easier to write when Fiyero had a "lesson" to learn (sort of "It's a Wonderful Life" style, though I've never seen that movie). That of course made the throughline a bit more serious, as well as some of the timelines getting increasingly darker.

I just can't resist angst and hurt/comfort no matter how hard I try!

I just really love the quote I put at the beginning of the story about finding the same person over and over.

As for the stories within the story, I just started by making a list of as many tropes I could think of. Fake dating, fix-it fic, crossover, etc. and eventually trimmed it down to the stories that made the cut. I wrote them all out of order and then stitched them together later with the throughline story. I think I did the coffee one first, then the masquerade, and then I put it down for several months (as is my style) and picked it back up with the Wicked actor one.

I really considered breaking the story up into chapters and sometimes I regret the fact that I didn't, I still consider breaking it up because I know it's very long. Still I think it flows better as a singular piece but at least can be easily read in multiple sittings if you're like me and need mind breaks.

When I decided to make it one single piece I made a real effort to keep the sections snappy and not longer than they needed to be. I was pretty obsessed over word count and keeping it below a certain amount (I think 1000 words). I think the Fake Dating one ended up being the longest and the hardest to keep trimmed. Still, I wanted each story to have a satisfying arc in its own way.

One challenge I gave myself (which was VERY difficult) is that I didn't use the word "love" until the very end when Fiyero told Elphaba he loved her after getting shot. I came to that idea later on and had to edit a lot of the earlier stories. Then he says he loves her many times in the finale scene.

I thought it strengthened his lesson about being grateful for what they did have. I found it really important to mirror the "can't imagine thinking about how things might be different" (paraphrasing) in the worst timeline with her dying in the cornfield with what he'd said in the beginning.

As for the ending I did leave it slightly ambiguous, but I believe as the writer that the journey he went on was real and not a dream (kind of like I believe that in Wizard of Oz Dorothy's experience really happened, even though it seemed like Dorothy was waking up from a dream). However, I wanted to the reader to decide for themself!

I think my favorite ones to write were the Fiyeraba family (I love them as parents!), Coffee shop AU, and the Masquerade. I also found it clever and trippy to do the Wicked actors, but that one was by far the hardest challenge!

I so appreciate your readership and engagement with my work!!!! Please reach out in the future if you ever have thoughts or questions.

I don't want to jinx it because it's still early days but I'm excited to say I've been writing again (Fiyeraba, obviously) now that my life has more time. We'll see where it takes me, so be on the lookout!

[zularchive]

pkmn team

have ruminated over this for months as an insane pkmn fan. so. here. if anyone cares. i considered other pokeon, like absol for its pokedex desc of being misunderstood as bringing trouble when its actual purpose is to show up when it appears and stop it, or a bunch of other fire types that just didnt fit the vibe enough... but overall this seemed yo be the best options? i think her having a typhlosion may not fit her sharper look, but i think she deserves cute things as well too!!!! and it fits her in other ways. id have given her like a charizard or anything if i didnt have mixed feelings on it + liked typh more + it would be weird to give her a charizard and then not give her a mega stone but frankly i dont like the idea of giving anyone mega stones because i think its a dumb feature in a lot of ways and ugh. whatever. now that im thinking abt it it would be a good concept of her using a tool that ultimately hurts the pkmn towin battles..... but whatever. anyways, i think she got a charcadet first, and matched w zuko ( who was pissed off shde got hers at an earlier age than himLMAO). im still not 100 on her having it evolve to ceruledge instead of armarougge, bc i think shes a special atker while zuko is physical, but whatever... colors matter ok. and her getting the cursed armor instead of the blessed armor is also confusing beause it could mean multiple different things. wtvr. ceruledge is the mrcilless one so. also her typhlosion is hisuian because yk atla takes place in ancient times (whihc seem to be around the same time as pla?) and hisuiphlosion is based on the kamuy-haci, the goddess of fire. blaziken im still mixed up about. i dontt like giving out multiple starters to chqaratcres, but it does seem to fit her well, ecen though it could also fit zuko too lol. regardless its based on the phoenix and draws inspo from muay thai fighters which i beliece azulas moves may be partially based on as well?maybe? with hydreigon um all u need to do is go on bulbapedia and see how well its backstory fits azula. and no i dont believe she would treat it like ghetsis did! houndoom i wanted to create a bit of a different relationship w her, so its the leader of its pack (or was) and is oly fair to its pack. which. u may not believe it. but azula isnt all that disrespectful when you think about it. well ok shes a bitch to zuko and ursa but thats only because she felt wronged by them!!!! whatever. zoroark ahhhhhhhh,,,, well azula is a liar and all so of course the illusion pkmn fits her. but the backstory i made up of how she gets it is important to me. ill keep it concise but.

charcadet was her starter, siblings w zuko. zukos evolves into armarouge, but he and it do not get along. azulas ceruledge doesnt fully like her, but they are one in the same in battle!

she got a cyndaquil for her next birthday, probably. possibly a gift from nobles who mistreated/neglected it a bit, so its a little traumatized and clings to azl immediately. id imagine she found it fairly weak for a while (its annoying to play with earrly game bc it takes foreeeever to learn ember lol) and it reminds her of zuko. however it is powerful, and subconsciously she recognizes its loyalty, which is honestly the main reason she puts up with it annoying her at times like when it (esp as a cyndaquilava) would want to sleep at the very least at the end of her bed lol.

torchic also was pretty clumsy, but it had a very very strong desire to get better at battling, and azula saw that spark in its eyes. she underestimates it at first, but eventually it evolves into blaziken and is mature enogh to like meditate with her. its not ruthless in battle like ceruledge exactly, but you can tell it has FUN and has an aspiration for it.

hydreigon. ok so i think this would be the first pkmn she caught on her own, likely on some kind of school field trip. shed see it cornered by a bunch of pkmn and watch it take them all out before the run awya in fear and decided she needed a pkmn with that kind of power. when it evolves into zweilous, she HATESSSS it bc it splits into 3 personalities and becomes incapable of NOT fighting aginst itself and she basically sends it off to the palace guards to train til it evolves. for a long time hydreigon feels upset about this even as it goes through battles once again by her side,(they are fairly obedient to their trainers despite their destructiveness) and i think its only when azula is defeated that she can notice the similarities between her and hydreigon. hated by everyone throughput history, it grew violent and cruel due to its treatment, and was then seen as evil incarnate. while azula felt hated by the people she loved, grew cruel because of it, and then was seen as a monster!

houndoom was a gift from a noble likely, seen as a strong good pokemon as the leader of its pack, azula is prob least close to it,but they share a feeling of mutual respect.

ZOROARKKKK ok. so ursa finds a zorua in the gradens one day (not questioning how it got there LOL) and catches it and gifts it to azula because she thinks she could use a... cuter looking pokemon. ofc this backfires as it very much enjoys playing pranks with azula on zuko or the guards, however it doesnt prank ursa as she caught it and it still feels loyal. long after, ursa enlists its abilties to kill azulon, and asks it to promise to protect azula. the next day it evolves,and azula credits its sudden protectiveness to that. it refuses to be far from azula atany time over the years, and azula.... isnt the best at noticing this, lol. or is so disconnected from the idea of someone actually pledging loyalty and offering its protection to her that she cant fathom the idea of it. frankly itd kill ozai (& it could lol) if it didnt mean azula would be hurt by it. when azula has her breakdown, its zoroark who imitates her mother, telling her that it loves her. azula doesnt realize this of course. zoroark is doing it to comfort her, but she doesnt do anything but cry. ahhhh also its shiny bc its blue

[importantcherryblossommentality]

ill sleep after this!! I have to wake up early tomorrow but I finally watched a full playthrough of irisu syndrome. I wanted to compile some parts of Uugi's notes somewhere and so here they are. spoiler warning for the game also him and irisu r literally me ^^

Suicidal Rabbit Diary.txt ))))

I've started to draw more and more pictures of dying cats.

Certainly, there is someone waiting for my pictures. To think that just because of that, my drawing would be this much more enjoyable.

Drawing pictures of cats became a part of everyday life. When it reached the point that I was making dedicated notebooks, she had already seen ten. ))))

In the classroom. Irisu Kyouko four seats away. I was spending that pleasant time like always when a voice called to me from behind. Edogawa Takeru. What does he want? Next to Edogawa Takeru is a broadly smiling Age Hatori. Edogawa says something or other. His voice is rather loud. It must be nice to talk so easily. I was thinking those things while listening. I don't really remember what he said.

Somehow, though I don't really understand why, Edogawa Takeru and Age Hatori started sitting close to me in class. And somehow, though I don't really understand why, we started having conversations. I didn't draw pictures of cats. ))))

The trip is over. Age Hatori stuck close to me the entire time. Edogawa Takeru seemed to pay us more mind than usual. But I just didn't understand what the whole point was. Why did we purposefully tire ourselves out? Doing nothing at home is much better. ))))

Those two have started to actively speak to me. I think it's strange. Why do I care so much about being with people I barely know?

The hotter seasons eventually come around. It's a matter of time before they think it's strange for me to always be wearing long sleeves. It's not something small enough to hide with a watch. And when those people realize it, I'll automatically be estranged from them. Until that time, I'll let them misunderstand. I enjoy being with them. ))))

I thought about it some more. Is there no way for Irisu Kyouko to change her target to me? Irisu Kyouko killing me. That's an attractive Happy Ending. You could say it's my ideal. It would be perfect if Irisu Kyouko would go together with me, but I'd expect that's asking too much. ))))

Age Hatori gave me a truly great idea. Why didn't I realize it sooner?Considering Irisu Kyouko's love of rabbits, isn't the answer clear? If I draw pictures of rabbits in my notebook. If Irisu Kyouko, during her "plan," sees that notebook. What would Irisu Kyouko do to me? I'm excited just by imagining it. ))))

If they knew the reason I hide my wrists,I wonder what kind of reaction they'd have? Would they treat me the same way as they've always done? They probably would. Because they're idiots. Age Hatori would become worried or angry like usual. Even though she's airheaded enough to mistake tigers for cats. Edogawa Takeru, being incapable of distrusting someone else,he'd listen warmly, regardless of what I say, and still be kind towards me. While I was thinking that,I thought that maybe getting Edogawa Takeru and Age Hatori involved in my plan wasn't the best idea. I can say that it was a mistake for Age Hatori to like me. ))))

Hm? If that's the case, isn't this trip unnecessary? Even now I can start changing the world. For the sake of preventing Irisu Kyouko's plan, I should push some reason or other to stop the trip--

Too much trouble. Well, whatever. ))))

The rabbit wasn't well liked by the students, and so it was always alone. ))))

A few days later. The cat came back to the school. Everyone was very pleased. As for the rabbit, everyone had already forgotten it. What happened to the girl? I'll never know. After the rabbit died, nobody saw her again. Were my actions right? In the end, I couldn't change the future. If nobody else, I at least will keep that scarred rabbit deeply carved into myself.

[mathias-wanabe]

I'd say my best description of my interpretation of cccc is that I don't really see them as 3 "separate entities" but over all I think my interpretation pretty average.

Haven't done I rant post in a bit so l Hope my wording makes sense yall Imao

Long cccc explanation under cut tw:suicide!!

Cccc is a Genius interpretation of the struggle between One's logical reasoning and one's emotional reactions. And it's exactly that that can pull a person apart.

In cccc, that person is soul. soul is the one with both understanding and feeling he should prioritize logic but also having his own emotional struggles.

(Also To me there is no whole, whole, is just a simple way to call all three. )

HMS dynamic

In the reality of cccc. soul is the only real person(taking the place of whole). Soul is the person who watches as his wants and emotions go right against what he knows what would be better for him. And this is fucking stressful for soul bc he's becoming indecisive and he can't make a single life decision. When soul gets a crush his Mind thinks he can't get the girl & his heart wants to go for it, when he's in depression his mind calls it stupid and illogical that they can't do things, and his heart feels it 100xs over and loses all motivation when soul got so upset of this indecisiveness and contemplated suicide, both sides got scared because none of them includeing soul, actually want to actually die.

The Juno incident

The Juno incident was when soul was in a bad time mentally, and in a very emotional state, soul did something really bad, attempted suicide.. he was done with not being able to do anything with his life, and he was done with all this stress

(In cccc to this is shown as heart doing it because while soul technically did it himself willingly, he was in that emotional state of mind, a completely irrational emotional reaction. blinded by his own discontent on life)

now, After he missed, (maybe he pulled away right before he shot, or he just chickened out before pulling the trigger at all) he got a clear head again and was practically stunned that he even considered that! He didn't want to die. No part of him not his heart or mind actually wanted to die. He was just tired of all this stress and inner conflict.

[this would be mind in cccc. Realizing what heart had just done was an attempt to kill him, and soul, and himself]

After all this suffering and now in a clearer head soul, and his inner mind and heart were eventually able to reach some sort of equilibrium and concord. in an emotional and logical sense, soul understood that letting herself getting to that point was way too far. And that they never wanted to really die like that.

And so with some time taken for himself, he looked at and learned to cater to both his heart and mind. Becoming “whole”. Because becoming whole was never "ignoring both sides until they agree". becoming whole was to no longer feel this disconnect between what he thinks and what he feels. And being able to blend the two into a motivation/drive to live the life he wants and dreams to have.

My overall interpretation of cccc is how soul struggles with this disconnect that brings him so much stress and pain, and it's about overcoming it, knowing full well that it can and probably will happen again, but also knowing that he can get over it at the end of the album TFAR(love that song btw)

Cccc is about internal struggle. The want vs the reason. the struggle with one's own self disagreement. And how bad it can get before things actually get better… but it getting better none the less. And I feel like thinking of cccc in that sense it brings a whole new night to the songs. And that’s just amazing to me. Only goes to show how fucking genius chonny is lmao.

Holy shit I really just wrote a whole essay on cccc for fun....conclusion paragraph and EVERYTHING.

Ya know I didn't think I was so mentally ill over ccc but like wow...

I did most of this w the extra time I had in health class Imao. Only took like 30 min too lol...

Anyways either way would be cool to see the presentation!!/nf! We all like cccc here share it with the class 🙏🙏 :D

jashers of tumblr i need YOU to help me

im making a presentation on cccc and want your interpretations of the story,the characters ,and whatever other silly headcanons there may be

doesnt matter how you send it whether it be through dm,reblog tags or replies to this post i will read them ALL

also you will be credited in my presentation

i thank you in advance

-a fellow jasher

[hajihiko]

listen idk how to tell you this, and please do not take the tone of this ask to be aggressive, but you have got to start questioning yourself a little more. why are all your least favorite characters the most visibly mentally ill? why are you comfortable saying a character will need several years of therapy before they are able to have friendships? i know youre going to reply to this saying like, oh, i hc other characters as mentally ill, or oh, i'm mentally ill myself - i can't possibly be ableist! and then all your followers will be like yeah ur fine we love you, but im begging you. its okay to dislike characters, but its such an obvious pattern that the ones who have visible, uncomfortable mental health problems that make them unpleasant are, mysteriously, the ones you have the least sympathy for. i do not care whether you consider yourself ableist, whether you headcanon more pleasant characters as mentally ill, whether youre mentally ill yourself - you are posting ableist things. someone doesnt need to be cured or fixed before they should be allowed to have meaningful relationships

Okay, I've read this message over a few times and have it under consideration (? I think that's the phrase).

I do think you got some information wrong, I could be mistaken but after looking through my own posts I think you might've misread something. What I *have* said (before I watched the OVA) is that I dont think Hajime and Nagito should specifically date *each other* until they get therapy / work through their problems (although I do think that, thematically, they make sense as eventual love interests). Again, hadn't watched the OVA, so I was basing it on their interactions in game only, the OVA sort of changes directions from how the game left off.

Never said anything about anyone not having meaningful relationships until they get therapy, and have actually said that a good social net (meaningful relationships, friendly or romantic) are integral to healing from traumatic events. Not saying I haven't given off a bad impression maybe or implied something, if so do tell me because it was probably not intentional and might've slipped by me, but I'm speaking from a factual search of my blog. Not something I have ever said, as far as I can see, and not something I believe anyhow.

I actually mention pretty frequently that I think Nagito (I assume this is mostly about him) is an interesting character that I like, but find complex. My least favourite characters are Hiyoko, Mahiru and Teru (sorry fans of those! I dont mean anything by it it's literally just the vibes) that's why I don't really draw them. The OVA endeared Nagito to me, which is why I've been drawing him on a friendship journey lately, so if you're assuming I don't like him that's more incorrect now than ever.

By all means if you wanna talk about this more openly in chat, I'm down (though my timezone tends to clash). I feel you've put some words in my mouth.

[strawberryfantawrites]

Slashers Taking Care of Sick!S/O

Slashers include Jason Vorhees, Michael Myers, Pinhead, Bubba Sawyer, and Vincent Sinclair

Jason Vorhees

Very very tender and gentle with you

Once you start showing symptoms he immediately goes into mom mode and will not let you overexert yourself at all

I hc that he knows how to make salves and maybe some medication/herbal tea from plants that grow around the camp, so he’ll definitely make you some of that

Jason will try to add lots of honey to soothe your throat and to mask the bitter taste of the herbs and he’ll try to cut the food he makes you into cute shapes

He’ll try to stick by your side as well, gently holding a cool compress to your forehead while you catch some Zs

If you get too cold even with the 50 blankets he managed to scavenge for you, he’ll curl up around you, warming you up with his body heat

In case you weren’t comfortable before, his steady heartbeat will eventually lull you to sleep

Michael Myers

He’d probably try to be detached about the whole thing

Michael doesn’t really know how to help you other than just doing basic stuff that’ll help with whatever you caught

He’ll get you medicine and whatever else you need, but that’s it. Or so you think. 

Truth is, if you wake up in the middle of the night he’ll most definitely be standing by your bedside, his hand resting on yours

If he notices your awake he’ll move his hand to gently rest on your cheek for a little bit before leaving

Although, maybe if you’re convincing enough he’ll decide to join you (just try not to get him sick too)

In general, he’s not super cuddly, but I think you being in a more vulnerable state just softens him up a little more than usual

Like butter

Pinhead

He doesn’t visit you as much, you either have to solve the lament configuration or just leave it unsolved for a while until he comes on his own terms

When he sees something is wrong with you he isn’t too concerned, he knows humans get ill often and your symptoms are minor at the moment

Pinhead will visit you more often when you’re sick to keep you company since you can’t do as much in the state you’re in

You guys won’t do too much, either just talking, watching a movie, or occasionally reading together

If he’s in the right mood he’ll make some tea or soup for you, but like Michael, he isn’t too physically affectionate (it’s kind of hard considering his heads covered in pins)

Either way, it’s peaceful with him around and he makes things much less lonely and it’s nice he sticks around more than usual

Bubba Sawyer

I hate to say it, but Bubba probably wouldn’t be the most efficient caretaker.

The sweetest? Absolutely. He’s more clumsy though, and he doesn’t know that much about how to cure sicknesses. 

He’s glued to your side the entire time you’re sick. If he needs to go to the kitchen to cook you soup he’ll probably carry you with him

He’s intent on keeping your room clean too, so no more germs can get in. He fusses over you nonstop, but it comes from a place of love and kind of fear.

Bubba’s not used to people around him being sick, especially not someone like you, who  he considers fragile

He’ll want to hold you a lot, to reassure you that he’s there and to reassure himself that you’re there

He brings you small gifts he finds. Like pretty stones, wildflowers, or whatever else he thinks you would like

Vincent Sinclair 

I think Vincent would have a pretty good understanding of what to do when you’re sick. He might not know exactly what’s best for you, but I think his mom probably has cared for him when he was sick though.

First of all, he’ll be insistent that you rest up. You don’t have  to stay in bed 24/7, but he’s not going to let you work around the house too much

If you do want to stay in bed though, he’ll make sure to sit by your bedside and bring you soup, books to read, paper and pencils if you want to draw, or whatever else you want

He’ll try to give you space as well, not wanting you to feel smothered by him, but in general he’ll be at your beck and call

You being sick is probably the one thing that’s able to get him away from his work for an extended period of time

Making sure you’re ok is worth it to him though, and it’s nice to take a break with you