#it has no treatment either so i’m not missing out too bad!

[wormsdyke]

ohh. talked to someone with a disorder that sounds extremely similar to my symptoms and they encouraged me to pursue a diagnosis. good news bc symptoms have been unexplained and untreated for years. bad news bc it’s a notably extremely rare disorder which means i knowwww if i bring it up to a doctor they’ll write me off

[lemonlover1110]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Firefighter!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: A question has the power to ruin a whole marriage. After you ask if he's having an affair, Toji is so upset that he can’t look at you for too long. Until a tragedy happens and he’s reminded that he can’t fathom the thought of living without you.

Warnings: MDNI, firefighter!Toji, talks of cheating, house fire, silent treatment, hurt/comfort, smut, oral sex (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, choking, breeding kink, cream pie, shower sex, semi-public sex (fire station bathroom), pregnancy reveal (at the end)

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“I missed you, honey.” Toji plops down on the bed, throwing his arm over you. You bite down your lip, holding back tears as you think of the worst. Your husband is a firefighter, he’s always worked long irregular hours– But he feels distant lately, leading you to believe something is up. Something that’s heart wrenching, even if you’re just wrapping your head around it.

You really can’t help but think of the worst, even when Toji has shown you nothing but love. He’s the best husband you could ask for, yet you find yourself scrolling through his phone while he sleeps. The only thing that Toji’s done is work… Yet you wonder if he has someone else since he’s barely home. The fact that you’ve read how firemen cheat a lot doesn’t really help you either.

His thumb begins to caress your cheek before he whispers, “Are you asleep?”

You don’t answer, letting him believe that you are. He whispers the same three little words before kissing your forehead, making it infinitely harder for you to hold back your tears. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, holding back a sob as tears begin to stream down your face. You can’t fight them back no matter how hard you try. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asks, feeling your hot tears on his fingertips. “Did something happen? Why are you crying?”

“I’m fine.” You answer, turning so you’re not facing him. But it’s obvious that you’re not fine, if you were you wouldn’t be crying. Toji wouldn’t usually push you to tell him if you’re in a bad mood, but you’re crying so something is clearly wrong and he wants to help. He wonders if it’s something he did wrong, and if it’s that, he wants to fix it.

“Let’s talk so I can help you.” He sounds concerned, and you begin to feel dumb for crying. Toji pulls you close to him, kissing your shoulder, his hands going under your shirt so his thumbs can trace lazy circles on your skin. 

“Toji…” You begin, and he patiently waits for your next words. Time feels eternal to him, wondering what’s bugging his precious wife. You sit up on the bed, taking a moment to gather your feelings. You don’t want to become a sobbing mess while speaking to him.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He asks, following your lead and sitting up as well. He rubs your back, attempting to help you calm down. You take a deep breath before you spit the words out, knowing that dragging it out will make the moment even more interminable for the both of you.

“Are you having an affair?” The words are incoherent since you talk too fast. Toji furrows his brows, confused as to what you said. He asks you to repeat what you just said, slowly, and you regret repeating it so he understands. 

“Am I…– What?” His face contorts, offended by the mere question. The mere thought would be a disgrace to Toji, and he’d repent a thousand times before thinking again. You bite your tongue, not daring to speak again. He scoffs, “This is… Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry.” You don’t waste a second, but that doesn’t fix the mess that you just caused. You don’t know what you’ve just caused, it could just be the downfall of your marriage. Maybe any other time Toji would be understanding and reassuring, but you’re not seeing that he’s doing all this for you.

“Do you really think so little of me?” He begins and you frantically shake your head, wanting to make it clear that you didn’t mean it. Your words won’t leave your throat though, and that’s not helping your case. He scoffs again. “I devote my whole life to you, and this is what you ask me…”

“Toji, I– I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve just been seeing a lot of how firemen tend to cheat, and you’ve just been away lately so… I just thought–” You’re all over the place, and Toji grows even more annoyed with every sound that leaves your lips. He’d never think that he would feel like this about your voice, but he can’t stand to listen to it.

“So you just thought I’d be a dirty piece of shit and do that to you. Got it. So nice to see what the love of my life thinks of me.” Toji answers, standing up from the bed and grabbing his pillow. He can’t sleep next to you tonight. The couch will do for tonight… And for a couple of days after that. 

Your bottom lip quivers as you think of how to stop him and how to properly apologize. You’re in the wrong, you know you are, but you can’t speak up. Toji sighs before he begins to walk out of your bedroom. You’ve had many arguments, but never did they end up with him walking out of your shared bedroom and going to the living room to sleep. He tries to talk it out before going to sleep, and if that doesn’t work, you sleep with your backs facing each other (even though in the morning you wake up cuddled up). He’s clearly upset, and you have no idea how to solve it this time.

He slams the door shut, and you blankly stare for a minute before laying back down on the bed. The crying doesn’t stop though, instead it gets worse since you know you’ve fucked up.

Toji leaves the kitchen and goes to the backyard when you begin to walk to him. He leaves his morning coffee on the counter, a hot cup that he just served to get his morning started. You didn’t expect him to react this badly but you understand. If he had accused you of cheating, you wouldn’t be too forgiving either. 

A sigh leaves your lips knowing that your day just started but it’s already a shitty one. You pour yourself a cup of coffee before going to the glass sliding door to watch what your husband does. He cleans up anything that looks out of place, doing stuff that neither of you ever do. 

You start off your day without speaking to each other, and you think of ways to make it up to him. Thankfully, you have all the time in the world to think about what to do, until you finally land on cooking his favorite meal and taking it to his job. He works a long shift today, and he didn’t pack anything to go. Knowing him, Toji will just end up eating instant or something of that sort. He’s content with it but you know he’d prefer something made by you.

So you cook something for him, one of his favorite meals, saving up the dish that he absolutely loves for dinner. You never really liked the saying that a way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but it’s fitting for Toji. You make an effort to dress up and look good for him– In other words, you’re doing everything in your power to make him happy with you again. 

All eyes are on you when you get to the fire station. Toji seemingly didn’t hold back on your argument from last night, and you feel as if everyone is judging you. You can’t exactly be upset at him for it, you’ve been cursing yourself since last night for bringing it up. But you can’t help but feel insecure.

Lately you feel as if you’ve changed a lot from the woman that Toji loves, and the fact that he’s been working so much doesn’t really ease your nerves. Yes, you should’ve communicated with him better instead of straight up asking if he was having an affair, but you weren’t thinking straight when the question left your lips. It shouldn’t matter what they think anyway, you’re here to amend your problems, which half of their partners wouldn’t even bother.

You get to the kitchen, finding some of his co-worker but not him. Their eyes fall on the bag you hold, and they begin salivating at the mere thought of the food that’s inside. If Toji doesn’t want it, they’ll take it. 

“Is he in the training room?” You ask after a simple greeting. They nod in response, and you put the bag on the counter. You point at it, warning them, “That’s for Toji. Don’t touch it unless he doesn’t want it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” They answer, mentally praying that Toji isn’t hungry– Or that he’s too mad that he rejects it. They don’t care about the cause, they just want to eat Toji’s food. 

Just as you expected, Toji works out in the training room, wearing his uniform pants and a black undershirt. He lifts himself up, a grunt leaving his mouth which lets you know that he’s been at it for a while. You don’t mean to interrupt him, leaning on the door frame watching him workout. It’s a rare sight… And it’s certainly doing something to you. You feel your face and body get warm, erotic thoughts filling your mind.

You force yourself to look away, you’re here to apologize to your husband, you can’t let other thoughts fill up your mind. Your main and only focus is getting Toji to forgive you. You end up clearing your throat, and Toji’s eyes land on you. He lets go.

“Why are you here?” He doesn’t bother to greet you. Your presence isn’t welcome today, at least that’s what he makes it sound like. He needs time away from you to calm down and gather his thoughts, but he can’t exactly do that with you here. “Are you keeping tabs on me now?”

“I’m just dropping lunch off for you, Toji. Nothing else.” You answer. You bite down your lip, knowing you should say more; you should apologize. You have no idea why, but apologies are so fucking hard. You know you’re in the wrong, but no matter how horrible you feel, admitting you’re wrong just doesn’t come easy. You did it last night without a problem, but today it’s hard.

“Is that all?” He asks, and you shake your head. You have more to say, you just have to take a moment before saying it. Toji watches you, waiting for your apology.

“I’m sorry for what I said last night. I shouldn’t have said that.” You say, and Toji isn’t satisfied with the answer. You shouldn’t have just said that, the thought shouldn’t have even crossed your mind. “I don’t know what came over me… I just feel so insecure as I get older and change. I’ve been changing in so many ways, and I feel so different from the woman that you once fell in love with.”

“And you just thought that I’m so horrible that the slightest change would make me look for someone else?” He’s getting even more upset. You have valid reasons to feel the way you’re feeling, and he partially understands but Toji can’t find himself to tell you that he somewhat gets it. He just hates that you even thought he’d do something like that to you when he would burn the world just to see you smile.

“It’s not like that, Toji—“ You take a deep breath. “I’ve just been in my head, and you’ve also been working a lot and I’ve felt you distant which doesn’t really help… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t understand how upsetting it is to hear my own wife say that. I’d do just anything for you and–” He begins but he can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. An exasperated sigh leaves his lips and he shakes his head. “I need time. Just leave. I’ll see you at home.”

“Toji…” You begin, but you end up nodding. “I left some food for you in the kitchen. Love you.”

He hums in response, going back to his work out. Now that stings. 

Toji regrets giving his wife the silent treatment the moment there’s an emergency in his home. His heart completely stops beating for a moment, regretting not talking to you for a couple of days. He feels as if the firetruck moves slower today, which makes him want to get out and run to you to assure your safety. 

A million thoughts run through his head, wondering what happened. But that’s not what bothers him the most. The thought of your last interaction ending in you telling him you love him and him not answering back will haunt him forever. If something happens to you, he’d never forgive himself.

There’s a couple of neighbors huddled up outside, watching the flames that are on the left side of the house. Toji doesn’t really have time to watch, he runs into the house to search for you. He feels as if his heart is in his throat, ready to leave his body until he finally finds out. You’re passed out on the bathroom floor but thankfully away from the fire.

He throws you over his shoulder and carries you out. He gets you to the paramedics, and stays by your side, knowing that everything else is under control. Time goes so slow yet so fast while the paramedics check you, and while you’re out of danger, he’s more nervous than before. The saddest tears spill from his eyes, yet they hold so much relief when he’s assured that you’re okay. The situation could’ve ended much worse, but thankfully you’re okay. 

Toji has many questions about the situation, wondering what could’ve possibly happened for you to pass out on the bathroom floor like you did. But he doesn’t worry about the details, he doesn’t care that half of his house is burned, he’s just happy that you’re safe. Your safety is all that matters. 

When you gain consciousness, you’re bombarded with love from Toji. Toji is off work for a week to make sure that you’re okay, after all, you did faint in the bathroom which caused half of your home to burn down. Toji’s love is weird though, at least compared to before. Toji isn’t verbal with his love, he shows it to you physically. However, the week that he stays by your side, Toji doesn’t touch you in any way. 

Toji views you as fragile, even though you assured him that you were okay after going to the hospital. It’s as if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that you’re okay, and it irks you. Maybe it irks you more than it should because whenever you try to initiate something with him, he turns you down.

When you kiss his exposed shoulder, hugging his waist from behind, giving him some sort of hint that you need to feel his touch, he stops you. He cuts you off with a yawn, telling you that he’s too tired to do anything. It leaves you frustrated in so many ways– Not having sex isn’t the part that annoys you the most, it’s the fact that Toji is coddling you. 

Toji doesn’t let you do anything he considers mildly dangerous, and he won’t talk about any topic that might upset you. Your argument before the fire hasn’t been resolved yet since he dismisses it every time you try to apologize for it. 

Toji acts as if he’s guilty of something but he’s done nothing wrong. 

“What are you doing here?” Toji asks. Last time he said similar words, his tone was harsher, his anger clear, but right now he’s concerned. Did something happen? You look fine as you sip on some tea… He just can’t wrap his head around as to why you’re here.

“I think we should have a talk.” You answer. Maybe this could have waited until later, but he’s on a twenty four hour shift and you feel as if your thoughts are getting the best of you again. You watch as everyone scatters out of the kitchen, sensing that the topic that you’re going to talk about is something serious.

“You’re just here to keep an eye on me, huh?” He jokes, followed by a lighthearted chuckle. You roll your eyes and he begins to walk away, “I’m going to take a shower, we can talk at home.”

You stand up, following behind him, calling out to him, “Toji, c’mon. We both know that you’re not going to talk when we’re at home. It’s quick.”

Your words go ignored. Toji gets to the men’s bathroom, practically shutting the door in your face. You cross your arms, staring at the door. He knows you’re too much of a prude to enter the men’s room. You think about how Toji only takes ten minutes in the shower, but you have a feeling that he’ll take at least an hour today. You think about leaving– But no, you’re going to talk to him now. Whether he likes it or not.

You look both ways before barging into the man’s bathroom, and you feel your face get hot, embarrassment taking over you the moment you step a foot inside. There’s luckily no one inside, so you have no reason to actually be embarrassed. You lock the door behind you before looking for Toji. Your ears follow the sound of the water droplets that hit the ground until you land on the closed curtain. 

“Toji.” You call out his name, yet he doesn’t answer. If it’s not him, you could crawl into a hole and die of shame, but you know it’s him. There’s no one else in here. “Toji Fushiguro, I swear–”

You shut your eyes before you take a deep breath. You begin to get undressed, getting more and more irritated by the second. Once you’re completely bare, you open the shower curtain and enter the shower. You almost squeal at the cold water, but you get used to the feeling quickly. He lets out a low laugh when he feels your arms wrap around him, feeling your warmth behind him.

“You should warn a guy. I almost punched you but then I felt a pair of boobs press against my back.” Toji says as you press a kiss on his wet back. He heard you call out his name, he knew it was you. Toji isn’t deaf even though he loves to pretend like he is hard of hearing.

“I’ll fucking kill you. I called out your names a couple of times.” You tell him. He’s smiling as he turns around to face you. He kisses the top of your head as you hug him tight, and it feels like the first touch you’ve gotten from him after some time. It makes you feel warm inside, a smile unwillingly coming to your lips. “Now you have to talk to me.”

“Isn’t that what we do daily.” Toji answers, and your bottom lip sticks out.

“About serious matters, Toji.” You respond, and a sigh leaves his lips. He can’t escape this– Although he isn’t exactly upset with the situation. “C’mon. I’m fine, am I not? We can talk. You were upset before.”

“Yeah… But I overreacted.” He replies. He had the right to be upset, but he regrets not saying that he loves you back. He can’t forgive himself for almost letting your last real interaction end with him just humming when you told him you loved him. “You tried to talk to me and I was… A little bitch.”

“A little bitch, really?” You can’t help but giggle. He could’ve used any other words to describe himself. “I’m glad you came to your senses.”

“But look what had to happen for me to use my brain.” Toji’s fingers caress your back. You press a kiss on his chest before your hands go to the back of his neck, pulling his head down so you can kiss his lips. 

“You were rightfully upset… You did drag it out a bit though.” You tell him, and he laughs. He did. He had your perspective and he still treated you harshly. He can’t help but think that this whole incident wouldn’t have happened if he treated you better in that moment. He also thinks that you’re hiding something from him about your health because last time you were honest with him, he had a bad reaction.

“Are you really okay, though? Is there anything wrong with your health?” He asks, and you shake your head in response. It’s the truth, you’re more than okay. But it isn't so easy to believe that, after all, you wouldn’t have fainted if your health was completely fine. 

“I’m more than okay.” You reassure him. You press your lips against his again. “Why are you so… Distant?”

“What do you mean distant?” He furrows his brows in confusion. If anything, he’s closer to you than ever. You bite down your lip before you say,

“This is the longest you’ve held me ever since our argument… You don’t try to touch me anymore.” 

“I…” He begins, and you watch his eyes tear up. You didn’t mean for that to happen. You peck his lips, hoping that it’ll make the tears go away. He smiles before telling you, “I’m just an idiot.”

“Is that all you have to say?” You ask him. He can’t bring himself to say it. He felt too guilty to touch you. He could’ve avoided it all. A simple kiss just takes him back to that moment– He feels unworthy of you and of your touch. But right now he feels different. He should’ve told you he loved you back. All his hopes and dreams with you almost slipped away, and he’s at fault for that. He hums in response, that’s all he’s willing to share. 

“Did you lock the door before coming in here?” He changes the topic. A mischievous look comes to your face, which is the answer to his question. He doesn’t waste a second before his lips land on yours, his tongue moving past your parted lips and into your mouth. You pull him closer to you as your tongue presses against his. 

Toji’s hand goes down and grabs a handful of your ass before he practically pushes you against the wall of the shower. The kiss gets more heated by the second, and every ounce of shame leaves your body as you feel his hot hands on your now cold body. He manages to set your body on fire even in such cold water.

“I need you so badly.” You mutter when he pulls away from your lips, kissing your jaw following down your neck. His hands fondle your breast as your hand goes down to his erection. Even in cold water you get him so fucking hard. His index finger and thumb pinch one of your nipples, while he kisses down your neck and to your chest. His mouth wraps around your other nipple, and he sucks.

You begin to stroke his cock, eager to feel him inside of you. You need his touch now more than ever. You’re needy. Toji’s hand goes down to your cunt, two fingers running through your folds, making your thighs squeeze out of pure excitement. Toji unlatches, getting down to his knees to do what he should’ve done a long time ago.

He kisses your clit before his tongue runs through your folds. He’s fucking missed your taste– And the way you softly moan when his tongue moves on your cunt. His tongue focuses on your clit while two of his fingers tease the entrance of your cunt. 

He pushes two fingers in, making a breathy moan leave your lips. Your hand slaps over your mouth, remembering the place you’re at. They can’t hear you, you’re safe, but panic still sets in. Toji stops flicking your clit to tell you, “I need to hear you, baby. Want you to be loud.”

“Not here, Toji.” You whisper, cut off by a moan as his fingers curve so they brush against your sweet spot. Toji’s mouth doesn’t waste time going back to your cunt, quickly getting used to the taste and not being able to stay away from it for too long. You can’t help but mutter, “You’re doing so good– Fuck…”

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. Toji does everything in his power to make you feel on cloud nine. The best way he knows how to apologize. You can’t argue with it, not when you’re on the verge of screaming his name because he’s making you feel so good.

He’s working you up, leading you up to your climax. The pressure on your lower abdomen builds up and just as your release nears, he pulls his fingers out, leaving your cunt to clench around nothing. He rises from between your legs, his lips messily kissing yours again.

“Need to feel you around me, baby.” Toji’s voice and actions are filled with desperation. You can’t judge him because you feel the same way. Toji runs the tip of his cock through your folds before reaching the entrance. He slaps the tip on your cunt, teasing you. He would almost make you beg for it, but he can’t wait any longer. He slowly pushes himself in, hissing as he feels your cunt take him in.

He gives you a moment to adjust to the sudden change before he begins to thrust in and out of you.  You’re struggling, holding back moans in the back of your throat. It’s hard when his cock feels so perfect inside of you.

“It’s so good, Toji.” You’re so quiet, he fucking hates it. He loves when you’re loud, letting him know just how good you feel because of him. It’d be so embarrassing for his co-workers to hear, but fuck, is it painful to not hear your sweet voice.

Toji’s hand goes to your throat, lightly squeezing. His index and middle finger go up and reach your lips, and as soon as your mouth slightly parts, the two fingers enter your mouth. His lips go down to kiss your shoulder before he bites down. He can’t help but tell you, “You feel so perfect around me, baby.” 

“Toji-” You sound so pathetic. He wants to hear you scream his name, but he knows you won’t. It’s surprising that you’re even doing this with him. He takes his fingers out of your mouth, moving them down to play with your clit. You moan his name again, but louder.

“Need to tell you how much I love you.” Toji’s lips go to your ear. He moans in your ear as he feels your cunt squeeze around him, and fuck, he knows he won’t last long. You’re just so nice and warm around him, he swears this is heaven. “Need to give you all my cum, baby. You’d like that? You want my cum, baby?”

“I need your cum, Toji.” You begin to squeeze around him. Toji loves to tease you about knocking you up, and it always riles you up. You shut your eyes as your hands go into his shoulders and your nails dig into his soft flesh. You’re so close to your release.

“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll knock you up.” He watches your face filled with pleasure. It’s taking everything in him to not lose control.

“Toji!” You see white, reaching your climax. He holds on to you as your legs become weak for that moment. 

He keeps moaning into your ear and telling you, “Need to knock up your sweet little pussy.”

His thrusts become unregulated. He doesn’t want to stop now but he does have to go back to work before an emergency pops up. He wishes he could spend all day beside you, making you feel so good. Toji finally moans your name, as his warm cum fills you up.

You spend a moment in silence, hearing the water hit the ground before he pulls out. You quietly clean yourselves up, and you almost gag knowing that you’ll be smelling like a three-in-one old spice body wash for the rest of the day.

“How am I going to sneak out of here, Toji?” You ask when he turns off the faucet. He shrugs in response. Maybe getting in the shower with him wasn’t the best idea. Your wet hair is a dead giveaway at the fact that you were doing something that you weren’t supposed to be doing. 

Toji gives you the towel that he was going to use, while drying himself up with the towel that was meant for his hair. He picks up your clothes from the floor, setting them down on the sink. “Just ignore them. We weren’t the first people to do this, and I doubt we’ll be the last.”

“It’s still embarrassing.” You respond, and Toji furrows his brows in confusion before a chuckle escapes his lips.

“Good thing it wasn’t my idea. Let me remind you that you came in uninvited. Plus, they should be understanding since half of our house is getting renovated.” Toji answers, making you roll your eyes. Your bedroom and bathroom is still intact, it’s really no excuse.

“Yeah, whatever.” You aren’t exactly too upset since things are back to being somewhat normal. You begin to put your clothes back on, as Toji mindlessly watches you. You tilt your head to the side before asking, “Is everything okay?”

“I know I’m all talk and shit about knocking you up but…” He begins, and it’s an unexpected topic. You’re fighting back a smile as you hear him say, “Don’t you want to start a family soon?”

“Oh, Toji.” You finish putting on your shirt, stepping closer to him and kissing his cheek. It's a weird response… Is that a yes? He thinks so at least. “I’ve been keeping something from you.”

“Huh?” He’s scared of what you’re going to say next. “What…?”

“When I went to the doctor, there wasn’t anything wrong with me exactly… Nothing concerning.” You begin, and he grows impatient as he waits for you to get to the point. “I was feeling dizzy and all while cooking so I thought going to the bathroom and washing my face real quick would help me, but I fainted.”

“Yeah, I know that. You’ve told me a couple of times.” He interrupts you since he’s too impatient. “What are you keeping from me?”

“I’m pregnant.” You blurt out, and Toji’s eyes widen. Are his ears deceiving him? He stares at you in shock for a moment before you repeat, “I’m pregnant, Toji.”

“I–” He’s speechless. He can’t say anything, but he can wrap his arms around you and kiss all over your face. This news is the best news he’s gotten in his life– Sure he was expecting this to happen a couple months into the future, but he certainly isn’t upset about it. He tells you over and over again, “Thank you, my love.”

You were worried about his reaction because your life isn’t all that ideal right now, but he’s over the moon. And so are you. Toji’s nose is nuzzled in the crook of your neck as he holds onto you. He holds still for a moment, until you finally tell him, “Go put on some clothes, Toji. Half of your dick is still hanging out.”

“Wait for me so I can escort you out.” He responds. It’s like he wants to parade you after fucking you in the bathroom. 

He smirks at you. That’s exactly what he wants to do.

[enluv]

in another life.

lee heeseung x f!reader x ??? (it'll make sense when you read I promise)

SYNOPSIS: in which losing you is the least of heeseung’s worries, until he’s forced to watch you slip through his fingers.

wc: 1.9k (almost 2k fr)!

genres: best friends to strangers, unrequited love (or is it), best friends to lovers

warning(s): heavy angst, toxic friendship/relationship, heeseung is mean, very very mean, manipulation (nothing too crazy), refusal to take blame, and heeseung needs to be humbled imo...ANYWAYS, small plot twist but not really! (a/n: header is ugly because I made it in like 2 minutes since it felt naked without one 🤣☝🏽)

Lee Heeseung knows about your feelings for him at  the mere age of eight, when you give him the other half of your popsicle stick that you’ve just bought with your very own allowance. His smile is so bright taking the food from your hand that it doesn't even matter if you've spent all five of your dollars on the popsicle because as long as your youthful heart can see Heeseung smile, that’s all that matters to you.

Heeseung also knows about your feelings for him when you're both sixteen and he proudly exclaims that he’s finally asked Jisun out after months of pining after her. A hurt look flashes across your face for one, two then three seconds, then as if it was never there, it’s gone. He thinks it might have been a bad idea to tell you but he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings you have for him and in his mind, he never will. 

“Come on Y/N, it’s one party, please come with me please, I don’t want to be alone all night,” he pouts tugging at the sleeve of your sweater. Heeseung knows it’s not right to do things like this, knows he shouldn’t force you to go with him everywhere but he likes that you can’t say no to him, it swells his heart with pride to have someone care for him as much as you do.

“I already told you I have to study for midterms, go alone or with Jay.” Your tone isn’t dead-set and Heeseung knows he’s cornered you. He smiles as an idea forms in his head, maybe he can persuade you with just enough charm, it’s worked in the past so why not now?

“I seriously can not believe Heeseung got you to come, I know he said he could do it but honestly Y/N, I thought you were stronger than that.” It’s always the same sentence or form of it. It tugs at your heart, just like in high school people in college are just as aware of how you feel for him, even he knows it himself. He plays a blind man to your feelings.

An ache begins to pump in your heart, whatever liquor Yeonjun had handed you when you stepped in seems to not be working and that night as you watch Heeseung dance with Mina, you vow to yourself silently that you'll start your process of healing from whatever feelings you have for Lee Heeseung.

A few days later Jay watches a frantic Heeseung search for his phone charger in amusement, “Missing an important call?” He quips playfully, the whole house knows why he’s so desperate to charge his dying phone. The past three days since he ditched you at TXT’s frat party you’ve been ignoring his texts, calls, and even him.

“Hyung, why are you so worried about Y/N calling? Didn't you ditch her? I wouldn’t call either if I was her,” the small comment earns Sunghoon a smack to the back of his head.

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N would never ignore me like this. All I have to do is apologize with breakfast and she’ll accept it every time, we’ve done this before and never gone a day without talking.”

The boys can’t fully grasp why Heeseung is acting the way he is, to them he sounds like a desperate boyfriend after a fight that’s resulted in the silent treatment but Heeseung has continuously said he does not feel the same towards his best friend so they write it off as some form of separation anxiety and leave his room.

“I’m surprised you’ve held out this long Y/N,” jokes a sheepish Jeongin as he takes a glance at your phone screen that’s currently being lit up by multiple unread messages from Heeseung.

“I told you I’m ready to move on, I’ll talk to him when I see fit, I just need a few more days to myself.”

He hums in response as he lifts himself off his chair reaching a hand out for you to follow, “I’m proud of you ‘s all, he’s an asshole for using your feelings against you and making you feel the way he did, you don’t deserve that at all. You deserve someone who'd never ditch you." 

Two weeks. It's been two weeks since you've spoken to Heeseung, his room is a mess with clothes and books scattered on the floor, usually you come by and help him organize things. He's had enough of this. Your contact suddenly flashes across his screen while he's out on a date, he doesn't hesitate to answer, bidding the girl he's dropping off a quick goodbye.

“Hello? Y/N? I’m really glad you called me, I have so much to ask you but guess what, I just had the most amazing date-” he’s cut off by your loud sigh and for a moment his heart drops, you've never stopped him from ranting about dates.

“Heeseung,” his name sounds foreign coming from your mouth, “we really need to talk, I have a lot to say to you so could we please meet tomorrow?” He isn't sure why but his stomach twists at your request.

The meeting between you two is quick and to Heeseung's surprise, brief. You explain to him that leaving you at a party he begged you to come to had upset you since it wasn’t his first time doing so, you also tell him that you needed the two weeks of space from not only him but everyone else to care for yourself, and you’d hoped he understood that. Of course he did, he felt shitty just thinking about the situation and promised to never do it again, to be a better "friend."

Things after your initial break from Heeseung fall back into place quickly and it's as if you never left his side, but he could tell you were different now, you refused to go with him to parties if he asked and any charming tricks he had up his sleeve fell flat when you'd respond with a hard “No.” Heeseung also noticed the interest you'd taken in Jeongin, and that made him feel things he'd never felt before. 

It’s difficult to watch you flirt with one of his best friends, on one hand he should feel happy watching your attention sway to someone else after having caught it for so many years but on the other he isn’t happy at all, to be completely honest he feels bitter at the thought of you two together. 

“You're an asshole Heeseung, like a really big one, do you know how long Y/N has been in love with you? Since we were like eight playing cops and robbers in the streets, and she loved you throughout the time that came after and every time we asked, you denied any feelings for her, but now all of a sudden you think you might love her back? Just when she's finally healing from the shit you put her through? That’s such an asshole move dude, super low of you,” and as Beomgyu’s rant subsides Heeseung stares at him puzzled, what did he ever do that was so bad to you?

“Don't give me that look, you've done so much shit to her, hell I don't know how she’s still your best friend, if I was her I’d have left you already.”

Heeseung continues to give Beomgyu the most confused look ever and with a small eye roll Beomgyu answers his question, “You use her to get what you want but never have you done anything to show her gratitude or any reciprocated feelings. All you ever do is give her hope, you act like you like her back when you need her but as soon as you get what you want, you leave her behind. It’s fucking sad dude. You're a horrible friend to her honestly.”

Heeseung’s heart burns, he’s known his whole life that he’d done this to you but to hear it laid out in front of him now, he can see how terrible it all actually is. How had you continued being his friend? If he was in your position he’d have left ages ago, but you didn’t, and that single thought is what gives Heeseung hope for you and him. He knows it’s dumb, he knows he doesn’t deserve you at all, but he wants you terribly and if he has to beg he will, if he has to lie he will, hell Heeseung would drop everyone for you. All that matters is that you stay with him, not with anyone else, and especially not with Jeongin.

Heeseung can spot you from a mile away. His smile grows wide before dropping instantly as he watches Jeongin hand you what looks to be a flower. The look on your face mirrors Jeongin’s, it’s happy and full. You've never smiled at him that way. Heeseung realizes that the only smiles you give him now are filled with sadness. His stomach knots, why does he feel so unsure of you right now. He’s never felt this much uncertainty from you ever. 

He blames it on the fact that you two haven’t been talking as much lately. He blames the short break you had because there’s no way you’d actually stop wanting to be his friend, no way he’d ever lose you. You’ve always been by his side, and it will continue to be that way, because you love him and he has you wrapped around his finger. But, Heeseung knows deep down this security can’t be fed any longer as he watches you walk past him, hand in hand with Jeongin, not a single look his way, he's lost you.

It’s proven to him in the months to come as you slowly slip out of his pinned messages, as you take him off your private stories, and he has to watch you live your life through others. Heeseung knows he’s lost you especially when all together you stop coming to his rescue, won’t pick up the phone to hear his ramblings about dates and girls. He knows he’s lost you when you tell him you’re busy and can’t do what he wants. When you send him an awkward smile and gesture to your hand entwined with Jeongin's, as if to say, "sorry I'm with him now, you're too late."

If anyone ever asks Lee Heeseung about his one true love, he’ll say your name. He’s never been sure of what love is, never found it for himself, but he knows deep down that if he’s ever loved anyone, it’s you. You were the person he called at 3am when he crashed his car into a pole, you were the same person whose dorm had housed him a multitude of times when he was too drunk to crawl back to his own, the same person who loved him for years, until you couldn’t any longer and stopped waiting on him to give you the same love back, thinking he could never give it to you.

Heeseung likes to think that in another life he wasn't a complete asshole, realized your worth sooner, and maybe even had the balls to ask you out. He pictures himself in Jeongin's place, dating through college, moving in together after, getting married, having kids, living domestically. All he can do now is dream, maybe that's why he likes to sleep so much, because in his sleep-ridden mind, you're with him.

coco’s love note: mwahahahaha did you guys like the plot twist? are we happy 😁 are we mad? should we fight heeseung?! tbh writing this fic has been a wild ride, originally i had mc & heeseung end up with one another but then I decided that no, i didn’t want that, I wanted to show the results of a toxic “relationship” running it’s course through and through, that’s why heeseung never quite admits he’s wrong/he still feels entitled to mc even till the end! I wanted to show that he’d never change, even if he did “love” mc. anyways…thoughts?! comments?! concerns?! make sure to leave a comment or rb this with anything you’d like me to know or tell me how you felt about this fic :) muah ily! ty @odxrilove for reading it for me and not letting me change it again 😁🙏

ENHYPEN TAGLIST! - yeoforce @bloom-bloom-pow @nikis-mum @yourlocalhotgf @kyublr @spoooooooooooon @enhacolor @yoongimooni @blaqpinksthectic @gyuuss @eternallyhyucks @dinosdance @simpforsung @misschubswrites @junityy @jjunry @jwonsgirl @fxckingshame @stealanity @haoreo @jxp1t-3r @chaerybae @bobariki @vatterie @tytrackfebreze @veryjeongintxtkid @w3bqrl @heefys @haechan-nahceah @telesvng @queen-klarissa @odxrilove @s00buwu @j-wyoung

[brokenpieces-72]

Echo

Note: I have been working on this oc for a while, and there's a lot I wanted to do with them. This story is oc reader insert, so I leave the name open but the hero name is already established.

CW: Foster system (abuse of it), injured reader, financial abuse, car crash, let me know if I missed anything.

You know that feeling when everything seems to be falling apart? You’ve had it before, when you lost your parents and separated from your sibling in the foster system. You feel it now too along with plenty of soreness from your injuries.

You lay in the hospital bed, with your cracked phone screen. Foster parents hadn’t seen any of your texts and no phone calls had been answered. You messaged your sibling but they wouldn’t be able to make it to you. Your friends were either stuck at work or asleep right now. The nurses and doctor suggested calling a lawyer for yourself, since the other driver is a lawyer and his family wants to press charges. Insurance company has you covered for any other surgery or treatment they need to do so no need to contact them.

Still, you stare at your phone screen staring at the small text message history you have. You could try. He might be busy, but you could try. While your boss wasn’t the softest or kindest person, he still cared. Many not a lot, but at least a little. Then again, maybe it would be a chance for him to stop mentoring you, and go solo again. The pros and cons fight over what to say in the text. Regardless you wouldn't be out of hospital for a while so he needed to know that.

E: Hey boss, sorry but I can’t come in to work for the next couple days.

You shut your phone off after sending it. Then you turn it back on again, debating whether to delete it, edit it, or leave it. Honestly with the drugs in your system, it’s a little hard to make proper decisions. You know he’ll ask, you know he’ll be hard on you for reckless driving, but he’s all you’ve got right now. Right now you just need another person with you, even if they’re somewhat of a stranger.

Your phone rings. Holy crap it can still do calls? Whatever not the point. You answer the call without paying attention to the screen, though you briefly see the name. This would not be pleasant.

“Hello?” You answered, before coughing. Maybe you could cover up your sore voice as a sick one.

“What's going on?” Your boss asked.

“Uhh… can I…” you pause a lot, the war still going on, and fighting over your vocal cords. To your boss's credit he’s patient right now. Finally, you get something out. “Are you on patrol?”

You rub your head, praying you don’t have a headache coming on. Your boss takes a moment to answer.

“Yes why?” He asked. He sounds irritated. You don’t want a lecture when he gets here.

“Nevermind. Forget it.” You say quickly.

“Outlaw, answer the question.” He said.

“… I…” you swallowed. “I’m in hospital. No one can make it, and… was wondering if you could come see me?”

There’s silence again and you shut your eyes. This was a bad idea. You hear a sigh over the phone, and regret sinks in.

“Forget it, I’ll be fi-“

“On my way, give me a few minutes. Do you need anything?” Your boss asked.

“Maybe a change of clothes.” You suggest. “That’s kind of it.”

He hangs up, and you sigh. He was gonna lecture you, but at least he was coming. Especially if they needed to do more surgery. God knows your fosters wouldn’t come anytime soon.

Jason Todd arrived at the hospital, jacket on, hood up, and a small backpack with a change of clothes for you. Trying to see you as your boss likely wouldn’t work very well, but seeing you as your brother could pass. He approaches the desk where a nurse is typing away. The nurse looked up, seeing him almost towering over her.

“Here to see Y/N L/N.” he asked.

“Down that hall, room 168.” The nurse instructed. Jason made his way down the hall, keeping an eye out for the room. He stopped himself just outside your door, ensuring the face mask he brought covered his face. His eyes were uncovered, but the hood shielded them enough. Then he overheard you on the phone.

“It was an accident, I swear I did-no it wasn’t for attention. I was just-“ you tried to get a word in as your foster parents demanded to know why they were getting medical bills. Jason steps in, quietly as you continued to plead innocent. “I just went out to meet a friend, I wasn't even drinking. Insurance money will cover it, I checked. I'm not asking you to cover it, I'm just telling y-...Okay. I'll transfer the mon-I'll take it out when I get the chance.”

You’re on the phone getting yelled at until they finally hang up. Your head is down, and you're holding back tears. When you looked up you nearly jumped out of bed, seeing the large figure that had come into your room. The red hoodie was a dead giveaway. Jason stepped in and set the bag down nearby.

“What happened?” He asked, not bothering with a greeting.

“Car accident… don’t quite remember. I swear I was driving on the right side, and I tried to move out of the way, but…” you trailed off.

“At least you’re alive.” He pointed out.

“Yeah so I can get medical bills, foster parents barking at me, no car for the next who knows how long, and now I even have to get a lawyer because the family of the other driver says it was all my fault, and I won’t be able to go to work or go on patrol or even train.” You say, trying to keep the lump in your throat down. The last thing you wanted was to start sobbing.

Jason sits in a nearby chair. “You’ll need more than a couple days.”

“The couple days is just for me to get out of hospital, the rest I can do easily enough.” You say, shrugging. As if shrugging really got rid of the weight of everything. Red Hood needed Echo, they were close to a breakthrough in a fighting and drug ring.

“You need rest.” Jason told you.

“For a couple days, then I’ll be back on my feet. The next load is coming Thursday, I'll be fine by then.” You said firmly, but there was a crack in your voice from emotion. Sidelining is the last thing you want. You’ve worked too hard for him to take you out of the game. Jason is quiet in the chair. It looks like he staring at the floor or the bed but you know he’s looking at you under his hood. You refuse to break.

Jason knows you are though. You’re tired, you’re injured, you have morphine in your blood stream, and financially you’re fucked. When he sighs, you think it’s pointed towards you and your stubbornness. It’s not. He realizes that you’ve been carrying a lot more than he thought. Now he has to call for a favour, one he didn’t want to ask for.

“Kid, right now, you are unfit to fight-don’t interrupt.” He said, holding his hand up, before you could argue. “You’re injured, you’re stressed, and you’ll be distracted. The last thing I want is your death on my conscious because I let you get yourself killed.”

“I don’t need to be sidelined.” You said, your voice breaking.

“You’re being benched for your own good. When you’re ready to get back into the game, I’ll pull you in. Don’t rush it but don’t waste time.” Red Hood ordered. You nodded. It’s a bit of a relief, since you haven’t had much time for regular life, let alone time for yourself.

“How long do I have?” You asked. Of course you wanted to be on a time limit. Jason did it to you for a lot of your training, whether it was posting up or reaching a checkpoint.

“Knowing shit like this, it will take maybe a week or so until you’re out of here.” Jason thought out loud.

“Then I have to get a lawyer which is a week or so, I have enough money… I should. I can do that while I’m recovering, and then I have work, and my side job. Chores, extra because I’ll be away. Then getting my vehicle repaired which will take a while…” your voice broke again thinking about the work you had after you leave the hospital.

“Hey.” Jason said. You looked up at him and it’s the first time you’ve seen his eyes. They were more natural than you thought. For some reason you thought they’d be red or maybe yellow. “This isn’t a fight, focus on what’s in front of you. I’ll give you a month.”

“I won’t need a month.” You said, take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“You’re getting one. Consider it mandatory vacation or something.” Jason said.

You want to thank him, and hug him but you’re a little incapable. The relief is massive wave, almost drowning you. You look down at your broken phone, feeling it vibrate.

“Thank you.” You said, the tears finally breaking free from your eyes. You sniffle and wipe at them. “Sorry.”

“Just fucking cry kid. Your life is falling apart it’s a normal response.” Jason said.

You let out a small noise that he thinks is you laughing. You nod, wiping your eyes, and a small smile on your face. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you. You wouldn’t happen to know any lawyers would you?” You asked. Your phone vibrated and you checked it, seeing your friend had replied, saying he was close by.

“Recover for the first while, then worry about a lawyer.” Red Hood said. Jason notices you smile at your phone, and takes it as his cue to leave. “Rest. I’ll be in touch.”

Jason gets up, leaving the backpack. Once he steps into the hallway he sighs. He doesn’t want to make this call, he really doesn’t. But you’re his partner, his apprentice. Hell, you’re basically his Robin. Jason had a rough life. You might have what he didn’t, but that didn’t make your life perfect. He’d been pulled out of that struggle and sure it wasn’t perfect, but it was at the very least decent.

Once he’s out of the hospital, he dials on his phone. He didn’t want to but with the bs justice system Gotham has, you would need some help.

“Alfred?” Jason said, hearing a familiar older voice on the other end. “Is Bruce there? I need to talk to him.”

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving

[weebsinstash]

Hello! I don’t know if you do this but I was wondering what your thoughts were for a Yandere Lucifer Morningstar from Hazbin Hotel? I’m having trouble writing a good representation of him and would like some advice.

Honestly I'm gonna humble myself and say that it took reading someone else's post to make me like, REALLY notice the nuances of Lucifer's character

This post right here literally made me rewatch his scenes and go "oh wow he IS like DANGEROUSLY DEPRESSED"

He doesn't remember Charlie told him where she is, or what she's doing, and he can barely follow a conversation despite clearly trying to pay attention. He also just seems kind of scattered, and um, HE LITERALLY MAKES A JOKE ABOUT DYING FROM FALLING OFF THE HOTEL BALCONY like dude is making jokes about death in front of his fucking daughter, like my dudes, I think this guy is BARELY holding himself together

He clearly loves loves LOVES Charlie but he doesn't really know how to properly articulate himself and I have a feeling there's a lot he's concealing from her, and another big question is, is his depression from being cast out of Heaven, or from something to do with his missing wife, or a combination of both? Either way this man is clearly dealing with like, really bad issues. And Charlie also mentioned he wasn't around a whole lot when she was younger, so... did he have depression back then too?

So, that all said, I feel like a yandere Lucifer would almost be, potentially invigorated by his darling? Given a new lease on life? He may not be 100% his old self again but, you get him to like, 65, maybe 70% on a good day. You give him another reason to get out of bed in the morning, or afternoon, or evening or, whenever he can drag his depressed ass out of bed

Given what we currently know, I feel like a romantic yandere Lucifer would pretend to only be platonic and do his best to poorly conceal his feelings because of his whole... "can't ask his missing wife if it's ok for you to be their third" ordeal, the man still wears his wedding ring, and a platonic yandere Lucifer basically adopts you like another kid, because uh, I mean for one he apparently canonically missed a lot of Charlie's childhood, and he's also an ancient fallen angel, so he's got that age advantage on you no matter how old you are. I mean what are a few decades when he's literally thousands upon thousands upon thousands--you get the idea

Yandere Lucifer would want to stay close to you, helping watch over you, maaaaaybe being overly paranoid about you randomly disappearing and going missing For Very Obvious Reasons, and in the process he winds up being unintentionally overbearing. I mean, he did it in irritation, but he basically showed up at Charlie's hotel immediately saying it was a dump and all of HER FRIENDS were 'a bunch of losers'. He never completely pulls his punches when there's something he's displeased with, even if it has something to do with someone he loves, so his darling would get much of the same treatment. "Ohhhhh, you uh, you wanted to move across the city? That's, um, definitely a fun idea! BuuuuuUuuut, what IF, instead of doing that--", like, he tries to playfully tug you in 'the right direction' until you make him put his foot down

Hmmm... what would him losing his cool look like... well, we've already seen that he doesn't mind throwing hands and WILL KILL, but will stop if he's asked to or there's a good reason. With you, though, you're not typically going to be there to stop him from offing any rivals or bad influences, so I imagine he'd be kinda casual about it, actually! He already thinks pretty lowly of Sinners, so say he finds out you've been ditching him and Charlie to go out drinking with strangers, making new friends, maybe having a few one night stands? Yeah, some of those people definitely aren't calling you back, and Lucifer doesn't really see a problem with it. These people are kind of the worst and really don't deserve you, anyways! If anything he's helping clean up Hell for you and his daughter and keeping you safe :)

Losing his cool with YOU... I think would involve him using his powers to finally confine you, maybe even going demon mode to intimidate you into submission in a very dad-esque "now you listen HERE" kind of way. We don't really know the scope and scale of his powers but I can picture him at least being, obviously much stronger than he looks, and transforming to fly you "back home" where he puts you in your room where no one can reach you without his explicit permission (and you also can't leave~)

One second you're just drunk and jokingly defying him, teasing him, maybe even picking him up and swinging him around because you're bigger than him, to you he's just a silly little guy! Meanwhile this Grown Ass Man Who Is Also The Actual Devil is getting more than just a little frustrated you basically view him as a wacky little cartoon more than a grown man, one who has had sex and has had two wives and sired a child. You're just teasing him and stumbling around drunk when he's trying to get you to your hotel room to get to bed to sleep, like you're clearly not taking him seriously, maybe even playfully putting your hands on him (TOTALLY not riling him up in 'fun' ways) and he finally just huffs and snaps his fingers and, you're suddenly magic'd to bed! You're laying there blinking confused and he's tucking you in and chuckling that "you're such a handful!" before leaving you to sleep and somehow INSTANTLY knowing when you're up.

You ARE in his house, after all...

Not to be gross but uh..... I'm not saying "yandere Lucifer who has the power to still get a Sinner pregnant if he wanted to and you wind up fooling around with him and you're waking up with his little apple symbol on your lower tummy as one of those like hentai womb tattoos to show you're pregnant" but uhhhhhhhhhhyeah that's what I'm saying, and whether it was accidentally or intentionally, he's keeping it, and thus, keeping YOU

I just feel like he'd be very goofy and awkward and bad at hiding his feelings and being very clearly overprotective and jealous in ways everyone else but you manages to pick up on (god Alastor would have some MATERIAL) and, in a romantic/sexual setting he eventually just loses his patience with you not seeing him as a man and just gets... progressively more forward. You pop back into the Hotel after a night out and Lucifer's already hammered at the bar with Husk, stumbling up to you, hanging off of you, slurring and embarrassing himself, "You'reeeee SO pretty... like SO pretty.... do you wanna have *BELCH* you wanna fuck? Cause I LOVE to fuck, like when I FUCKED my wife to make my DAUGHTER, my wife and daughter that I have, 'cuz im a DAD, 'cuz I'm a MAN!" and you're just giggling and ruffling his hair, "You're so weird, dude ^^" and walking away while Lucifer internally screams, wondering just how DIRECT with you he's going to have to be

meanwhile Charlie is totally cool with all of this and sees this as a weird double whammy of Curing Dad's Depression + new family member and friend hurray! and she's totally actively either shipping you with her dad or aiding and abetting him in his weird attempts to absorb you into the Morningstar family

[allbark-no-bite]

i would’ve married you.

icemav x reader (wc. 2.4k)

summary: It had always been Maverick. It had been Maverick long before you met Ice and would continue to be Maverick until he took his last breath.

warnings: severe angst, mentions of cancer, vomiting, character death

authors note: for all of my followers, i know this isn’t something that i would usually post but i’m immensely proud of it. this is for all of my Icemav Topgun people out there

————————————————————————

You watch as he cinches his belt one, two, five times. But you didn't have to watch him dress to know how much weight he had lost. The gauntness of his cheekbones could have told you that. He could have told you that. But he doesn't. And neither of you talk about it.

He just trudges tiredly out of the bedroom, running a hand through his frosty hair as he passes through the door frame. It seemed as though out of all the loss you had expected to come along with chemo, both the tumor and his hair were insistent upon staying.

Tom had the kind of hair that one would expect a man aging into his thirties to have: still relatively thick, however dulling in color, and ever threatening to see it's final days. Except it had looked like this for the past ten years. So had you expected the chemo to finally push the bleach damaged strands over the edge? Yes. Were you surprised when it didn't? No.

Along with his steel cut jawline and the soft roundness that his high cheekbones had given his face, it worked for him. He seemed to be perpetually never aging, stuck between a spry young cadet and weathered admiral.

"Where are you going? You have an appointment today." You watch, unamused and arms crossed as he moves through the house, gathering his things.

"No, I have to go into the office today. I'm already behind on too much paperwork," he corrects, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Tom has never been a coffee person, but these days he's totaling a minimum of two cups a day. That's not counting whatever he has while at work. It splashes onto the counter in his haste, but either he's moving too fluidly to notice or just doesn't care.

Normally his carelessness would have ticked you off, and you'd tell him off for the mess, tired of having to mother a grown man in his own home, but you're trying. Trying to be more gentle—be more patient. There is this tremendously guilty feeling that occurs when you yell at someone with cancer. Cancer. You hardly ever even say the word aloud.

It had started out as a persistent ear ache. Something he had chalked up to years of flying. He took antibiotics and that seemed to take care of the pain for a while. Then came the difficulty swallowing, followed by swollen lymph nodes, and finally the cough. It was the cough that he couldn't manage to shake.

"You can't keep missing treatments," you say, even though he knows. Sometimes you think it's worse that he's well versed about his condition. The first few weeks after finding out, he would come home, shower, and spend hours reading books that detailed symptoms and various treatments. Those hours bled into long anxious nights where the bedside lamp never turned off and neither of yourselves slept.

He knows what every symptom means; when it's good, when it's really bad.

Ice is already almost out the door, tugging on a coat that he snatched from god knows where, his combat boots shoved on haphazardly on his feet. His blonde hair is mushed from sleep, cowlicked on one side and only serving to add to his disheveled state. It's longer now, longer than it has been in a while. He'd always kept his hair cropped short in the time that you had known him, but now it was just long enough to stick out over his ears and brush the back of his neck.

"I agreed to do this shit as long as it didn't interfere with anything. It worked for a while but now I'm done. You knew the agreement."

The agreement. The agreement that you and Ice had settled on nearly ten months prior, back when he was just starting chemo—what seemed like a lifetime ago.

He hadn't wanted to undergo treatment. Hadn't wanted to endure the debilitating side effects that would come as a result. The doctors had given him a couple more years if he chose to do nothing. They'd make him 'comfortable' as they called it, and he could carry on with his duties until he couldn't. It was a guaranteed death sentence.

The chemo gave him a chance. You'd begged him to at least try. It was worth a try. Eventually he had given in under the condition that he would do the treatments until they started affecting his job. Your hope was that the chemo would stave off the disease long enough to buy him more time until then. At ten months, the tumor had shrunk in size, but Tom was feeling the effects of the radiation. He was nauseous more often than not and it was rare that he kept anything down. His joints stiffened and along with that came constant fatigue. The mouth sores were probably the worst development.

"That's not fair. You feel like crap because it's working," you argue, but it's like talking to a brick wall. He's not listening, tuning you out as he grabs his keys. He's been looking for an excuse to quit and it seemed as though he'd finally hit his breaking point. "If you skip again, everything so far will have been for nothing. You'll be right back where you started—"

His hand sliding off the doorknob, Ice turns to face you. He releases an exasperated sigh, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The crease between his brows seems to have become permanent these days. "The stupid appointment will be here when I get back. You will be here when I get back. My career, this opportunity, will not."

"You don't mean that," you whisper, fighting the tightening of your throat, but you don't even believe yourself when you say it.

For a fraction of a second, he at least has the decency to look guilty. Ice pauses in the doorway, his mouth opening then closing as he decides against whatever he was going to say.

"Tom...," you begin to please with him, your voice cracking, but the front door had already slammed shut.

A text comes from Slider later that day.

You need to come get him.

Had you received such a text twelve months ago, you would have assumed that Tom was being an intolerable ass and that the team was at their wits' end with him. These days he hardly even has enough energy to walk from his desk to the door, let alone raise any sort of hell like he used to.

It seems foolish to miss that kind of thing, but you do. You all miss the normalcy of it.

When you make it to the base, it is buzzing with life. The tarmac is lined with rows of aircraft and men, both returning and awaiting takeoff. Given today was the first day for new recruits, it wasn't unusual for things to be so chaotic. You find Viper behind his desk as usual, phone pressed to his ear. Upon spotting you, he covers the receiver and mouths 'bathroom'.

You find him in the one behind the showers in the locker room. He's braced over the sink, heaving. Maverick is there. Maverick is always there.

The brunette pilot is standing beside Ice, a hand on his back to steady him as he retches. Maverick's leant over, murmuring something into his ear, only taking note of you standing in the doorway as he straightens. He nods in greeting to you just slightly, a grim look in his green eyes.

You'd long ago become accustomed to the idea that Ice was not purely yours. The navy owned him first and foremost. That was sworn in oath and inarguable. But anything after that became a little less clear. There was Maverick, and then there was you.

But you knew that.

When you had first met Ice on a night out at the bar, you were completely and hopelessly swooned by his charm, convinced that you'd just met the love of your life. And then you met Maverick and realized that was never going to be true.

It had always been Maverick. It had been Maverick long before you met Ice and would continue to be Maverick until he took his last breath.

Knowing first hand that Tom doesn't like being crowded when he's like this, you wait until he straightens before making your presence known behind him. He doesn't even flinch at the feel of your hand on his back, and you take that as a bad sign. Usually he'd bristle defensively, snap at you that he could handle it on his own. You know his anger comes from a place of fear—fear of being vulnerable, fear of dying.

His face is pale and tired looking, even more so than usual. You press the back of your palm to his forehead but find that he's not unusually warm, which is good. His flushed cheeks and watery eyes must be from gagging.

Maverick now stands a few paces away, hands clasped together behind his back. He's always kept his distance when you were around, held back by not only his respect for you but the laws of the navy. One wrong move at the wrong place at the wrong time would have himself and Ice dishonorably discharged. Their careers would amount to nothing.

If it hadn’t been for DADT, you don’t think Tom would have chosen you. Had the government allowed it, he would have put an engagement ring on Pete’s finger instead of yours. You probably wouldn’t even be a part of his life. And you carry around a lot of guilt because of that. It’s been one of the most selfish things you’ve ever done, agreeing to marry Tom. But at the same time there’s a part of you that doesn’t feel guilty at all because at least that it meant you got to spend your life with him.

Tom was the love of your life, but you weren’t his. Tom loved you, he genuinely did, but he wasn’t in love with you. That was reserved for Maverick.

Tom sucks in a ragged breath, one that hurts your own chest, and a fit of coughing follows it You’re afraid you’re going to hear that cough and it’s painful sharpness for years to come, but what you’re even more afraid of is the day you don’t. You swallow the knot in your throat and pet a hand through Tom’s hair, tenderly brushing it away from his eyes.

The reality of the situation is beginning to hit you, and there’s little you can do to keep the tears from your eyes. Once he stops chemo, there’s no telling how much more time he has left. It could be a couple weeks or it could be years, but regardless, he’s done fighting.

“Pete,” you begin, your throat tight. The brunette pilot’s eyes shoot towards you, his eyes reflecting a look of surprise.

In all of the years that you had known him, he has always been Maverick to you, maybe even Mav on the rare occasion, but never Pete. That had been your way of distancing yourself from him, the man who your fiancé so fondly referred to as his wingman. It was hard to look at Maverick as a friend and at the same time, your fiancé’s lover.

“Pete, take him home, would you?” You ask, finally able to get your words out again.

Maybe he’s not sure if he’s hearing you correctly or he’s just genuinely confused, but Maverick tilts his head, his green eyes lit with confusion. “I don’t—”

Tom’s eyebrows furrow, mimicking an expression similar to his wingman’s when you slip off the engagement ring on your finger and enclose it in his palm. “(Y/n), what are you doing?”

With your heart in your throat, you engulf Tom in a hug. From a combination of him not expecting it and his considerably lighter frame, he has to shuffle a few steps back to accommodate for your sudden weight. Once recovered, his arms tighten around you. The weight of his embrace is overwhelmingly familiar, and it doesn’t hit you until now how much you’re going to miss it. You snuggle your face into the crook of his neck and breathe him in like how you used to when you first started dating.

You hear him struggling to swallow, but eventually he finds his voice. “I would have married you,” he says, his voice sounding full of regret. What he means is, even if it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, even though he wished things could have been different, he would have still walked down the isle and said ‘I love you’ and meant it. He would have loved you regardless.

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you pull away just enough to see his face. “I know, Tom. I know you would’ve.”

And as much as it breaks you to release him, you step away from him for one final goodbye. Turning towards the man standing a few feet away, you open your arms for him, crushing Maverick in an embrace. “Take care of him, okay?” you manage, your words muffled by the leather of his bomber jacket.

“Of course ,” he promises.

“I know you will. You always have.”

——

Six months later, you get a phone call from Maverick. Tom had passed in his sleep last night. The call was brief, Maverick could barley get his words out, but he just wanted to let you know before the navy contacted you. They do around noon that day and you help make arrangements for the funeral.

With Tom being an admiral, they make it into a whole production, something he would have hated but secretly been proud of. It a very emotional day, hearing the fighter jets fly by and seeing all of yours and Tom’s friends.

You intend to slip in and out, but as you’re leaving, Maverick catches your eye in all of the chaos. It’s good to see him. He looks to be holding up okay despite the situation. There’s a gold band on his ring finger that wasn’t there before. The sight tugs at your heart a bit because you want to know how long they got to be married, if they went to the courthouse or if they had a ceremony on the beach like Tom had always wanted.

That’s the thing about love.

Even if it wasn’t you and Tom in the end, you still loved him, probably always will love him.

And that was fine.

All the love you had to give was his to keep anyways.

[ghostgorlsworld]

Moondrunk Monster pt 2 (ghost x reader)

You're a retired combat medic that made a mistake, costing you your cushy office job. As punishment, you're sent to an active war zone, where you meet the 141, a squad of werewolves that slowly accept you as their own. (I know, I know I'm bad at summarizing)

this fic has me writing five thousand words in one (1) day, I am obsessed. you can find pt 1 here

Warnings: um violence. Ghost being a weirdo.

Part 2

After that day, things changed for you.

Gaz was healed within a day, coming to visit you with a Snickers bar as thanks. “I’ve been saving it for an occasion,” he said. “Wolves…well, we can’t really have chocolate without quite a bit of pain so I thought I would give it to you instead. As thanks.” 

“All I did was my job, Gaz,” you said, patting his shoulder in a motherly fashion.“There’s no need to thank me.”

Gaz raised a brow. “The other medics would have let me bleed out, doc, I’m here because of you.” You accepted the Snickers and his thanks, thinking that would be the end of it. But 141 seemed to think you were apart of their squad now, clustering around you at the lunch table like so many guard dogs, following you out into the thick of the desert whenever you and the other medics had to pick up supplies from the routine airdrops, holding down flailing patients for you while you sewed up gashes and cauterized missing limbs.

Captain Graves called it pack bonding. It was common with their kind, and partially the reason why the military liked wolves in their ranks. 

You appreciated it in your own way. Soldiers respected you a little more now, the fearless medic that gave her own blood to a wolf. 

Lunch today was a mess of shepherd's pie and a tin of pineapples–not bad considering the beans and sausage of yesterday. You sat at the nearest empty table, uncapping a bottle of water.

Within a minute Soap was tumbling into the spot in front of you, a plate of raw meat in his hand. Wolves couldn’t survive on human food alone, so the military made special adjustments.

The adjustments were freezing slabs of raw beef and plating it up still half-frozen. Even supersoldiers didn’t get special treatment.

“Hey, lass,” Soap said, nudging your foot with his own. “Mind passing me a bottle?” You nodded, reaching behind you for the cases of water while the rest of 141 took a seat, Ghost uncomfortably close on your left. He was odd like that, not seeming to mind human customs like personal space like the others did.

“You never said where you were from, lass,” Soap said, the beginner of conversation as always. He looked at you, blue eyes twinkling. “Bet I could guess.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a hard one.” “Texas.”

“Not everyone in America lives in Texas, Soap.”

“Florida.”

“Not Florida either.”

“Fine, what is it?” Soap took a bite of flank steak, the noise making you shudder. 

Ghost turned to make quiet conversation with Price, his thick thigh pressing into yours. 

You smiled. “A small town in Oklahoma.” “Bloody hell, that’s just Texas.” “Those are fightin’ words where I’m from,” you said, pointing your fork at him. “You’re lucky I’m too hungry to care.”

Soap barked a laugh. “Oh please, you look like you’ve never been in a fight in your life, bonnie.”

“You know, I was a combat medic back in the day–a proper one,” you said dryly, taking a bite of pie. “I was in the Berlin Incident of 2013, and there were plenty of body parts and wolves flying around in that one.”

The table stilled, eyes going to you. The Berlin Incident was an infamous bloodbath–you still have nightmares about it. 

Price blew a breath, looking thoughtful. “That was…you couldn’t have been more than, what, eighteen?” “Nineteen. I wasn’t even supposed to be there, but…” you shrugged. “Orders are orders, right?”

“Why’d you stop doing it then?” Soap asked, a man that has never shied away from uncomfortable questions. “You must’ve been experienced by the time you could order a beer at a bar.”

Ghost was stiff beside you, watching you eat. Humans would look away, but he never does.

They were memories from a different life. The days of crouching under gunfire with a fistfuls of gauze and adrenaline only resurfaced in dreams. “How honest do you want me to be?” You asked wryly. It wasn’t a memory you liked to remember, especially not surrounded by wolves.

“As honest as you want to.” Soap ripped off another bite, the sound eerily reminiscent of teeth crunching on bone.

“I was mauled.” You peel back part of your shirt, showing the heavy scarring on your collar. “It wasn’t his fault, really, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It took a year for me to be back on my feet and by then…I was ready for some peace and quiet.”

It was a year of physical therapy and healing, struggling against the infections that come with a wolf bite. 

Soap stared, unabashed, until you tucked the scars away. He was silent for a long moment, tapping his fork against the table. “You saved my life after one of us did that to you?” Gaz said, cocking a brow. “You must be forgiving.” Ghost shifted, his hand coming up to grip the collar of your shirt. He pulled it down slightly, just barely showing the tip of the scarring.

And you let him, because…well, you don’t know why you let him. 

He was wearing gloves, as always, but they were warm when he pressed them against the scars, fitting his fingers into the obvious claw marks.

The 141 was silent, watching Ghost with a mixture of surprise and horror. Price looked as if he were about to intervene, his knuckles white around his fork.

You wondered what exactly Ghost’s file looks like, how many cases of human aggression to make his squad this antsy. 

“Why didn’t it kill you?” Ghost asked, the first words he had said to you that day. 

Christ, they never pull their punches do they? “He stopped,” you said blandly, your breath catching at the feeling of fingers pressing into your skin. “Like I said, it wasn’t on purpose. Once he realized what he did, he carried me to the nearest medic.” 

Ironically, the two of you were still friends to this day. He liked to send you a funeral arrangement and a birthday card every year, writing glad you’re still alive, doc under the Happy Birthday.

Donny always had an odd sense of humor.

It helped that he wasn’t wearing his human face when he did it, it helped you separate the man from the wolf whenever you thought about that terrifying thirty seconds of blood and teeth–bones crunching, skin tearing, muscle turned to crimson thread. 

Ghost tugged your shirt collar back into place, oddly gentle. “You’re tougher than you look, love,” he said, turning back to his food with an air of finality. 

“Thank you, sir,” you said, like a good soldier. 

It felt like approval. You hated that you liked it.

There were times when you couldn’t sleep, so you would sit beside the lip of your tent with a lamp and a book as your patients of the night slept peacefully, some aided by morphine. 

The 141 tent was empty, its inhabitants deep in the desert on Graves’ whim. You worried about them, in your own way, thinking about what would have happened if they hadn’t gotten Gaz to you in time. 

They were still strangers to you, but the base felt too quiet without them, and your skin felt bare without Ghost’s stare upon it.

That was becoming a problem. He watched you constantly since that day in the mess hall, watching you work, eat, speak, uncanny in his faded mask. 

If he were a man, you would think he was into you. You’re a medic, you’ve had several star-eyed soldiers follow you around like ducklings after you dug a bullet out of them, but never like this. Never a wolf. 

You didn’t know what to think. 

When you asked Soap about it, he shrugged and said, “Lass, Ghost is as strange as they come. Someone messed about with his brain a couple years ago, a nasty bit of torture, he hasn’t been right ever since.”

“Should I be concerned?” You asked, feeling sympathy unfurl the knot in your gut. Neurological problems made sense, explaining the staring issue and the lack of social awareness.

Soap shook his head. “He’s not the type to hurt women, doc, human or otherwise. He may seem a little rough around the edges but I’ve known him for a long time–he’s one of my best mates.” That wasn’t saying much. As much as you liked him, Soap didn’t have many rules in the ways of morality, he liked war because he liked killing, he liked being able to chase and hunt with the legal license permitting him to do so.

You talk to Ghost sometimes, when he decides to bring a cup of tea over when the both of you can’t sleep. You didn’t bother to tell him that you don’t like tea, because it seems rude and maybe it would stop him coming to see you completely, so you drained the cup and told yourself you’ve developed a taste for it.

Generally, he listened as you spoke. He was a good listener, paying attention as you talked about home–how it snowed sometimes, during the winter. How hot the summers would get, heat coming off the cornfields in a red haze.

Your family, that you saw three times a year, two weeks each time if you could swing it. 

You didn’t know why you told him these things, something about the way he paid attention to you made you feel like you had to fill up the silence, otherwise he might swallow you whole.

Could wolves even be attracted to human women? 

You knew that you were strangely attracted to him, to his height, his eyes, the gruff rumble of his voice, the way he commanded fear and respect. But was his…fascination attraction or something else?

You’ve heard of wolves that like to eat their prey. You don’t like to believe rumors or myths but Ghost makes you believe them, a little bit.

You shifted to another side of your hip, adjusting the book in your lap. The night was cool and quiet, the moon above only a few days before being full.

A full moon always meant trouble, with or without wolves.

It didn’t affect them like in the stories of moon-crazed madness. It was more like a calling, an urge to be bare-skinned and free under the moon. Danny used to say it was like being high, all he wanted to do was dance and eat and fuck.

You imagined Ghost, in his massive, graceful body dancing, and smiled to yourself.

You reached into your pocket for a package of powdered donuts, another gift from a grateful patient. She had gotten her leg blasted with an explosive, and you had just barely managed to salvage it, though she had a long road to follow before she would be able to walk again.

Maybe they weren’t healthy, but they were sweet and soft and reminded you of the days that you would sit in a boat with your grandfather, chicken liver hooked to your fishing pole as you waited for the catfish to bite. You were so young then, powdered sugar on your fingers as you begged your grandfather to let you try a sip of his coffee.

You were on your third one when 141 came home, slipping from the guarded gates to return to their tent for showers and a meal. You waved, smiling at Price when he nodded to you.

Soap broke off from the pack to ruffle your hair with his dirty hands, accepting a donut when you offered one. “You always have the best snacks, bonnie,” he said, winking as he slunk away to shower.

Ghost followed soon enough, approaching warily like a feral cat. You smiled at him too, offering him the last donut of the pack. “You’re back, sir.”

He nodded, taking the donut and staring at it as if he was unsure what to do with it. 

“I’ll look away,” you said, turning your face to the courtyard. You figured the mask had something to do with the torture Soap mentioned, either scarring or trauma–though most of the time they were one and the same. 

You heard him sigh, then a rustle of fabric as he pulled up the mask and took a bite. You hide a smile. “It’s good, yeah? Processed American bullshit, sir.”

Ghost hummed, then came the unmistakable sound of licking the sugar off his fingers. There had also been blood on his fingertips, from the night’s previous activities.

You don’t want to think about why that makes your belly clench. 

“Couldn’t sleep, love?” He asked, mask safely back over his mouth. He tilted his head, unintentionally predatory.

You shook your head, your hand coming up to rub at your shoulder. It aches on cold nights, bleeding memories of teeth scraping against bones. “No, it’s just…old wounds, I guess.”

Ghost shoved his hand into his pocket, drawing something out carefully. It was a notebook, clean of gore and muck, a small blue pen stuck into the spiral binding. 

He offered it to you and you took it, because somehow you could never refuse him. 

“Saw you scribbling on napkins,” Ghost said, jerking his head to the mess on your desk. “Thought this would do a better job.” Unexpectedly, you’re delighted. You had been looking for a notepad, having not had enough time to pack yours back at your previous base. You liked to sketch, to draw the people and places around you–it made things seem realer, less like a dream.

“Thank you, sir,” you said, smiling and flipping it open. The pages are bare. “I’ve been looking for one.”

“You’re welcome, love.” “That reminds me, sir, I’ve got a joke for you.”

“And what’s that?”

“What do you call an Australian visiting England on vacation?” You can almost imagine him cocking a brow, his silence expectant.

“Returning to the scene of the crime,” You laughed at your own joke, unable to help yourself. Soap had helped you come up with that one. 

Ghost’s eyes are creased behind the pale, cracked skull of his mask. You think he might be smiling. “Christ, pet, that was awful.” You tucked the notebook to your chest. “Had to repay you in some way, sir. Feel free to use it in the future.” “Negative, love.” Ghost turned to disappear into his tent, unstrapping the heavy duty vest over his chest. You laughed again, picking yourself off the ground with a little less weight on your chest. 

[whaliiwatching]

Caught up to the fic!! Absolutely fascinated by all the queer/punk/poc history here, since I don't know much myself. Very sweet chapter as well.

Unrelated question - mostly - but why is it common fanon to depict Noir as the more scarred up of various spiderpeople? Naturally everyone has their fair share of fights, though the only we see sustaining any marks is Peter B and his misaligned nose. Personally, I've taken it as Noir Peter not healing as cleanly due to it being Spider God stuff over Weird Radioactive Healing Factor stuff. Thoughts?

thank you so much!! i’m glad you liked it, & hope the ending was satisfying for ya <3

short answer: hot

long answer, plus a map of my idea of noir’s scars: under readmore :)

i’m not a devout spidey comic/movie fan or a doctor. this is based on conjecture and minimal research!

when i came up with my unmasked noir ideas, i wasn’t influenced by fanon—i hadn’t seen any other fan art, not even when itsv came out. but i can think of a good few reasons that scarred noir is a popular headcanon: evidence of what he’s been through makes him feel more tangible/relatable, the visual difference enhances his thematic individuality as distinct from other spider-people (especially other Peter Parkers), self-consciousness can explain why he doesn’t take off his mask in itsv even around other spiders.

all perfectly valid and interesting reasons! but the first two reasons are doylist and the last one is missing a crucial question: why does he have scars? unless a wound is severe, gets infected, or gets lucky, it won’t usually scar. facial injuries especially need to be really bad to leave a mark. and of course most if not all other spider-people have the healing factor. so what gives??

i like the spider god’s curse influences healing factor idea; it opens up some nice angsty possibilities regarding an inability to Be “Fixed;” no matter how much he tries, he can’t erase/forget what’s happened to him. but i also enjoy the bandaging someone up after a fight genre of fic, and am annoyingly pedantic, so my personal working theory is that the healing factor is not a doctor with ten plus years of experience and an accurate understanding of human anatomy. when a bone really badly breaks, it has to be reset or it’ll heal wrong. to me, the healing factor doesn’t know what ‘right’ is, only ‘fast’ and ‘effective.’ it’s an accelerant, not a substitute for medicine.

so let’s establish the baseline. modern spideys either receive modern medical attention or the injury is superficial enough that they don’t require it. even poverty-stricken peter parkers get rushed to the hospital, because fictional doctors Don’t Care About The Money and/or peter is dolled up in spider gear and who’s going to ignore a visibly beat-up celebrity hero?? plus i honestly believed peter b’s nose was just genetics or smthn. my nose is misaligned and it’s never been broken to my knowledge

to compare, noir lives in 1933 and, far as i can tell, doesn’t rlly garner the same fame and respect from the public as modern spideys do. in the 30s, medicine was meh (they had x-rays but didn’t rlly consider radiation much of a threat, penicillin was still in its infancy, polio was a huge threat, etc) but was also, more importantly, far too expensive for most people suffering during the Great Depression. whatever treatment noir receives after a fight, if any, would look way different from ours. that means his healing factor, which can’t differentiate scars from normal skin or a misaligned bone from a whole one, would be inefficiently assisted or left alone. it would leave its history behind.

on the infectious disease side of things, it’s probably much easier for even noir to recover from less physical ailments like the flu and pneumonia—spider healing factor likely remembers and codes for immunity better than regular immune systems—but without modern drug therapies he’d still be worse for wear, ie internal scarring. mans would have a shorter-than-average parker lifespan if not for the pseudo-immortality of the Spider God

anyway. all this to say, here’s my personal map of parker’s scars. crop tank and daisy dukes to keep tumblr off my ass <3

(tbh this is more for my reference than anyone else’s, i’m sick of looking through my art of Just His Forearms to keep my details consistent, but maybe someone will find it interesting lol)

[burning-bubble-tea]

I played Imposter Factory with a friend recently and this is kinda my thoughts on it along with my general thoughts with the To The Moon series.

Also uh spoilers.

So in the game Lynri and Quincy have a child named Tobias who at a pivotal decision in their life, they chose to have Tobias early due to Lynri’s medical condition. Lynri feels guilt for this when Tobias passes a few years later due to complications with his health due to being born so premature.

The big twist of the game is that Tobias is actually Neil in a simulated alternative timeline and in reality, Lynri chose to have her baby first and then treat her illness afterwards.

In the reality timeline, Tobias is Neil and while he does inherit his mother’s chronic illness, he grows up to be an adult. Due to delaying her treatment Lynri passes away but does get to see Neil grow up a significant portion of his life.

I really like how the game doesn’t really present either timeline as better than the other. Tobias’s life is just as valuable as Neil’s life no matter how short it was. Neither choice was the correct choice for Lynri and Quincy to make as they did not know the future and could decide what they prefer.

Lynri is not selfish for seeking treatment and thus having to give birth to Tobias prematurely and Neil should not feel like it was his fault for having to make his mother choose between himself and herself.

Ultimately it was Lynri’s choice and neither one of them were incorrect, they were just different choices that let Quincy and Lynri down different paths.

Now the To The Moon series has this sort up interesting choice that’s also not correct or incorrect. The first game shows a man who chooses to have his memories altered so that as he passes, he dies with the memories of a so-called perfect life. In Finding Paradise, Colin feels as if he’s missing that perfect life but ultimately he doesn’t need to have his memory altered as his life was fine the way it is and he can pass with no regrets.

Johnny wanted to go to the moon because of a subconscious promise that he forgot that he made to his future wife when he was a child. He forgot that promise but it was so ingrained in his subconscious (along with the repressed memories of his twin) that the solution was to alter his memory and take him to the moon in the simulated memory. It was a way of fulfilling his promise since obviously he couldn’t go to the moon if he didn’t remember the promise which is what Sigmund promises to its clients.

However for Colin, Sigmund’s services wasn’t exactly needed. He just had a sense that maybe he was missing out on something (it’s literally described in the wiki and I think by Neil as FOMO hahahahah) and while he does have regrets, he doesn’t need to change anything.

Both Colin and Johnny make a choice. Neither of them are the right and wrong choice but they’re choices. By going to Sigmund, Johnny is able to unlock his memories of his twin and his childhood and is given memories of a life where his twin doesn’t die and he doesn’t forget. Colin thinks he needs Sigmund’s services but ultimately doesn’t. I think the only changes are Faye erasing Sigmund from his memory if I read the wiki right hahahahha I haven’t played finding paradise is awhile.

What I’m kinda getting at is that both the simulated memories and reality are fine. Neither are represented narratively as inherently good or bad. For Johnny it was good, for Colin, it was not needed. And that’s why I really like how Imposter Factory treated Lynri and Quincy. At the end, they find out their life is just a simulation within like thousands of other simulations. All the Lynri’s and Quincy’s from all the simulated timelines are all turned into one and they’re offered a simulated life where everything is perfect. Lynri’s chronic illness is cured and there is no complications with her pregnancy, they get to see Neil grow up and marry Eva, they get to travel the world together. It’s not all too much different from their reality life other than that Lynri and Quincy were given more time. However before accepting the offer of the perfect simulated timeline, Lynri feels apathetic towards it, feeling as if there’s not worth in it because it is simulated. However To The Moon does not place a moral value on the simulated memories, they just are, and they bring happiness. It is not some matrix red pill blue pill shit, and it’s not a sinister lie since the person is consenting to the procedure, it’s simply a decision. For Quincy and Lynri, it’s a decision that gives them more time, and to experience a life where they essentially have the maximum amount of time together.

Tobias, Lynri and Neil’s lives are not worth less because they’re shorter, they’re just as valuable, however with the simulated world, they’re given more time together. Tobias and Lynri dying is sad and tragic but to mis quote Ride the Cyclone, “I would gladly take my [few years] over nothing”. The simulated world simply gives them more time together that reality couldn’t give them. And to misquote Don Hertzfeldt World of Tomorrow, “you are alive and living now, now is the envy of all the dead”. So Lynri had envy of other because she essentially viewed herself as destined to die and die soon. But the simulated world gave her more of the now that she ignored. Lynri lived her life planning for the future because she wanted to leave a mark on the world before she died. And in doing so, she missed the now. But the simulated world gave her so much now, even if it is simulated, it doesn’t make it any less valuable. And maybe because it’s just as good or maybe it’s because it requires no defining of moral judgment. Either way, simulated Lynri and Quincy are alive in some sense, they are definitely sentient being able to grapple with the concept that they are living in a simulated world, and they do have to die as the simulation needs to end, but Faye offers them the simulated life, where they get more now to spend together. In that context it doesn’t matter if the simulated world is “real” or not. One gives you more now even if it’s not in reality and the other option is just no more.

And in the reality world, is poor Neil. He granted a virtual copy of his parents a perfect simulated life. But he’s living in the past. Hopefully he learns to enjoy more of the now, as there’s nothing wrong with the past, it’s important to take the past with us.

I guess I sorta have a fascination with the concepts of moral philosophy but all my technical knowledge of it is like watching The Good Place and taking one introductory course in philosophy in university. Oh and I guess watching things like Philosophy tube, and there is philosophy in all my courses even if they’re not strictly labelled philosophy.

I dunno, I just love life and the lessons I take away from To The Moon boiled down and oversimplified is that hindsight is 20/20 HAHAHAHA. Sigmund in universe can use hindsight and alter memories but the virtual memories don’t negate the good lives in reality. We make choice and they may have ramifications but we won’t ever know the branching timelines and so we don’t have to dwell on it forever.

Oh yeah also the most important message: RICEBOT THE CREATOR OF WORLDS AND THE COOKER OF RICE. QUINCY WAS ROBBED OF HIS RICE REWARDS.

[royalvelvette]

and love will bring us freedom

Read on Ao3 (or reread part 1 on tumblr)

Rating: M

Characters: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Alastor, Mammon, Fizzarolli, Niffty, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Husk, Cherri Bomb Mentioned: Glitz, Glam, Loona, Vortex, Lucifer Morningstar, Sir Pentious

Warnings: Canon Typical Language, Minor Violence (not on purpose), Mammon's Canon Treatment of Fizzarolli, Not Beta Read or Edited

Word Count: 2222

The robo-fizz advertisements passed in something of a blur. Charlie distracted herself by explaining more about the pageant itself – anything to not pay attention to the way Mammon was currently talking about how you could fuck the Fizzbots. Vaggie’s hand was a familiar weight on her knee, keeping her from growling at the tv or accidentally hitting Cherri with a too-emphatic gesture.

“-so they show off some clown skills first – stuff like juggling and balloon animals, y’know? And then there’ll be an intermission for us when the in person meet and greet is happening, then there’s some more... general performing. Singing, dancing, acting – really anything-”

Vaggie squeezed her thigh, and Charlie took a breath. “It’s cool,” she finishes lamely. “Fizz always does a big musical number, you’ll love it.”

Angel tilted his head up to look at her. “You sure you ain’t just sayin’ that ‘cause you like singin’ and dancin’?”

“Watch it,” Vaggie snapped.

“It’s okay,” Charlie said. “I mean, Fizz has won the last ten years running, so it isn’t just me, but you’re probably... not wrong that I’m biased.”

Alastor half-tuned out the conversation happening beside him. He was watching the picture show intently – more specifically, he was watching the Mammon and Fizzarolli now on screen. The distasteful advertisements were almost at an end, for certain, as these two iterations seemed more recent.

“There’s a Fizzy for every occasion!” Mammon shouted, gesturing widely. “All thanks to my old brand, Fizzy!”

Fizzarolli was dragged against Mammon’s side. He covered his discomfort remarkably well, but the subtle wince – something Alastor was intimately familiar with, whenever somebody touched him – belied his true feelings. His antlers were beginning to hurt.

“That’s me, folks!” Fizzarolli said, better at keeping the discomfort from his voice than his body. “And the Fizzies’ll keep coming, unless you think you can beat me-

“At Mammon’s Annual Clown Pageant!” Mammon cut in at the same time as Fizzarolli.

Alastor lifted his lip. Perhaps now, it wasn’t quite so shocking for Charlie to be unable to hide her dislike of Mammon. Alastor had no idea who Fizzarolli was, until this day, and yet... something about Mammon’s treatment of the jester set every nerve on edge. The manhandling, especially.

Niffty began to wiggle on her perch beside his head when the prices finally faded from the screen, overtaken what was presumably a live broadcast directly from the Greed ring. Mammon, of course, was front and centre. How... distasteful.

Niffty knew she was going to be in trouble later, swinging her legs and rocking so close to Alastor – it was just so hard to sit still when there was such a delectable bad boy right in front of her! An actual bad boy, too, one even Miss Charlie didn’t like! One who wasn’t secretly lame, like the snake guy or Lucifer, either!

(Lucifer being so... like that had been the only unpleasant discovery ever since he moved in. He was the king of hell! He should have been the ultimate bad boy! Instead, he was even lamer than Pentious had been. Almost as pathetic as that stupid TV head guy who used to follow Alastor around like a puppy, urgh, saved only by the fact he was leagues more powerful.)

Though... Mammon did violate one of the rules Alastor had given her, when he first brought her to the hotel. Upsetting Charlie was a no-no, no matter how many funny colours she turned or how spiky Vaggie got. It was really the only new rule she had gotten, so it had to be extra important. Did that mean Mammon was off limits?

Niffty pouted, legs stilling. Of course, the only real bad boy in the entire place, and he was somewhere Niffty couldn’t even go and not someone Alastor would approve of. Ugh.

One thing Mammon had always been good at, for as long as Charlie had known him, was showmanship. He’d used it to great effect when she was young, enchanting her with simple magic tricks and silly songs and dances, announcing everything with so much aplomb that Charlie had been practically begging to eat all the vegetables on her plate at family dinners.

That very same showmanship was on full display as Mammon introduced the contestants for this years pageant. The first four, even with Mammon hyping them up (he always did this, always, like any of them actually had a shot against Fizz – none of them did and he knew it, because he was the one who trained Fizz) passed her by quickly – though she did hear Cherri snort when Pierrot was introduced.

It was the duo, introduced just before Fizzarolli, that made Charlie nervous. There was a sort of... easy confidence to them, and they definitely had the whole ‘please step on me’ vibe down – that would definitely get them past the first few rounds with pretty high scores, and that’s if they didn’t perform well. If they were any good at clowning – or even just performing in general – there was a pretty high chance they’d make it to the finale with Fizz.

(Part of Charlie hoped that they did – the further they got in the competition, the longer Charlie could oogle – possessors were just always so pretty – but part of Charlie hoped they didn’t, with the way Fizz was constantly looking at them out of the corner of his eye.)

Angel winced when Charlie’s cousin fumbled the juggling act. As a performer himself, there was nothing worse than fucking up on the very first take. Even though he was the only one to mess up the first trick, he still shot up to second place – just behind the pair of sisters up on the wire, while the imp in full clown getup was given the boot. Brand recognition did a lot, something else Angel was intimately familiar with.

(He couldn’t help but wonder if Fizzarolli dealt with the same sorts of creepy-ass fans, despite being in a different sort of gig. He did work at some sort of sex club for the sin of lust, so... probably.

Was it weird, to relate to someone he didn’t even know existed until today? It was probably weird.)

Fizzarolli recovered nicely in the second act, at least. And his balloon figure – Mammon, presumably – was impressive. Angel could twist himself into all sorts of fun shapes, but balloons? Fuck no. That shit would pop on him so fast. Sucks that it didn’t give Fizzarolli the lead, especially because the sisters just added to his instead of making their own fucking thing, though at least it was tied up.

Charlie frowned as the curtains opened for the final performances. It hadn’t been Fizz first, like she was expecting, like it had been for the last ten years – instead Glitz and Glam took the stage. It made Charlie... nervous. Mammon always did Fizz’s act first, always showed off his biggest asset when he did anything – something was wrong.

She let go off Vaggie’s hand to get her phone out of her pocket, shooting off a quick text to Uncle Oz. She would text Fizz himself, but if he was prepping for his show – she wouldn’t distract him. Not when something was already wrong. She tried to settle herself, taking Vaggie’s hand back and watching the sisters perform.

They were good. Like, good enough to be actual competition. The song was catchy, and they definitely knew how to work their attractiveness to their advantage. She gripped Vaggie’s hand tighter. Fizz wouldn’t lost – couldn’t lose, this was his thing – but actually fighting for the win... shit, he was probably having a panic attack. All Charlie could do, though, separated by several rings as they were, was hope that Oz was with him, somehow.

Then something exploded into blue smoke behind Mammon – who had been stammering as Fizz failed to appear – and Charlie settled. Ozzie was there. Fizz would be okay.

Charlie’s nails – not quite her claws, not yet – were painfully sharp where they dug into Vaggie’s thigh. She was leaning forward, eyes fixed on the television – the same position she had been in ever since Fizz had come onto the stage. Admittedly, Vaggie was more concerned with keeping Charlie from leaning forward enough to faceplant off the couch than paying attention to what, exactly, Fizz was singing about as he bounced and swung around, but even she noticed the finale.

“-Mammon you sad sack of shit, fuck youuu-ouuu-ouuu, you bitch! Yeah!”

Vaggie jumped as Angel started clapping with all three sets of arms. Cherri whooped loudly, and even Husk was smiling – wider than she had ever seen. It almost distracted her from the pain as Charlie’s claws sliced her skin when Charlie leapt to her feet.

It did not, however, distract from the way Charlie’s tail was whipping nervously behind her as she watched the screen.

“Babe,” Vaggie started.

“Mammon’s not going to take that well,” Charlie said.

“What’s he gonna do?” Cherri asked, cackling. “The crowd loved it!”

Charlie’s stomach twisted the longer Fizz talked. She knew what was coming even before Fizz finished his farewell speech – and she knew, more than anything, that Mammon would flip. At least he would have replacement talent ready to go, with Glitz and Glam – and the sisters were good! But Fizz had been his brand for ten, nearly eleven years. There was no universe Mammon would take him quitting well.

(Pride burned hot in her chest despite her unease. Fizz was finally quitting. Mammon’s prime moneymaker was leaving. Good, something in her purred. Let his cruelty burn his empire to ash.)

And then, the grand finale – not the one Mammon had been hoping for – came. Fizzarolli looked up, directly at Mammon (yes, that same voice hissed, yes) and said,

“I quit!”

“Yes!” she whisper-shouted, punching the air, even as she kept her eyes fixed on the screen, even as every nerve-ending in her body practically sang with be careful Fizz.

It only got louder as Mammon jabbed his staff at Fizz. Her horns were out and she was growling at the TV – someone was saying something behind her, but she was too furious-anxious-furious to pay attention to the words. Fizz’s words were tinny and faint through Mammon’s microphone, but there was no mistaking the second ‘I quit’ or what came after.

Then the mic exploded and green smoke filled the arena.

Vaggie was moving even before Charlie screamed. Her wings were flared, protecting Cherri, Husk, and Angel from the blast of heat that shot out from her girlfriend – Alastor had managed to bring up one of his shadows to cover him and Niffty.

“Jesus Christ!” Husk shouted. “Why is she hulking out?!”

Vaggie didn’t answer, couldn’t answer – the air itself was pressing down on her, forcing her down-down-down to her knees as Charlie grew, snarling and growling at the television.

“Babe-” she gasped. “Charlie-”

Charlie whipped around to face her, nearly taking her head off with her tail. Her eyes were bright and gleaming red, redder than Vaggie had ever seen, but clear. She looked at Vaggie silently for one beat-two-

Then Charlie started to shrink back down. Her horns remained, as did her tail, but she returned to a more normal size and the pressure she had been emanating receded, allowing Vaggie’s lungs to expand fully. She coughed once, weakly.

Charlie rushed to her side immediately. “Ohmysatan, I’m so fucking sorry-” she babbled, holding Vaggie’s face in her hands. “Are you okay?! I didn’t hurt you, did I? Is everyone okay?”

Vaggie’s answer was cut off by Asmodeus appearing on screen.

The shame was going to eat her alive, Charlie knew, but her self-recrimination was derailed when she heard her uncle shout,

“What? That I love him? Well, I do!”

The rest of the confrontation passed in a blur after those words. Her horns and tail receded slowly – Ozzie would protect Fizz. Ozzie could handle Mammon. Fizz was safe, he was loved, he was free. She let go of Vaggie’s face to wrap her arms around her shoulders instead, burying her face in her girlfriend’s neck as all of her nervous energy and anger drained away. It was over.

Fizz was free.

She stayed like that, holding Vaggie, trying not to cry, until her phone rang. She was pretty sure someone had been trying to get her attention before then – or at least, the others had been moving around them, dispersing (thank fuck, she hadn’t hurt them, she hadn’t wrecked everything) but it was only the ringtone she had set for Bee that snapped her out of it.

Charlie let go of Vaggie, answering on autopilot. “Hello?”

Bee squealed. “Charlie!!! Babe, did you see- did you see?” she shouted, flying around her chandelier.

“I saw!” Charlie said, strained.

“We need to celebrate!” Bee said. “You should come down-”

Charlie laughed. “I can’t, I can’t, remember? I got the hotel now-”

“Then I’ll come up! Ooh, ooh! I’ll bring Tex and Loona – you’ll love her, she’s great! - and you should ring Oz- I can meet your friends! Oooh, this is going to be great!”

Charlie laughed again, the earlier strain gone from her voice as she responded, “Give me like, an hour tops to get things ready, okay?”

“Okay!! See you then!!”

Bee hung up, immediately dialing Loona. “Hey, hey, you remember me talking about Charlie...”

[moonmaidensblessing]

I love Mystra as a character 100% she is an interesting character and I adore a morally questionable woman with my whole heart in fiction but I’m trying to get why ppl get so up in arms about her. The concept of a god having a relationship with a mortal is nothing new; I wrote a paper last semester comparing Gale to Odysseus from the Odyssey for the very reason they both had relationships with goddesses. It’s an age old situation in storytelling and it’s not going anywhere.

I want to posit the idea that Gale’s specific dynamic with Mystra is meant to say more about his character than her, though, since he’s a major character. His relationship with her is meant to tell us how powerful he is as a magic-wielder and his connection with it is beyond what the average magic user could ever dream of (looking at you, Rolan). He is written in a way where his hubris could easily lead him down a bad path as it had done several times for him already. He is messing with things beyond his scope, though, as he learns more and gains more power. A line I always feel people ignore is the one where he admits Mystra gave him a boundary, appropriately seeing what it was (Netherese magic that had almost killed her before), and tend to majorly focus on the fact that she asks him to sacrifice himself with that same dangerous magic. I mean, i can see a perspective that she sees Gale as potentially dangerous since he disregards her request ultimately for his own purposes. Keep in mind that he not only has the parasite, but the orb would not be kept docile forever. He became dangerous not only to himself but to anyone unfortunate enough to be too close should something happen. He poses an immense threat after crossing Mystra’s boundary (his exact words in the game) to Faerûn, the Weave itself, etc.

Does this make Gale evil? No. He had the potential to be misguided, though, in the story, and I think that’s the writers’ point was how easy it can be to fall from might and grace with a few bad choices.

To be frank, the dynamic between Gale and Mystra is already at a power imbalance. It isn’t like the other characters’ relationships with their respective gods because they do not have a romantic/sexual relationship with them. That is a curious distinction, which would lend to it being an unusual practice in the pantheon of the gods. However, not in the world of literature, I reiterate. Odysseus has intimate encounters with several goddesses in his journey, but the power dynamic is written a lot differently than how Mystra and Gale are written.

If it is not common practice for the gods to have intimate interactions with mortals, then it stands to reason that it is a discouraged practice among them. We hear a line in the game where Gale says Ao would not permit Mystra to interfere with their quest directly, and it makes me believe there are rules for the gods when it comes to behavior and actions. For some reason, Mystra is permitted to have romantic relationships with her worshippers, and I have to wonder why that is. Apparently it isn’t common for her to pick someone, either, as she only chooses the most powerful magic users, her chosen ones. And that’s where we start to run into the power imbalances.

In a way, Gale seeks the missing magic for Mystra to feel equal to her, a dynamic that would never change no matter what he did. Who is really to blame? The one who wasn’t content in his role, or the god who appointed him to that role in the first place? Was Mystra trying to influence Gale to stop him reaching beyond mortal limitations, fearing (for him or perhaps herself even) that he would go too far one day just like Karsus before him? Did she have valid reasons to fear for herself and the world of magic, or was it a selfish act borne out of fear of losing control of her realm and devotees? I don’t think people are thinking this deeply about it.

I think why it bugs me in a way that kids keep giving her the “bitchy mean girl” treatment is because it sort of cheapens the intent of the characters and what its supposed to mean to the story. I mean It’s funny but I cannot look at a single piece of fan art online that features her without 15 ppl all unironically claiming acts of violence against a video game character. I guess its ultimately harmless, and it’s good they are able to recognize the harm that is present there, but it feels like a simple, immature take just all on its own.

Oh and I definitely hate the take that Mystra groomed him. That makes me pretty sick, and it isn’t a one to one comparison at all. I sincerely doubt that was the writers intention at all, and as someone who was it makes me pretty mad to see. But I understand since most of those saying it are most likely children who don’t have a full grasp of it. Grooming is intentionally selecting a person with little to no agency, usually a child, and trying to influence them into inappropriate situations. I feel like comparing that dynamic to grooming demeans and lessens the importance of it in real life. Gale was not a child, he has agency in his life, and it’s cheapening even to the character to imply he had no control over what was happening to him. Unless I’m missing some crucial piece of lore here, I don’t think Mystra picked Gale as her chosen and romantic partner to make him find Karsus’ tome and unleash the magic that nearly killed her and destroyed all magic.

I get it, though, why young people jump to that conclusion. Again, I’m glad that they see the surface level issue. I’m glad they can recognize danger and harm. That’s good. I’d never discourage someone, especially children, in being vigilant with those sorts of things.

And of course all this said not so much in defense of Mystra (though I love her as a character) but more in defense of the people who wrote it. This game is so well written and it’s one of the reasons why I love it so much. The fact that I CAN write an essay for class about it makes me over the moon and goes to show just how much depth and meaning is present.

[mushiemellows]

Okay. Okay. In light of the opla news, here is genuinely how I think opla s2 is going to break down (I know everyone has made post like this and I probably have at some point in the past too, but this is my predictions.)

I genuinely don’t think they’re going to do Alabasta. They could do a speed run of enter the grand line to get there, but I don’t think they’ll do that, if the pace of s1 was an indicator. There’s a few reasons but tbh I think the biggest is politics? If I was a Netflix exec and someone asked me to approve a script RIGHT NOW politically, and the script was about resource exploitation in the Middle East, I would uhhh probably reject it. I honestly think they’re going to do Loguetown through Drum Kingdom and leave it there for the moment.

So it would go:

Ep1: Loguetown that uses the character moments to catch us up to speed, get the audience reacquainted with the straw hats, plus smoker, plus put buggy and Alvida back on the board. Smart money is on a barto cameo. If they take their time, really cycle through everyone, episode will prob end with Luffy on the stand. (Smoker gets the logo treatment since buggy already got one lol)

Ep2: escape Loguetown -> reverse mountain -> early laboon. Again, hindsight will add a lot to this, at minimum we’re getting another binks no sake Easter egg, if not a full blown human brook cameo. Episode ends somewhere about 2/3 of the way through them in the whale. I could see them padding this quite a bit, just knowing all we know now. (Laboon gets the logo? Maybe??? I could see them giving it to Roger or Crocus too)

Ep3: Leave Laboon-> a lot of vivi plot -> enter whiskey peak. Party sequence. Start of the night attacks, high tension, zoro fighting the town drawn out into a huge sequence. Like a big ass choreo moment. Probably ends on the “luffy vs zoro” cliffhanger. (Vivi gets the logo)

Ep4: if if if they’re smart, they’re going to have robin in whiskey peak early, not necessarily introduced with Higaram’s assassination attempt. This episode would be quite a lot of her. Rest of the whiskey peak fights, the full baroque works breakdown, the miss all Sunday intro, leaving town, AND her giving the Alabasta vs little garden deal. I think if they’re writing this the way I think they might, she’ll either follow them to little garden OR she’ll be at Drum Kingdom, just to keep her around a bit longer. Like really drive it in that she’s spying on them. (Robin gets the logo)

Ep 5+6: little garden. I don’t think they can do it in 45 minutes, I think they need both parts. (Big brain move with the logo treatments to have one be Dorry and one be Broggy). This is pretty straightforward, idk. Excited to see zoro cut his legs off. Here’s also the start of the crocodile breadcrumbs, but I can see them using Robin as the face of baroque works a little more to utilize the actress.

Ep 7+8: drum island. This way, they only have to animate chopper for 2 episodes, 7 will probably get the basics of the backstory, and 8 will have the rest of how hiriluk dies. We could possibly see some Blackbeard info here. I’m still team “detective pikachu” style chopper. End the season on the Sakura tree happy note, set up early Alabasta. (Chopper gets one logo, Hiriluk or Kureha gets the other) Wapol as the big bad sucks though which is why I can see them injecting either more BW, Smoker, or Blackbeard into Drum.

I think the is season is going to feel a lot like season 1 did, like they’ll have the quick pace of going to a bunch of places the first portion, then 2 longer stories. But I don’t think they’re actually doing Alabasta properly. Also, I think we’ll pull back from Buggy and Garp, but they’ll still have their moments.

I’m pretty firm that I don’t think they’ll ever get past skypeia (a fact that makes me sob for the loss of opla franky but it would be a MIRACLE if we ever even got to w7. But I could see them doing it if they distilled seasons 3 and 4 in a certain manner. I just don’t think it’s likely, knowing how many years this’ll all take at the pace Netflix makes shows. Can talk more about this if someone asks lol). I’d love to be surprised tho.

If they’re still in casting, plus accounting for the writing hiccup of the writers strike in preproduction, we’re probably looking at a late summer 2026 release? It’s a Loooooot of cg though, between Luffy, chopper, little garden, and drum kingdom.

[teecupangel]

Why is nobody talking about how Desmond had a SAGE ancestor??!!

I’m now picturing a scenario where Des is having an awkward family reunion with John/Black Bart/Germain and let’s say that Aita is aware that Desmond is his descendant… so, for once, Aita is doing his utmost to be a good great grandad and spending the day with him doesn’t turn out so bad at all as Desmond thought it would.

The fandom should talk more about Aita in general honestly!

Wait. What did I miss?

Desmond is Aita’s descendant?

Then that means…

He’s Juno’s descendant!

Okay, in all seriousness, I don’t remember anything that states that Aita (and Juno) was Desmond’s ancestor nor is there any confirmation that Sages needed to be descendants of the Isu ‘possessing’ them.

Although, if Aita was truly Desmond’s ancestor, this would make Juno’s treatment of Desmond more… twisted.

Either he’s also Juno’s descendant and she has no qualm killing her own blood to get what she wants or she truly believe that she was rewarding Desmond by putting his ‘spirit’ in the Gray after he died.

Or…

He’s a descendant of Aita but not of Juno and her treatment of Desmond is tainted with the idea that she has no qualms sacrificing Desmond because he has the blood of the woman who seduced her husband in his veins.

But honestly?

I think Juno and Aita are loyal to one another and it shows with how far Juno was willing to go just to save Aita (using the Mead and getting punished by it) and how both John the IT guy and Bartholomew were both talking about Juno like she was the love of their life.

Anyway, this isn’t about Juno!

Let’s focus on the awkward family reunion with the idea that Aita’s Sages are all his descendant which includes Desmond because Elijah’s ‘Sage genes’ come from his father’s side!

Unorganized Notes:

Desmond would have no idea why he was in this weird time-space anomaly with these dudes. He doesn’t even recognize any of them! One of them was definitely a Templar too!

And there’s even a kid here???

Then Aita comes in and tells them that they were brought here because of their blood and there was some sort of attack that was aimed to lock Aita up. Instead, it locked him and a few of his descendants up instead.

And that’s how Desmond learned that his Isu ancestor is Juno’s husband. Well… fuck.

So Desmond would be stuck with Elijah, John, Germain, Bartholomew and we’ll also include Molay in the mix.

Desmond would totally not feel safe among any of them and his paranoia only grows after John says that he doesn’t know about the kid (Elijah) but he was sure Desmond wasn’t a Sage so he shouldn’t even be here in the first place. This gets Desmond a crash course of what a Sage is and he’s sus of everybody because the really short summary they gave made it seem like they’re being possessed by Aita so this looks like he’s in a room with lots of Aitas!

Aita doesn’t help his case because he says that Desmond is ‘special’ which is always a fucking red flag.

So they’re stuck in that room where the food never grows cold nor the fruits ever rot and the glasses always refill themselves and… mandatory bodily functions like sleeping and eating doesn’t seem to matter. Desmond’s pretty sure that they’re all ‘data’ at this point, avatars created from the memories of the real deals.

… at least, that’s what he came up with because this feels really similar to the Animus Island but felt more… ‘real’.

Desmond actually tries to talk to Elijah first because John says he’s not sure who he is so maybe he’s not a Sage as well. Elijah doesn’t tell him about their familial relationship but tells him that he is a Sage. And Elijah also tells him that not all Sages gets ‘eaten’ by Aita’s memories.

Desmond learns from Elijah that Germain and Molay are both like him. They have Aita’s memories but they control them but reports about Germain states that he’s not a good person in general. John and Bartholomew are completely enslaved to Aita’s memories though.

With that information, Desmond believes he and Elijah should be allies because it was clear that Elijah was trying to help him. Elijah doesn’t deny it but instead says that he’ll work with Desmond as long as he likes what Desmond plans to do.

They form a sorta distant alliance with Molay because Desmond knows he’s a Templar so he’s still super sus of him. Molay realizes that Desmond is an Assassin as well because he ‘moves like one’.

Anyway, throughout this entire time, Aita is trying to get into Desmond’s good graces, giving him gifts that appears out of nowhere or talking to him in general.

Desmond has no idea why Aita is doing any of this.

Elijah suggests that maybe Desmond is the Sage of Aita and Juno’s child instead and that’s why he’s there. “If you think about it, since we’re all his descendants, that would mean he had at least one child. Someone like Aita and Juno would have loved their child so deeply that it becomes twisted and they’d definitely try to save that child even if it meant using the same thing that killed off Ait-”

Elijah stops because he sees the horror in Desmond’s face and says instead, “I’m joking.”

Desmond sighed in relief and, seeing Molay about to speak, Elijah shoots him a very dark look that promises not death but endless torture just a shy away from death. Molay closes his mouth and keeps quiet.

John is the only one who is truly suspicious of who Elijah is. He has no idea who he is but… he looks too similar to Desmond… and… to Aita’s son who they were all descended from.

Elijah is keeping his connection to Desmond vague and, just to fuck with them, he makes vague comments about being from ‘far away’ and Desmond thinks he’s actually far into the future and Elijah’s just ‘yeah, I’ll go with that’ and uses the current state of the world he was living to make up a possible future that’s… weirdly… sounds like the plot of watch_dog LEGION.

Aita knows what Elijah is doing and he tries to tell him to stop it and tell Desmond the truth, reminding him that this might be the only time he could be with his father. Elijah tells him to shut up and that he has no leg to stand on since he’s just a parasite waiting to eat their mind to ‘live’ and to stop thinking of Desmond as a replacement for his son.

Desmond is having conflicted emotions since Aita is being nice to him but he also knows he’s Juno’s husband so he’s definitely not exactly a good person.

Germain is just there, unsure what to do because (1) Molay doesn’t want to talk to him after Elijah told him what Germain did to the Order and (2) Aita is pretty much ignoring him as well.

Bartholomew is just buddying up with John but he does know that Desmond is Edward Kenway’s descendant. He could feel it so he treats Desmond cordially.

The one that was trying to lock Aita so they can ‘capture’ him is Aletheia and Basim because they think he has an idea where their children are. Juno is actually trying to save him (and his Sages + Desmond… sorta).

[never-ending-studio]

Day 5: Benevolent

I know I am not the person you would go to for a rational explanation, but there doesn’t seem to be any for what is going on in this studio!

Being raised by my occult-driven aunt and uncle left its mark. While I no longer assume every coincidence is evidence, I’m not walking under ladders and tripping up black cats either. However, since I took up this assistant gig many strange and off-putting things have occurred. It started around when that ink machine was installed. It was around that time that the company's treatment of staff became bad too. Many people were working much longer hours, and you’d think with how tired everyone was they would at least sleep easier. It was in fact the opposite - nearly the whole studio was plagued by nightmares! The music director seemed to suffer the most, he locked himself in his office for around 12 hours once. Mister Drew had to come down himself to talk him out. Most of us could deal with the nightmares, given that most of us were already taking cat naps on this side to cope with the long hours. It was when they decided to fire that Miss Campbell that things went from bad to worse. She wasn’t the most popular woman or anything- many people were actually happy that she’d been fired as it sort of looked like management was actually doing something. However after she left everything became so much darker, literally. Electricity blackouts had become common and the damned dipping ink pipes extinguished the attempts at candlelight. I thought about quitting the first time I had to walk down one of those unlit hallways. When it’s just you in the dark, with the ink pipes churning overhead, it really gives you the sense of being in a beast's stomach. But I didn’t - how could I? By the look of those guys in the marketing department I’m the only thing that’s reliable down here. The most recent developments have been the disappearances. Although management aren’t calling it that, obviously. About one month ago that engineering company, GENT, hired a half dozen hands. It so happened that about one week into these boy's employment one of them snaps or something during their lunch break, accusing every man and their dog of killing their friend. Now if you’ve worked at Joey Drew studios you’re used to this kind of thing, although admittedly people the subject matter had never been this dark. So at the time nobody really thought anything of it and told the kid to take a nap. But it turned out that GENT hand had really gone missing! Very soon after the second feller is gone too! The higher-ups claimed the two had simply walked out, but nobody is really convinced. It seems Mister Drew has taken note of how people are feeling and has called a meeting. Or rather it’s a ceremony? To appease the benevolent gods of the studio for better luck, I think? We’re to offer up an item that’s “close to us.” Whatever that means. My Aunt and Uncle never talked about anything like this, I think I’ll just take this tape recorder and get it over with.     

[yesterdayiwrote]

Honestly as time goes on I'm becoming more and more a Norris anti.

Yes he's talented but I will never understand why the F1 pundits will constantly suck up to him (one of the most annoying points about the McLaren resurgence is that he's everywhere again)

I think Lando is fine driving wise, but I don’t think he’s superior to George for example, and I think he is perhaps a bit of a ‘drive fast, head empty’ kind of driver, in that he’s capable on a practical level but I can’t say he seems to have a strategic mind, if that makes sense. More of the James Hunt school than the Niki Lauda school. Considering his comments about Lewis having never driven a bad car the other week, I think it’s fair to say that he’s actually not really driven a bad car either. The McLaren was ropey at the start of the season but not exactly ‘Williams 2020’ level of disaster.

He got pretty comfortably outperformed by Sainz, albeit as a relative rookie, and I don’t want to say he got ‘lucky’ with Daniel as a teammate, but I think Daniel’s underperformance perhaps put his results in a better light. His results were pretty much where the car would be expected to finish, and it’s hard to ignore the two win opportunities he couldn’t convert. I think he’s had some preferential treatment this year which has helped him too…

I’m not sure he’ll be a WDC, although so much changes with teams and performance it’s always hard to make that call too far in advance, and I think there’s loads of ‘future WDC’ drivers that will miss out on fulfilling that goal due to matters outside their control.

I do agree about the fawning, I think some pundits and journalists try to act too ‘pally’ with him and it’s just a bit…cringey? I think he escapes a lot of criticism from certain sections of f1 fans (male fans more) because he kind of fits into that weird dudebro, incel adjacent, lads banter set that they all want to see themselves as so they see him as ‘one of them’ if that makes sense?

[vizthedatum]

This was my outfit yesterday! I feel very self-conscious about this aspect of myself. Going to Cornell was not easy, and it makes people both under- and overestimate me. I absolutely hate it. But also, it has really helped me so much and I acknowledge the privilege.

In 9th grade, I told my plaver (<7 always) that I wanted to go to Cornell… my parents wanted me to go college, preferably a top tier one. We were lower middle-class at best because of poor money management, unstable mental health, and the challenge of cultural assimilation into a new country (something ny parents still have trouble with (not judging)). Money was always tight and especially after my brother was born and especially when my dad had a stroke in high school.

So I was trained by my mother to push myself to excel in every subject, even if I didn’t like it.

I did ok. I did enough to get me into Cornell but I had a hard time internalizing much of the knowledge I accrued or forced in my brain. Often, I felt like I couldn’t understand why I knew something - I just knew it because I had to know it.

I had constant anxiety and SI. In addition to several undiagnosed and unmanaged chronic pain issues. And crippling depression (my parents asserted that if anyone found out I was depressed or sought mental health care then I would not get into college… or even have friends).

I got into Cornell in my senior year (lol I guess this is the timeline) and I was incredibly sick. My trauma was catching up to me. My hs ex was incredibly abusive. My parents, even more so. There was *something* going on with my brother but no one listened to me, and I’m still mad about that. I wish he had gotten into treatment sooner.

I missed more than half the days of my senior year in high school. I had migraines, extreme pelvic pain, and… near crippling fear/anxiety/depression. And most doctors didn’t really believe me. My school? Wayzata High School?? Well on behalf of the now-politician, Ginny Klevorn, white suburban mom™️ extraordinaire INSISTED that I needed consequences (despite me basically making up all my homework and exams) … so they gave me straight Fs for one of the quarters in high school. But they did make my parents take me to therapy until I graduated - too bad that my first therapist was also abusive and was later fired.

I was furious.

I worked my ass off to my detriment to attempt to do as well as my other over-achieving peers. I definitely wasn’t learning - I swear that I didn’t know what I was doing half of the time. I didn’t have a lot of money or resources either - we just got creative most of the time. I just had to get good grades and do a million extracurriculars and volunteer and learn how to drive and come up with excuses about my behavior and play the violin and deal with abuse and pain. I was definitely not the best student but it was good enough. Four Fs would ruin all that though.

I got in anyway because I incorporated it (and my immigrant upbringing - I think that was the trend back then, oof) into my essays… I got a sizable financial aid package. And I visited and accepted.

And then I went and was so severely depressed and in bladder pain the whole time that I ended up with a 2.99 GPA, more trauma, maladaptive behaviors, no idea what I wanted to do in my life but applied to UMich’s MPH program on a whim and someone took a chance on me. And the Cornell degree.

I did work hard but… Cornell was traumatic. It’s really not ok that we are known for suicides and general bleakness. The “easiest Ivy to get into, hardest one to get out of” or whatever? Fuck that - I saw grown adults crying or majorly stressed out because they might be put on probation or cast out of the engineering degrees. Or the level of absolute corporal punishment of students using the answer manual to finish homework and then they all had to go to a hearing?? And you could have some permanent mark on your record? Wtf? Do you remember that? It was a witch hunt and also extremely unreasonable. I felt like I and so many other people I knew were constantly on edge.

My urologist in Ithaca also FUCKING SUCKED. He did this weird procedure trying to literally stretch out my urethra with rods… and I got so much worse. He slut-shamed me constantly. He was the only specialist in the area - and not specialist in my conditions. I think I was his only regular AFAB patient!

And I got my first back hernia at Cornell.

And a devastating friendship breakup that I will never truly understand. I was so lonely for a while.

But the wines class was good.

I met amazing people there, and I’ve had unforgettable experiences. My best friends were from there. I did learn how much I couldn’t learn, and I taught myself how and did really well in grad school.

And now it helps in job interviews and stuff. And makes people (read: me) think I’m elitist. Yay.

And yeah - I think college and then ending up with 5 degrees is one hell of a trauma response.