#like of course im depressed. what the fuck kind of a life is this really

[seilon]

if i don’t make some actual solid friends this year i might just kill myself honestly

[phagodyke]

my flatmate asking me the day before "do u want to hang out w me and [old friend] everyone else cancelled so I can invite u now" is not the heartfelt offer she thinks it is :^/

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.4k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: eek series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

i mean, im not that surprised he’s sexy as hell

that’s actually crazy

imagine hiding your son for five years 😶😶 how can you be ashamed of that

doesn’t he literally have a girlfriend?? himari nakamura??

        ↳ yep for almost two years now

       ↳ wonder how she’s holding up i’d be pissed, unless she knew 

rich people are always shady as fuck

You don’t even know how many comments you’ve read. Staying up practically the entire night, busying yourself with the endless scrolling of people who have not a single clue of how your life actually is. Meddling in your business and acting like the shit they’re spouting on the internet is okay. 

They ranged from positive (sort of) to extremely personal and negative. 

i bet she just did it for the child support 

i wonder if he’s actually the dad, women like that lie and lie just cuz the dad is rich as fuck

i feel so bad for that boy

Bad? Why would they feel bad for him? You’ve given everything you can and then some to ensure Koji’s safety and innocence. You’ve never put him in harm’s way, difficult situations, hit him, nothing. Of course you’ve raised your voice, but every parent does. Why are these reasons suddenly acting like they know a fucking thing or two? This is insane. 

The only positive ones you see are praising your son for how cute he is, how much he looks like Satoru, and how he’ll probably get everything he wants. That’s not true, you’re not going to spoil your kid and you’re sure as hell not letting Satoru do it either; he’s humble, that’s how you want him to be. Still, you do feel uneasy at strangers on the internet for talking about your baby like this, in reference to a photo none of you knew was taken. 

And you still don’t know who took it. 

That’s what infuriates you the most. Because who in their right mind would do that? Who thinks they’re that fucking entitled to chime in on your personal business—your family. 

When you find them, you swear on everything you’re punching them. 

Your head hangs low, the hood of your sweatshirt pulled tight, shielding your face as you step into the café. You keep your gaze down, avoiding the eyes of the baristas and patrons scattered around. The familiar hum of the espresso machine feels deafening today.

Maybe no one will notice. Maybe no one cares.

But you know better.

That damn image, plastered across every TV screen and newsfeed yesterday, is still burned into your mind. Why do people even care this much? You’re beyond pissed off. Who in their right mind thinks they have the right to invade your personal life like that? To turn your family into fodder for the public?

Maybe no one will say anything. Who even watched the news anyway? 

More people than you think, actually. You keep moving, but Hana has other plans.

“Y/N!” Her voice cuts through the noise like a whip, and before you can react, she grabs your forearm, dragging you into the storage room in the back.

“Hey, what the—” you start to protest, wincing as her grip tightens, but she doesn’t care. She whirls around to face you, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell is going on?!” she demands, gesturing wildly with her hands. “You were on the news yesterday!”

Your stomach churns at the reminder, and your jaw clenches tightly. You pull your hood down, resigning yourself to the conversation you were hoping to avoid. “I know that already,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest.

“Koji’s father is multi-billionaire Satoru Gojo?!” Her voice rises in pitch, and she looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Is that for real? You’ve been hiding this?!”

You take a deep breath, counting to three in your head. “Yes, Hana. It’s real. Koji’s father is Satoru Gojo. Can we not do this right now?”

But Hana doesn’t back down, her wide eyes searching your face for answers. “Are you kidding me? Of course we’re doing this right now! You’ve been sitting on this—” she throws her hands up, “—while the rest of us thought you were just, like, a regular single mom? What the hell, Y/N?”

“Because it’s none of anyone’s business!” you hiss, your voice rising then lowering, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “Do you think I wanted this to come out? Do you think I wanted his world to invade mine?”

Hana softens slightly, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Okay, fair. But you should’ve told me, at least. I mean, I’m your friend.”

“I didn’t tell anyone for a reason and I don’t owe anyone anything,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “And now it’s everywhere. Do you know how terrifying that is? For me? For Koji?”

Hana sighs, leaning back against the wall. “Okay, okay. I get it. This whole thing’s a mess. But what are you going to do now? I mean, the story’s out. People are gonna talk, Y/N. A lot. Especially if it involves a man like him.”

You swallow hard, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly, your voice trembling. “I just want to protect my son.”

Hana nods, her expression softening further. “We’ll figure it out. But you’re gonna need a plan. And.”

“Hana, I—“ you’re really trying not to snap at her, really. But she’s pushing every button you have right now and your patience is running extremely low. Don’t snap, she’s just worried.  “I know what to do, thank you. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t meddle in my business too. We’re friends, yes, but understand right now that I’m going through a lot of shit and don’t need to be told what to do and when to do it. So get off my back.”

Hana blinks, a little caught off guard by your sudden announcement. Her mouth slightly agape, clearly not having expected your outburst. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, her expression shifting between hurt and something close to understanding. She straightens, her arms falling from where they’d been crossed over her chest. “Y/N, I wasn’t trying to—” she begins, her voice softer now, but you cut her off.

“I know,” you say, your voice quieter but still firm. “I know you’re trying to help, Hana. And I’m grateful, I am. But right now, I need to handle this on my own. I need space. Can you give me that?”

She nods slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay,” she says after a moment. “I get it. I’ll back off. Just—if you need anything, anything at all, I’m here. You know that, right?”

You exhale, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. “Yeah. I know.”

Hana offers you a small, tentative smile before stepping aside, giving you the room you so desperately need. As she moves to leave, she hesitates at the curtains, glancing back at you. “For what it’s worth, Y/N…I think you’re handling this a lot better than you think you are.”

You don’t respond, just nod in acknowledgment, and she disappears back into the front of the café. Alone in the small back room, you lean against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts.

Better than I think, huh? You shake your head, rubbing at your temples. It doesn’t feel that way. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said this probably won’t be that bad; not a big deal. But hell, it was huge. You hate unnecessary attention, especially attention from hundreds, if not thousands of random strangers. You’re recalling the incident from earlier when you dropped Koji off at school. Mr. Ito stopping you once more and confessing his surprise to you. In his words, “I didn’t know Koji had such an…esteemed father.”

You held back a slew of insults, keeping it classy, as always. But as the days go on and the more shit that seems to be happening to you, you’re getting this close to breaking that. It’s the way he, everyone else, and even Hana seems so…shocked. The lingering glances from other parents at drop-off, the whispers in the hallways. It’s the way their surprise feels so…palpable. You get it, in a way. Satoru Gojo is larger than life—powerful, wealthy, and untouchable in a way most people only dream of. But still, the shock in their eyes stings more than it should. Did they think you weren’t of caliber to bag a man like Satoru? Did they think a man like that wouldn’t even dream of having a child with a woman like you? It feels a tad bit insulting. Actually, scratch that—it feels like a slap in the face.

The implications gnaw at you, poking at insecurities you’d rather not acknowledge. This is exactly why you hate social media. You’re already growing too conscious of the comments people are making—caring too much and it was just revealed. And the worst part? You can’t even fully blame them. Satoru’s world is one you’ve never truly belonged to. You’re not the glossy, magazine-cover type, and you don’t have the pedigree or connections his circle would expect. But that doesn’t mean you’re less than, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean Koji is any less precious because of it.

 You sigh, rubbing at your temples. If only these people could see you for who you truly are—if they could see the strength it takes to raise a child on your own, to hold your head high even when the world tries to tear you down. But no, all they see is the scandal and the drama, their curiosity morphing into judgment. Sure, you made mistakes—big and bad ones. But you’re doing all this in order to make up for those mistakes. And sure, Satoru doesn’t 100% forgive you—you’re not sure he ever will—but you don’t think he would agree with these kinds of comments being made. Right? 

You huff. Let them talk, you think bitterly, though the tightness in your chest betrays the confidence you’re trying to muster. Let them all talk, they know nothing. 

The minutes feel like hours. Unsure of how long you’ve exactly been here. Equally nervous about looking at your phone to check.

“Oh my god, look. It’s her.”

“Shhh! She’ll hear you.”

“I wonder if she’ll give us pointers.”

“You’re insane.”

The conversation doesn’t fly over your head. t’s like they want you to hear, voices loud enough to penetrate the usual clatter of the café. You swear, they’re practically aiming their words right at you. Your grip tightens around the rag in your hand, knuckles going white as you scrub the already spotless table. The motion is a little too aggressive, the poor table bearing the brunt of your simmering frustration. Your jaw clenches, brows knitting together as you try—desperately—to keep your temper in check. Jaw clenching and brows knitting together, you’re counting down to ten and back.

One…two…three… you recite in your head, attempting to steady your breath. It’s an old habit—one you learned a while back from you’re therapist, one you’ve relied on in situations like this, but today it feels like it’s barely working. Four…five…six.

You glance up, just for a second, and immediately regret it. The group of girls sits near the window, leaning into each other as they giggle, their eyes darting your way. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. One of them, a blonde with an annoyingly perfect smile, nudges her friend and whispers something, sending the others into another fit of laughter. Your fingers flex around the rag, itching to throw it across the room. Breathe, you remind yourself. Just breathe. They’re not worth it. But it’s hard to ignore the knot tightening in your chest, the sting of humiliation creeping in despite your best efforts. Because you know exactly what they’re laughing about, what they’re whispering about. It’s not just idle curiosity—it’s judgment, plain and simple. And maybe, just maybe, if this were any other day, you’d let it roll off your back. But today? After everything that’s happened? After seeing your son’s face plastered on screens and hearing people dissect your life like it’s a soap opera? You toss the rag onto the table, standing up straighter as you look their way. They immediately quiet down, eyes widening like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“Can I help you?” you ask, voice calm but carrying just enough edge to make them squirm.

The blonde fidgets, her confidence faltering under your gaze. “Oh, um, no, we were just…”

“Enjoying your coffee?” you finish for her, forcing a tight smile. “Good. Let me know if you need anything else.” Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk behind the counter, the satisfaction of their stunned silence doing little to ease the weight in your chest. Nine…ten… You exhale slowly, trying to let it go, but the anger simmers just beneath the surface.

It’s going to be a long day.

—-

The walk back home with Koji feels like you never want to use your senses again. It feels like a marathon you never signed up for, every step heavier than the last. The pounding in your head has escalated into a full-blown migraine, the sharp pain clawing at the edges of your skull. You clench your teeth, trying to hold it together, willing the tears pricking at your eyes to stay put. Koji chatters beside you, his small hand in yours, his voice a muffled hum against the overwhelming throb in your head.

 So much has changed within just the span of a week and none of it feels good. You like change, but not like this. Not the kind of change that’s so spontaneous and out of nowhere that it makes you dread the littlest things. The kind of change where you feel like every way you turn, it’s a dead end. Every thought spiraling into another reminder of how much you’ve lost control, or of how much you never had it to begin with. The kind of change that you never fucking asked for in the first place. The kind of change where you feel like a ticking timebomb. A simple walk home feels like an obstacle course. The sound of Koji’s innocent laughter, once a balm to your soul, now feels like a weight pressing down on you, a reminder of how fragile your balance is.

This change doesn’t come with warnings or instructions. It doesn’t let you adjust, and doesn’t give you the chance to prepare. It just dumps its baggage on your doorstep and forces you to deal with it, whether you’re ready or not. And right now, you’re not.

The last thing you want to do is blow up on someone who doesn’t deserve it, especially your son. You glance down at him, his bright eyes scanning the world around him with that endless curiosity only a child can have. His tiny fingers grip yours with a trust that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand the storm brewing inside you. And he shouldn’t have to.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Koji’s voice is soft, his head tilted as he looks up at you with concern.

You force a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you manage, squeezing his hand gently. “Just tired.” He nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and resumes his animated recount of the day’s events. You let him talk, his voice a small distraction from the noise in your head. One step at a time, you tell yourself. One breath at a time. For him, if not for yourself.

You wonder to yourself how many more times you can continue repeating that phrase to yourself, like a broken record spinning endlessly in your mind. Shouldn’t you be allowed to do some things on your own? Something that isn’t tied to the constant grind of making sure Koji has everything he needs, of shielding him from a world that feels more hostile every day? Everything you do is for him—every decision, every sacrifice, every moment of biting your tongue when you want to scream. It’s all for him. 

But what about you?

The thought is bitter, curling in your chest like smoke. It feels selfish even to entertain it, but the exhaustion is suffocating. How long has it been since you’ve done something just because you wanted to? Since you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of thinking about what you need, instead of what everyone else expects of you? Is it selfish? Is this not how a good mother thinks?

The doubt gnaws at you, persistent and sharp. 

Not like you’d know the answer to that question. Your mother—a woman you rarely ever want to think about—never gave you the guidance for situations like this. You have no inspiration, nothing. You’re doing everything free-handed. She didn’t leave you with blueprints for moments like these, no voice in your head to tell you what’s right, what’s wrong, or even what’s okay. She was a void, an absence, and that absence shaped you more than you’d like to admit.

And now here you are, trying to be everything for your son that she wasn’t for you. But it feels like you’re fumbling in the dark, building something fragile with trembling hands. There’s no instruction manual for this, no map to follow. You’re doing everything on the first try, improvising as you go. Every decision feels like a gamble. Did you do enough today? Did you do too much? Did you make the right call, or are you setting him up for something you can’t even see coming? The uncertainty is exhausting.

You glance at Koji, his small hand still tucked safely in yours, his voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts. He’s so blissfully unaware of the turmoil raging inside you, and that’s how it should be. He deserves that innocence, that security. But the weight of always being the strong one, the reliable one, is starting to crush you. How much longer can I keep this up? The question whispers in your mind, and you hate it. You hate that you’re even asking it, hate that it makes you feel weak. But the truth is, you’re tired.

And you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending that you’re not.

You focus on Koji again, his small frame silhouetted against the afternoon light of the day. He trusts you implicitly, and looks at you like you’re the answer to everything. And the weight of that trust makes you want to cry and scream in equal measure. How can I possibly live up to that?

They never said motherhood was easy. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. Maybe this is what being a mother really is—second-guessing everything, carrying the weight of your own past, and still showing up every day, trying your best. 

You don’t know if that’s enough. But it’s all you have.

It seems like you’re in for a surprise every second of the day.

Satoru, much to your own dismay and confusion, is perched against your apartment door; waiting for you again. Like a magnet, Koji runs into his lower half, hugging his father with all the strength his five-year-old body will allow. 

“Hey, little man. I’m happy to see you.” Satoru smiles wholeheartedly, patting Koji’s back with gentle ease.

“Hi, Papa! I missed you.” His voice is muffled by Satoru’s clothing.

The older man laughs, relishing in the moment for another second, before opening his light azures. His eyes look like they’re darting all around you, as if making sure you’re okay. Standing up, he shuffles his hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you mutter, walking up closer. Arms crossing. 

He nods. “I know, I–I should’ve told you. But this was urgent and I knew you were busy at work.”

A hum is all you offer, unlocking your apartment door and stepping in. The semi-warmth envelops you like a worn blanket. Finally, in the comfort of my own home. Even if it is just for a little bit before you’re off again. 

“Call off his babysitter.”

You look back, watching him close your door and lock it. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m here.”

Koji runs off to his room, presumably to play with his toy collection. Leaving the two adults alone. Biting your lip, attempting to come up with something to say—or what to say first. Luckily, he beats you to it. “I want you two to spend the night at mine, don’t go to work. I’ll pay you whatever you miss out on. I know you saw the leak and I’m working on figuring out who the hell did it. But until then, I’m a little concerned for your guys’ safety, so stay at mine until we figure things out long-term.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the resolute earnestness in his voice. The Satoru you know isn’t usually this serious, this concerned. It’s disarming—attractive, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. “This is my home, Satoru,” you finally say, your voice quiet but firm. “I can’t just up and leave because of a leak. And I can’t run every time something like this happens. That’s not a long-term solution either.”

“I get that,” he says, stepping closer. “But this isn’t just about you. It’s about Koji. Someone took that photo, and I don’t know who, or how, or what their intentions are. Until I do, I can’t take chances.”

“And I get that, but I can’t just—sleep at your place.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s just…weird.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he exhales out. “You think something’ll happen? It won’t. I'm doing this for Koji and you because I care. Not because reviving something that’s long-ended is my priority.” 

“It’s not about that,” you snap, your voice rising before you catch yourself. You close your eyes for a second, exhaling sharply, trying to rein in your frustration. “It’s just... complicated, Satoru. You showing up like this, offering to fix things with money, with solutions I didn’t ask for, for problems I never wanted—it’s overwhelming.”

He takes another step closer, his presence filling the small entryway. “You think I don’t understand that?” His voice softens but carries an edge of urgency. “Y/N, I’m not trying to make this harder for you. I know this is all... messy. But I can’t sit around and pretend I’m okay with you and Koji being here while someone out there is bold enough to invade your privacy like that. I’m trying to protect you. You can’t keep pushing me away like this, you said you wanted to make things better.”

“I know, but—”

“Then stop it. Stop arguing, complaining, whatever. You’re not going to keep me out of Koji’s life any longer, or yours. They already posted another damn picture of you today at work.”

What? You blink your eyes, widening them. You don’t even want to see the photo evidence, gulping down the weird lump that forms in your throat. What the fuck is going on with my life right now? You hesitate, biting your lip. His words chip away at your defenses, but the walls you’ve built don’t crumble that easily. “And what happens if we go to your place? What’s next? You swoop in, play hero, and then leave us when this blows over?”

His jaw tightens, the faint hurt flashing in his eyes almost imperceptible. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Isn’t it?” you counter, arms crossing tightly over your chest, a weak attempt to shield yourself from the weight of the conversation. “That’s what you always do, Satoru. You show up when it’s convenient for you, and when it’s not, you disappear.”

The words hang heavy in the air, stinging both of you. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not leaving you this time,” he says quietly, lifting his eyes back to yours. “Not until I know you two are safe. I’m not running, Y/N. Not from this. But you have to stop trying to keep me at arm's length, I’m trying my best to help.” His eyes lock onto yours, pleading yet determined. You hate how convincing he can be when he’s like this. How he makes you question your own resolve. “Please,” he adds, his voice dropping. “Just for a little while.”

The conviction in his voice is startling, and it makes something inside you waver. You’re tired, too tired to keep arguing, too tired to keep carrying everything on your shoulders. It’s true, you’re feeling yourself pushback on him. He deserves this—time with Koji, protecting him, and more. It’s just so hard breaking from the fragile bubble you built for your son and you. Satoru’s presence is like a sharp knife, waiting to just poke through it with ease, to get to his family.“Fine,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But just for tonight. Koji and I will come to your place for tonight.”

Relief washes over his features, but he doesn’t smile. He nods, stepping back to give you space. “That’s all I’m asking.”

As you turn away to gather what you need for the night, you catch a glimpse of Koji peeking out from his room, his eyes wide with curiosity. You put on a smile for his sake, but deep down, you can’t shake the unease settling in your chest. This isn’t just about staying at Satoru’s place. It’s about what this means—what it could mean—and the part of you that still isn’t sure you’re ready to face it.

The inside of Satoru’s Mercedes is spacious, but asphyxiating. Koji in his car seat in the back, watching something on his tablet. This is the first time you’ve been in the car with Satoru since way long ago. It’s nostalgia, but sickening at the same time. You remember how he would place his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. Or how he likes to rest his hand on the gearstick, or his elbow on the middle console. 

Your skin prickles with goosebumps when he brushes against your arm as he reaches for the temperature controls, adjusting the heat. It’s a small, thoughtless gesture, but it sends an involuntary jolt through you. You glance out the window, pretending to admire the blurred city lights instead of acknowledging the memories flooding back. The hum of the car engine fills the silence, an uncomfortable contrast to the weight of everything left unsaid. Koji giggles at something on his tablet in the backseat, his innocence a stark reminder of why you’re here and why you can’t let your emotions take over.

“You okay?” Satoru’s voice breaks the quiet, calm yet cautious.

“Fine,” you reply quickly, too quickly. You keep your eyes glued to the window, your arms crossed as if to shield yourself from the proximity.

He stops at a red light, leaning back in his sight. He’s a pro at side-eyeing you as you’re faced away. Seeing the way your hands ball into small fists. Nervous. Your foot is tapping on the floor. Thinking. And if he looks closer at your chest, he’ll notice how it’s rising up and down a little more quickly than normal. 

Oh. 

He clears his throat, looking forward as the light turns green. Focus on driving, focus on driving. He doesn’t push, but you can feel his gaze flickering toward you now and then, like he’s reading every shift in your posture, every flicker of hesitation. It’s infuriating how well he knows you, even now. You glance at Koji briefly before turning your gaze back to the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks as the car moves. The nostalgia you felt earlier morphs into a bitter taste in your mouth. You hate how easily Satoru slips into the role of a doting father, as if the years of his absence never happened.

You need to get a better hold of your jealousy. 

“You’re quiet,” Satoru says, breaking the silence.

“Just tired,” you reply curtly, not bothering to look at him.

He hums, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. “Long day, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “You could say that.”

His gaze flicks to you briefly before returning to the road. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. But I’m glad you’re coming with me. It’s the right thing to do.”

You let out a dry laugh, finally turning to face him. “The right thing to do? Since when have you ever cared about the right thing, Satoru?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then he exhales deeply, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I care now. Now that you’ve granted me that option,” he says quietly.

You want to scoff, to throw his words back at him, but there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. Something raw, unguarded. The way he gets out those snark remarks angers you, but only further solidifies the weight of your actions, and the fact that things will never be the same. 

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. When the car finally pulls into the underground garage of his penthouse building, Koji’s excitement is palpable.

“Wow! This place is huge!” Koji exclaims, his eyes wide as he looks around.

Satoru chuckles, stepping out of the car and opening the back door to unbuckle Koji. “Wait till you see the view, buddy.”

You follow them, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. As you step into the elevator, you can’t help but feel like you’re being pulled back into a world you thought you’d left behind—one of complications and heartbreak. Satoru presses the button for his floor, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just for one night.”

You don’t respond, staring straight ahead as the elevator begins its ascent. But deep down, you know it’s never just one night with Satoru. 

“No running.”

“Sorry, Mama.”

You place Koji and your bags on one of the chairs in the kitchen, watching your son rush to his father’s living room. Satoru follows him, hands on his hips. “Hey buddy, bought some toys for you. Do you want to play with them? You like Spiderman, right?”

If possible, Koji’s eyes light up even more with excitement. Gasping and squealing, nodding his head furiously. “I love Spiderman! Mama threw me a Spiderman birthday last time.”

Satoru hums. “Wish I coulda seen that.”

You freeze at Satoru's words, your hand halfway to unpacking one of Koji’s bags. His tone is light, almost wistful, but it feels like a loaded statement—one that stings more than you’d like to admit. You glance over at him and Koji, your son practically bouncing on his toes as Satoru kneels to pull out a neatly wrapped box from a hidden cabinet. “Here you go,” Satoru says, handing it to Koji. “I think you’ll like what’s inside.”

Koji tears into the wrapping with glee, revealing a Spiderman action figure set. He gasps, clutching the box to his chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you, Papa! This is so cool!”

Your heart twists at how easily Koji has taken to calling him that. It’s like Satoru’s sudden presence is a gift he didn’t realize he’d been missing. And yet, for you, it’s a reminder of the years of absence—of the birthdays and milestones Satoru missed. “Please, don’t spoil him too much,” you mutter, finally unpacking Koji’s things and setting them on the counter.

Satoru looks over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s wrong with a little spoiling? He deserves it.”

You exhale sharply, not bothering to mask your irritation. “What he deserves is consistency.”

His smirk falters, standing back up to his full height and coming over to you. Keeping his voice level calm, in case Koji decides to listen in. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. 

Satoru narrows his eyes slightly, his expression unreadable as he watches you busy yourself with Koji’s things. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

You let out a humorless laugh, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. Don’t read into it.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t push further—not yet. Instead, he leans against the counter, folding his arms as he observes you. “Y/N, you can’t be the angry one in this situation. I thought you understood that.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m just—” you let out a big breath, looking up at him once more. “I’m tired. Forgive me if I’m not overly happy right now.

Satoru’s gaze softens, his posture relaxing slightly, though the tension in the room lingers like a heavy fog. “I’m not trying to add onto that, I’m just trying to be here for my son.”

I know that. I don’t know why I’m snapping. All you can offer is a nod, reaching into your bag, and grabbing a change of clothes. “I…I’m gonna go shower, watch him please.”

Satoru nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before shifting to the living room where Koji is engrossed in his toys. “Of course. Take your time.”

You offer a small, tight-lipped smile before retreating down the hall, clutching the clothes in your hands like a lifeline. Once you’re inside the bathroom, the door clicks shut behind you, and the weight of everything crashes down. Leaning against the counter, you grip the edge tightly, your knuckles turning white as you take slow, measured breaths. The mirror reflects a version of yourself you hardly recognize—tired, frazzled, and barely holding it together. The faint hum of Koji’s laughter echoes down the hall, grounding you for a moment. At least he’s happy. That’s what matters.

The shower is a welcome escape. The hot water cascades over your skin, washing away the grime of the day and the lingering tension from your conversation with Satoru. You let your head fall forward, droplets sliding down your face, mingling with the tears you didn’t realize had started to fall. You didn’t mean to snap at him. He’s trying, you know that. But the past doesn’t let go so easily, and the overwhelming mix of emotions—anger, fear, hope—leaves you feeling unsteady. And you feel angry at yourself for letting your emotions slip through, getting the best of you. You’re surprised Satoru hasn’t been more outwardly rude to you, short, or even snappy. It seems like he’s taking this all better than you are, and once again, that bitter jealousy of yours is shining through. How he can just handle things so smoothly—at least that’s what it seems like. But he’s used to all this: the spotlight, public eye, attention. You just wish things could’ve been handled…differently. 

Everything feels like a domino effect, starting all with that dreaded day at the grocery store. How so much has changed. 

 By the time you step out, you feel a fraction lighter, though the knot in your chest remains. You towel off, change into your clean clothes, and take a moment to steel yourself before heading back into the fray.

When you return to the living room, you find Satoru sitting cross-legged on the floor with Koji, holding up a miniature Spiderman figure. Koji is giggling, animatedly explaining an intricate story about how Spiderman saves the day. Satoru glances up as you walk in, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Hey. We’re just working on a top-secret mission over here. No big deal.”

Koji looks up too, beaming. “Mama! Papa’s playing Spiderman with me! He’s really good at the voices.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms, even as your heart aches a little at the sight. “Sounds like you two are having fun.”

Satoru nods, his expression soft. “We’re a good team.”

You stand there for a moment, watching them, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders once more. Maybe this is what Koji needs. Maybe this is what you need. But trusting him again…that’s the hardest part.

That night, eating dinner at Satoru’s long dining table, the same one where you faced his parents, it all feels strange, to say the least. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates echoes faintly in the vast dining room, filling the silence between the three of you. Koji hums to himself as he picks at his plate, occasionally glancing at his father to tell him some small details about his day or ask about the toys he’d gotten earlier. Satoru engages him with ease, his tone light and playful, but you can see the flickers of something deeper behind his smiles—guilt, maybe, or a desperate need to make up for lost time.

And then there’s you, sitting stiffly at the other end of the table, your appetite wavering as your mind keeps drifting back to the last time you sat here. That memory is sharp and vivid, like an old wound that hasn’t quite healed.

But Koji’s laughter brings you back down to Earth. Looking up from your plate of food to the sight before you. Father and son, son and father, family. They look so alike, you don’t think you can ever get over the blatant resemblance. Satoru’s genes are just very strong. You wish Koji could’ve inherited a few more things from you. You place a hand on your lower stomach, as if a physical touch will make the strange abundance of butterflies flying around in there to go away. 

It’s strange, this setup. Domestic in a way you never thought you’d experience with him again. But it’s also…nice. 

It feels whole, like this is how things should be. Would’ve been had you not held your tongue for so long. And you’re starting to think to yourself how much you like this sight. How it’s making you feel at home.

But this isn’t your home. However, you think you can pretend for just one night. 

“You’re not eating much,” Satoru says, pulling you out of your thoughts. His voice is casual, but there’s an undertone of concern.

Your eyes widen at him, realizing you’ve been caught staring and quickly looking back down. “I’m fine,” you say, forcing a small smile. “Just sleepy, I guess.”

“I bet,” he says, and while his tone is conversational, his gaze lingers on you, searching for something beneath your calm facade.

“Yeah,” you reply shortly, stabbing at a piece of vegetable on your plate. You don’t want to talk about your day or your worries or the mounting anxiety sitting heavy in your chest. Not here, not now.

Koji interrupts before Satoru can press further, his voice bright and full of excitement. “Papa, can we watch a movie after dinner? Mama too!”

Satoru grins, lightly pinching his cheekbone. “Of course, buddy. What movie are we watching?”

Koji claps his hands together, listing off a couple of titles before settling on one of his favorites. You manage another smile, this one a little more genuine, as you watch the way Satoru effortlessly makes Koji light up. For a moment, the tension eases, and you let yourself focus on Koji’s joy. Maybe this is enough for now. Maybe that’s all you need to get through the evening.

But as you glance at Satoru across the table, his eyes catching yours for a brief second, you’re reminded of how fragile this truce feels. Of how much history lies between you, threatening to resurface at any moment.

Koji picks Spiderman, of course. You’ve watched this movie at least a hundred times now, maybe more. You can practically recite the lines perfectly. The movie plays on, the familiar dialogue flowing like background noise to your swirling thoughts. You’ve seen this scene so many times—the hero’s triumphant swing through the city, the bad guy’s dramatic monologue, the moments of comic relief Koji always laughs at—but tonight, it feels different. There’s an added layer of tension sitting heavy between you and Satoru.

The living room feels unusually cozy, the dimmed lighting casting a warm glow over the space. Koji wiggles in his spot, clutching a Spiderman plush as he stares at the screen with unblinking eyes, thoroughly engrossed. You, on the other hand, are trying not to let your exhaustion bubble over. Koji sits between you two, Satoru’s arm over his little shoulders. Satoru’s arm rests casually behind Koji, but every so often, as he adjusts his position, his fingers graze your shoulder—a light, fleeting touch that feels far too deliberate to be accidental. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems entirely focused on the movie, his face relaxed, a small smirk tugging at his lips during one of Koji’s excited reactions. So, you ignore it. But you do shift slightly, creating just enough distance to break the contact. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Koji laughs out loud at a particularly funny scene, leaning against Satoru’s side. “That’s so cool, Papa! I wanna do that someday!”

Satoru chuckles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Maybe we’ll get you a Spiderman costume, and you can be the hero of the city.”

Koji beams at him, his excitement is contagious. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to appreciate this dynamic, the way Satoru fits so naturally into Koji’s world. You hate to admit it, but this is what Koji’s been missing—what you’ve been missing, too, in some small, buried way. Satoru’s hand once again brushes your shoulder during his next adjustment, that buried part of you is quickly overshadowed by the reminder of why this dynamic fell apart in the first place.

Luckily, Koji is already showered and dressed for bed in his matching red set. So as the movie progresses, nearing its end, so does his sleepiness. You along with him. Koji’s head begins to droop as the credits start to roll, his little body leaning further into Satoru’s side. His eyelids flutter with each blink, his earlier excitement now replaced by the slow pull of sleep. Satoru’s about to make a remark, before looking over at you and seeing your body slumped over on the other side. 

The scene feels peaceful in a way he hadn’t anticipated—a rare moment of quiet amidst the chaos that’s been your guys’ lives lately. Koji’s soft breathing grows steadier, his small body completely leaning into Satoru’s side now, one hand clutching his Spiderman plush while the other hangs limply at his side. Satoru glances down at his son with a faint smile, brushing Koji’s hair out of his face with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He looks over to you next, ready your head resting on your hand. Your expression is soft, lips parted slightly as you drift into the kind of sleep that only exhaustion can bring. Satoru looks at the clock; 9:00pm.

For a moment, he just watches you both. Koji, who looks so much like him it’s almost uncanny, and you, the woman who’s somehow always managed to throw him off balance without even trying. He sighs softly, shaking his head at the scene before him. For a split second, he feels a shadow—a ghost from the past appears beside Koji. A baby girl who would’ve been seven by now.The baby girl who never got the chance to grow up. In that fleeting, haunting moment, he imagines her sitting there too, nestled beside her brother, giggling at Spiderman’s antics. He can imagine her features. She would’ve looked so much like you, it’s painful.

His chest tightens, and he has to look away, focusing on a random corner of the room as he fights to steady his breathing. It’s not fair—to her, to Koji, or to you. And yet, here he is, caught in the what-ifs and the might-have-beens, unable to let go of a past that feels like it happened both a lifetime ago and just yesterday. The glimpse is gone as soon as it comes, to which he’s thankful for because he is not crying right now. With a small grunt, he stands up and carefully moves Koji into his arms. Adjusting the boy and making sure he’s not waking up, he walks him over to the spare bedroom.

Satoru moves quietly, his footsteps soft against the floor as he cradles Koji in his arms. The boy’s head rests comfortably on his shoulder, his small body relaxed and completely unaware of the careful handling. The weight of his son in his arms, the warmth of Koji’s tiny form, is a stark reminder of everything he’s been missing. He pushes the door to the spare bedroom open gently, trying not to disturb the silence of the house. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a calm glow across the room. Satoru places Koji carefully on the bed, tucking him in with the same gentle movements he’s always used. He watches for a moment as the boy shifts slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips before settling back into a peaceful sleep.

For a second, Satoru just stands there, hands lingering at Koji’s side as if unsure of when to leave. It’s as if the past week—no, the past years—are catching up to him in this very moment. He never thought he'd be here, standing in a room like this, watching his son sleep under a roof that used to feel so distant. His chest tightens, but he refuses to let himself feel the weight of it. Not yet. Not with Koji so close. With one last look, he slowly pulls away, stepping back into the hallway and quietly closing the door behind him. The house feels colder as he moves through it, but this time, it’s not because of the empty spaces or the lingering tension. It’s because, for the first time in years, he’s truly trying to figure out where he fits in all of this.

And it’s a lot harder than he ever expected.

He walks back to the living room, your body now completely lying on your side. His lips purse as he stands before you, unsure if he should wake you or move you himself. Would that be okay? Is he crossing some boundary of yours if he touches you fully and intentionally?

Satoru stands there for a moment, studying you as you sleep. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your body curls slightly into the pillow, creates a sense of peace in the room, but also a sense of tension in him. The pull to reach out, to make sure you’re comfortable, is strong. But he hesitates, his mind racing with thoughts about boundaries, and the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable, especially when everything already feels so fragile between the two of you. He watches for a few more seconds, the quiet of the room making everything feel so... still. He doesn’t know how he got here, standing in the middle of the room, feeling so torn. Part of him wants to just go ahead and make sure you’re properly tucked in, like he did with Koji. But that other part of him continues to wonderf if that’s overstepping, if his presence, even now, feels intrusive. Satoru exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. Finally, he decides to attempt to recreate his actions for Koji; it’s the least he can do.

He bends his knees slightly, hands reaching out. But just as his fingertips graze your bare arms, you’re jolting up and awake. Head swiveling around, eyes barely open and bleary. “What’s happening? Where’s Koji?”

Satoru freezes, his fingers hovering in the air as your voice cuts through the stillness. His eyes flick to you, wide and disoriented from the abruptness of your awakening. "Y/N?" He murmurs, his voice low and hesitant, almost as if he's unsure whether you’re fully awake. "Koji’s in the other room, he’s asleep."

You sit up, rubbing your eyes, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Your thoughts are jumbled, disoriented from the deep slumber you’d just woken from. “I— I didn’t hear him... when did he go to bed?”

Satoru, still crouched by your bedside, lets out a soft sigh, his expression softening. "I put him down a few minutes ago. He was out before the movie ended." He pauses for a second, watching you carefully, his hand still lingering awkwardly in the air as if unsure whether to touch you or not. "You were really tired, so I thought I'd handle it."

You blink, the fog in your mind barely beginning to clear. Slowly, you nod, still trying to process everything in the haze of your exhaustion. “Thank you.” The words come out quieter than you expect, but there’s something in your voice that surprises both of you.

Satoru’s gaze lingers for a moment, a mix of concern and relief flashing in his eyes. He stands up, backing away from the bed slowly. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he says softly, hands running through his hair as he takes a step toward the door. “But you should go to bed. You can sleep with Koji or um—in my bed if you want.”

You stare at his figure, the weight of the situation still pressing down on you. There’s so much 

happening, so much you didn’t expect, and yet… for some reason, having him here, like this, almost feels normal. You rub your temples, trying to stave off the headache forming. 

“I’ll sleep out here, of course,” he quickly adds on, realizing the small, but accidental hinting.

You raise an eyebrow at his quick backpedaling, a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It's been a long time since you shared any sort of space with him—especially under these circumstances. But the way he’s stumbling over his words, trying so hard to make things comfortable, it makes you wonder if maybe he’s not as composed as he likes to act. “Thanks,” you murmur, rubbing your temples again. The migraine's intensity is growing, and it's all you can do to keep your emotions in check. You hadn’t expected this—any of it. Satoru’s presence here, offering you comfort in his own odd way, only complicates everything more. You never asked for this kind of help, but you can't deny the relief it brings. “I’ll sleep with Koji.”

Satoru’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, his expression softening as if he’s weighing his words carefully, trying not to overstep. He knows you’re not the type to ask for help. Hell, you hardly ever accept it when it’s offered. But tonight is different. Tonight is full of a thousand unspoken things. The lingering tension, the awkwardness of it all, and the confusing emotions between you two. It’s all too much, too quickly, and yet you feel the pull of something familiar—a bond you haven’t felt in years. “You sure?” he asks, his voice low. Almost like he’s waiting for you to give him some kind of permission or reassurance, something that lets him know you’re okay. His presence, his concern for Koji, it’s all so overwhelming in its own way.

You hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens just having him this close, even if it is just in the same house. “I’ll be fine,” you say, your voice a little softer than you intended. The last thing you want to do is drag him back into your life fully. But he’s already here, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you're too tired to argue. "You don’t have to stay out here." The words hang in the air for a beat.

You take this moment to rise from the couch, wiping your eyes once more. “Where is he?”

“Spare room,” he points.

You nod, more to yourself than to him, and retreat to the spare room. The migraine pounds in the background of your mind. Mind still riddled with sleep, you accidentally bump your shoulder into the wall, footsteps faltering. He moves faster than you anticipated—expected, his hands finally making contact with your upper arms; stablizing you. His touch itself feels reminiscent.

His grip on your arms is steady, firm—just like it used to be. You catch your breath for a moment, not expecting the familiarity of his touch to feel so grounding. For a split second, you’re taken back to moments from the past, the memories of simpler days when his touch brought comfort instead of tension. You want to pull away, to remind yourself that things aren’t the same anymore. But you’re too tired, too worn out, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into the stability he’s offering without question.

"Careful," Satoru’s voice is quiet, but there's a soft edge to it, like he’s genuinely concerned. His hands stay on your arms, not pulling away immediately, as if waiting for you to give him a signal that you’re okay.

You blink, the haze of sleep making everything feel just a little more surreal. "I’m fine," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, but it lacks conviction. Your body feels heavier than it should, and your mind seems to be swimming in fog.

He doesn’t let go right away. Instead, his fingers give a slight squeeze, a small, unspoken reassurance. "You sure? You look like you’re about to fall over."

"I’m just... tired," you say, the words slipping from your lips before you even realize. You wince internally, but it’s too late to take them back now. There’s no point.

Satoru nods, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway, but the way his eyes linger on you makes something in your chest tighten. It’s like he’s still trying to figure you out, still trying to read you after all these years. He always was good at that. Without saying much more, he gently guides you to the door of the spare room, a hand hovering above the small of your back; his touch still light but firm. He’s not pushing you, just there, a quiet presence in the storm. "Get some rest. I’ll be nearby, just in case."

You nod, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and frustration well up inside you. "Thanks," you murmur, finally able to pull away from his grip and step into the room.

Before you close the door, you glance over at him, standing there in the hallway, his figure outlined by the soft glow from the living room. "Good night," you add, your voice a little softer than you meant it to be.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that you can’t quite place. After a beat, he says quietly, "Good night, Y/N."

And then, with one last look, he walks away, leaving you alone in the quiet darkness of the room. The door clicks softly behind you, and for the first time in days, you feel a small sense of peace—fragile, uncertain, but there all the same.

Satoru has taken the liberty of getting Koji dressed and ready for school. Shushing his son with quiet murmurs so you won’t wake up. He’s a little surprised, but you must be that tired. Satoru usually wakes up earlier than most, having went to go check on you two, but getting shocked to see his son using the bathroom instead and saying something about how “Mama’s still sleeping, I have school.”

He’s a smart kid—a very smart kid. He guided Satoru the entire ride, remembering the name of his school and which streets to use. You raised him well. He parks his car in the lot, it stands out like a sore thumb among the civics, corollas, and trucks.

Carrying Koji in his arms towards the boys classroom. “Excited, buddy?”

“Mhm!” 

Satoru smiles and kisses his cheek. “I’ll pick you up, okay?”

“Okay, Papa. Thank you.” Koji gratefully responds.

“No need to thank me, Koji. It’s my job.”

Satoru can feel the lingering stares and hushed whispers as he walks down the hallway to his son’s class. Ignoring it like a pro and focusing on one thing and one thing only. As they approach his room, Mr. Ito is standing outside like usual. As soon as the man sees the two, his eyes visibly widen before playing it off with a cough of his throat. “Good morning, Koji. Gojo.”

Satoru remembers the guy as the one from the cafe. That one. He nods in understanding, setting Koji down and crouching with him. “Have a fun day, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Papa.” Koji kisses his cheek and rushes inside happily. 

 "Morning," Satoru replies coolly, standing tall as he watches Koji run off to join his classmates. "I trust Koji’s been good?"

"Of course, of course," Mr. Ito replies quickly, his smile tight, the words coming out a little too fast. "He’s been a delight to have here. Very bright."

Satoru nods, but his eyes never leave Mr. Ito’s. "Glad to hear it."

There’s an awkward silence that stretches between them, but Satoru isn’t in the mood for small talk. He could read the teacher’s discomfort, and he’s not about to play into it. After all, it’s not like they’re friends, or even acquaintances. Mr. Ito shifts on his feet, and Satoru can tell he’s trying to think of something to say, something that will smooth over whatever awkwardness hangs in the air. “So, where’s Ms. Y/N today?”

Satoru’s brows tick, arms crossing. “At home.”

Mr. Ito nods, clearly trying to gauge whether there’s more to the story, but Satoru doesn’t give him any openings. He’s not in the mood to entertain questions about you, not now, not here, especially not from someone like him. "Ah, I see," Mr. Ito mumbles, his voice trailing off as he shuffles his feet again. "I just thought... well, with everything that’s been going on, I expected to see her here, too."

Satoru’s eyes narrow, though his expression remains calm, just a hint of warning in his tone. "She’s handling things on her own. We’re both doing fine. You don’t need to worry about it. You have a class full of children to teach."

The other man hides his displeasure behind a stiff nod. “Right, right. Just wondering, that’s all.”

“Don’t have to, she already has a man for that.”

Satoru wonders why he’s being do damn weird right now. Possesive almost. You two aren’t together, but the way this guy is asking about you, it’s slightly setting him off. Who does he think he is worrying about you?

Mr. Ito falters, his smile fading as Satoru’s words hang heavy in the air. "Right, of course," he mumbles, clearly taken aback. He shifts on his feet, his eyes darting to the ground before locking back onto Satoru. "Just asking, I mean… it's just a lot going on, you know?"

Satoru’s gaze hardens, the protective instinct that rises within him catching him off guard. He takes a slight step closer to Mr. Ito, his tone deliberately neutral but carrying an edge. "You don’t need to worry about her. She’s got it covered."

There’s a flicker of something in Mr. Ito’s eyes—something that hints he’s about to say something else, but he swallows it down, nodding stiffly instead. "Yeah, of course." He quickly looks away, clearing his throat. "Well, I guess I’ll… I’ll get back to the class."

Satoru stands still for a moment, his posture rigid, a sharp edge in his expression as he watches Mr. Ito retreat. He doesn't know why it bothered him so much. The guy wasn’t even doing anything wrong, not really. But the way he was asking about you—like he had any right to—made something inside Satoru twist uncomfortably. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this man didn’t belong in your world, that he had no place prying into your life.

Satoru finally exhales, shaking his head. Whatever. It was just a teacher.

With one last glance at the classroom door, he turns and heads back to the school doors. There's no reason to overthink this. It’s just… odd. He can’t let it get to him.

You wake up that day to a lone bed. Groaning to yourself as the sunbeams spray across your face and momentarily blind you. Hand reaching out for the space next to you. Instead, you see a note saying: dropped koji off, i’ll be back around noon to grab some lunch. sleep up

Instantly, your eyes widen, springing up out of bed. Reaching for your phone, the time reads 11:30pm. “Shit!” you curse to yourself, rushing out the door and to your bag still on the chair from last night. You dig in for your work clothes, changing right there and then and praying to the gods that Satoru doesn’t walk through this door. Brushing your teeth, hair, washing your face, putting some moustirzer and sunscreen on, all of it takes way too long. By the time you’re done and messily putting your shoes on, it’s twelve. Four hours after you were supposed to be at work. Hana’s going to kill me.

Grabbing your bag with rough and rushed movements, you’re sprinting to the door at this point. Out of breath and already conjuring up a sorry apology for Hana. you reach the doorhandle, flinging it open. But as soon as you do, you come to an abrupt stop.

Because standing before you is a woman, a woman you’ve seen before on Satoru’s lock screen. The same woman who kissed the lips that you used to. Arms crossed and a nasty scowl forming on her face as she eyes you up and down in a criticizing way. 

Finally, she scoffs out. 

“Do you know who I am?”

a/n: they so cute

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[ahappydnp]

so sorry but ive seen two different things about this now and im very lost, why did people think they were breaking up/broke up in 2012??? pls help me understand, wise keeper of the lore. thank u so much

response under the cut for general 2012 discussion/too long

basically 2012/2013 used to get (and sometimes still is) generalized as this dark and awful time period where dnp "hated" each other and us, when in actuality it was two very young very scared closeted queer people who were in the process of several major life changes at once while also dealing with a new exploding fan base

there's a few big things from that "era" that people talk about:

deleting old posts- around this era dnp deleted a ton of old tweets/formsprings/dailybooths that could read as them being in a relationship. they were blowing up online and had more eyes on them than ever before, not to mention had just starting working with the BBC (where being queer would have greatly affected their careers). also keep in mind dan was still in the closet to EVERYONE, and now he's got tons of fans going through his accounts and sending shit to HIS LITTLE BROTHER on tumblr asking if dan's gay. anyway people decided them deleting early tweets meant they had broken up

dan's customerservice tumblr blog- in the middle of them blowing up and people finding all these old posts, dan in an effort to control the narrative, makes a new blog for people to anonymously ask him questions (: which went about as well as you can imagine for an extremely defensive closeted 20 year old with undiagnosed depression. basically he said some unfortunately things out of fear

the video leaked again- won't get too much into that because of the subject matter, but the yeah the video leaked for the second time except this time way more people saw it/shared it and dnp actually had to respond to it this time. which is. just fucking awful and heartbreaking all around.

phil persona- basically this was the birth of the amazingphil persona that'd follow phil to the quiff era. he became more sanitized and less personable than original phil fans were used to (which got romanticized into uwu he's sad because he and dan broke up and now he's shutting down)

"no homo"- pretty self explanatory...people asked if they were gay (every single day constantly on every platform) and they would say no because what else are they going to say. this one particular vyou where dan's actually trying to make people think kills me (x) god he was so young. but they'd also started doing the "omg i don't want to see you naked/ew people want us to kiss" and the infamous "you need a girlfriend" "my future wife" etc etc.

the breakup rumors mostly stemmed from and became popular/ treated as fact by younger fans who kind of saw them as these fictionalized characters (which i mean not to blame them because they were literal children and youtubers were still so new that people did treat them like tv show characters you could be friends with). it also got turned into more sinister theories like the "dan is abusing phil" ones and "phil is actually gay but dan isn't and just used phil for attention and fame in 2009"

there was also factors like them moving to london in 2012 (and people were CONVINCED they'd stop being friends in london??), people thinking them getting popular would mean they'd get girlfriends like other popular youtubers (shoutout danrific shippers), and most importantly just them sharing less about their personal lives with their audience. like of course they're not going to live tweet their day/location anymore when people are showing up at their house and trying to find their families.

basically, dnp were putting boundaries between themselves and their fans, but the fans interpreted it as putting distance between each other. in actuality the 2012/2013 era was full of some really amazing memories and content and things people loved (literally the photobooth challenge is from 2013!! sleeping phil saying i hate you is from 2012!!!)

in conclusion, imagine building a forever home with your ex lmao

[spaloonbabooguuscooties]

You could drink your whole life away and still never get that taste out of your mouth.

half commission for @salempie half completely self indulgent dreck pieced together from our insane conversations abt franke and elka. told myself id finally write a big explanation for all of the dum shit between these two for context so Thats Under The Cut.

so I already wrote some stuff about elka and franke's relationship back in whispering rock so feel free to look at that too . it goes over elkas blindness/‘seeing’ with clairvoyance and how her and franke started talking & all that good stuff

SO FOR STARTERS. a lot of thsi wont make sense without a big breakdown of elka herself. because elkas potential as a character is like insane to me. like just the idea of her in the long run of her life reads as something so potentially tragic; a young girl whos plagued with visions of doom and destined to be an outcast even in her own home for things she cant control and clings to the One vision of her wedding that she thinks is 'happy' even despite the fact she doesnt really love the person in it. im choosing to take the li-po doc as canon here because its funny shes the only one with backstory-

but my fucking god even the smallest look into what her parents are like is soo fucked up to me. and i do think elka especially gets a lot of influence from her mother; its funny how easily you can fit mabel doom into a box just from what elka says about her. knees deep in an avon-esque pyramid scheme and leaning into her daughters depressing ass visions & taking her to therapy at age 11 (which would be good if not for the kind of person you can already assume she is & so i doubt the therapist she has really does her any good. i think they share one). she reads as a very I Am My Daughters Best Friend type of mom to me and i can see elka being a centerpiece of the conversation when she has her Amway Girls over for drinks. wine-mom that lets her kid sip from the glass so she can feel like a big girl type deal.

and you can tell that elka is trying to hard to be too mature for her age even in her campster posts. how she writes letters to nils' mom and exchanges baking recipes with her and that feels like she really only interacts with middle aged women and not really many people her own age outside of camp (like her moms friends). which makes sense shed feel the need to ‘grow up’ early when shes probably had to process so many hard things at a young age bc of her visions.

theres a lot of filling the blanks here of course.

elka obsesses over nils to an overbearing degree even despite the fact he treats her like shit ('you promised no talking' and so on) and she treats him bad right back. she leans onto stereotypical heterosexual ideals like taking care of him and overblowing how Manly and Protective JT is and she admires romance stories like pride and prejudice and it feels like she Projects Soooooooo much of what she wants onto boys she barely feels anything for without knowing what its actually supposed to feel like. and clearly she WANTS that ideal future, a happy marriage, an actual romance- but according to nils even when they were dating she ignored him most of the time, which just seems Very Telling

like shes filling a role, overcompensating for emotions and lacktherof she cant digest quite yet, and it only makes more sense when you know shes had visions of their future together. how could that be bad for her? shouldnt it be like the books and movies? but she doesnt really connect the fact that her visions are only for Doomed futures, and if she does she certainly doesnt show it. Doomed relationships. it's been a part of her family for generations and she isn't turning out much different, is she? i dont think she even realizes thats all she ever sees yet, just that its Going to happen. that it's Her future, and it always will be

and like, her only reference for a real marriage so far has been her own parents, and she already Knows they have an affair, and theyre doomed to split, (and i actually like to think they were in rough waters anyway and elka was a child meant to mend a crumbling marriage but thats a whole other thing) and so without a framework for what an actual healthy relationship is supposed to be like she cant really grasp that her relationship with nils Isnt that and isnt ever going to be. she can only cling to this one happy idea of the future, and thats why she keeps chasing him, self fulfilling the actuality of her situation and creating and fostering the unhappy life they will inevitably live together.

and that bleeds into everything else in her life, of course, because as the years go on, as the visions grow in number it just makes sense for her to fall into the predictability of her life. she always knows whats going to happen, her visions are Never wrong- so why try to change things? shes had time to process tragedies days, weeks, months, years before they happen, shes had time to settle into every crack of her life. her parents divorce, her various break ups, her future with the psychonauts.

“and she's already seen so much of a future with [nils] she feels trapped almost. Like she has to be happy in it or else it just means her life is miserable. And it's a mixture of pride and fear of the unknown that keeps her clinging to the One thing she knows. BUT LIKE!!! She knows what's gonna happen! It's easier to grieve when she's been grieving for years... She wants so badly to be happy, But to do that she has to step into the unfamiliar. And that's more terrifying than staying the same miserable person she's always been.”

and thats where franke comes in— and yeah you Do have to take a lot of liberties for frankes character since it’s basically, like, all the info for her is just that shes a Supreme Baby Dyke but thats enough for me. i think she has protective butch itch in her . on campster shes defensive over other women evidenced in the way she keeps watch over the girls cabins for lili when elton is pursuing her . but shes also eager to please and constantly trying to make kitty laugh and also Very naive. but she tries! and i think it only solidifies more as she gets Older and really gets a hold of her feelings & her powers. this is incredibly franke to me

and i think as they grow older together— because i think franke and elka Do stay friends, both because elka is just pathetic and needs that positive connection even if she doesnt realize it and because i think franke is a very Loyal person & annoyingly persistent if you let her be . and i am also a kitty/franke truther. because kittys also important in this web we weave

because i think franke and kitty stay together after camp, to a point— theres a falling out facilitated on kittys end and they break up, but reconnect, and franke kind of... saves kitty from herself a little, from her strict military father whos love only extends thru finances , from her own stifling future , she drives all the way to bakersville in her shitty van handmedowned from her dad and they move in together eventually . they get jobs at the motherlobe , because it’s a pipeline to a decent job, because it’s whats easy, because franke doesn’t really have a future, because she’s never really been good at much, because shes never had much sense, because franke doesnt really care as long as she can live and help, sometimes, if she can, and because kitty’s there, and because elka’s there, and shes so used to being elkas eyes now and shes good at it. shes good at being the muscle of the missions when her colleagues lack it, when hypnosis and predictions arent enough. she likes it that way.

and elka appreciates frankes company. she listens, shes sweet, she does little things for her that no ones ever really put the effort for before; she likes her. franke is strong and bold and makes her laugh and shes always there but god elka cant let go of that future, of that box shes put herself in, that her mothers put her in, of being a Good Wife to a Loving Husband, of getting married normally and falling into unfailing familiarity. thats all shes ever wanted and shes not going to jeopardize that . not for franke, who may not be a boy but is handsome like one, whos always held her after every break up with nils and the men that filled empty days inbetween.

and elka is too stubborn to recognize those feelings anyway. too prideful to accept a way out. too set in her cycle no matter how much she hates it, her little self fulfilling tragedy of her own making, wallowing in her own doom. she struggles for control of her own life when she feels like every choice has been made for her anyway, she puts up her walls and carefully constructs what people see. but franke was always harder to trick, because while empathy isnt a particularly useful psychic power it’s certainly an inconvenient one. all franke has to do is get too close and all those carefully crafted walls fall apart, and elkas control is gone, and thats all she really has. and she tries to distance herself, really she does, but franke is also too persistent. and elka wears gloves, keeps contact that would make her walls crumble from happening as best as she can, but she cant really keep herself from the brief moments where she feels like someone actually fucking cares about her.

and that slightest lack of control, the need to wrestle it back is why she proposes to nils the next time theres a falling out— she knows how it happens, she plans every detail. and he accepts, despite everything. gets her a cheap ring and it feels like lead on her finger and its nothing at all like how shed thought it to be when she was a kid, theres no feather light feeling in her chest, only that dreadful reality that she cant turn this back. BUT WHAT CAN U DO LMAO

elka doesnt tell franke about this engagement until later, on their way back from a mission. late at night when neither of them can sleep, and franke invites elka to smoke in her van, because its been so long since theyve been alone like that, because elkas been so strangely absent lately. and because of everything, because frankes always so damn nice, because elka hates the feel of the ring on her finger, because she let herself get high alone with franke fucking athens whos always been so good at pulling her apart— the truth of it all spills out and its messy and emotional and she hates it, she hates the life shes made for herself, but franke makes it easier to bare and now shes here and shes so close and god she wishes she could see her smile again, she wishes she could see franke, thats all she needs right now and she cant but she can touch her and she can hold her and for tonight, she can be known, she can let those walls crumble, she can be something else just for once here with franke . she can kiss her here in this van, touch that happiness for just a moment, and forget the future that waits for her outside of it. franke begs her to forget the wedding, to just let herself be happy— and god, she wants to, but it means turning her back on everything shes known and everything shes saw to be inevitable, and franke has never been in her future, so if it were supposed to work out why hadnt she seen it and she cant, she cant take that risk but she can have this, even if its temporary, she can have it.

and just as soon as she gets a taste of it, its gone. after that night, after the missions over and theyre back at the motherlobe and have to pretend like nothing happened (franke doesnt, of course she tells kitty about it, she tells kitty about everything.) but that brief moment together haunts elka every time she sees franke, sees herself through frankes eyes, sees herself in her wedding dress because god its all franke can think about! of course it is! she knows how much elkas destroying herself she knows how much misery shes wallowing in that kiss in the van felt like an emotional punch to the teeth and she hasnt ever forgotten it and all she can do is sit and watch while elka throws herself into a loveless marriage. she can come to her wedding and see the way the bride and groom kiss with the emotional weight of a wet towel no matter how hard elka tries to hide it under a pretty dress and bouquets of flowers and meticulous planning.

and elka resents nils but she cant really hate him, its not his fault, not really. he feels trapped just like she does and his feelings of misery only cycle back into hers . they fight and gnash and wear away at each other and its a relationship thats crashed and burned a million times before elka even said i do. and its inevitable that she falls into her mothers habits, a sip of wine here and there to loosen up, until it turns to a glass, until it falls into a bottle on nights when whatever work nils does runs late.

but franke’s still there. shes always been there, hasn’t she? always trying to play knight, always trying to save her, dragging her home when shes stumbling over herself because god who else is going to do it but her? who else is left to care? certainly not nils. never nils. because franke knows her. because franke pities her. shes always pitied her. shes always known. and elka hates it, she resents it, but god in the same breath she’s desperate for it, she envies it to her very bones. elka is a mess but after frankes done with her she has someone to go back to that loves her. and god what elka wouldnt do to have that. to take it and keep it for herself because shes never ever got to have that movie romance shes always wanted.

so now comes this.

because elkas particularly miserable and particularly spiteful and she needs to get franke to understand, just for a moment, drink with her and get on her level and she needs her there with her no matter how her pity makes her feel. no matter how much it makes her shake with anger and envy and desperation, but god the way franke looks at her, the way she still tries to salvage what they have, the soft, slurred way she tells her that it’s okay but its not okay, none of this is okay, it never has been and she just wants franke to shut up and see that, and if she cant then she’ll show her, she’ll show her all the raw angry desperation, with too much teeth and hands that claw and grab and she’ll know why everyones always said she’s too much.

and she knows this puts her on nils’ level too. that this makes her a cheater, that shes no better than he is now. no better than her father and his affair. but god, she wants to be selfish. she wants to be in control. just for once. she wants to feel right and she wants to feel happy and she wants to feel loved. thats all shes ever wanted. and franke will let her have that, just for a little while, at the very least.

anyway. sorry. sorry for being crazy . this isnt even getting into the shit after the comic takes place . elkas stupid brainworld thag she has to overcome in order to finally be allowed in the polycule and live happily ever as worlds first lesbian divorceman

sorry for all the shit i make up instead of caring about actual characters with screentime . bye !

[chaifootsteps]

its really hard to take any comparisons of stolas to other abusive characters seriously because i genuinely dont think viv comprehends shes written an abuser, the same way other authors can comprehend theyve written abusers. she self projects so heavily onto him and acts like his sass is justified to the point pretty much everyone, even fans and critics, knows that s3 will just end up with him living with blitz and working for IMP (which was foreshadowed just oh so subtly in the helluvababies season 2 premiere,) after losing everything (oh no, the consequences of my actions!) because of the full moon deal HE decided to start. he started out doing something bad, acknowledged it once (didnt even apologize to blitz for the deal btw,) and got go back to his life of luxury after his former sex slave said no to his love. he took advantage of the main character in the very first episode and will still be rewarded with him presented as stolas's knight in shining armor, a family who will unconditionally love him because of fucking course they will even though they know their boss had to fuck him or else they wouldnt have their "meal ticket", and eventually, most probably, his daughters forgiveness after she cut him out of his life for.. taking antidepressants. not for neglecting her, not for not teaching her anything about the book she was solely created for, for 17 years, before letting someone else have it without a single worry of what could happen to it, and certainly not because she cheated on his mom with some "weird red dickhead" i can watch other shows with the understanding (most of the time) that that character probably will receive some kind of growth, karma, acknowledgement, or change of their terrible behavior if theyre intentionally written as toxic. or, if their toxicity is supposed to be the point, for them to go full ham with it. helluva boss is neither to me; its abuse tactics and toxic patterns presented as good, like gaslighting, triangulation, and codependency. and an audience like vivs will digest these ideas subconsciously as good if they have no critical thinking skills of their own, which most of them dont. and all while being too afraid to actually hold abusers accountable in a setting like hell of all places. thats why none of the characters even acknowledge the actually shitty things stolas does and arent allowed to not forgive him- because the creator herself is an abuser who doesnt understand, or doesnt want to understand, that being held accountable is about ALWAYS acknowledging the mistakes you made and STILL trying to be better, even if the people you hurt still hate you. not apologizing once, and then getting pissed someone didnt automatically forgive you, as if your remorse means you're entitled to forgiveness. thats how stolas thinks, because thats how she thinks, and thats terrible. i cant even watch these shows in a "im a messy bitch who lives 4 drama" way as much as i want to because watching an abuser get everything he wants after a season of straight up cloaca sucking is NOT drama. its just incredibly depressing and makes me think about the piles of money that couldve been used to make anything other then this, instead of the creators self insert fanfiction of "no one is allowed to judge my character based on my past selfish actions: the overpriced, overstuffed with expensive celebs while i claim i cant fairly pay my animators i force to work exclusively on my shows the musical!"

I think you're spot on, unfortunately. If it weren't for the fanbase slavishly, cultishly lapping up everything Viv gives them and making it a point to incorporate it into their own lives, it would be a fascinating look at how an abusive person sees themselves. Stolas's justifications really are Viv's justifications, and she'll never see him as an abuser for the same reason she'll never see herself as one.

[lovebugism]

hi babe hope this isn’t too personal but not having the greatest time right now. therapist did not answer any of my calls today so im kinda a mess 🥲🥲 if you’re willing to write any kind of comfort fic with any character that would be the best 💗💗💗

hi anon! i hope things are going better now! take this eddie munson comfort fic as my attempts to make you feel a wee bit better ily mwah <3

You were pretty good at taking care of yourself most of the time. Eddie always thought your innate sense of responsibility was extremely hot — mostly because it meant that you were even better at taking care of him.

He said it was a perk of being your boyfriend — “one of many,” he’d say, just before smacking a kiss to your cheek.

You were the yin to his yang in that way. Peace in all his chaos.

Eddie, himself, was a being who thrived on mayhem. There wasn’t a single thing he loved more than unpredictability — well, you, of course. Then maybe DnD. But spontaneity was a close third.

He isn’t quite sure how to live his life without the company of total disarray. He isn’t sure he would want to if he had the chance either. The unexpected makes things fun. At least, that’s what he always tells you. You’re not so sure.

When he makes you late to things because of his horrible time management skills, or he can’t find his keys because they’re hidden somewhere underneath a pile of clothes in the corner of his room, it feels a little like the end of the world.

And not just in the oh no, this thing is really stressing me out; good thing I know it’s illogical sort of way. But in the oh fuck, we’re gonna be ten minutes late to this get-together where there are zero consequences whether we show up or not, but it’s inducing so much panic that I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to function properly.

You’ve gotten pretty good at hiding your fear over the years. It’s just that Eddie’s so damn attuned to everything going on in your head that it makes it insanely difficult to wallow in your dread alone.

He knows when you start pacing and talking a million miles a minute that something’s working you up. He knows when you start getting snappy and don’t think his jokes are funny anymore that you’re close to your breaking point. He knows when you stop talking altogether that your entire world is caving in around you.

So Eddie takes great care in getting to things on time and tidying up his room when you're around. He doesn’t even care that he finds it all a bit irrational, he just wants to make things easier for you. Even if it means getting to Steve’s house an hour before everyone else or actually folding his clothes before putting them in drawers.

Eddie knows you use structure like a weapon rather than a shield. Organization isn't a way to keep your life together, it’s to keep it from falling apart. When something is out of order, when there’s one piece out of place, it’s not an easy fix — not for you. It’s more like a ticking tomb. 

You’re the ticking time bomb. And the faintest scent of disorder is bound to make you explode.

But maybe calling it a bomb isn’t the most accurate way to describe it. The way Eddie sees it, it’s a lot more like an avalanche.

It starts off small, a little rumble of uncertainty that jostles the comfort of your routine. You blink and suddenly the snowball weighs two tons and you’ve spiraled into a full-blown crisis that threatens to swallow you whole.

You don’t let anyone see any of it. Not even Eddie a lot of the time. You just bury yourself in the landslide until the heavy snow melts and you can function normally again — it may last a couple hours, maybe weeks.

So it’s a good thing Eddie can see all the warning signs before they start.

It’s all the little shit he notices first — the not showering as often, the not keeping things as tidy as usual, the closing yourself off. Eddie Munson knows a depression room when he sees one. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know you’re slipping.

But rather than acknowledge that boogeyman, he pretends like it isn’t there at all. He thinks if he acts like it doesn’t scare him, then it doesn’t have the power to hurt him. That’s exactly how he treats the funks you get into. He knows they’re there but doesn’t let them take over completely.

Eddie comes around whenever he gets the chance and helps you do your self-care routine — even though all you do is complain that you don’t need his help the entire time.

He coaxes you into the bath and tidies up your bedroom while you’re gone. He does all the steps of your skincare for you after because he knows you can’t do it yourself. You’re too tired to, but you feel like shit when you don’t. That’s the same bitter cycle that started this whole mess.

He doesn’t do anything crazy. He just takes care of the little things to make you feel less consumed by it all.

You’re a pouting mess in the middle of your bed after, freshly cleaned and drowning in a too big shirt that smells like the musk of Eddie’s cologne with a towel twisted up in your hair. It’s almost cartoonish, the way you cross your arms over your chest and scrunch your face in displeasure.

“I don’t want you to do all this stuff for me, Eds,” you gripe. “I’m a big girl, okay? I can do it myself.”

The boy shrugs from where he stands at the foot of your bed. “I know I don’t have to. I want to, though. I like doing this stuff for you.”

“You hate cleaning, Eddie.”

“Yeah. I do,” he affirms with a nod, all but flopping onto the mattress beside you. He rests his head on his fist and blinks up at you with wide, twinkling button eyes. A grin pulls at his pink lips as he asks you, “But you know what I don’t hate?”

You huff but entertain him anyway. “…What?”

“You,” he beams and taps the tip of your nose with his pointer finger.

You meet his smile with a grimace.

“Actually, I sort of love you, as it turns out,” he corrects himself in a lilt. “And when you love someone, you do the shit you hate to make them happy, right? Isn’t that what it’s all about?”

You don’t answer him, just shrug.

“Well, either way, I’m happy to do all the boring shit if it means there’s a chance I get to make you feel even a little bit better,” Eddie tells you, pinching his thumb and forefinger together and leaving just an inch or more of space to squint his eye through.

That hand flops down and lands on your thigh. His thumb absentmindedly rubs over the skin there. His smile turns sheepish.

“I will happily fold laundry and do taxes and wash dishes and… all that stupid, boring shit for you for the rest of my life, as long as I can look over and see you next to me…”

Your heart swells with a distant happiness you haven’t felt in weeks.

Eddie helps you until you feel better enough to do it yourself.

Needless to say, when he stops by your place and finds it completely spotless, he doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. He rushes to your room and finds you in bed, flipping through a book. The small radio on your bedside table plays something synth-y.

He realizes you’ve traded in The Smiths for The Psychedelic Furs and that your lavender candle is burning on your desk and that you’ve spritzed yourself in your vanilla perfume.

Those are all staples in your little routine that you borderline can’t live without. You always missed out on them when you got into your funks, but here they are again…

Eddie tries not to smile too wide.

“How’s it hangin’?” he sing-songs when he waltzes into your room.

“Fine...” you murmur, half-distracted by your novel. After a few long seconds, your eyes finally flit up to his. He’s doing a terrible job of hiding a grin. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Eddie shrugs as he takes off his leather jacket. He neatly lays the thing over the back of your desk chair and smooths out the wrinkles.

“‘Cause I love the shit out of you,” he answers like it’s nothing, like the words don’t mean everything to you. “And I’m really fucking proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” you echo in a scoff.

Because, to you, crawling out of a three week long funk is hardly something to be proud of. You don’t feel like you should be rewarded for being human, but Eddie knows that getting through the hard shit is a part of being human. And he’s so goddamn proud of you for it.

“Yep,” he nods with pink cheeks and a hopeful grin. “I’ve never been prouder of you, babe. And, like, I’m always proud of you, so that’s saying something.”

“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath. Your attention flits back to your book rather than focusing on the intense gaze Eddie looks at you with. You don’t get through a single sentence before he rips the thing from your hands. “Eddie!—”

You look at him again and find that he’s sterner now, but still so tender — chocolate eyes hardened but soft around the edges. There’s a kind grin on his and an air about him that tells you he’s serious. 

Eddie rounds your bed and plants himself at the edge of it. He keeps your book hostage in one hand and holds onto your calf with the other, running his thumb over the soft skin of your knee.

“I’m serious,” he tells you. “Like, I know shit gets hard for you sometimes, but... I don't know, watching you get through it is… really fucking cool, babe.”

He laughs when it makes you laugh.

“Seriously. It’s like you get stronger every day, and… not to be a total sap or whatever, but I feel really lucky that I get to see it.”

You’re not sure whether to duck away from his gaze or revel in its warmth. You manage somehow to do both with a distant pout on your face. 

Eddie’s grin widens until the dimple in his right cheek reveals itself.  “What?” he laughs. “What’s that look for?”

“‘Cause you’re nice to me,” you mumble like the cutest little storm cloud. “And it’s gross… And also I love you.”

“Well, get ready, babe. You got a whole lifetime of me being nice to you coming your way, so… Be prepared to be sick of me by the time we’re all old and wrinkly, alright? ‘Cause I’m still gonna love the shit outta you then.”

You grumble when he smacks a kiss to your knee.

You hope he keeps his promise.

[mamawasatesttube]

PLEASE say more about your lil guy from the Tim Gets Cloned and Everyone Has a Bad Time au

anon: "👀 tim gets cloned and no one has a good time au, you say? 👀"

YEAAAAAAH BOIIIII. this is one of the incredible aus that lives in my and @adjit's dms. <3

the premise: there's some aliens who really want a weapon that's stored in the fortress of solitude. of course, that door requires a kryptonian to open; the easiest way to get in would be to get a kryptonian to open the door for them. however, kryptonians are notoriously hard to clone. superman doesn't have any noted close human connections that he might bring up there, but supernova and red robin (or rook!) are a known couple. so they stalk, kidnap, clone, and replace tim.

the clone is given two things: an implant of all of tim's memories, so that he can act exactly like him, and a kill switch, so that the aliens can easily dispose of him once he's served his purpose to clean up loose ends. he just needs to keep up the charade and get kon to take him up to the fortress of solitude, the sooner the better.

now the thing is... a clone of tim, told to act just like tim, who knows that he's a pawn and will be killed soon whether he fulfills his purpose or not, will in fact act like a tim who is really, really depressed and just pretending he isn't. and he's conflicted. because he was made with the knowledge that his sacrifice is inevitable, that his life is nothing, that he needs to simply fulfill his purpose as a tool, all implanted in his head... but in the memories he was given from tim, he also has all these memories and all this knowledge of how kon was made, and how much tim loves kon, and how strongly tim feels about anyone who would treat kon this way, and how strongly kon feels about clones and their humanity and their rights, and he is... he gets real conflicted, real fast. he hides it, because tim would hide it, and he's going to imitate tim to the letter, but here's the problem:

kon knows tim really, really well.

he sees the signs of depression. he sees the conflict that tim-clone is pretending not to feel. he sees the uncertainty around affection. he sees the way "tim" just eats his ice cream, without separating out and carefully rationing the chocolate chunks in it to maintain a specific "chunks to cream" ratio. he sees the way "tim" slowly withdraws from him, as if every simple brush of their hands makes him guilty.

and over a scant few days, he puts it together. that's not tim.

he's immediately worried out of his mind (where is tim? what happened to him? who did this to him?), but he already knows that isn't this clone's fault. so when he goes to confront him... he's kind.

he corners him in the kitchen one day and says hey. you're not tim. who are you? and who did this to you?

and tim-clone freezes. the jig is up. he half-expects to be killed on the spot, except that he knows from tim's memories that kon doesn't kill. that kon is so, so kind to clones. and he realizes, concretely, for the first time in his short life that he doesn't want to die.

and he breaks down.

they're just sitting there on the kitchen floor and tim-clone is bawling his eyes out. (for the first time in his life!) he doesn't want to die, he doesn't want to keep deceiving and lying to the only person who's ever been kind to him, he doesn't want to die, he doesn't know what to do. and kon is like okay. well. first of all im going to give you the biggest hug. and then when you're feeling a little better, you can give me all the details of what Exactly is going on, who has tim, what they did to him and to you, and what they put in your head. and then i promise you i will fix this.

(it's one of those moments where you can really, really see that kon is a clone of superman. you can't help but believe that everything will be okay, because he believes everything will be okay, and you can't not believe him.)

anyway this post is getting so fucking long jesus christ okay let me try and wrap it up quick. they go on some wacky adventures to find and rescue tim. tim-clone is continually surprised that kon is so endlessly kind to him, even after he has tim back; he sees the way kon cradles tim so tenderly in his arms as tim sleeps off the stasis he's been in, the way kon strokes tim's hair back from his forehead and kisses his brow, and he yearns a bit. he doesn't know where he fits in with this whole situation. but kon turns to him and smiles and says hey, you should get some rest too. it's been a long day. there's some pasta in the fridge if you're hungry, too. and it's just a small moment of consideration, but it still takes him aback.

(there's a moment where he looks over to kon and admits, i don't know who i am. i'm not him, but if i'm not him who am i supposed to be? and kon smiles at him and says anybody you wanna be, buddy. that's the beauty of it. and timclone looks at him for a moment and then just quietly says ...you know, i can really see why he's so in love with you.)

when all is said and done, he and tim and kon all sit down to try and decide what he's gonna do now. they help him brainstorm names for himself; he decides he wants to name himself for the first person who ever made him feel hope: supernova. his name will be nova. and, sure, tim, robin as a middle name would be funny. nova robin. as for surname... should he be a drake? he doesn't really feel like a drake, but...

oh, that's easy! kon says. nova robin kent has a nice ring to it, don't you think?

and... yeah, nova says. yeah, it does.

[kaycode1999]

Hello!

I don’t know if your match up are still open if not you may ignor this but I’d like to have an LMK match up please I can’t really think of who I don’t want to match up with I guess any characters who are children since I’m an adult also sorry for any mistake English isn’t my first language but here we go

Im a girl I’m straight Demisexual im autistic and have anxiety and seasonal depression im a pretty bubbly person but Im also very shy around new people ive always been the quiet kid so quiet that sometimes even my family forgot I existed and i get very passionate about things I like.i also have trust issues due to past friendship where people have stabbed me in the back and hurt me beyond measure so it take times for me to trust people but once we’re friends I’ve got your back I LOVE plays im a huge theater kid but I especially LOVE musicals AHHHH love them!!im also abit of night owl might be due to my insomnia? I’m about scard of the dark but nothing a good nightlight and a plushie can fix! I love cuddling im also a HUGE romantic completely hopeless romantic let me tell you that I also love reading and drawing I draw a lot I don’t feel I’ve improved over the years that much sadly even tough I’ve been drawing since forever I think that all thanks you for your time have a good day

I match you with

Monkey King/ Sun Wukong

You might not think so but he is also demi he needs that emotional connection for having a relationship and any kind of physical intimacy

He understands anxiety and depression even if he seems all carefree and easy going

He’s there for you if you need any help with that or even just a caring ear

About the seasonal depression he will definitely be aware of it and make sure to be extra doting and loving and does as much as he can to mitigate it

Of course he loves your bubbly personality, but he understands the being shy around new people. Honestly he thought that was really adorable at first but he loves seeing you happy and bubbly

He doesn’t mind that you’re more quiet, he’ll never forget about you like your family 😂 but he actually really likes just peacefully enjoying each others company

He absolutely adores when you get passionate about things you like. Will listen to you go on about your interests with the most lovesick smile on his face

Oh boy, he has trust issues to. He knows what it’s like to be betrayed by people you care about so you both understand each other and give each other the time you need to develop that trust

Once that trust and connection is there though you both are fiercely loyal and have each others backs through everything

He fucking loves musicals and I will not change my mind on that. He’s very theatrical himself as it is

I feel like Wukong doesn’t actually have a consistent sleep schedule he just sleeps when he gets tired. That said he is up often enough if you can’t sleep you’ll have someone there with you to keep you company. He also might have some mystic potion or artifact that can help with the insomnia

He will have night lights set up in the bed room for you to help you feel more comfortable and all the plushies. He’ll even make you a plushy that’s a mini version of him and it’s adorable

He is such a sucker for cuddling and relaxing with his SO. He plays the tough guy but he’s a big hopeless romantic too. After everything that’s happened in his life he maybe doesn’t believe he deserves you , but because of that he’ll treat you like a princess and is so grateful to have you

He will definitely get you art supplies and books he knows or thinks you’ll like

[afvall]

whumptober day 2! Trust issues

truthful Timmy the blowjob queen of Saskatoon (Wade) and Nathan have a marital spat. Who knew whumptober could be so Fluffy? Don't worry, it'll get worse.

--

God Believes in Me

--

Wade regarded his mind as a very sacred place, despite the fact half of its inane machinations would make their way out of his mouth anyways. Yet despite that, his mind was still his own, one of the few places he could exist not in a state of constant, neurotic apprehension of being perceived. He knew he appeared so unfiltered and obscene in comparison to everybody around him, he knew that his marred flesh and even more vulgar personality both weren’t things he went at length to hide, but when it came to his teammates, his friends, his f word, he could get a bit deranged about his shortcomings, and how he showed them. That's where being able to wallow in his own thoughts came in clutch. He wanted to be able to go into his own hysterics all by his lonesome about fucking up a mission, compulsively wipe down his katanas and clean his guns far longer than necessary as his cancer-ridden obsessive little mind ran itself into disorientating circles. It was one of his few comforts in this world, drugs and self pity, Vanessa used to be on the list, but Wade had let her die, so she wasn’t there anymore.

There was one problem to his perfect routines however, one interruption in the face of his fetish for his own shame, that nosey, telepathic bitch, Nathan Summers, Nathan ‘you remind me of my wife’ (while applying chapstick!) Summers. Unlike the author of this fic, Deadpool has read the comics, he knew that comic Nate was telepathic, but not this one. He’d thought that in his second movie’s two hour run, Cable’s telepathy might be brought up once, but as it wasn’t, he simply assumed that this Cable wasn’t telepathic. And wow, what a shit draw huh, 5 '8 and telepathy-less? It would be depressing if it wasn’t a little funny, as most things were in and around Wade’s life. However, of course that couldn’t be the case, because poor Wade couldn’t be afforded even a second of mercy in this hellish world, couldn’t be afforded the sanctity of his own mind, and now having escaped the constrictions that telling a 3 act story over 2 hours put upon Nate’s powers, he didn’t seem to mind using them as much as he did before.

“I'm still pissed off about how you decided to be a little shit rather than listen to the orders i gave you during our job yesterday, i don’t wanna hear the memory of it and all your shame prattling around in your mind all day, it’ll just make me angry again.” Nathan sipped boredly on a cappuccino sitting in a takeaway cup he’d brought back from a café, alongside a mocha for Wade which had already been scoffed down while burning hot and its cardboard carcass chucked into the bin. Wade didn’t get how he could slip in little kind gestures between all that dickishness and not expect Wade to have an aneurysm about it.

“If you can read my mind, how come you’re still such an asshole to me? Surely empathy is a bit easier when you can literally see inside someone’s head” Wade desperately wanted to be left alone right now, to cry about his own shortcomings to the barrels of all his handguns, instead of having every thought of his heard by Nate. The coffee was nice but he’d had enough people-time today.

“Well technically i can only read your surface thoughts and emotions, or shit that you push to the front, the cancerous wad in your cranium is harder to read than most people’s” Wade wasn’t sure what constituted as ‘surface’ or ‘pushed to the front’ as he wished he could get back to being neurotic and sad all by his lonesome. Could nate tell that he really was properly freaked out about fucking up so many missions? Would he care?

“Get out of my head if you don’t wanna see what’s in there, Nate.” Wade stated, pretty matter-of-factly. His head was his space, not Nates, and Nate didn’t even like being there.

“Its not like im trying to get in there, theres just this constant nervous aura coming off of you whenever you fuck up after a mission. Its really fucking difficult to ignore.” Nate stared smugly, telepathic bitch.

“I reckon you’re fucking lying about not being able to not read my mind.” Wade nips back, “and I think you think you can see more of what’s in my mind than what’s actually in there. Im not trying to make your day shittier Nathan, im not trying to get out of paying the penance for my fuck ups with all my guilt.” Wade thought about this pinterest poetry post he saw once while channelling his inner fourteen year old girl–’The dog that weeps after it kills is no better than the dog that doesn't. My guilt will not purify me.’–but decided that it was a bit too pretentious to verbally reference in a cablepool angst fic, even in whumptober. X-men angst always seemed a bit more gritty than melancholy, a bit more blood than tears.

Nathan looked at him with an expression that was undeniably just a tad bit softer. Whether it was from Wade’s inane fourth-wall related thoughts mulling over this situation or the point he’d just made, Wade was unsure.

“I'm not lying about being unable to not read your mind Wade, your thoughts are pretty difficult to block out.” Nate didn’t comment upon the second half of Wade’s little outburst. Wade wondered if Nate trusted what he said, but Wade believed Nate when he said Wade’s thoughts were difficult to block out. Honestly he’d simply used that weaker opinion as a way to segway to the truth of his paranoia. But would Nate trust Wade’s truth? Wade tried to push all his genuine nature and remorse to the forefront of his mind, but didn’t know if it worked that way.

Nate suddenly looked a bit awkward as he went quiet, looking at Wade with furrowed brows and a face more scrunched up than not.

“I'm sorry, it's been a pretty long week.” Wade was fine with receiving a half-excuse-half-apology hybrid, he just wanted to know Nate believed him. Wade paused for a moment, letting the cogs in his brain churn sluggishly as he continued peering at Nate.

“Im sorry im such a little shit sometimes, and fuck stuff up for the team.” for my f word. Nate smiled, chuckling softly, just a tad, in the way that made Wade’s heart jump in his chest.

“We’ll work on it?” Wade knew Nate was referring to both of them, working on their trust of one another, and the way they treated each other, on the battlefield and at home.

“We’ll work on it.”

[augustghosts]

I’ve become awful at naming my writing so this just doesn’t have a title lol.

Idk if i like this im a lil rusty. Some more QZ!tommy because I kinda love him. I went overboard. In my head this was kinda the same characters/universe as this. So this is like, pre candles lmao. But if you don’t like that, this can just be a random stand alone thing lol. I also have some fluff ideas in my head that i just need to convince myself to write hehe. Hope u like <3

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ smut, not proofread as usual. No plot tbh, just some impractical kitchen table sex lmao. Tommy being soft at the beginning and the end but not during the smut 🤪

Fuck, don’t get emotional Tommy. This isn’t like you. He had found himself talking to himself like that more often recently. He never thought of himself as the type to catch feelings. Recently he had found himself addressing his own insecurities, ones he’d pushed as far down as possible years ago. Being afraid, being unfamiliar, getting emotional. He shook his head as he unlocked the door to his dreary apartment. This is what stood for an apartment these days, a small room with a kitchen and a bathroom. He was grateful, of course. He was alive and safe. Well, kind of safe. But the first thing on his mind every morning was how depressing this life was. He tried not to think about the before, but it's hard when this is the after. He often finds himself being nostalgic. His feelings and circumstances echoing in his head like water dripping from a roof. He needed a drink, something to make the dripping stop.

He turned to stare at his closed front door, she was just across the hall. He wanted to walk over there so badly. That’s nothing new, his longing. She is new, their relationship. But the longing he feels for her has always been there since they met. The dull and drab QZ streets lit up when their eyes met and he found himself addicted to her light. He promised himself he’d leave her alone today, he doesn’t know why he promised himself that. She is always happy to see him but his own insecurities are eating him up.

In her own way, she is expecting him. She’s across the hall also staring at her front door. Waiting for a knock, praying that it’s him. Tommy has a heavy heart, a lot of baggage, and she knows it. She hates to admit that she likes coddling him. She likes comforting him, she likes that he needs her. She needed him too. He protects her - running around the QZ with a Miller brother can bring attention to you. Sometimes not great attention. The QZ is difficult, and she feels safest when Tommy strolls into her apartment at the end of the day and kisses her. The outside world and the QZ disappear and it’s just them, when all they need is each other.

Just as she stands to cross the room and head to his apartment, a knock at the door stops her. She usually doesn’t go to his apartment, he prefers to come here - incase someone unsavory showed up. She paused, what if it wasn’t him? Tommy smiled for the first time today on the other side of the door when he watched her do her usual routine. As always, he hears the locks click and sees her peek through the gap the door allows as she keeps the chain on. She’s cautious and he loves that about her. Her eyes mirror his and light up as she sees him, the door closes again momentarily and he hears the chain drop before she appears again.

“Hey!” She smiles up at him and he pushes the thoughts that flood his mind away. What did he do to deserve someone smiling at him like that? He hadn’t really opened up to her about his journey to Boston, and he didn’t plan on it any time soon. But all of that left his mind when he was here, walking through her front door was the best part of his day.

“Hi.” He says - He doesn’t quite match her energy and he knows she’s noticed it. She always does. She knows him so well and he's still deciding if he likes it or not. When they first met, he always thought she was a person who wore rose coloured glasses, always seeing things so positively. Tommy took off his rose coloured glasses a long time ago, revealing the negative aspects of his life. Now, it’s all he sees. He soon realized that she encouraged him to start viewing things through a positive lens, and now he can’t stay away.

“Rough day?” Her sweet voice distracts him.

“Something like that.” He knows that if he doesn’t give her a full answer, she won’t pry. Before she can say anything else, Tommy’s lips press to hers in a deep, hungry kiss.

“You’re tense.” She mumbled against his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing new.” He forced a smile, his tense jaw muscles relaxing as her hands came up to cup his cheeks. She hummed, not believing him. She pulled him down to kiss her again, feeling the way his hands on her waist pulled her closer, held her tighter.

“You could talk to me, you know.” She pulled away again, much to his dismay. “You could tell me what’s going on in your silly mind.”

“Silly?” He laughed with her for a moment. “Seriously, nothings wrong. I just want you,” He said quietly, moving his hands to her back. Her eyes softened at his words and her hands moved to his shoulders, slipping his jacket off of his shoulders. He maneuvered his arms to help her slip it off, but his hands immediately took back their rightful place on her hips. Squeezing a little as he said, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

A classic line, but it always affected her. He watched her as her eyes drifted downwards - watched the way her eyes traced the bruises on his collar bones, bruises she had previously left. She knew what he was doing, trying to distract her from the questions she’d asked. Unfortunately for her and fortunately for him it always worked.

“Yeah?” She asked, pulling him down to her mouth again. His tongue slid into her mouth before she had the chance to react. He pulled her tightly to him and her response was just as eager, lips moving with his to make the kiss even more intense - her arms tight around his neck. They both needed this, they both needed each other. Tommy groaned into her mouth, his hips pushing forward against hers- backing her up against the table behind her. She could already feel his cock stirring in his jeans. Tommy hummed softly as his hand came up to cup one of her breasts, his thumb pressing over her nipple. She sighed as a flood of heat rushed straight to her core.

“Tommy,” She whimpered, leaning into his touch. Fuck, he loved that sound. He pulled away from her just enough to grab a hold of her wrists, holding both of them in one hand. He knew she loved it when he did stuff like that, reminding her of how strong and capable he was. The whimper that left her lips boosted his ego and he smirked down at her. Keeping a tight hold on her wrists, he gently bent her backwards onto the creaky kitchen table. She took advantage of the position they were in,Tommy leaning over her like this, and she threw her legs around his waist, trapping him against her.

“Are you gonna keep asking me what's wrong?” He teased, a grin on his lips as he looked down at her.

“No.” She breathed, biting her lip as she looked so lovingly up at him.

“Good girl,” He smiled, eyes on her chest - watching it rise and fall.

“Now come here.” He mumbled, leaning down to kiss her. He let go of her wrists and she fisted her hands in his shirt, tugging him forward as their lips met. His hand traveled up her body, grazing her chest again and locking gently around her throat.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day, baby.” He said. He squeezed his hand a bit tighter, but still being as gentle as ever, relishing in the gasp she let out.

“You like this?” He asked, his mouth was now beside her ear, pressing a kiss underneath it. She nodded quickly, her hands running through his hair. Keeping eye contact with her, his hand still squeezing her throat, he slowly started working the buttons of her jeans open. Impressive, considering he was doing it with one hand. She felt his hand slide into the front, fingers caressing the fabric of her underwear.

“Please, Tommy.” She whimpered, practically rutting against his palm.

“I got you, baby.” He smirked, his finger finally dipping into her. “Fuck, always so wet for me.”

His fingers obviously met no resistance, her pussy easily letting him in. Since she had been worked up since he walked through the damn door, he didn’t need to put much effort into making her feel good. Everything he did was effortless, she always marveled at that. He watched her face, watching as her eyes closed, watching her mouth fall open in a moan. He leaned down when her head tilted back to give him access to the soft skin of her neck. His lips coming down to start kissing the exposed skin.

“Come around my fingers, baby girl,” He said against her skin, his lips brushing a particularly sensitive spot . “You look so beautiful like this.”

“O-oh, my god.” She moaned, followed by his name. Her back arching off the table making it creak below her, her pussy clenching tightly around his fingers as she came.

“I need to be inside you. Can i fuck you, baby?” He asked, already stripping off his jeans before she could answer. She sat up, slipping off of the table as she realised that they were both still practically fully dressed. She finally pulled her jeans all the way off before making her way to her mattress in the corner of the room. Stripping her shirt off on the way. Tommy watched her hungrily, following after her and making sure his own shirt joined hers in the pile. When they were both on the mattress he wasted no time in flipping her over, stomach now pressed against the mattress and her ass in the air. He stood behind her running his hand over her smooth skin.

“Please fuck me, Tommy.” She whined, looking over her shoulder at him. Tommy never had to be told twice. He took a hold of his hard cock and tapped it against her clit, smirking at the whine she let out. Just as she was about to beg him some more, he finally slid in. Immediately and easily bottoming out. The feeling caused her head to dip forward, a moan to leave her lips -almost muffled the pillows.

“I want to hear those pretty noises, baby girl.” Tommy hummed, reaching forward to grasp her hair in a ponytail and pull her head back up. His other hand smacking her ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“You feel so good.” She moaned, grinding her hips back against him. He pulled all the way out until his tip was the only thing still inside of her before slamming back in. The burn was deep and it stung so good. She bit her lip as she got accustomed to him, as each slide of his cock sent chills up her spine.

“Is this my pussy?” He growled, his fingers still tugging at her scalp.

“Yes!” She all but screamed, he often wondered if anyone could hear them. They had never heard anyone else, but he wasn’t sure if anyone else was as loud as them. Wasn’t sure if anyone else was able to have as much fun as they manage to have together during the goddamn apocalypse.

“It’s yours, Tommy. Always yours.” She whimpered, his cock hitting spots she was sure hadn’t been hit before.

“That’s it, honey,” He cooed. “You look beautiful like this. Take me so well. You like that?”

She loved when he got like this, when he would start rambling. The things he came out with never failed to push her closer to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” She gasped when his arm snaked around her body to find her aching clit.

“Come on then, baby. Give it to me,” He growled, his deep voice sending a shiver up her spine. He groaned as her whole body convulsed under him. Moans of his name bounced off of the walls as she came around his cock; a silent scream leaving her - her knuckles turned white as her fingers gripped the sheets underneath her.

“Fuck,” She sounded so breathless and he fucking loved it. “I wish I could feel you come inside of me Tommy.”

“Shit, don’t say stuff like that.” He groaned at her words. They had already had this conversation multiple times. He always pulled out, she was obviously scared of getting pregnant during their current situation. QZ’s weren’t known for their outstanding medical care. They knew they risked it by fucking anyway, but they always tried to take any precautions they could. Expired condoms still existed, but what good would they do anyway? Even if they could get their hands on them.

He dreamt about it as well, filling her up and watching it drip back out. Being able to push it back inside of her and tease her about it. Just the thought of it had him regrettably pulling out of her heat and spilling over his hand and her ass with a gasp of her name. She grimaced as he used his shirt to clean it up, after giving himself a moment to catch his breath. She giggled as she collapsed down onto the bed, crawling under the covers as she suddenly realized how cold the room actually was.

She reached for another one of his shirts that lay beside her bed and slipped it on, a clean one that had been discarded during another escapade. He lay down beside her, both of them still panting.

“You good?” He asked. She nodded and cuddled into him, pressing soft kisses to his jaw. His hand stroked down her back. He kissed the top of her head a few times, she always basked in this side of him that no one else got to see. This softness and love that was reserved for her, reserved for this room. Tommy loved it too, he loved being able to be himself after shutting it off for so long. All he could do now was sleep in her arms and prepare himself to put his walls back up again when he left her apartment tomorrow. Preparing to do it all again the next day. But the thought of being able to crawl back into her arms at the end of every day made his lips turn up into a soft, content smile as he drifted off to sleep.

[etherealspacejelly]

Helloo, what’s it like to study environmental science? i’m contemplating going into that field but i’m not sure yet 🧍🏻

thank you in advance 🫶🏼

oh boy. you've activated my trap card. strap the fuck in

its kind of fucking awesome actually. you get to learn about the earth system and how everything interacts with each other. you take bioscience classes alongside geography classes, so one minute you're in the lab squeezing soil between your fingers trying to figure out if its sandy loam or clay loam and the next you're having a lecture on marine protected areas and how to manage them effectively

it can be tough at times, biogeochemical cycles kicked my ass. what do you Mean i have to memorise all the different things that can happen to carbon, nitrogen, sulphur, and phosphorus and be able to DRAW DIAGRAMS of their life cycles in an exam setting. girl.

and it can also be depressing. a lot of lectures the main message is hey! we would be pretty much fine if we did xyz! the planet wouldnt warm that much and the worst effects of climate change would be avoided! heres what we're Actually Currently Doing though, and its much much worse.

i went vegetarian within the first like. 3 months of starting the course. because they were like hey look at all the methane cows produce! its 80x as potent of a greenhouse gas than CO2! so thats fun.

but it can also be super inspiring!! because its like, yeah ok things are pretty bad. but by learning about it you can go into environmental consulting, or conservation, or sustainable management, or research, and You Personally can actually Do Things to help! and make a difference! and thats awesome!

im going to be doing a dissertation next year about the effects of ant secretions on the process of rock weathering. which, if all goes well, could unlock a really interesting and NEW(!!!) area of research into carbon sequestration (removing CO2 from the atmosphere!!) using the power of ants and rocks!!! thats fucking awesome right??? and i came up with this idea all by myself!! its my project!! and im gonna be doing it next year!!

so if you're considering it, i say go for it!!! its one of the best decisions i ever made and you meet so many cool, likeminded people on a course like this so you'll make a bunch of friends super quickly. its incredibly interesting and versatile as a degree, and you can take it in so many different directions depending on what modules you choose.

is it challenging? yes. is it worth it? i certainly think so!!!

[fandomfluffandfuck]

S that latest poll answer makes me sad for you. Did that inspire that fic you wrote about Sebastians body image and thr beetle?

related to my tags on this poll & this fic of mine "The Kids Aren't Alright"

This gets personal and kind of intense, so it goes below the cut!

Trigger warning for discussion of general poor mental health, depression, suicidal ideation/self harm, eating disorders, body image issues, etc.

The short answer is an overwhelming yes.

"The Kids Aren't Alright" was very much something that I wrote because it struck a chord in me--Sebastian talking about his experience with body dysmorphia always hits home for me as a guy with body dysmorphic disorder, and the first time I heard Mackie admittedly very affectionately teasing him, saying he got stuck in the VW Beetle, I was a little horrified, I mean, secondhand embarrassement, imagining embarrasment so vividly it was horrible, really. So, naturally, I had to make it into a fic.

Also, I hope you don't mind, sweets, before going on, I'm adding onto your ask with another that I got even more recently:

youre very generous with what you share, so ignore this if im over the line, but its mens mental health month and that suicidal ideation post made me think of your mental health, whats been your experience with it?? i dont have a lot of men in my life who are willing to share with me, so i thought i would ask you 🥰🥰 please delete this if youre uncomfy tho

which is related to this

Both of you are such sweethearts!

Thanks, though, I don't exactly try to share a shit ton 🤷🏻‍♂️ I guess, eh, being somewhat anonymous in this corner of the internet yet being honest in the form of the spectrum of emotion from raw feral angst to private domestic fluff to shameless shut coaxes me into being so forthcoming? Not that I'm, like, super reserved otherwise, lmao.

I'll start with a short answer again before I go into deeper detail, which is just to say: my experience with it has been rough. I, a queer man, grew up in a small, red town with a very traditional family, so... yeah. It was not fun.

Okay, longer answer now because when given the opportunity, I. will. yap.

I think I will start with masculinity here because I feel as though a lot of my experiences with mental health and issues with my body tie directly into my masculinity. I don't have problems with being a man, I love being a man, it's who I am, I just don't love some of the expectations of being a man on a grand societal and interpersonal level, y'know?

Masculinity, to me, was always presented as the thing you have to be or else. Or else my parents were disappointed; or else the other boys wouldn't like me; or else I felt bad about myself: or else there must be something wrong with me; or else I must be gay; or else.

I have older siblings, and my older brother was in Boy Scouts when we were kids. Both of my parents fucking love the outdoors. So, of course, they loved that. My dad, specifically, spent all his time doing Scouts shit with my brother or organizing similar activities just for them when not at work. (I had a traditional western family unit, my dad worked, my mom was a stay-at-home mom.) And while I do enjoy the outdoors and camping and hiking and all that, just in smaller doses, I never wanted to join Scouts. I nearly immediately attached myself to art, so I just didn't have the interest. I can't do art if I'm outside digging in dirt, fighting with sticks, practicing knots, doing target practice, and backpacking (or whatever else the boys in the troop were doing), can I? That meant, if I wanted to draw or do crafts or something creative, I was inside, and my mom was looking after me and my sister while my dad and brother were out.

That did not sit well with my dad. He wanted me outside, joining Boy Scouts and fixing cars, playing mechanics with my brother. I did not want to. He tried very hard to get me to be as interested in more stereotypically manly activities with him and my brother, and it didn't work.

I'm just more artistic. That was always a clear disappointment.

To add on, as I grew up, I was not physically traditionally masculine, either. I've cracked jokes here and there that I'm not too dissimilar to pre-serum Steve before. It's not far off. I'm about 5'6", a little taller, and skinny.

I grew up waiting desperately for puberty, waiting for my muscles and growth spurt and... it didn't happen. My voice dropped way deep (which meant it cracked wildly and super noticeably, and, of course, I got shit for it), and I enjoyed that. I never had a pressing issue with my dick, I mean, I would hazard a guess that anyone with a dick worries about size at some point just because that's something etched deep in social sexuality, but I had more pressing things to obsess over. Like, at first, when body hair started to kick in, I was psyched to see it, and then it kept coming and suddenly guys in the locker room were pointing it out and making fun of me for being a "little guy" with so much body hair. Puberty also did fuck my face up with acne which destroyed a lot of my self-esteem, too. I had to go on Accutane not once, not twice, but three times. I still have a robust routine to keep my skin clear (but it is clear these days and I'm still reeling thinking about it, it took someone telling me I had really nice skin for me to snap out of it and realize I wasn't still covered with acne, actually. And that was recent!).

I didn't have my pre- to post-serum sudden increase in height and muscle moment, so I continued to feel scrawny and weak. Having pectus excavatum, a birth defect where my sterum curves in instead of going down in a straight line, never helped, either--I got made fun of for that, of course. I remember a comment about how one guy in a locker room wasn't going to dare to hit me/slap me on the back because he would clearly just break me... yeah, that didn't help feeling like the odd one out, unmasculine, fragile, and unattractive.

My self-esteem is much better these days, I will gladly say, but I genuinely used to get sick to my stomach just thinking about what I looked like, never mind actually looking in the mirror. I felt horrible that I had to go out in public and subject people to looking at my face. I'm an avid journal-er, and I have old entries where I just go on and on and on and on about how I felt like a monster. Disgusting and hideous.

It doesn't matter that I know, objectively, that I have a fairly masculine and even an attractive face. My jaw is square, I can grow a beard, I have a deep voice, my eyes are green, I've been very lucky to have straight, white teeth without braces and all that. Plus, people seem to like my cheekbones and curly hair. My voice, too, people seem to enjoy my voice and my mouth. So, evidently, others seem to appreciate my face. So many people spread over so many years have no real reason to lie. I'm complimented. I've not had problems when it comes to dating and relationships or whatever. Yet still, it's just not what I see. I say I know objectively what I look like because I know facts about myself, but I...

I don't really know what I look like, if that makes sense? My reflection shifts a lot, over the years I have had a problem with every part of my face, every part of my body, and I know I can't trust what I see in the mirror. I fixate on things, and it consumes my viewing experience.

Part of the consequences of all... that... all those issues above have been my experience with eating disorders. I've had some fun [sarcastic] mix of orthorexia, binge eating disorder, and anorexia over most of my conscious life. From the moment I was aware of myself and my own body, I've had problems fueling my body. It's a cycle over years and years that's been going on since late elementary school (around 10, 11), where I'm fucking sick and tired of feeling weak and useless and not masculine, so I push myself too hard in the gym and kitchen--working out until I'm physcially ill, blacking out, blistering from running and lifting, I've torn a few things that way, while obsessing with healthy foods at the same time to the point that it's unhealthy. That happens for however long I can take it. Then, eventually, I break. And I get into a cycle of binging that destroys my ability to go to the gym, so it's just binging. Cycles of it, uncontrollable. That morphs into feeling too big and disgusted with myself in the opposite way that I started with, so my brain fixates on restricting. What goes up must come down, though, so with enough of that... then I feel too small again and, yeah. It starts over. 🙃

I have worked very hard to break it with the help of friends and a short lived experience with therapy (he was a terrible therapist, then my insurance stopped covering it, so I couldn't afford to go or find a new one), but I've--dare, I say--gotten into some kind of balance more recently.

To end on perhaps a hilariously on-theme note and something happier, what I have found is that sex helps. Therapy and supportive friends and good environment are obviously irreplaceable. But, sex is good, too. When I was in the thick of all that, younger with my mental health challenges way more out of control, I'm sure I was just getting away from the numbness and hurt--endorphins, oxytocin, y'know, all that.

Then, I'm sure it was added to by the fact that suddenly, with sex, women (I am queer but when I started fucking around, I only felt safe enough to be with women, I didn't think I could be out where I was, and now... that's just the way it's worked out. It happens to have been women) were enjoying me. Enjoying what I could give them. Complimenting me explicitly or implicitly. Saying I'm hot or, clearly, if we're having sex, I'm not so disgusting that you don't want to fuck me.

But, sex helps beyond those rudimentary things, too. Finding kinky people and sex-positive people has inadvertently led me to find body positive people and find examples of real bodies--people really actually enjoying themselves. Spending more time naked is beneficial, too, haha. Slowly, I'm learning to appreciate myself more. This is my body. It's the only one I have to live in, I may as well make peace with it. And I will take the pleasure that my body can give others. I appreciate that I can do that. I like making people feel good, I like having their faith put in me to make them feel good and treat them and their bodies well, like they're desired, or not 😏, depending on what they're into. I want to pull that pleasure out of them. I want to make them feel good, bad, whatever. I want them to feel in their body.

Did that answer the question, lmao? I just rambled 💀💀

[werebutch]

Also want to kill myself a little cause my rabbit won’t stop peeing everywhere and I know she can’t help it I think she’s older than the shelter told me but it’s all over my new carpet and I don’t have tools to help me clean so I have to sit down for an hour or two every couple days combing through every inch of carpet to get the piss and shir and hay up by hand so I’m kind of going insane doing this. I also think it’s my lack of vitamin D I’m depressed as fuck and finally sincerely want to kill myswlf again for the first time in years so yea I haven’t been going outside besides for work. Even though that’s my favorite thing to do. This all sounds really dumb milo why does your rabbit make you think so severely well it’s like the last straw kind of. You know. I really do love her but it’s the last straw idk. And I’m so scared that I won’t be able to get my testosterone again for weeks like the first time I’m tired of jumping through hoops I’ve been trying to do this for 2 years and so many times things go wrong that aren’t even explained. I don’t know why I’m so tested like this. All my problems nowadays are so minuscule compared to what I went through as a child or young teenager but I haven’t had time to recover from that anyway so all of that shit from the past still feels like pressing issues. Like fragments of it are still in me. So I know it all sounds stupid I’m just I think I’m being driven insane by my own mind I’m like at a point of no return I am very good at acting like I’m ok and I do convince myself most of the time I am but the truth is I’m hanging by a thread here from the pressure from my family and my own self to progress in life in general (also I’m really bad at it I am very stupid and a coward with no motivation to do anything) and also the loneliness of course. Im very convinced that I’m a hideous freak completely unlovable with no redeeming qualities I have nothing going for me in life nothing. I don’t care if you have a little internet crush on me this doesn’t mean anything. You don’t see me in real life. Nothing about me looks right. I am not trying to get attention I know I rant like this a lot but I’m so serious I’m at a loss of what to do with myself I feel so horrible all the time. But it’s ok I’m plagued by visions basically and tomorrow will come anyway so who cares🙏

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Question about something (no tw) you can call me cookie.

I’m only asking because I was told by a couple people that I’m childish, embarrassing, manipulative and stupid so I wanted to get your opinions on that?

Im an adult (23) so of course I have to be emotionally mature and responsible… Is it okay to cry as an adult in general? Over things like movies, depression, and just stress? Is it okay to feel triggered or hurt over something cruel someone said to me and end up crying and freaking out over it? There are times where I’ve cried, as an adult, over horrible things other adults have said to me, and not just cry but some of those times I seem to get triggered into what could be an anxiety attack? Only over certain things. But those are harder to control but I try my best if I’m still in touch with reality to distract myself from it or try to stop it. Some anxiety attacks I’ve lost control of my limbs and vision so that’s safe to say it’s out of my control at that point.

I can be a bit irresponsible at times I won’t deny it but I don’t mean to be on purpose if that matters, I have been getting better the past 6 months versus what I used to be like. Is it okay for others to yell at me about it and get really… aggressive about it too? I can say they seem to just hate me with the things they say to me bc they’re pointing fingers, gritting teeth, and saying, “wtf is wrong w you? You’re so disgusting act like a fucking adult, you’re such an embarrassment!” I have to point out it DOESN’T effect ANYONES life but my own… (my parents are my abusers so it’s just a tough relationship with them anyway) so I don’t get why it makes them so angry at me when it doesn’t effect them. I wouldn’t ever choose to roommate or whatever with anyone unless I knew I could be responsible on my own FIRST. Bc I certainly don’t want to burden ppl.

Hi anon,

The last response to anxiety attacks or mental breakdowns should be anger. There is no good reason for anyone to be angry with you for expressing your emotions, even if you're completely dysregulated. The more dysregulated you are, the more important it is to be approached with sensitivity and kindness. Being emotional doesn't make you manipulative, childish, or stupid, it makes you human, and being met with aggression isn't going to help you calm down. I would highly recommend reconsidering the relationships with the people that you're describing.

It's okay to cry at any age. Sadness is a healthy emotion and it's completely normal to cry from things like movies and stressful events. This does not make you a burden whatsoever. Sometimes you simply cannot regulate yourself and that's okay, that happens. But it's important for you to find a way to more efficiently manage your emotions in a self-compassionate way. If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist could explore this with you and help you come up with some helpful ways for you to self-regulate.

If anyone has any comments or suggestions, please feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[ozymoron]

tell me a bit about sophia (i mean if u want) im interested

gladly. i love talking about her

shes a 20 something year old german trans woman living in nz. shes 5'10" (somewhere around like 177.80cm) and a lesbian. she uses she/her pronouns but is fine with being called a guy or people using he/him for her as long as she know they believe her when she says shes a woman (like they dont mean it in a transphobic way). she has a deep voice and a german accent i havent really got much of the worldbuilding down yet but i do have most of her personality down. also her story takes place in some vague year between 2000 and now

shes kinda a huge loser like in the sense that she spends most of her time just sorta sitting around at home drinking beer and smoking while listening to industrial and hardcore and metal and shit (shes almost definitely depressed but im yet to explore that side of her lmao). she drinks and drives, shes incredibly wreckless. she kinda doesnt care that much about others but more in a way where shes just kinda always in her own head only thinking about herself and what she wants but when it comes to the people close to her shes incredibly protective like a guard dog. she acts like kinda a silly idiot around her loved ones but as soon as someone even looks at any of them wrong, shes fully ready to kill them. she clings onto her friends and stuff like theyre the last thing she has left. less in a desperate kinda codependent way and more in a "i could not live without you i will protect you with all i have trust me please stick around and keep me in your life i will make my existence worth your while" kind of way

shes a wannabe badass but also just is a badass. like she acts all cold and stoic but laid back, i guess in a way trying to seem all mysterious and cool but mostly just comes off like a bit of a jackass (cause she kinda is a bit of a jackass but she means well. sometimes.) i havent got to this part of the worldbuilding so i dont have an explanation for why she is this way but im planning that theres something she has to fight against or something like that. i have a bit of a vague idea of what i want but no specifics but she has a side to her where like shes actually kinda badass. she wears a wolf mask and carries around this baseball bat which the tip is like covered in nails and shit. im planning she gets covered in blood often because women covered in blood is awesome. im planning a theme with the group of characters she hangs out with where they all wear some kind of animal mask and each have their own weapon which like reflects their personality and whatnot

she works in a fast food restaurant which i feel like explains a lot about her

she mostly wears the mask to hide her identity but also to just hide her face in general. shes not insecure about how she looks but more just worried about what other people think of her. shes on hrt but she wants to keep her body hair cause she likes her body hair which includes her facial hair though she does regularly shave it cause she knows it gets her misgendered. she also wears a spiked collar and sometimes a leash (if shes not wearing a leash shes wearing some kind of bondage harness thing) both to continue the whole wolf dog thing shes got going on and also for sexual reasons of course

she has a romance thing going on with another oc of mine called blair (the name is a placeholder im so bad at picking names). blairs tiger/big cat coded shes more of the happy-go-lucky chaotic type. sophia goes incredibly soft for her like the whole trying to be a stoic badass thing completely drops around her she would sacrifice herself in a heartbeat if it meant blair was kept alive and safe which worries the fuck out of blair cause half the time she does not need to sacrifice herself but she puts herself in danger for blair often times for no reason cause she believes its what she needs to do to keep her safe. like her life is meaningless without blair so she'd rather be the one to die than live without blair. which like yeah theres a flaw in her logic cause like if she dies shes still without blair and now blairs sad but yknow. maybe she'll figure that out someday not sure tho shes a little stupid

idk what else to write so ill just add little tiny things i added to her for fun her favourite movie is evil dead 2 (this is me projecting onto her), she moans when she pees, she would give everything to be a werewolf, she had her drivers license taken from her she still drives tho. she shouldnt but she does, she hates beer but drinks it anyways. i think she doesnt know theres other kinds of alcohol. no idea how she doesnt know maybe she just hates herself and wants to drink shit that tastes bad for fun,

shes all i have left im going crazy

i also have a playlist for her if anyone besides me cares i care so fucking deeply. also my tag for her i feel also illustrates her personality well