#maybe i'll draw him to cope

[cleumuu]

augh i saw ruggies whole new year sprite and its tempting mee he looks so squishy cutee-- but the given history of me doing ruggie card pulls, , i need someone to brick me hard enouggh in the head to get through this phasee

[bmpmp3]

doodling some old ocs and i swear to god these are four different people (green guys are twins and the white hair ones are a dead pop star (right) and a celebrity impersonator of said dead pop star (left)

[luveline]

hi Jade!! I LOVE your remus with my whole heart. can I request remus comforting shy!reader after a bullying incident?!

thank you ♡ cw bullying 

People tend to assume that the entirety of the pain that stems from experiencing bullying is just the hurt, but a bigger part is the shame. How can you allow someone to do this to you? Where's your backbone? 

You're sure Remus is thinking it as he pulls egg shells from your hair. What else could he think? What grown woman allows her housemates to smash eggs against her head, in her own kitchen? He's been quiet since he picked you up, sniffling on the side of the road outside of your house with nothing more than your purse. 

He drops a last egg shell into the sink. You're standing beside it, the few inches of height he has over you feeling taller and taller as the night goes on. You've never felt so small in your life. 

"That's all of the shell." 

You avoid his eye. "Thank you." 

His hand bumps your stomach. Careful, Remus draws a line to your sternum, where it curls into a ball. It presses tight to you as he steps close, forcing you to raise your head. 

"What are you thinking?" he asks. 

"'M embarrassed, mostly." 

"What do you have to be embarrassed of?" he asks, his hand leaping up. His fingers spread across your chest, and it's all a little much. 

You slip from between him and the counter top with your shoulders pulling up like they've been tied with string, a corset yanked in. "You know what," you say miserably. 

Remus catches up with you. He's more cautious now, asking before he touches you. "Can I have your hand, lovely?" 

You give it to him because you're desperate to know that someone likes you. Remus loves you, evident in the tenderness with which he takes your hand, and how he doesn't flinch when you start tearing up. 

"If you're embarrassed by what someone else did to you, that's okay, but there's no need. No need." 

"You don't think it's pathetic?" you ask quietly. 

His tone —that bordered stoic only moments ago— threatens to crack. "It's not pathetic. It's pathetic how those girls treated you, and it's pathetic that I haven't done better looking after you. But you're not pathetic, sweetheart. You're just not. They're cruel, sour girls who–" Remus bites off his sentence to touch his nose briefly against your cheek. "You're not pathetic. You're anything but." 

"Why do they hate me so much?" you whisper. 

"I don't know. But it's something wrong with them, and not you. There's a level of meanness to this that can't be antagonised, sweetheart, I can't imagine how you'd ever deserve it." He wraps his arm around your shoulders with care. "Let's go wash your hair, yeah? Can we do that?" 

Remus hasn't washed your hair before. You're not sure how to cope with it. The aching tears slow, a weird pain you could almost say feels cathartic taking root as you close them against the shower spray. Remus hums a loving sound under his breath as he wets your hair, washing out the stringy whites and slimy yolks. You feel it trickle down your back. 

"I love you very much," Remus says suddenly, breaking a comfortable if heavy silence. "I know it doesn't make this sort of thing better, but I think I know you well, I know you're sweet, and kind, and you have so much love to give. If they can't see that, it's because they don't want to."

He makes it sound infallible. You know it isn't anything that grand, they aren't thinking of you like he is. They just don't like you because of something you've said or done, or not said or done, and they're comfortable expressing it. Maybe that's your doing for being meek, but when Remus says it like this, you could believe it isn't your fault at all. 

"It does make it better," you confess. Knowing you have him on your side, and that he thinks highly of you, definitely makes it easier to cope with. 

"You're good as gold. I promise I'll make this better." 

Remus finishes washing your hair. The longer he touches you the more flustered you become, worse when he wraps you in towels and then a dressing gown and then thick blankets, marking each layer with a kiss. He sits at the middle of the bed to pull your legs into his lap, massages moisturiser into them in quiet. It would be a miracle if he couldn't feel the capering skip of your pulse beneath it. He's touched you tenderly a hundred times before but this is different —he's seeing you at your very lowest, and he's building you back up. 

His hand rests on the soft inside of your thigh. "You don't ever have to go back there again. Me and the boys could pack your things, I'll help you pay the rent that overlaps. You don't have to… well, you can stay with me as long as you need. I'd love to keep you." 

You rub your hot cheek with the side of your hand, looking down at his arm and its stark green veins. 

"You're so good to me," you say. 

Remus takes on a teasing, almost blasé attitude, arms winding behind your back and pulling you close as he says, "You deserve good!" passionately enough to trick a smile from you. "I have no choice but to be good to you. I can't help it. I haven't tried otherwise, obviously, but nothing in me ever wants to. I meant everything I said, yeah? You're my sweetheart." 

You breathe out of your nose, unable to meet his eyes. He shuffles closer across the bed, kissing your warm cheek. "Sorry. I'm embarrassing you." 

But it's like he said earlier: you've nothing to be embarrassed of. 

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Shadows of Fluttering Leaves

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 7

Series Masterlist             Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader 

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around. 

warnings: depressed reader, grief, victim blaming, implied history of sexual assault/harassment, bad parenting, not super healthy coping mechanisms

a/n: I am so sorry I've updated everything sporadically this year, y'all. I've been working really hard to stockpile updates so I'll be able to post at least biweekly for the rest of the year (if everything goes to plan!) As always, please comment/reblog to leave feedback. And a giant thank you to @gracethyomen for helping me plan this arc and make their fight more cruel. She is the queen of angst, go follow her.

w/c: 4.8k

You didn’t recall much from the past three days, but that was because there wasn’t anything to recall. After your conversation–if it could even be called that–with Frank, it was as if your soul had unstitched itself from your body. You went through your days as an emotionless husk. Your creative spark extinguished, your joy unreachable.

The walls in your building were thin enough that you could hear him moving around. Going to work and returning home to Max as if you'd never existed. Perfectly fine without you. Every heavy footfall that penetrated the rotting drywall brought a fresh sheen of tears to your eyes. 

The burly marine had become such a welcomed part of your life, losing him was like losing a limb. His absence felt like a bad dream. If you focused hard enough, you could still feel his calloused hands, smell the cheap soap and spicy clove aftershave he used. But a simple exhale would wash the scent away, and you were alone again–tired, anguished, and unloved.

You drifted through the day, unsure what to do with yourself. You couldn’t bring yourself to go into work, or even communicate with Leo and Stacy for more than a brief text to prove you were still alive.

While this evening hadn’t been much different, the sight of your mom’s name flashing across the top of your phone screen as it buzzed had caused enough of an adrenaline rush to force you to chat with someone. Your throat felt sore after talking for the first time in nearly 72 hours, your vocal chords still recovering from their sudden overuse. Shuddering as you willed the memory of the call to fade, you felt the tell tale prick in the corners of your eyes.

Staring down at the damp concrete, you blinked frantically in an attempt to keep the endless tears at bay. The tilt of your head caused raindrops to drip off of your hood, rolling down your forehead. Around you, the slam of water against pavement and steel drowned out the thud of your determined footsteps. Blowing out a breath you slipped an unfeeling mask onto your face as you continued your walk to the bakery.

It wasn’t more than a few blocks from your apartment to the Rainy Day, but the beams of street lights would draw attention to your glassy eyes, and you didn’t need to highlight your fragility for any creeps that might be lurking at this hour. You'd had more than enough unwanted male attention for the week. Once you were safely behind the locked doors, you could look as broken down as you needed to.

Though you were exhausted, your confusion-and-betrayal-addled brain was still unable to rest and your hands itched to do something. Wallowing in your bed wouldn’t quell the uneasiness that speaking with your mom had ignited mere hours ago. But cooking might. At least, you hoped that was the case.

A crackle of lightning illuminated the bakery as you approached; the strike of light refracting through the windows made the place look rather sinister, draping it in oddly shaped shadows. Slipping the keys from your pocket, you tried not to cringe at the cold rain as it splattered against your exposed hand. Thunder rolled overhead as you waggled the key in the lock, finally getting the damn thing to budge enough for the door to shove open.

Stepping inside, you bolted the door behind you, using your phone flashlight to maneuver through the stacked tables and chairs as you moved to the kitchen. Before getting to work, you stripped out of your semi-drenched top and slipped into a clean t-shirt adorned with the logo of the cafe. Flicking on the overhead lights, you threw a hand up to shield your sensitive eyes as they strobed briefly before steadying into their normal bright rays. Taking a place by your preferred station, you took a moment to reflect on the tasks you had cut out for you.

Though Leo was more than capable of replicating your work if you detailed the recipes, they were happy to let you be the creative lead in your shared kitchen. As they’d mentioned multiple times over text the past few days, your absence from the space meant less variation in pastries for the bakery, and more for Leo to do. If you weren’t so emotionally depleted, you would have felt more guilty about abandoning them so suddenly.

Apparently, the emotional turmoil that talking to your mother always stirred was good for something. It had gotten you here, at least. Coating your station in a thin layer of flour, you ran through the motions of a basic croissant recipe.

You weren't quite feeling up to experimenting yet, but croissants you could do.

Soon enough, the smell of salted butter and yeast engulfed the room and your fatigued mind began to wander. Despite your best efforts to forget the comment, your mother's voice echoed in your ears.

“Really, sweetheart, what did you expect?”

The condescension in her tone clung to you like the barbs of an untrimmed rose. Your brain feebly tried to reassure you that she had no idea what she was talking about. To remind you that she didn't even know his name, that you'd told her—at most—three sentences about the whole situation.

But the majority of your brain was still reeling from the abrupt collapse of your relationship with Frank. And it was far too weak to not spiral at the implication of your mom's question.

Because, while she wasn't fully aware of who Frank was and what he meant to you, she was intimately informed of your history with men–hence her thoughtless words this evening.

Your dating history was...pitiful, to say the least. You tended to draw attention from the wrong men. Bosses, teachers, even your own relatives.

It had been your reality for as long as you could remember. As a child, whenever you'd come to your mother with another sob story about attention that you hadn't meant to attract, the blame was always placed squarely on your shoulders. Your outfits were too provocative, your actions too enticing. It didn't matter that they were the ones misunderstanding your kindness as an open invitation. It was still your fault.

Expecting her to sympathize with you when you told her you'd been grabbed by a stranger as you left the construction site was foolish. But it still hurt to know that she didn't.

What hurt more was the little voice in the back of your head that agreed with her. Knowing damn well that you'd chosen that outfit to fetch the gaze of a specific man. That the low cut neckline was meant to be provocative. That it was your fault that you'd been humiliated. That your own desperation had led to the continued phantom sensation of a large hand gripping your arm against your will. 

“If you dangle bait long enough, something will bite.” She reminded you. It wasn't the ocean's fault that you'd been hoping for a specific fish.

“But I didn't want them.” You'd lamented to her. You were tired of being a plaything, a quick fuck. You wanted something more, something real. And it had turned to ash in your delicate grasp before you could so much as appreciate it.

She wasn't sympathetic. Chastising you for forgetting your place, for getting attached, for seeking love in places it didn't exist.

“Love is harder to come by when you're, well...you know.”

You slammed the ball of elastic dough onto the bench, kneading it aggressively as tears poured down your face. Your stomach twisted as it heaved with sobs, the sentiment from your mother sounding eerily similar to the curt observation that Frank had hurled at you.

You ain't my wife.

He was right. You weren't his wife. His wife was beautiful, and caring, and patient. She'd loved him, had children with him, made a home for him.

Think I'm your little boyfriend or somethin'?

Biting your lip to stifle a sob, the feeling of foolishness crested in your chest again. It was humiliating to be called out like that,  especially when your naive little heart had been convinced he felt the same way.

I never wanted that.

Those words still hit you like a sock to the gut. He never wanted a relationship. He never wanted you.  Your stupid feelings were clearly unrequited, but how were you supposed to know that?

Was your childhood so deprived of love that simple acts of kindness had your heart doing backflips? Were his pet names and compliments just his gentlemanly nature because he was afraid to offend you?

This was a mistake.

His sweet remarks, calling you beautiful, the constant teasing—the relationship you once had with Frank began to play in your head; the muted colors of the picture doing nothing to make your chest ache less when his face sprang to mind. Your brain continued its depressing montage: Frank smiling at you, his gruff voice lifting around the word “sunshine”, his genuine interest in your work, his daily visits to the cafe, the way he leaned into every touch you offered him. All meaningless. Just another regret.

Exhaling forcefully, you flapped your hands in an attempt to stop their trembling. If the fragile dough ripped between your fingers, it would ignite a full meltdown. Clenching the muscles in your hands, you relaxed them as you forced every thought from your head, focusing on the pliant mass beneath your rolling pin as you mashed it into a lopsided rectangle. Carefully lifting the edges of the shape, you tossed it onto the sheet pan you'd prepared as tenderly as you could.  Using your fingertips to stretch it into a more appealing shape, you nodded in satisfaction, shoving the tray onto a cart and picking up your rolling pin again.

Each extension of your forearms, pressing the wooden cylinder into the raw pastry, condensing and lengthening the blob with small, stiff movements. Your elbows creaked with every stretch of the elastic dough, the swing of your arms feeling almost foreign despite being a common practice in the kitchen. A 72-hour break was too long, apparently. Any other day, you'd dance through this recipe effortlessly; Today though, every step felt choppy and hesitant, as if your brain expected you to fail again and again.

You hadn't felt this hopeless in a kitchen since the last few weeks of your atrocious entrepreneurial experience years ago. Yet another example of you being too trusting, too optimistic.

Your mouth flooded with the metallic tang of blood as your teeth dug into the flesh of your cheek, halting the choking despair that threatened to drag you down to the linoleum floor. You wanted to give in; your brain was still a ball of exhausted mush incapable of handling your day-to-day tasks.

Sloppily prepping a few more trays for their initial rise, you shoved the croissant dough onto the proofing cart and out of sight. The smell of yeast usually made you happy, but the biting edge of the scent was turning your stomach. It was becoming increasingly clear that you'd thrown yourself into your work without the stability to handle the sensory input of the bakery. Your head was pulsing because of the fluorescent lights, the whir of the electric mixer rattling your ear drums. Once the sticks of butter you'd added to the stainless steel bowl of the machine were smooth, you shoved the lever to shut it off—letting out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

Slapping heaping scoops of the creamed butter into a half-sheet pan, you set the pan in the fridge to solidify and shuffled blearily into the break room, collapsing onto the worn leather couch.

“You are such an asshole.”

Gritting your teeth as the words ripped you from an uneasy sleep, you peeled one eye open reluctantly. Two shadowy figures swayed in your field of vision, neither looking particularly happy with you.

The taller figure marched towards you. ”Three days? THREE DAYS? No calls, only a single fucking text,“ The annoyed voice grew closer, making you curl in on yourself.

”'M sorry.“ You mumbled, tears springing to your eyes.

”You better have a better apology than that. They were worried sick.“ A blurry image of Stacy manifested against the doorway to the breakroom, her arms crossed. Standing in front of your shoulders, hands firmly attached to their hips, was Leo.

”We were worried sick,“ Leo corrected, throwing Stacy a look.

Not denying the allegation, Stacy's cheeks dusted pink.

Crouching in front of you, Leo gave you a once over. Their furious expression quickly morphing into one of concern. “Did you sleep here?”

“Didn't mean to, the kitchen was just,” You gave a limp shrug, avoiding their piercing gaze. “Too much.”

“How long have you been here?” Stacy asked, striding over to drape her legs across the arm of the couch.

“Since midnight-ish.” You muttered, shame pitching your voice lower.

“Babes,“ Leo sighed, running a palm over your exposed arm as you tried to shrink into the couch cushions. ”What happened? Was it your mom?“

You should your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “Pete.”

“Pete?” Stacy raised an eyebrow, looking at Leo with wide eyes.

“What did he do, hun?” Leo plopped into a cross-legged position, leaning against the couch with an expectant look.

“Did you break up?” Stacy's voice was uncharacteristically soft, but the words were still teasing.

You burst into tears.

“Stace!” Leo scolded, climbing onto the couch and hefting your torso up so that you could lay in their lap as you bawled.

“What? It seemed impossible!!” Stacy said, mortified. She absorbed Leo's vacated spot, hands hovering apprehensively in front of you. “Shit. Please don't cry.”

“It's a bit late for that.” Leo huffed, cradling your cheek with one hand. “What did that bastard do to you?”

Gulping in air, you cowered against Leo's thigh. Your friends sat quietly, patiently awaiting your story. With a stuttering inhale, you wiped the newest round of tears from your face and pushed yourself into a seated position—gratefully leaning into the arm Leo threw around your shoulders. Looking up at them wide-eyed, you waited for their encouraging nod before speaking.

“Um..” Your voice was hoarse, words shaky. “So three days ago, I tried to bring him lunch...”

As if your consciousness was sparing you from the depressing events, the words tumbled from your lips instinctively, thoughtlessly. The story pouring directly from your torn heart, accompanied by a few stray tears.

Throughout your ramble, your friends remained silent–sandwiching your body between them. Leo's sturdy frame was a comforting weight to your left. Stacy had migrated to your other side, tentatively resting a manicured hand on your shoulder. They were both eerily still as you caught them up on the implosion of your relationship with your neighbor.

Eventually, you sighed, your body sagging with exhaustion. Briefly lifting your hands, you gestured to the small, bare break room you'd passed out in. “And then you found me in here, and that's it I guess.”

Your mouth snapped shut, your eyes flinging the final few droplets of saline off of your lashes as you blinked at your lap. There was a beat of silence. Two. Three.

Then all hell broke loose.

“Is he fucking serious?“ Stacy bit out, retracting her hand to cross her arms. Her brows were raised, jaw clenched as she looked at Leo.

”He told you that you were a mistake?“ Leo squawked, clearly fuming.

“I mean, that's not—” You began to reason, words dissolving on your tongue as Leo grabbed your hand with a glare.

“Absolutely not. Do not start that bullshit.”

Frowning, you averted your eyes. ”I'm not doing anything.“

“Princess, we love you, but don't pretend you're not blaming yourself.“ Stacy scoffed, standing from the couch and tugging at the roots of her hair.

“And defending him while you're at it.” Leo gently prodded your side with a knuckle, giving you an all-too-knowing glance. At your resulting pout, they sighed. “I know that hearing your mom blame you again and again is hard to unlearn, but she's wrong. So is Pete and all the other men who have done this to you. You deserve better.”

“Seconded.” Stacy nodded firmly, pointing a finger at you. “The next time I see him, I swear on my grandmother—”

The petite brunette was pacing, fists clenched in her fury. Leo looked equally angry, though they were much less obvious about it. Smirking at Stacy's empty threat, they finished it for her. ”We'll beat him senseless with a baseball bat.“

Giggling, you leaned into the hug Leo offered, exhaling into their shoulder. ”I appreciate you both, but I'd rather just move past it.“

”Deal.“ Leo kissed the top of your head, holding out a hand to help you stand from the couch.

”Speak for yourself, I am not willing to let this slide.“ Stacy called with a huff, stalking out to the counter to begin prepping for the morning rush.

”Should I be worried?“ You bit your bottom lip, eyes following her out of the break room.

”Nah, you know her. It'll pass, this is just how she shows her love.“ Leo reassured you, striding into the kitchen at the ambling pace you set. ”We would do anything for you, you know.“

Smiling bashfully, you nodded. “I appreciate it, Leo. Thank you.”

Though you were still dead on your feet and reeling from the emotional whiplash you'd been put through, an odd form of peace had engulfed you. Talking things out had taken a massive weight off of your shoulders.

You felt heat prick your cheeks as you sheepishly recalled the way you'd isolated yourself after leaving the construction site. At the time, it had felt like the natural path forward. But it clearly hadn't done you any good.

Your coworkers were eternally patient as you fumbled your way through your daily tasks, your brain still a glob of jelly after being berated by both Frank and your mother.

Gritting your teeth in frustration, you collapsed onto a bar stool. Kneading your forehead with one hand, you inhaled deeply.

Peeking around the corner of the walk-in, Leo frowned. “All of them?”

Nodding miserably, you forced a response around the lump in your throat. ”Every. Single. One.“

”Aw, babes.“ Leo pouted, coming to inspect the trays you'd thrown around your station as your defeat grew.

”They're all flat. How did it slip my mind that the rain would throw off the humidity in the main room? That's, like, proofing 101.“ You moaned, prodding one of the dense croissants with a finger. ”Christ, I feel like I've lost my mind. It should not be this hard to do something simple.“

Patting your back reassuringly, your best friend ignored your protests, lining your ovens with the ruined croissants and setting a timer. “Do you remember the first time Ez and I broke up?”

Ezra, Leo's on-again-off-again partner, had broken things off for the first time right before you both took your final preparation exam for your first pastry class in school. Leo had nearly flunked the course after they used salt instead of sugar in every dish.

Stifling a chuckle, you fiddled with the strands of your apron. “I seriously think Allard was reconsidering his decision to teach. His face!“ You and Leo snorted in tandem, picturing the old french man's grimace.

”Oh he definitely had regrets. My point is, the brain works in mysterious ways when you're grieving.“ Leo stated matter-of-factly.

”Grieving?“ You asked. “Frank didn't die–”

“I know that, smartass. But you still lost something, did you not?”

Pondering for a moment, you conceded. “I suppose.”

“So, your brain is handling this just like any other loss. Grief processing is its current main priority, remembering how to make picture-perfect croissants is not even in the backlog.”

“It should be, given that we operate a bakery.” You grumped, watching the pitiful slabs of dough puff slightly in the oven.

Smacking you gently over the back of your head, Leo's expression turned endearingly stern. “You, my dear, need to be kinder to yourself. Something huge and incredibly hurtful just happened to you. Give yourself a moment to breathe.”

Their soft command gave you pause. They weren't wrong. You'd jumped from escaping, to wallowing, to working without so much as a millisecond to relax. Had this bullshit happened to anyone else, you would've been much more understanding. But being kind to yourself was never your strong suit.

Mulling over the possibility of granting your brain a smidge of grace, you watched the flat pastries expand ever so slightly as they began to brown under the yellow oven lights. Realization finally striking you, you turned to Leo with a quizzical expression.

“You put them in the oven.” You stated simply, mind not quite forming a question to remedy your confusion.

Chuckling, Leo nodded. “I did.” They leaned against your station with a smile.

“Kitchen adaptations, hun. What did we used to do with pastry dough that didn't rise properly?”

Understanding dawning on you, your lips parted. “Croissant sandwiches.”

Squeezing your shoulder, Leo hummed in confirmation, striding back to their station to finish shaping bread loaves. You continued to watch the thin crescents puff, reminding yourself that the mistake was fixable. Sure, they wouldn't be the gorgeous, fluffy pastries you'd envisioned—but they could still be made into something delicious. For today, that was enough.

Feeling less hopeless, you wiped your hands on your apron and strolled over to the lines of proofing bread, moving them to the proofing cart easily. ”What are we stocking today?” You asked, hoping they'd notice the hidden meaning of the question.

“Let's stick to simple comfort foods. The weather is nasty, we probably won't be too busy. After we finish the staples, we could make some baguettes and a soup or two? Maybe some kitchen sink cookies and brownies too. Those won't take much effort.“ Leo tapped their chin thoughtfully, looking to you with a soft expression. ”Sound good?“

Smiling, you nodded–glad that Leo was willing to take charge for the day. Sliding your arms around your best friend's waist, you squeezed them tightly before bustling off to prepare some yeast.

Over the next few weeks, your mood improved significantly. Out of concern for you, and more than likely out of concern for the bakery, Stacy and Leo had spent a handful of nights at your place–helping you wind down after work, and motivating you to get up the next morning. Their presence and constant glares towards your and Frank's shared wall made it easier to move forward without him. You could feel your consciousness wading through the stages of grief, rapidly approaching acceptance.

For now, though, you were still moping–much to your friends’ dismay.

”C'mon, Princess! Live a little!! You haven’t gone out with us in forEVER“ Stacy whined, pinching your arm as she took a seat on the counter you were cleaning.

Scowling at her, you switched your rag out for a broom, determined to keep tidying around the obstruction she presented. ”I already told you. I don't feel like going out tonight, Stace.“

Sweeping stray coffee beans from under the machines, you fought back an eye roll at her snort. ”Oh, I'm sorry, did you have plans besides crying on your couch while watching rom coms?“

”Christ, Stacy, I told you to invite her, not insult her!“ Leo scolded as they exited the kitchen.

”Someone needs to say it!“ Stacy threw her hands in the air, looking at you pointedly. ”Being sad has its time and place, but the only way to truly get over a man is by going out and getting wasted, you both know I'm right!“ She huffed in frustration as both you and Leo opened your mouths to protest.

Scratching the back of their neck sheepishly, Leo raised a brow at you. “She actually might have a point.”

Pumping her fists victoriously, Stacy leapt from the counter. “See? It'll be good for you!”

Glancing between her and Leo, you sighed. Pouting in distaste, you knew you had been outvoted. If you refused to go, they’d drag you out anyway. “Fine.”

Your friends cheered, high-fiving their success. Stacy danced over to you. “It's gonna be great, princess. You'll see!”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You snarked, dipping the formerly abandoned rag in a bin of bleach solution and resuming your afternoon disinfecting duties in the front of the cafe while your coworkers plotted the outing.

“What are you going to wear, hun?” Leo called over their shoulder to you, after complaining to Stacy about their lack of cute clothes.

“Considering I am only going to please the two of you? I'm not quite sure.” You snorted, tone still sharp with irritation.

“Well, since you're clearly in such a great mood,” Leo giggled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Maybe we could get ready together?”

“We totally should! While blasting EDM really loudly in your living room!” Stacy grinned, feigning innocence despite her clear intentions to make Frank's life a living hell.

“Ok now you are definitely not invited.” You frowned, imagining how much he'd curse at you if you became a horrid neighbor on top of all your other faults.

“It's cute that you think you have a choice!” Stacy laughed evilly, rubbing her hands together in a movie-villain-esque motion.

Groaning miserably, you stiffened as Stacy padded over and held a hand out for the rag.

Making a grabby hand gesture, her other palm landed on her hip. “Hand the towel over, princess. You and Leo can head to your place to get you all fixed up and I'll finish cleaning.”

“I'm not sure whether I should be offended that you're implying I don't look stunning like this,” You circled a hand around your unwashed face. “Or worried that you're offering to lock up. You hate closing.”

“Exactly. That’s how much I want you to have a good night out, dude!” Stacy gave you a stern look, flicking her eyes between the damp rag and your stubborn expression.

Sighing heavily, you tossed the rag to her and slipped out of your apron. “If this place isn't gleaming tomorrow–”

“Yah, yah.” Stacy waved you off, putting earbuds in as she walked to the other end of the room.

“The disrespect.” You muttered, turning to Leo who was clearly amused at the fact that you'd been outwitted by the other girl.

“C'mon, sweets. We'll need to stop somewhere for drinks unless we want to go into debt to get drunk tonight.” Grabbing your hand, the two of you left Stacy and the bakery behind as you braved the heat outside.

Slogging up the stairs, arms laden with a paper bag filled with the cheapest alcohol the three of you could stomach, you adjusted your center of gravity to avoid toppling down the stairs. It felt like you were swimming upstream, given the weight in your hold and the immense humidity of the stairwell. Finally reaching the landing, you scrunched your nose as a bead of sweat dripped from it.

“Took you long enough,” Leo remarked, smirking at you from your front door, having made it up the stairs long ago. 

“Not all of us have a lithe athletic build and the heart rate of an Olympian.” You huffed, shuffling toward them with a small smile. Despite your initial apprehension, excitement had started to build in your chest at the thought of the night ahead of you. As you were about to express that much to Leo, the click of a doorknob stopped you in your tracks. 

Stepping out of his apartment, adorably happy pitbull in tow, was none other than your neighbor, Frank Castle. 

Frozen in place, it was a miracle you didn’t drop the bag in your shock. You’d assumed he’d avoid you just as you’d avoided him. Apparently you weren’t that lucky. 

Looking a bit surprised himself, Frank hesitated for a minute before plastering a scowl on his face and tugging at the leash in his grasp. “C’mon Max.” 

Watching Frank stalk past you without so much as a glance in your direction, your mouth dropped open with indignation. Poor Max was dragged to the stairs behind him, despite the dog’s efforts to greet you on the way down the hall. 

Gritting your teeth, you marched to your own door and unlocked it. Carefully depositing the bottles on the ground, you grabbed a handle of cherry vodka, cracking it open and taking a swig as you stomped into your apartment. 

“I suppose that’s one way to handle whatever just happened.” Leo murmured, studying you with a concerned frown. “Wanna talk about it?” 

“Nope!” You grinned, pulling another gulp of liquor from the bottle. “Care to help me pick an outfit? I’m hoping to drink for free tonight.” 

Striding into your room with Leo on your heels, your gut burned as the lump of despair you’d been clinging to for a week burned red hot with rage. Your friends were right. You deserved better. 

If Frank Castle didn’t want you, then you sure as hell didn’t want him.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484 @xxdrixx @smhnxdiii @mattmurdocksstarlight @danzer8705 @mjsvinyl @softieekayy @sweetpov @dreamtofus @zomtart @mjsvinyl @senjoritanana @marytheweefrenchie @siampie @gracethyomen @pone21 @ignore-mp3 @screechingphantommaker @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[futureflipflop]

Since i may end up doing the interactive au thing for Aphmau's MID, here's the cast in my doodle style [I think i made the dudes too twinky but i will work on that 💪]

This didn't take very long so it's me getting more comofrtable with trying to merge the minecraft skins, Aphmau's style of them, and the fandom's

-

First up, Ava!

I think I'm placing her height at around 5'3? comfortably shorter than average

-

Here's Rhys

Not too confident in this one, I feel like his body is off but the gist of it is there. I didn't think of drawing him to be softer until i already drew him, but yeah, I feel like he'd have a softer body compared to the others. For his height i'd place him at aroundd 5'8?, same height as Asch, but taller than Noi and slightly taller than Leif -

The boy Noi

I have NO idea what's going on with his collar, Aphmau's official art of him had it doing gymnastics. Apparently when i drew him i was at an angle so he's also doing a boogie. I'd place his height at a solid 5'5, he looks young but only because he doesnt want to actively stop living. He's stressless, or at least copes very well

-

Angry man Asch,

You can tell he's the first one i drew because i had NO idea what i was doing with his face. Angry 1990s big cartoony dude eyes. I do think the jaw shape i hgave him is fitting, sorta. if the face was more porportionate His height? around 5'8, same ish as Rhys. -

Leif, the wonderful assassin

i tried to get his smug personality and flawless eyeliner . I would like to apologize for the nips in the shriot because I cant tell if it's supposed to be sheer or not I'd say he's 5'7, maybe 5'6 if we want him to be aerodynamic.

-

Last but not least, Pierce

i couldnt for the life of me figure out how to draw a military-general-who-has-5-kids-at-home vibe on the frist try, so here's his face either sculptedf by the heavens or dragged through the dirt He's definitely "the dream" 6'4 or something. -- So like, I'll probably make Reader slash Y/N be the colour yellow, since that would complete the rainbow we've got goin on here. I have yet to come up wtih a design for them, but they'd probably be around 5'5, face to face with Noi. If Daemos are taller than Humans by nature, then I'd say bump up their heights by around 3-5 inches Anyways, here's the Lineup

-- If like yknow people like it ill set up an interactive au, I'll set it u[p so that it's parallel to the fanfic, making it easier for people to ask about it! have no idea what im doing but ill try to feed this small fandom anything 🤚✋

[lee-laurent]

Don't Go Breakin' My Heart - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke gets his heart broken

content: children, angst, mentions of breakups, kissing, makeouts, mention of sex but no smut, mentions of using sex to cope with emotions, crying, oc x ex!john marino

wc: 4.6k

notes: PART 7!!! i want to thank everyone that still loves this series :) it means the world to me that there are ppl that enjoy my writing!! anywho... this one is a doozy. it was originally longer, but i've decided to split it into two parts! enjoy!!

Tori felt like shit. She felt like locking herself in her room and never talking to anyone ever again. But she's a mother and sadly that is no longer an option. So instead, she sat on the floor next to Riley's drawing table and helped him colour some pictures.

"What's this one?" she asked, pointing to one of the scribbles on his piece of paper.

"Mama and Dada."

Tori just nodded, letting her emotions get to her before she could tell her son how great his picture was. But Riley didn't seem to care, grabbing his red crayon and scribbling away on his picture of "Dada."

"What colour is that, Ri?"

"Red! Like 'ockey!"

"It is! It's red just like Dada's jersey. You're so smart, baba," she ruffled his hair, trying to stay in the moment.

"Pwetty?"

"Yes! All the colours are so pretty!"

Riley beamed at the praise, his attention fully on his artwork.

"Are you gonna give it to Dada?"

"Yes! Pwsent."

"A present? Wow, you're so nice, Ri-Ri."

Riley's face scrunched up in concentration, the crayon pressed against the page. Her heart ached with love for her son, but also the weight of everything that had happened since she met Luke. The kiss with John kept replaying in her mind, making it almost impossible to focus on the bonding moment they were sharing. She wished she could back and erase what had happened, especially the guilt clawing at the inside of her chest.

"More?" Riley asked, holding up the picture to show her.

"It's perfect, Riley. Dada's gonna love it."

He grabbed another crayon, blue this time, and added more lines to his creation. Tori watched, feeling like she was watching her life unravel in slow motion. How was she going to explain this to Luke? How was she going to keep everything from falling apart? Maybe she would take Riley and move back to Pittsburgh.

But as she watched Riley, so happy and innocent, she knew she had to be strong. Riley would be heartbroken if they went to Pittsburgh and he couldn't see his dad. She couldn't let her mistakes ruin everything, especially not for her baby. She had to fix this, to make things right with Luke, even if it meant facing the consequences of her actions.

"Dada's gonna be so happy with his present," she murmured, more to herself than Riley. She just hoped that, somehow, they could all get through this without ending up more broken than before.

She took a deep breath, "How about we add some yellow?"

Riley's eyes lit up, and he eagerly took the crayon from his mom. Tori watched with pride as he added more colour. She knew that no matter what happened with Luke, her priority was Riley's happiness.

When Riley finished his masterpiece, he looked up at her with a grin. "Done, Mama!"

"It's beautiful, Ri-Ri! Dada's gonna be so proud of you!" she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Riley carefully set the drawing back down on the table, grabbing a new piece of paper. Tori's phone buzzed and she reached to pick it up. Her heart skipped a beat when she noticed it was "Luke <3" flashing across the screen. This was it--the moment she'd been dreading.

"Luke?" she answered, her voice unsteady.

"Hey, Tori. Can we talk?"

Tori swallowed hard, glancing at Riley, who was already starting a new drawing. "Yeah, we can talk. Can you come over?"

There was a pause before Luke answered. "I'll be there in 15."

She looked down at Riley again as Luke hung up. She knew that no matter what happened, she'd shield Riley from it. Not allow herself to yell with him in the room. Riley was her first priority. Always.

~~

When the doorbell rang, Tori jumped, her heart racing. She opened the door to Luke, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Hey."

"Hi," she closed the door behind him, her stomach twisting.

Luke took a glance around the room, his eyes landing on Riley, who was still engrossed in making another drawing. "How's he doing?"

"He's... good. Been working on some art," she replied, her voice tight.

Luke managed a small smile as he walked over to Riley. "Hey, buddy," he greeted, ruffling the toddler's hair. "What're you drawing?"

Riley looked up, his face lighting up at the sight of Luke. "Look 'Uke! Pwsent for Dada!"

Luke's smile faltered for just a moment, but he was quick to recover. "Wow! That's awesome, Ri! I'm sure he'll love it!"

Tori didn't miss the slight change in Luke's demeanor, the way he tried to keep things light for Riley's sake. It only made her feel worse.

"Can we talk?" Luke asked, nodding his head towards the kitchen.

"Of course."

Luke shoved his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the tile of the floor. "I've been distant lately," he began, "And I know you've noticed. I'm sorry, Victoria."

Tori bit her lip, waiting for him to continue.

"I've been trying to figure out if I can handle all of... all of this. Being with you, being in Riley's life, dealing with everything that comes with it," he finally met her eyes. "I didn't want to just jump in without being sure, but I didn't know how to tell you without making you feel like I wasn't committed."

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, determined to stay strong. "I wish you would've talked to me about it," she whispered. "We could've figured it out together."

"I know," he admitted, taking a step closer to her. "I was scared, Vic. Scared of messing things up, of not being good enough for you or Riley. But I'm here now, and I want to make it right."

"Luke, there's something I need to tell you too," she started, her voice trembling. "Something happened... with John."

Luke's expression shifted, the colour draining from his face as he processed her words. "What do you mean, 'something happened?'"

"We kissed. It was a mistake, Luke, I swear. I didn't mean for it to happen, and I regret it so much."

Luke stared at her, shock and hurt written all over his face. He turned away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process her words. The silence between them was deafening, and Tori felt like she was suffocating under the tension.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Tori wiped at her eyes, her voice breaking as she replied, "I was scared too, Luke. I didn't want to lose you, and I didn't know how to make it right. But I had to be honest with you, even if it means..."

"Even if it means we don't make it through this?" he finished for her, his voice rough with emotion.

She nodded, heart shattering at the thought. "I don't want to lose you, Luke. But I understand if you need time... or if you can't-"

Luke cut her off, backing out of the kitchen. "I don't know what this means for us, Tori. But I need time. A lot of time. I just..."

"I get it. I, uh, I'll talk to you when you're ready."

Luke just nodded, holding back his tears as he exited the apartment. His mind filled with so many thoughts that he forgot to say 'bye' to the toddler who was waving at him as he left.

Tori felt her world crumbling around her. Luke's reaction, while deserved, was devastating. And she knew she needed to sort these feelings out soon. But how would she do that with Riley needing her constant attention?

She picked up her phone, her fingers hovering over the call button next to John's name. She didn't want to tell him what had happened with Luke--not yet, at least. But she needed the space to breathe, to think.

"Hey, V," John's voice came through the line, sounding surprised. "Everything okay?"

"I was wondering if you could come by and take Riley for a little while. I just... I need some time."

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "Be there soon."

When John arrived, Riley ran up to him excitedly, holding up the drawing he'd made. "'Ook, Dada! Pwsent!"

John's face lit up with a genuine smile as he knelt down to admire the work. "Wow, bud! This is amazing! Thank you!"

As John lifted Riley into his arms, Tori could see how much Riley adored his father. Seeing them together only made her decisions more difficult. She couldn't ruin Riley's happiness, but what about her happiness?

"Ready to go, big guy?"

Riley nodded, clinging to his father.

"John, can I talk you for a second before you go?"

John shifted his attention to Tori, sensing the seriousness in her voice. "Ri, why don't you get your backpack?"

Riley ran off to his room to find his little backpack, probably filling it with toys in the process.

"What's up, Tori?"

Without thinking, Tori stepped forward and kissed him. It was a desperate, searching kiss, one that held all her confusion and longing she couldn't put into words. She needed to know if there was anything left there, anything worth throwing away for Luke.

John was momentarily taken aback, but then he responded, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, and for a moment, everything else faded away--the pain, the guilt, the confusion.

When they finally pulled apart, Tori stared at him, breathles and conflicted. "I... I just needed to know."

"And did it help? Did it make things clearer for you?" he held her face in his hands, staring right into her eyes.

She fixed her gaze to the floor, "I'm not sure."

"I'll take Ri for as long as you need. Just let me know."

He turned to go to Riley's room when she grapped his wrist, turning him around.

"Stay," her voice trembled.

John hesitated, searching her eyes for a clue to the turmoil inside her mind. The words Tori wanted to say were stuck in her throat. The last thing she wanted was to lead him on, to make promises she wasn't sure she could keep, but the thought of being alone now felt unbearable.

"Please," she whispered. "Just for a little bit."

He nodded, gently squeezing her hand. "Okay, I'll stay."

Tori released his wrist, leading him to the living room, the air thick with unspoken words.

"Ri will be okay playing in his room for a bit."

John nodded, his eyes never leaving her. "Tori, you don't have to explain anything right now. I'm here for you, whenever you need."

His words only made her feel more conflicted. How could she sit here, next to the father of her child, after what had just happened with her boyfriend? Was he even her boyfriend anymore? And yet, here was John, offering her support without asking for anything in return.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted. "Everything's messed up, and I'm making it worse."

John reached out, intertwining their fingers. "You're doing the best you can. None of this is easy, and it's okay to feel lost."

Tori turned her head away, not wanting John to see her cry, but he gently cupped her cheek, turning her face back towards him.

"Don't hide from me, V," he said softly. "I've seen you at your best and your worst. You don't have to pretend with me."

That broke her. The tears she'd been trying to hold in, spilled over. She let out a shaky breath, letting everything crash down on her. John pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she cried, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"I'm scared, John. I don't want to lose Riley, or you, or Luke."

John pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "You're not going to lose Riley, V. And as for me... I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

She clung to him, still feeling guilty. She didn't know how long they'd sat there cuddling, but eventually, her tears began to subside, leaving her feeling drained but a little more at peace.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. You're the mother of my only child, Tori. I'm here to help you figure out everything."

"I just... I need time to think. To decide what's best for me and Riley."

"And you've got that time. Look I don't know what's got you feeling like this. But you're not alone."

"Can we... just sit here for a while? I don't want to be alone right now."

"Of course."

Tori rested her head on John's chest, feeling the tension slowly leave her body. She had no idea what the future held for her and Luke; but, for now she let herself find comfort in John's embrace, knowing that for at least for this moment, she wasn't alone.

~~

The next morning, John felt a sense of unease as he left Tori's apartment. The night had been filled with emotional turmoil, but he had stayed with Tori, because she needed someone, and he didn't want her to feel alone. They hadn't crossed any lines after that kiss, but the fact that he'd spent the night at her place could easily be misunderstood--especially by one Mr. Luke Hughes.

John shook off the thought as he got into his car, trying to focus on the day ahead. Practice. He'd already texted Lindy to let him know he was running late, but he wasn't looking forward to facing the guys in the locker room, especially not Luke.

When he finally walked into the Devils' locker room, he could feel the eyes of his teammates on him. John wasn't one to shy away from attention, but today felt different. There was an air of suspicion, that hung over the room.

Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Nico called out with a grin, breaking the silence.

John smirked, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, yeah, I know I'm late. Don't worry, I'll make it up on the ice."

"Where were you, Marino?" Jack chimed in, not letting it go. "You usually don't roll in this late unless something's up."

John hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room. He knew there was no easy way to say it, but lying would only make things worse. "I, uh... I spent the night at Tori's."

The room went quiet. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like everyone was waiting for something to happen.

Luke, had been tying his skates, suddenly froze. His eyes snapped up to meet John's, and the fury in them was unmistakable. He shot to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. "What did you just say?"

John held up his hands, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalated. "Luke, it's not what you think-"

But Luke wasn't having it. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, shoving John hard in the chest. "You spent the night at her place? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Luke, calm down," Jack interjected, stepping in between them, but Luke was too far gone.

"No, Jack, stay out of this!" Luke snapped, his voice raw with anger. "You think you can just waltz in here and tell me you spent the night with Tori after everything that's happened? What the hell were you thinking, John?"

John's jaw tightened. He understood Luke's reaction, but the accusation still stung. "I wasn't trying to hurt you, Luke. She needed someone, and I was there. That's all."

Luke wasn't buying it. His breathing was heavy, and his fists still clenched. "Bullshit! You've been trying to get back with hers since the moment I showed up. And now you're just... what? Moving in on her because I wasn't there?"

"That's not what happened, and you know it!" John spat back, his own temper flaring now. "I'm Riley's dad, Luke. I was trying to help her out!"

"By staying the night?" Luke's voice was full of sarcasm and disbelief. "You knew we were having issues, and you used it to your advantage. You've always been a selfish prick!"

John's patience snapped. "And you think you're any better? You've been so focused on your own doubts that you've pushed her right back to me. So maybe you should look in the mirror before blaming me for everything!"

Luke lunged at him, and the locker room erupted into chaos. Their teammates rushed to pull them apart, Jack and Nico holding Luke back while Dougie and Dawson grabbed John.

"Enough!" Nico shouted, trying to get control of the situation. "This isn't the place for this shit!"

But Luke wasn't listening. He was seething, his eyes locked on John. "You're dead to me, Marino. Stay the hell away from me, and stay the hell away from Tori!"

John, breathing heavily, didn't reply. The tension between them could've been cut by a knife, and it was clear it wasn't going to be resolved easily.

Lindy walked in just as the chaos was settling down, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. "What the hell is going on in here?" he barked.

"Nothing, coach," Nico quickly covered, trying to defuse the situation before it got any worse. "Just a little disagreement. We'll handle it."

Lindy didn't look convinced, but he nodded curtly. "Handle it fast. We've got practice in five. And I don't want any of this shit spilling onto the ice."

He walked out, but everyone knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

~~

John wasn't sure why he decided to go to Tori's after practice. Maybe it was because he wanted to see Riley or maybe it was because he felt the need to protect his family after his dispute with Luke. His emotions were running high and he felt an intense urge to be with Riley, to connect with the one person in his life who brought him genuine joy amid the chaos.

When he walked in, Tori was in the kitchen, trying to distract herself with mundane chores. She looked up, surprised but grateful to see him.

"Hey."

"Hey. Riley's in his room. Playing dinosaurs I think. He'd love to see you."

John opened the door, finding Riley sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by plastic dinosaurs.

"DADA!" he scrambled to his feet, running over to John and throwing his arms around his legs.

"Hey, buddy!" his heart swelled with love for his son. "What're you up to?"

"Pwaying! "Oo pway, Dada?"

"Of course I do," John replied, joining Riley on the floor.

"Dino 'venture!"

"Oh are they going on a dino adventure?"

"Yes! Dino 'venture!"

"Rawr!" John growled playfully.

"RAWR!"

"Wow! You're a scary dinosaur, Ri!"

"No! No scawy! Just Wiley."

"Oh thank goodness it's you, Riley! I thought there was a scary dinosaur in my Riley's room!"

They continued to play dinos, Riley making sure his dad knew that he didn't need to be scared and that they were just toys. The weight of the world was lifted off John's shoulders as he spent time with his son. Riley's laughter lifted his spirits instantly and reminded him of how much he loved his son.

Tori watched from the doorway for a few minutes. Seeing the genuine joy John brought into Riley's life stirred something in Tori. It was a stark reminder of why she had fallen for John in the first place--his effortless love and his ability to bring light into her life during rough times.

After a couple hours of playing, Riley was starting to yawn. John helped him get his pjs on as Tori prepped his bottle. Tori watched as they read dino books together as Riley began to drift off. John tucked him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Night, Ri-Ri. I love you," he whispered, going to join Tori in the living room.

"Thank you for coming by tonight. Riley loves spending time with you," she grinned, setting her book down on the coffee table.

"I needed it too. More than you know," he grinned, reaching out to hold her hand.

"John…" she started, "I don't know what to do anymore. Everything feels like a mess."

"I know, V. But right now, all I want is to be here for you. For both of you."

Tori's facade crumbled. She had been holding back her feelings, trying to figure out her emotions. But now, with John so close (and after seeing him bond with Riley), it was hard to resist the pull. She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close.

They shared a kiss filled with the desperation and longing they both felt. It deepened quickly, and before either of them knew it, they were laying on the couch making out. Tori's hands in John's hair and John's wrapped about her waist.

John was the first to stop, helping Tori up as he led them to her bedroom. Their kisses growing more fervent. They fell back onto the bed together, and for the first time in a long time, Tori took her shirt off and laid back with John hovering over her. His touch was both comforting and electrifying, filled with a sense of familiarity. And Tori was surprised to say that making love felt like they were mending all the broken pieces between them.

Afterward, they lay together in silence, Tori's head resting on John's chest, her leg thrown over his. She couldn't deny the connection that they shared. They both knew that fucking didn't solve their problems, but in that moment, they felt connected in a way they hadn't since they found out they were having a baby together. And for now, this was the only way Tori knew how to bring that feeling back.

~~

Tori woke up the next morning, the warmth of John's body next to hers. The night had been a whirlwind of emotions, but now, as sunlight filtered through the curtains, she found a sense of peace. Her thoughts ran to Riley, who was still asleep in his room.

She slipped out of bed quitely, not wanting to disturb John. As she made her way to Riley's room, she was greeted by the sight of her son snuggled under his hockey-themed blanket, his Winnie the Pooh clutched in his arms, his face peaceful and serene.

She gently shook him awake, knowing that he wouldn't be able to nap later if he slept in, leaving her with an irritable nightmare.

"Good morning, baby," she whispered, brushing some hair from his face.

"Mornin', Mama," his tiny hands reaching up for a hug.

Tori lifted him from his crib and carried him to the kitchen. She was eager to start the day, to make it as perfect as possible. The dream she had been chasing for so long seemed to be within reach. John and Riley together felt like she'd finally gotten the ideal family she had always envisioned.

She set Riley up with breakfast, watching as he happily dug into his cheerios and sliced strawberry. Tori busied herself preparing a fresh pot of coffee, her mind racing with thoughts of the future. She imagined what her life could look like as a picture-perfect family, with John and Riley by her side. It felt right. It felt like she'd always wanted it to be since she first found out about Riley's existence.

John joined them in the kitchen, his presence bringing normalcy and comfort with it. He kissed Tori on the cheek, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Morning, big guy."

"Mornin', Dada!" Riley exclaimed.

They enjoyed breakfast together, and Tori couldn't help but revel in the warmth and closeness of their family unit. It was like a dream come true. Riley's little giggles and John's easy banter made her feel more relaxed than she had in ages. She was living the life she's always dreamed of.

As she showered, she imagined their future. Family picnics, holidays together, and cozy evenings spent at home. The idea of a perfect family with John seemed so tangible that it was hard to consider anything else. The dream was intoxicating.

In the midst of her euphoria of spending a day at home with her family, the idea of reaching out to Luke didn't come to mind once. The idea of confronting the complexities of their relationship seemed distant compared to the joy she was feeling with her boys.

That evening as she sat on the couch with John, his arms wrapped around her waist, Riley playing happily with his cars, she felt so much fulfillment. She was determined to hold onto this feeling, no matter what the future tried to throw her way.

~~

Luke sat in the dark of his bedroom, the only light coming from the TV across from his bed. A show was playing, but he wasn't paying attention, zoning out and losing focus every couple minutes. The rage he had felt in the locker room had gone down and now was just a flicker in his chest. He felt more betrayal and confusion now than anger.

How could Tori do that? How could John, someone he used to see as a teammate he could look up to, stab him in the back? Spend the night with his girlfriend? Luke thought over every moment he'd spent with Tori and Riley, wondering it was all just a lie.

He felt betrayed by both Tori and John. Tori, who he had fallen for deeply and quickly, had kissed another man. And not just any man, her ex-boyfriend, the father of her child--while Luke was trying to figure out if he even belonged in her life. And John, a teammate and supposed friend, had gone behind his back. It felt like the rug had been pulled from under him, and he was left flailing his arms as he lost his balance.

Luke had always prided himself on keeping his cool, not being as quick to temper as his brothers, but this? This was too much. The frustration of trying to fit into this ready-made family, the doubts he had about being there for both Riley and Tori, and now this-- it all came crashing down on him. And he didn't know how to process it.

Jack knocked on his door, letting himself in without waiting for an answer. "Hey man. You okay?"

Luke shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. His throat was tight with the effort of holding back tears and keeping his composure.

"I get it. This sucks. It's messed up. But you gotta keep your head, okay? Don't let Marino and Tori mess with you. You need to focus on you and what you want."

"What I want?" Luke managed, his voice hoarse. "What I want is to go back to when things were simple. Before all this... this bullshit."

"I know. But you can't. You've got to deal with it now. What do you want to do? Do you still want to be with her?"

Luke's heart ached at the question. He wanted to be with Tori; that much was clear. He was in love with her. But how could he be with someone who kissed another man--her ex, no less-- while they were still trying to figure things out? Could he trust her again? Would things ever be the same?

"I don't know, Jack. I don't know if I can do this."

Jack just nodded, offering silent support to his brother. Luke was at a crossroads, and he had no idea which direction to take.

For now, all he knew was that he needed more space-- from Tori, from John, from everyone. He needed time to think, to process, and to figure out what the hell he was going to do next.

[perictione00]

Oops!...I Did It Again

Ch 4: Fuck me like you hate me.

Pairing: Nanami x reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, angst, use of curse words.

Synopsis: When life was throwing you uncountable curveballs, an unexpected reunion with your high school friend helped you dodge every single one of them. Coping mechanisms leave you both in a complicated situationship. So what happens when one of you ends up catching feelings? The cliche or the unexpected?

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Ch 3

Fuck me like you hate me? That particular expression from you conveyed the exact opposite of Nanami's sentiment. The dynamics between you two underwent a noticeable shift after that exchange. Previously, you instigated random conversations with him while sharing dinner, but now you steer clear of interactions and instead aggressively approach him with sex on your mind. Suddenly, that was all it was about. Secret visits to his office evolved into regular and conspicuous events. He wasn't complaining; he enjoyed having you in his arms; however, it felt like there was a wall that kept him from reaching you.

"You're doing it again, y'know." He confronted you as he saw your form entering the room.

"Doing what again?" you inquired, diligently drying your hair.

"Pushing me out-"

"You're just too big for me, but I promise I'll try to make it fit this time." You replied playfully.

Kento audibly sighed at the apparent endeavor on your part to ignore his inquiry with an innuendo. His gaze traced your motions, uncertain if you intended to swiftly segue into intimate matters or address the pending discussion. The predictability manifested as you opted for the former, leaving your bathrobe on the floor, settling onto his lap, adjusting your damp tresses, and drawing him closer, close enough to kiss. Your mere presence proved intoxicating, and despite his earnest attempts to grapple with his dilemmas, the overpowering sensation of your lips meeting his was enough to conquer his doubts and uncertainties. And right when he had started to drown himself in the kiss, you pulled away. It looked like you wouldn't listen to him, so he decided to speak your language and give into you.

What were you doing to him? You pondered as you observed every detail on his face that reflected nothing but his unwavering devotion to you. He was a great person, and yet you could never be the same as him. A lingering feeling of fear, borne of past disappointments and betrayals, veiled your sentiments. You had experienced them far too many times from far too many people you considered close. Your trust was fractured by the scars of abandonment etched by some friends, some endgames, who left you when they were bored. Were you the problem? Were you the catalyst for their departures? You don't know. There's one thing you know for sure, though: you are never going to grant anyone that power over you. You're never going to surrender dominion over your emotions or believe in anyone because people suck no matter how perfect they appear to be on the outside. You are tired of being on the receiving end of pain. Maybe now you'll take your sweet time giving it. Kento appears to be flawless, and that's uncanny because you don't know what you'll do if he leaves you like everyone else. So you have decided to own him without having him—an attempt to possess without being possessed—to lay claim to his heart without the surrender of your own, as yours remains beyond his grasp.

Kento lithely guided you onto the plush mattress, divesting himself of his shirt. A heavy breath escaped him as he traced a path of delicate kisses along your neck. Captivated by the allure of your taut nipples, he indulged in drawing one into his mouth while ardently caressing the other, savoring the sensation of your hands entwined firmly in his tousled locks. Sucking indelible marks on your bosom, he earned fervent moans from you. Intertwining his fingers into yours, he slowly moved down to your pussy. Interlocking his fingers with yours, he moved down to your pussy to bestow his attention upon the realm of your desire.

"Ah, Kento!" Your limbs entwined around his head, where his adept mouth and tongue worked a beguiling dance upon your sloping core, his hands asserting control over your hips. The vice of your thighs clamped down upon his head, giving him an unspoken insistence to continue his abuse, and so he did. Swiftly, Nanami wasted no time, seamlessly immersing himself between your parted legs.

"Don't move," he commanded as his sizable hands encircled your hips, conveying a tacit warning to stay still when you tried to move away due to the overwhelming sensitivity.

“K-Kento, I'm coming.” You whimpered while grinding your cunt against his tongue, riding through your orgasm.

Without a break, he pulled you onto his lap, seating you with your back leaning against his chest and his already-leaking cock rubbing against your bare cunt. Keeping one thick arm around your waist and the other holding your jaw, he kissed you passionately as he entered your warmth.

"Shi-shit, hah-...fuck" Curses slipped out of his mouth as your wet pussy swallowed up his whole length. He started drilling his cock into you at a dizzying speed, snapping his hips against yours.

"Does this feel like I hate you?" He asked in between his thrusts.

There it was again. Why doesn't he understand that the thrill will be lost the moment they commit? Why can't he just continue this no-strings-attached relationship? Why can't he accept that this feeling of love won't last and all that will be left of it will be dispair?

"A-answer me?" He questioned you as he violently rubbed fast circles on your clit and mouthed at your neck, savoring your taste.

"No."

This wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. It frustrated him to no end that you would go to such lengths just to deny his questions. Pounding relentlessly into your cunt, his tight hold on your waist left bruises.

"Umf-yesh...jus like tha..." You arched your back as he started thrusting at an animalistic pace, each stroke greater and more urgent than the last. You were nearing your climax once again. His teeth pulled at your bottom lip, kissing you over and over as you continued bouncing on his cock. You came with a high-pitched squeal, causing his jaw to clench as he felt your pussy spasm around him.

A series of guttural groans escaped his lips as he climaxed within your embrace. Exhaling deeply, he gazed upon you, a glistening sheen of sweat enveloping your entire form. Your disheveled, damp locks clung haphazardly, yet in this disarray, you appeared flawless. The most beautifully perfect being. Why couldn't you view yourself through his lens?

"I can't do this anymore." He smiled softly, his eyes gleaming with tears.

"What? Why? Is the sex not good?" Why was he doing this?

"Can we be something more than this?" He asked hopelessly, almost sounding tired.

"Where's this coming from?" You inquired.

"Answer me."

"What the fuck is this-"

"Why can't you see it?!" His sorrowful voice gave away his dispair.

"I dunno what you're talking about. Y'know what? Let's take a breather." You stated to avoid the matter at hand.

"No... please. I need to know."

"Kento, let's not-"

"I love you."

"No. Don't do this."

"I love you-"

"Stop it!" you screamed, gasping, a tear escaping your eye. "It's not worth it; let's act like this never happened."

"I can't-"

"Why not? What more can you want? I'm giving you everything, aren't I?"

"I want you." Nanami embraced you in a hug. "I want all of you, and I'm willing to wait."

You pulled away.

"There's nothing there for you to wait for. I don't want you if I can't have you like this. I'm sorry, Kento, but I guess you will only ever be just another good fuck for me."

Series Masterlist

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Supporting them - Amanda, John, Mark and Lawrence

warning : angst, hurt/comfort, cuddling, kissing, mentioning of self-harm

masterlist

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

Amanda : The sweet but addicted Amanda is punished by life and resurrected by Jigsaw to start a new life. But this is easier said than done since she tasted the metal and the blood, something has broken inside her and has come together in the form of emotionality and emotional outbursts, all under the cover of fear that she will not be able to live up to John or be left alone by him. Which is why, especially after Mexico and the first game, she seemed all the more nervous, but her partner was there to help her. Whether it was just words of praise or reassurance when the black-haired girl was too nervous. A hand on her shoulder or on her, ,,Just breathe it will be fine" she heard the voice of her lover when she felt her emotions boiling over. A hug behind closed doors and the encouraging gestures. A small snack or just a look was enough to tell her that everything would be alright. They are small things but they help her immensely.

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

John : Jigsaw himself, as strong and effective as his actions are, is vulnerable when reduced to a human being. An elderly man who has terminal cancer and is dying of it. gets robbed of life for changing other people. And yet. But he had his favorite. His partner who helped him with everything Amanda couldn't help with. Sitting together on the couch in his house in the evenings, one hand resting on his in his lap. Showering him with stories of better times and telling him how good he was. That everything was going to be fine, making him warm tea and getting his medication ready. Maybe even try to force him to sleep and continue the drawings. Do everything so that he didn't overexert himself, he had suffered enough. ,,Don't worry John, we'll manage...your work will go on until the end" he heard the words and a small smile came to his lips as he looked at the person with love.

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

Mark : The policeman, scarred by the life of the bear trap and the death of his sister, had lost everything for a time in his life. Alcohol was his best and only friend until he met not only John but also his lover. The thoughts of the darkness that surrounded him were not only tinged with brutality and a slight arrogance, but also with devotion. He loved the little gestures you did for him. A coffee in the evening, a little note, a hug when he came home and a cuddle when his mornings were hard. ,,My strong policeman... you are everything Mark, understand? I will always help you," said his favorite and hugged the older one. The older one replied that he was glad to have someone still worth loving but for everything that had happened he was grateful to have his partner. Someone he could kiss, someone who was there for him, someone he could trust after everything that had happened.

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

Lawrence: The divorce from his wife, the loss of his daughter, the death of his friend Adams and the loss of his mentor and his failure with Jill. It was a time when he needed help, help to deal with his body and the loss of his leg. But it was also a time when he met his angel, his partner who not only helped him cope with his prosthesis but also with the process of his daughter. The nights were usually longer and he was afraid that the plans would not turn out right. But when he felt the reassuring hand of his darling on his shoulder, smelled coffee and felt a warm blanket around him. ,,Don't get cold, sweetie... go to sleep, I'll stay with you okay," he heard the voice and smiled slightly. They were small cares and yet they were gestures that showed him that nothing was in vain. He still had hope and love by his side.

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

@callmeklarise

[acetheidiotinacloset]

My favorite incorrect quotes from the generator: Lucifer and Alastor edition

(These are both shipping and non shipping, also I might draw one idk)

Lucifer: I'm going to ask you to be respectful.  Alastor: I will politely decline.

Lucifer, opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

Lucifer: Swear words are illegal now. If you say one you'll be fined.  Alastor: Heck.  Lucifer: You're on thin fucking ice.  Lucifer: Oh no-

Alastor: So my therapist was talking to me and she said that I really just need to break down my walls and let people in.  Alastor: So I’ve decided to break the fourth wall.  Alastor: *looks at camera* Hi there. I use humor as a coping mechanism.

Alastor: How much did you spend on this date?  Lucifer: $1400. But all of it's on credit cards, so it's like $5 a month for the next 2,000 years.

Alastor: Did it hurt when you fell-  Lucifer: From heaven? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt-  Alastor: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs.  Lucifer: ...  Alastor: You just laid there for 15 minutes.

Alastor: I am the most responsible person in the group.  Lucifer: …You just set the kitchen on fire.  Alastor: Yes, and I take full responsibility for that.

Alastor: Things will get better!  Lucifer: ... Alastor: Okay, maybe they won’t.  Alastor: But they will be terrible in new and interesting ways!

Lucifer: Drink your school, stay in drugs, and get 8 hours of drugs.

Lucifer: Alastor, is that my mug you’re drinking out of?  Alastor: No, it’s mine.  Lucifer: It... looks just like the one I have...  Alastor: You don’t have one like this anymore.

Lucifer: My ultimate goal is to punch God in the eye, just to spite him one last time.

DAS IT FOR NOW Y'ALL

[bipabrena]

I lost mom, but Kenny gave me strength. Now I lost Kenny, but no one’s giving me strength.  I think maybe I hurt the people around me, and that’s why mom and Kenny left.

I've written a kid Levi-centred fic about the years after Kenny abandoned him. The Underground's a horrid place, but we know nothing of it in canon, so I took liberties with it. This is a drawing I made for chapter 1, which is about Levi wondering what he did wrong.

In the fic, I'll explore Levi's struggle of barely feeding himself enough to not starve, his growing health issues, and the violence he witnesses and how he eventually has to become the perpetrator of it for things like food and medicine, sometimes on people who didn't wrong him. All whilst he tries coping with feeling like a disappointment that Kenny hates, and how this makes him miss his mother even more, whom he knows wouldn't have abandoned him like this.

[runninriot]

Hurt full of Hope (i'll be the pit to your pendulum)

prompt: "I thought we agreed it was over." | rated: E | wc: 4.307 | cw: sexual content, emotional breakdown, unhealthy coping mechanisms | tags: 'friends' with benefits, pining, Eddie is a mess, Steve is a mess too but in a different way, emotional hurt, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending | complete fic on ao3

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 27

The grip in his hair is tight, almost possessive, as strong hands guide him further down the pulsing intrusion blocking his airways. It burns, makes tears well up in his eyes, and Eddie has to fight the urge to cough but at the same time-

he hasn’t felt this good in days.

The familiar stretch of his lips around the girth is heavenly like the scent flooding his nostrils as his nose is pressed into soft skin and coarse hair.

Eddie chokes, feels saliva dripping uncontrollably out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin, making a mess between the other guy’s thighs.

A rough tug brings him back up, lets him breathe for a moment before he’s forced back down.

   “Ah! Yeah, just like that! You always know how to make me feel good, Eddie.”

The praise is like a drug; he’s always been too weak to withstand the drawing power of it, the toxic concoction he knows is killing him slowly each time he goes back for more.

Eddie swallows, sucks, licks as if his life depends on it. And maybe, in a way, it does.

Because this is all he has, all he is.

It’s all he can offer to get what he desperately craves in return - affection, at least. Not love. But everything is better than nothing.

   “Fuckin’- God! Look at you, Eddie. You’re such a mess!”

Isn’t that the truth. The bitter, undeniable truth.

He knows it’s wrong, that he shouldn’t settle for this. Shouldn’t give himself up for a quick blowjob in the back of the car, out on the side of the road where no one can see them. No candle light, no soft sheets, no comfort – just the dirty act of being used for pleasure because somehow, that’s all he’s good for.

And Eddie must be good. Why else would Steve keep coming back after he dumped him?

   ‘I thought we agreed it was over,’ Eddie had dared to say the first time Steve called him again in the middle of the night, asking if he wanted to meet. Said it as if they’d both made that the decision, when in reality-

    ‘You didn’t want to do this anymore.’

Steve had laughed at his words, told him to stop pretending that he didn’t want it just as much.

And he was right; Eddie wants this.

He’s desperate for it.

Because while for Steve their hook-ups had always just been a casual thing, for Eddie it’s always been so much more.

Steve knows that, knows that Eddie’s in love with him. That he wants to be more than just a toy, a warm body, a willing mouth.

That’s why Steve told him to get fucked – before he came back five days later to fuck him once more.

Then again, and again, and each time, Eddie says yes. Each time he puts up with the ache in his heart just to have Steve for a little while longer.

He knows it’s stupid, knows it’ll only end in one-sided misery. That no matter how good he is, no matter how many times Steve comes back to him, he’ll never stay.

Steve will use him up, drain him until he has nothing more to give and then, inevitably, he’ll throw him away like a broken tool.

Eddie’s throat aches because he keeps himself down, forcefully overstepping that fine line between good and too much as he constricts helplessly around the tip of Steve’s cock until he comes, spills his release and fills his mouth with bittersweet poison.

   “A-ha, oh fuck! That’s it, take it all in.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be told, greedily swallows Steve’s cum along with his pride, tastes bitterness on his tongue in more ways than one.

And when he’s done, Steve pulls him up quickly, doesn’t even look at him while he tucks himself back into his boxers and jeans.

    So, he’s not gonna fuck me today, Eddie thinks with too much regret.

He would’ve let him. Would’ve let Steve press him face-down, ass-up into the backseat and fuck him hard. Would’ve wanted it to hurt because then he’d have something to drown out the pain in his chest.

   “Need me to take you home?”

Eddie wants to say yes, wants to have just a few more minutes with him. But he declines the offer, knows they would only drive in awkward silence and he already feels like crying, doesn’t want Steve to see how broken he is.

   “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll walk,” Eddie answers quietly, voice hoarse.

He can still taste Steve on his lips, has his senses full of him. It clings to him, like it’s part of him, like it lives there in every cell – Steve is everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

And it hurts. It fucking hurts.

He pulls the handle with too much force when he opens the door, trying to keep himself steady. He feels dizzy and his legs tremble when he steps out of the car.

   “You sure you’re good?” Steve calls after him but Eddie doesn’t turn around, just pushes the door shut and starts walking.

He waits until he hears the engine go off, waits until he can see the headlights passing in his peripheral vision before he lets the tears flow.

The night air is warm but inside, Eddie feels cold. He shivers, wraps his arms around his middle, tries to calm his breathing but nothing helps because everything hurts. His jaw, his throat, his heart most of all and-

No more. He can’t do this anymore because if he doesn’t put an end to this torture, it’ll be the end of him.

continue reading here

[glennquackmire]

My hunger games au lore that im acting so odd over because I keep getting flashbacks to the other post

Ik i said I would make this into a video but it was getting to like 10 minutes long 😭 so here's a really shortened version of some of it OK SO

-The curtis brothers live in DISTRICT 7 instead because I like the idea of them being lumberjacks it's funny and also because the Curtises knowing alot about plants and trees and stuff is kind of relevant

-Their parents died in an altercation with some peacekeepers. Is that still lazy?? Yea but hopefully not as lazy

-Ponyboy still genuinely believes Darry sees him as a burden and despises him so he is under the impression that Darry is going to try and kill him the second they get into that arena so naturally he tries to get as far away from him as possible for most of the games.

-instead dally and johnny are from district 12 which I THINK fits better for them??? Johnny still has the same kind of schtick as in the original post where he believe he doesn't have a shot at winning which he's not really coping well with, but dally I kind of changed its not that he thinks he can or can't win its more that he doesn't want to. He's super mad the two of them have been put into this situation and doesn't want to conform to the opressive system the capitol has put in place to keep the district peoples lives being used as entertainment I guess. But I don't really know if it's in a "i want to start a revolution" way or not I guess.

-Tim I mostly added because I like him.I'm a tim stan. He's from district 8 for the same reason the curtis brothers are from district 7, I like the idea of him being really good at sewing. I'm still on the fence on whether I wanna add Angela or Curly as tributes too but as it stands tim is the only one that has been reaped out if the three of them. He's really desperate to get back for this reason because he knows without him his siblings would be left on their own. He's also really really smart in this au so he makes it super far into the games.

-The socs respectively are from Districts 1, 2 and 4 because them being the careers makes sense to me. Like the advantages that the careers have in the games just kind of aligns with the advantages the socs have in LIFE. Does that make sense????? Idk I might be talking out of my ass here 😭. The combinations of the socs have changed around alot but I keep going back to Randy and Marcia in 1, Cherry and Bob in 2 and Paul and Beverly (from the musical !! Its so good go listen to it) in 4.

-Steve and Twobit I added because I think they're a funny duo and they're from district 6 (get it cause it's the transportation district). I really don't have much to say about them honestly I have a little bit so if u wanna hear about them let me know !! Originally it was gonna be sodapop and Steve but I couldn't find a way for it to make sense. Maybe I'll add him in and say he's not related to darry and ponyboy or something I don't know. I hate leaving him out though ily soda.

-Scout is still here (hi scout) but she's used as a bit of a plot device now lol

-the arena is a huge forest, but its also got some really mountainous areas

-there IS mutts now but they're let loose about 2 thirds of the way through and aren't around for very long. The fire is still there as well because mostly i just enjoy drawing fire.

-I think (?) That's everything, I'll keep the deaths and the other stuff that happens in the arena for another post because this is already kind of long I think

-if you want to hear more you can totally message me !! I love talking to people or u can use the ask box I would literally love either of these but obviously no pressure 😭

-I have a BUNCH of drawings done for this au like so many

Anyway I think the moral of the story is not being a good writer and 3 days of being awake are not a good combo lol

[snarky-wallflower]

Coin Flip: A Ship Name Study

Otherwise known as: yes, hi, I am coping with the end of Searcher by focusing on this hot mess of a couple. I did one for Radiant Words, might as well again!

So, first off, I can't take credit for the name! That goes to my friend @amethystunarmed, a genius as always. I just wanna dive a little deeper into it, to convince others to start using it! So, why Coin Flip? Well, obviously it pulls on their titular song Two Sides of a Coin (god, I still think it's beautiful that the entire chat started shipping them at that.) The fascinating thing about Dakkar and Kal is that they truly seem to be just that! Two sides of the same coin! Neither of them can ever fully keep a victory, always struggling against each other. A flip of a coin - who wins? Who loses? Will there ever be an end to this fight, this relationship, that clearly has them both in a grip? They always fight to a draw, it's cosmic law.

What would you do without me, I'm not certain...

It's pretty clear that Kal respects Dakkar in a way he hasn't done so for any other character so far - Samuel, and AJ, for example. He spends time actually talking to Dakkar, negotiating with him. He doesn't see it as a joke, like Dakkar is beneath him. He didn't do that for anyone else!

Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Dak!

Everyone else has been boring.

Dakkar is the main event.

Meanwhile, Dakkar has kept on moving. He never even says Kal's name throughout the whole show. Mobilis in mobili, right? But he also knows where to dig when he needs to, insulting Kal with ease. Dakkar is furious here, practically brimming with rage. Kal brings out a side of him we haven't seen yet, and it's delightful to listen to.

I will stand, and you will falter! I'll be the rock of Gibraltar!

I will float and watch you sink, and it eats you up inside!

What is so interesting about this ship is the amount of history we can tell is there from a song that is only a couple of minutes! There's bitterness, there's knowing - these two go right for the THROAT when it comes to each other. Kal's jabs at Dakkar are a lot more personal than his to Sia ever were. (He went STRAIGHT for the daddy issues with Dakkar, damn.) Their strikes aim true, while they get in each other's heads.

They know each other like their other half--because maybe they were, once. Like the palm of their hand. Like the other side of a coin.

How well did they know each other?

Two sides of a coin.

The coin flips. Which side will it turn up on this time?

[ladyluscinia]

Izzy, Bottles, and Apologies

Izzy's arc in S2 has been a wild ride.

The S1 Izzy enjoyers are feeling vindicated as hell, many people are fully revising their opinion of him, and the people still hating him have a new criticism or off the wall theory daily. David Jenkins LOVES Izzy and is having the time of his life trying to make sure everyone else does too. They had Con O'Neill sing in drag!

And naturally I have thoughts.

This is gonna be a two part post, I think. First, as much as people are celebrating Izzy having realized his arc and come into his own - from the singing to the apparent BlackBonnet shipping - there are some threads they could pull on that might reveal more arc to come. And I am really hoping they pull them, so I'm gonna tell you why you should too!

And second, I have some minor points I dislike and concerns that this might be the end of the arc. Which would be disappointing but I think I get why, so I'm gonna discuss that too.

To start...

---

"How are you handling all this so well?"

Here's the thing about S2 Izzy - while I need to be clear his behavior is not OOC or inconsistent with S1, it is happening rather fast. I'm pretty sure that has a lot to do with out of universe reasons I'll get into later, but in-universe it stands out. Now, he's hardly the only one operating on an accelerated schedule - the timeline for this season is an insanely fast not-even-two-weeks - but Izzy's defining struggle in S1 was fear of change. That was the cause of his friction with Edward, and what made him an antagonist in the first place.

In S2 he's gone through a lot of trauma, yes, but that fear is noticeably less present than I would expect.

Izzy in 2x06 has been cleaned up from his sobbing mess phase for just over 48 hours and he faces Edward with a joke, and then that night sings a moving French serenade to the crew. The next morning he's teasing them about finally hooking up and spends the day offering both Stede and Edward relationship advice.

He's a newly realized man... shedding repression and embracing who he could be. Accepting his breakup with Edward and trying to openly support the relationship that's better for him.

It's fun!

It's also, potentially, a bit of a flag. Maybe not a red one, not yet, but... pink-ish? A bit orange?

Let's look a little closer at those frayed edges.

---

"Well, you see, I have a system..."

There's an exchange from right at the start of the Pilot episode that has echoed through the entire series so far:

"Bottle it up?" -> "No, Frenchie! No, that's the worst thing you could do!"

Not talking to other people, not addressing your traumas... that's the kind of shit that just builds and builds inside you. When the cork eventually pops, the resulting damage can be a lot. Look at the finale of S1, where all of Stede's bottled up guilt and insecurities laid waste to his relationship with Edward, and then inadvertently became the first domino in the Kraken.

S2 is quick to bring this scene back into the forefront. The first time we see the Breakup Boat crew talking in 2x01, Frenchie reveals that "Bottle it up?" wasn't just a random comment he made, but a philosophy of his:

"Ah - well, you see, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box, in my mind, and I put the things in the box, I lock the box, and then I don't open it again. Works like a charm."

Apparently, Frenchie is the only one it actually seems to be working for.

Now, the show has been drawing some interesting lines between Frenchie and Izzy. From both serving as Blackbeard's First Mate to being frequently shown as a duo - tormenting Navy guys together on Sunday's raid, Frenchie holding Izzy's hand, Frenchie leaning on Izzy's leg in the cell, Frenchie behind him raising the flag in 2x05 - it's fitting that Izzy echoes Frenchie's preferred coping method. First he frames the non-acknowledgement of harm from Edward as just... part of piracy. He's a pirate, so he's fine with it.

And then we get Izzy's little whittled shark reveal and the conversation with Lucius about his leg:

"I don't know what you're talking about. Shark did this... dangling my legs over the side of the ship. Served me right, too."

Lucius calls him out on the unhealthy behavior, and Izzy concedes his point:

"O-kay, that seems healthy. Using a bit of fiction to help cover up your trauma." -> "Yeah, well... not moving on is worse. Twatty."

And to give him credit, he's right in his advice to Lucius. Filling his sketchbook with pages and pages of Blackbeard trauma is Lucius's form of bottling it up - thinking in endless recursive circles about his tumble off the ship and everything that followed. We already know chasing revenge instead of living is bad - Jim and Spanish Jackie established it last season, and Pete just echoed them. When Izzy advises Lucius to move on, that's what Lucius does.

But what Izzy is doing with the shark? That's not the same thing at all. He's lost a leg, grazed a bullet off his own head, and was snarling drunken accusations at himself in the mirror... he's not moving on from that. He's bottling it up with a nice dose of self-blame.

Cutting the legs off the unicorn for not doing it's job right and saying "served me right" about his fictional shark? There's a real dark knot of emotions there.

(Recall, too, that Edward deflected his hurt from Stede's abandonment into a "fictional character" during his chats with Lucius, and that delayed the explosion but couldn't stop it.)

So... Izzy's definitely coping with trauma in a way the show does not advise and often circles back to. Can we see any signs in 2x06 and 2x07?

---

The Weight of Things Unsaid

At the very start of 2x06, Izzy gets the thing he spent all of 2x05 mentally bracing himself to never hear - an apology from Edward for his leg. He walks up to initiate conversation and begins talking like nothing has changed. Edward is back in his leathers. Appropriate, given that his penance onesie was nothing genuine, just "how long do I have to wear this fucking thing for?" And Izzy is ready for them not to address the obvious hurt, to just smooth over a few jabs and go back to normal... but even Edward's mumbled little "Sorry about your leg" is so significant and difficult he flees as soon as he gets it out, leaving Izzy to sit, incredulous, with the acknowledgement.

It's still almost definitely not enough.

There was so much between them in 2x01 - 2x03. The writers literally did BlackHands love confessions on both sides. An apology from Edward Teach - a man who historically does not apologize - is a huge first step but still only the first step. The real things unsaid are so much bigger than a leg.

We get something else, too... Edward commenting on Izzy's drinking.

"Jesus. Really putting that away, aren't ya?"

Izzy has had booze a lot this season. He lost a leg and pain meds aren't really an option, so not surprising, but notable. Edward, advocating for substance abuse to deal with bad feelings, calls him a lightweight in 2x01. When they are found with the dead seabird in 2x03, Izzy takes a pointed drink from his bottle, and then 2x04 he spends the entire episode completely plastered. He seemingly sobered up for 2x05 - probably to focus on sword training and his whittling project - but now the bottle is back again before Izzy disappears for several hours.

And a little liquid courage might explain his going all in for the Calypso's Birthday performance.

I do appreciate that the performance on it's face is something completely unexpected for Izzy, but when thinking about it... it does make sense.

We already know music and performance were available on Blackbeard's ship even before Stede. Edward learned to play shanties on the piano somewhere, and singing is a common and encouraged part of sailing culture. Izzy's choice of song to perform is something a lot more emotional, but this is probably not his first performance for a crew.

Makeup, too, is in fashion for men and women at this time, and OFMD has shown it as such before. Izzy has never worn fashion makeup, or tried to be beautiful, but the concept wouldn't be alien to him. Wee John's description of a dramatic party look might even have intrigued him specifically because Izzy has actually done "looks" before - of the terrifying "theatre of fear" kind. The Kraken did have his whole crew in makeup for their raids. Taking the opportunity to embody something a bit more vulnerable and try to bring joy to this crew that took care of him is meaningful as fuck.

And it's still a drag performance!

It's a good pair of moments - before and after Ned. Proof that all this isn't just coping method - that's not what I'm arguing here - and even if Izzy's still bottling up a lot of feelings he's not doing the same full pressure bomb thing as he did in S1. There's been growth!

(This is why the flags are only pink-ish / orange-ish right now.)

Episode 2x07 though... I'm not so sure he's doing good as much as pretending it's all good.

Showing up to make his joke in the morning is a fun moment. I especially enjoy Edward's little "fuck off" with no bite to it 🤣🤣🤣 Reminder they do live together on a ship, so this is likely not even close to the first morning-after that Izzy has gotten front row seats to. But, at least to me, there's also a very performative feeling about it. Izzy being very Look how normal I can be about you fucking your boyfriend, Ed - and Edward picks up on it too. That's why he turns to Stede and whispers "He's jealous" as Izzy walks away.

Izzy continues to make jokes and give advice through the day to our main couple, but he's... subdued. I think his fake chill also disguises that he and Edward aren't on the same page about what they discuss at the docks, hence his poor advice to "listen to it" when the "it" in question is Edward's immediate desire to run away from Stede and become a fisherman. They are talking again, but haven't resumed communicating.

I also think it's relevant that Izzy goes to try and support Stede after Edward dumps him, because we're still waiting for Stede to stop bottling things up. He doesn't talk about Badminton or feelings of inadequacy or even the babiest little olive branch to Edward about "hey my dad kinda sucked too." Edward's two exes are sitting in the bar corner together, thinking about all the shit they won't talk to him about until it kills all three of them. Exciting!

The pressure is building. It has to circle back to Stede in S3. I'm hoping at the same time, it circles back to Izzy, too.

Hoping we get to explore some of his anxiety, and his internalizing negative self-image and blame. At the moment, I think Izzy might have less gotten over his anxieties and more just let go of the wheel of his life entirely, and fortunately had people around to steer him in okay directions. It would be really interesting to explore that more.

(Even if I have some concerns they may not.)

---

Subtle as a Cannonball to the Face

Izzy's character arc was always going to be a long journey - not because he was somehow morally worse than everyone else, or required particularly painstaking growth, or even because there was going to be some great need to "hold him accountable" for S1. No, it was going to be a long journey from an antagonist start for the same reason I mentioned earlier: Izzy's core struggle is fear of change.

OFMD opens with two protagonists recklessly pursuing change in ways that harm themselves, their relationships, and others, and a primary onscreen antagonist resisting change in a way that harms himself, his relationships, and others. There's no easy morality here - they all fuck up. And they all require the entire show to actually figure out the correct balance of change and growth and facing the past.

"I think the three of them are on an arc together that's pretty inseparable." - David Jenkins (Source, 9 Oct 2023)

So... why is there a chance that everything I've mentioned above is going absolutely nowhere and Izzy's arc has been wrapped up with a bow in S2?

Well.

It's late March 2022, the fandom's age is still only countable in weeks, I personally haven't even watched the pilot yet, had only even heard of the show 3 days before... and one of David Jenkins first post-finale statements is telling people to pay attention to Izzy's POV and his and Edward's love story on rewatches (Source, 25 Mar 2022), and then soon after comparing Stede to a homewrecker in Edward and Izzy's toxic marriage (Source, 15 Apr 2022). Lots of links because this stuff was available to the fandom from the start.

By the first half of May 2022 (while poor Mr. Jenkins is still anxiously trying to get his series renewed for S2, since the confirmation won't come until June 1) the takes on Izzy have soured a lot. It's not a "homophobic gay" joke anymore. Now it's "Izzy is the embodiment of colonialism who enforces a racist and homophobic ideal of Blackbeard on Edward" and "pretending Izzy could be canonically gay is homophobic" and "Izzy bought Edward as a slave from the British". Harassing anons have already started on tumblr. No first hand experience with Twitter but I've heard horror stories. These takes are spreading like wildfire through the fandom, with a heavy backing of white fans accepting and spreading anything that sounds vaguely racially-conscious as something they just missed in their privilege and need to listen to POC about. Or listen to other white fans that say they've been listening to POC.

The anchor hoist in 1x09 (that was a complete directing coincidence, as the crew confirmed in late May) is being taken as incontrovertible proof that Izzy is a violent racist, and the relatively small Izzy fandom pushing back against any of these reads is being likened to toxic fangirls declaring Kylo Ren a poor widdle victim because they think violent white guys are so hot their brains fall out. This is happening loudly and in the public forums of social media.

Can you imagine being David Jenkins right then?

This is one of your favorite little guys, who you wrote a silly little homoerotic pirate jealousy arc for. He's kinda cringefail and tends to be a dick, but you cast a guy who you think embodies him with so much sympathy and genuine emotion. You're so excited to explore his direct relationship to the main couple of your series even more. Unfortunately, you and a lot of the cast and crew are also engaging maybe a bit too much in fandom spaces, which very few of you have much familiarity with navigating as creators. AND there's still renewal stress!

If I were him, I too would consider that perhaps my intended Izzy arc was a bit too nuanced and drawn out, and maybe I needed to clear up some misconceptions as soon as I got the opportunity.

Enter S2.

MAX reduced the budget for the season significantly and it shows - particularly in the whole thing having to squeeze into 8 episodes - and I wouldn't be surprised at all if worries over a S3 renewal / S3 budget impacted S2 writing as well. Character arcs got pinched, goals had to be prioritized... and from the looks of the season, "make sure everyone knows Izzy is not a homophobic villain tormenting Edward as fast as possible" came out as a big goal.

I mean they open with a dream sequence that literally mocks the idea of a heroic Stede rescuing Edward from the dastardly Izzy. It's not subtle.

And the lack of subtlety is kind of what's concerning me.

Izzy's arc is (I think) leaving enough threads that they can extend it into S3 with the reveal he's not actually fine and done developing, but they also seem to want his S2 arc to end in a place where maybe he is. Lots of giant signs pointing to him and saying "Look! Everyone likes him!" or "Look! He's also gay!" at the expense of some of his cringefail or dickish charm. My guy had anxiety he dealt with poorly in S1, and I do think they are trying to frontload or adjust the arc so he's basically (or at least seemingly) over that before the next hiatus.

The best way I've seen it described is that the show no longer trusts the audience to pick up what they are putting down, and so they feel the need to really hammer it in. Not necessarily OOC, but definitely de-emphasizing any of his rough edges that were originally just written to not be any worse than the other characters.

This is why Izzy gets shot by Edward in the very first episode for a bunch of complicated reasons that are really good character work and not super hard to discern, but then later they have Izzy point out to Stede why he got shot twice. It's all very "look into the camera and say the themes", because to some degree they are afraid everyone is going to get easily convinced Edward shot him for calling him a namby-pamby that one time.

It makes me worried they are too afraid of misinterpretation to commit to the arc they originally conceived of, even with the finish line in sight in S3.

And, again, I get it, Mr. Jenkins. In October 2022 he made a funny quip and a boner joke on a tweet about Edward's blanket fort and the hordes descended to scream victoriously about how he was cutting down the Izzy stans for their racist infantilization crimes of thinking Izzy would *checks notes* help hold up a blanket. It's a very reasonable conclusion that this fandom cannot read and needs to be spoonfed Izzy's arc.

It just sucks that a toxic section of fandom's misinterpretations appear to have undercut a strong - and, honestly, not that complicated - character arc so much that S2's BlackBonnet arc can be about fuck ups and backsliding, but Izzy needs at least the illusion of having no flaws left come hiatus time.

[yuseirra]

onk spoilers (161)

Sorry, I really can't keep quiet about this because this series has been my brainrot for the past couple months and this is pretty..;; hehe.. depending on how it plays out, it will determine how I'll feel about this entire work completely. So bear with me for the next few weeks!

There are a few panels that really stand out in terms of expressions that really bug me, this guy could be acting. Putting the rest in the read-more, I'm vagueposting but still, I feel it's better manners to do so.. I'm sorry for being unable to keep to myself. I hope you understand though, I've been drawing something for this series almost every single day!

There are a few really genuine-looking ones and those.. could be interpreted as him being concerned over Aqua, it's not really my wishful thinking because he's actually persuading his son to think of things he must live for, regardless of what thoughts and intent he has behind it. He DOES want Aqua to live, and when Aqua says he'd give up on that, he has the exact same face he had when he fell in despair in the movie arc (when Ai said she'd leave him/when Airi gaslit him). I think that expression IS real. And he's really shocked when Aqua.. yeah, does what he does. So I don't think he likes the idea of Aqua dying.

I've been looking at this character a lot, and came to a conclusion that his smiles are masks. I've mentioned this a few times in my earlier analyses regarding him and in one post, I wrote:

That smile he floats is consistent through the entire time he's shown in the story and the only times it breaks is when it has to do with Ai and when she sees him through. And it starts to break the moment he sees her talking about him. Every expression he makes when he sees Ai in the video are his true feelings. His smiles, on the other hand, are his coping mechanism and are all masks.

so I actually feel this is the case this time too, the author wouldn't have made this guy a genius actor who's TAUGHT Ai to act for nothing... The whole chapter starts out with his expression being expressionless, then forming a smile, just before he starts saying everything onwards. And by doing this, he IS actually talking to his son to forget about killing him and go on living his own life while sounding pretty evil...

but that means we can't believe the god or whatever she says either, so that's why I don't know. She was wrong about Ryosuke and "a middle school boy" having gone to the hospital once if Kamiki never went and it was really Nino, but would she be TOTALLY off in this case? I have no idea. That's what makes it confusing for me and have a lot less hope on how things will unveil, but the expression cues do say something... if it weren't for her, I'd say he's acting.. but the things she mentions about him are just too...that of a third-rate villain and it's so nonredeemable. If that is right, the whole idea of Ai having wanted to help him is sort of thrown out the window. They DIDN'T need to make her say that... it was so WISE of her to leave a guy like him, and all her visions of him were wrong, you know?

So I'm just.. wondering how much we need to trust the crow.

I thought I could trust her, but how much does she actually know?;

Or maybe it IS true that Kamiki's done some hideous things the way she's depicted it, and yet he doesn't want his SON to be the same way.

If there's one thing I can pick up from this chapter that's going to be released... it'd be that Kamiki doesn't want Aqua to die. He thinks there's many reasons for Aqua to go on living. If you pay careful attention to his speech, that's what he's actually talking about... he actually looked a little relieved when Aqua agrees he has a lot to live for and that breaks when Aqua still refuses.

Yeah.. I think.. I'll stick around a bit more actually. The part that REALLY bothers me is what Tsukuyomi says, if that's really true.. ehh.....it's a huge let-down for me I don't like that. It's not a very good way to use this character. It's really dumb and I don't think it works but if the author says so; okay?? but I won't feel the need to collect the physical volumes any further if that's true. That's just me though.

[chronicbeans]

Hi! Since I saw the illustrator wally series I've been exited to request this, it was also sad to see how nobody has yet come with this idea or at least I haven't seen anyone else bring this up so here I come!

It will be interesting how It would work a relationship between Human wally and reader who has maladaptive daydreaming along with autism, I thought of how would it be to meet someone who has to experience something familiar with you. ( since maladaptive daydreaming can be described as a variant of schizophrenia with some small differences ) anyways, I'm a desperate for representation-

ET TU, BRUTE? Omg I maladaptive daydream too (if I am reading it right and you mean to say that you do IT-). My therapist says that I am like, addicted to it lol. My family counselor also likened my case more towards depersonalization/dissociation/a variant of DID due to me only daydreaming myself as other people. This is actually the first time I have heard of it being described as a variant of schizophrenia, but it actually makes a lot of sense, now that I think about it! I need more representation too, so let's do this! I'll try to make it as broad as possible, because everyone daydreams about different things!

Illustrator Wally with an Autistic Reader who Maladaptive Daydreams:

TW: Mentions of Hallucinations, Maladaptive Daydreaming

🖍️ He is a bit confused when he sees you pacing around your living room. He is visiting, and decided to try to surprise you by sneaking up behind you and giving you a gift! Now, though, he is a bit enamored by how you are prancing around, muttering little things to yourself as you seem so carefree and happy in your little world. This is the first time he has seen you like this.

🖍️ You finally end up turning around, in his direction, and your face grows a bit pale from shock and embarrassment. "Uh... Hello... I'm so glad you came to visit!" You try to play it off, but he is too intrigued. Maybe you are like him, and hallucinate, too?

🖍️ You explain what you were doing. You daydream... WAY more often than other people! Intense worldbuilding, character arcs, and more all take place in your head the majority of the day. You like to prance or pace, finding it helpful to feel more comfortable. You also tend to stim in other ways if you cannot pace or prance. The odd facial expressions and mutterings were just you getting in character and reacting to what was happening in your daydreams.

🖍️ Wally is intrigued. It is so... similar, but different, from him. Both you and him are autistic, yes. He's known that for a while, since you told him around the second or third meeting between you two. THIS, though, is so amazing to him. He wants to know more about the stories in your head!

🖍️What do they consist of? Are they horror? Romance? Action? Comedy? He wishes to know. Are you in them? Do you play someone else? Is it from a third person perspective, watching over your creations? If it is something child friendly, maybe you can write a book and he can illustrate it!

🖍️ Even if it is something more... dark, disturbing, overall NOT a kid friendly topic... he would still want to draw it! Maybe he can start to expand his illustrations into more adult books. He is shockingly good at drawing horror, you know. Some of his vent art is a really disturbing treat to view.

🖍️ You might get onto the topic of how both of your conditions are similar and different. You have a lot of characters floating around in your head. Different worlds, stories, everything! Wally does have, in a way, characters, too! The little voices in his head count, right? Sometimes the same one will pop up every now and again. Both of your conditions seem, in a way, uncontrolled. Due to Wally preferring to not use medications, he simply lives with the voices and hallucinations, going to therapy to help him cope and learn to live with it. You just go with the flow, in a way. As far as you've heard, the best and only way to help deal with it is therapy. No real medication or anything.

🖍️ You both are finally happy to find someone similar to yourselves. The best part is that it is similar enough to be familiar, but different enough to have such interesting conversations!