#the thing is that the emo left when I cut my hair myself ((it was so bad my mum threatened to ban my scissor privileges)

[diegusting]

Me and william are looking for godparent candidates for our child are you perchance interested 🤔

I’m so glad you asked you came to the right place i would 100% be a really good godfather to your child you can definitely place your trust in me i swear i'm really good with kids most definitely i promise number one godparent for real I definitely won’t spread Jose propaganda to your beloved child I wouldn’t even think of playing Karma by Jojo Siwa on my speakers at volume seventy four as they fall asleep eating two vitamin gummies instead of one never even crossed my mind I definitely won’t turn them into whatever I have become I promise it’s definitely true I would never do such a thing I’m so responsible you can trust me I’m soooo trustworthy you won’t regret for sure😍

[lylianrae]

A list of all the things I have manifested ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪

We manifest everything in our lives btw - the good and the bad which is why I will be including both to prove that the law does not discriminate. If you can successfully become poor, you can most definately become rich with the same ease because everything is just a state.

Long hair

AHH this is one of my favourite manifestations. Ever since I was young I had a weird bob with a fringe (often crooked) and I wanted long hair like all the other girls (lmaoo) but my mum was strict so she didn't let me grow it out. Although I didn't know about manifestation back then, every new year and birthday I would wish for long hair and I would pretend I was a princess with butt long hair. Guess what, somewhere along the line, my mum let me grow it out and now I have butt length hair (don't really know what to do with it tho </3).

As all kids do, I went through an emo phase where I chopped off like half of my hair like 4 years ago. I literally grew back 7-8" of hair within a month because my parents got too mad. I knew about manifestation here so I just assumed my hair always grows unaturally fast. Same with when I cut bangs, they grew past my chin within a couple of weeks.

Manifesting my way into a private school

Honestly this just shows that you dont need 2430430 hours of working on your self concept to manifest. Literally so many celebs, including Marylin Monroe (the queen), manifested their fame with awful self concept. Likewise, here I was possibly going through the worst time of my life back then. I would wake up at 8 am and start studying and end at 11 pm despite being only 10 at the time. I was so freaking stressed and envious of all the other children and went into a depressive spiral where my two options were pass or die. I didn't even have enough practice and I cried my self to sleep on most nights. Anyways, when i did the exam I was deathly calm and even after the exam I was apparently so chill so my parents thought I failed.

I literally left 9 questions on one paper but throughout the summer, everytime I found a dandelion I would make a wish and imagine digging a tunnel to the examiners room where I secretly change my answers into the right ones (lmfao my tiny 10 yr old brain - idek how it worked). Anyways my results were sent back to me a month later on a random October evening and I got a really high mark. Even after 7 years of going to this school I havn't met anyone who has gotten a mark higher than mine.

Curly hair / straight hair

Sigh. We always want things we don't have. When I was younger I had really straight hair like 1A asian hair but when I was like 10, I really wanted curly hair and I would try to curl it often. After a few months, I manifested a curling iron and my hair literally became naturally curly like right after a wash it would curly af when before it was dead straight. Naturally I grew bored of it and I wanted my straight hair back and for ages I began overcomplicating the law and struggled to manifest it. It was only recently when I actually let go of the 3D that I manifested the silky, shiny straight hair.

Social life?

This is also a funny one, just shows how easily you can manifest. So back in 2021 after lockdown I felt so lonely and felt so left out of my friendship group so after a few months I began stressing myself out and spiraling for like 30 minutes, sobbing to myself about how I was so lonely and how nobody loved me (💀). Anyways it became reality, I found myself uncomfortable in many social situations and found myself becoming forgotten far more easily. I don't really remember the details but it was so bad that I think I accidently manifested social anxiety (oh well we still up tho).

However I am a loa girly so I found myself listening to popularity subliminals and slowly (but surely) my mindset change from having no friends to being the most popular girl in the year. Like no joke I became friends with like 3 people from different social circles so at lunchtime we had to join up like 3 different tables so we can all sit together. Overall I got myself 20+ close friends and even my ex friends began to admire me although it had ended badly. Even now, when someone says something thats untrue - for example saying that they are dumb when they are not, they would be like "ahaha so its like when Rae (me) says she has no friends, the whole school knows who Rae is".

Clear skin

This was sort of in the beginning of my loa (law of attraction back then) journey, I just randomly found out what subliminals were and was still quite new to everything. Now I don't even understand how it happened but I had busted some capillaries under my skin and it looked like small red viens under my skin and bro I was freaking out at the time. One night I was like just, I had enough, I'm going to get myself better skin and so I listened to a sub once for 3-4 days and on like the 4th day, my cheeks began to heat up which was odd and the next day it was 90% gone. Just like magikkkk.

Desired university?

Guys. Feeling is the secret. Don't you ever forgot that - not feeling as in emotions but rather the feeling of knowing. I had 2 entrance exams to do to apply for my universities and it was a stressful time where I wasn't getting enough sleep and wasn't eating enough simply because I didn't have the time. Like I come home from school and would have 3-4 hours of homework, then I need to revise for tests and then the remaining time would be spent on the entrance exams. Each past paper took 2 hours and I have around 13s per questions and I was already struggling on time. Anyways, I began to hate them and I would often complain to my mum saying things like "My score got even lower!!" or "I hate it so much" or "My head hurts / eyes hurt".

Guess what? Not only did I see my score decrease over time but I also made such a silly mistake on the most important entrance exam which I needed for 4/5 of my universities. I left a question and completely forgot to mark on the answer so when I finished the section I realised I had one more space on the sheet with like 10s to spare. I didn't have enough time to go back and fix it and lemme say that I did so badly in the test. Even while waiting for results I was just like "ah it would be a miracle if I scored above this bla bla".

I got the score back and it was so freaking bad like I did not stand a chance at my university at all. However, I started to affirm for a place and to my utter shock and surprise my desired university reached out and offered me an interview. I knew people who had like scores which were 50% better than mine and they still got rejected pre-interview. Anyways I began stressing about the interview and the results of the whole thing and boom. I got rejected 3 days after my birthday lmaoo. But its okay because I'm reapplying and I learnt so much more. I'm redoing the entrance exam and my score is a loooot better than it ever was last year.

A key take away would be thoughts are the result of the state you are in. Your dwelling state manifests and I was focusing on the unrealness and the difficultly of getting into this uni and thats what manifested. At the time I was heartbroken and literally went through the 7 stages of grief and spent so many months trying to revise it only for me to focus on the 3D. Just know that everything is done in imagination and it appears in the 3D as a result.

Photographic memory

So this is also something I had manifested before I actually knew about loa but the takeaway here is that manifestation is always instant. I was around 11 reading a random book on my tiny kindle and the book was on how to develop a good memory and I was like ah that'll be useful. Anyways later in the car, I asked my dad about photographic memory and he sort of explained it to me. I just assumed that I have that and I told him I do. He just laughed at me and said thats something that you have to train for and I was not impressed lmao. Inside my tiny brain, I was just like nope, I already have photographic memory and I dropped that thought. Let me tell you, my memory is actually photographic and has helped me out on so many occasions like my brain just takes pictures of things.

Learning fast

This is also something I did before I knew loa, I was just always wondering why the other kids couldn't grasp concepts as easily as I did. Literally in every lesson I would be like ah I learn so fast and now I am actually blessed with the ability to grasp complex subjects so fast. A favourite example of mine would be when I was obsessed with music but to take it to a higher level you need to be able to play an instrument. I couldn't at the time and my teacher told me the requirements a week before the actual deadline. I have never actually played piano with both hands but one day I sat down and worked through the entire song (fur elise by Beethoven) which is a grade 5 (I think) and it normally takes people months / weeks to learn. I learnt the whole thing in 3 days and from then on, I could play piano like I had been doing for ages. Again the memory thing was so helpful because I never actually used any sheet music, I learnt it off a youtube video and I remembered every single note I needed to play.

Hourglass body + 22" waist

This was a couple of years ago when I actually didn't understand loa. Anyways long story short, I would do a 3 minute workout and then flex infront of the mirror all day (💀) and be like omg I have abs. Overtime, I actually got so skinny everyone around me kept pointing it out to me and my mum got so concerned that she took me to the doctor like 4 times. It was so funny, I would loose like 2-3kg overnight and my parents would have to buy better fitting uniform.

Bigger boobs

This was also back in the day (2021?) when I didn't understand how to manifest things easily af. I had an A cup but I wanted better boobies and I listened to like 2 subs for a week and I went to a B cup. But I just assumed I have a bigger cup size recently and I just skipped C and went to D+ (haven't measured in a long time).

I'm not done but I'm tired now bye bye

[buzzyb33]

Make-up

Prompt: getting ready for a girls night out while josh is streaming some among us you just can’t get your make up right and get beyond annoyed.

Warnings: swearing, switching POVs, fluff‼️

“Okay..” I say to myself as I start my makeup.

After a while, I’m done the majority as I put on my dress jacket and heels I sigh as I have to do my eye makeup, the worst part.

I let out a sigh as I begin trying to do my eyeliner and repeatedly failing. I let out a sharp exhale before rubbing it off and doing it again, a red patch developing on my left eye.

My breaths get heavier as I attempted again.

I reach out and pick up my hair spray and spin it in my hand as I try again.

“Oh my fucking god..” I whisper.

Six more attempts later I can feel tears boiling.

I do it again and do it worse than any other attempts.

I launch the hairspray bottle against the wall and begin wiping off all my makeup, eyes welling with tears.

The girl wipes her makeup just leaving her red lipstick which she didn’t notice

“Ah!” Josh says not really shouting but not quiet as his head whips to the closed door.

A loud groan is admitted from a couple rooms over.

He looks back at his camera before standing up and opening his bedroom door.

“Y/n, are you alright?” He calls out.

“… uh… yeah!” I respond and text my group chat, apologising for cancelling last minute.

I take my dress off and change into something more comfortable- shirts and a sidemen hoodie.

“Fucking hell josh, was that Y/n?” Harry says with a laugh.

“Hm.. yeah- give me a minute, boys,” he replies as he pulls his headset off and goes to Y/ns door.

His girlfriend is one to get angry quickly and one of three things happens, she shuts off completely annoyed in her own mind, trying to handle her anger which normally means she’s with him a lot more. And snappy, she gets annoyed at things he does and is in an overall bad mood.

“Y/n?” He says softly as he opens her door to see her sat in front of her desk where she does her makeup, packing her back up neatly as she looks at him with narrowed eyes.

He smiles slightly and comes into the room.

“I thought you was going out?” He says as he goes over to her.

“I was- but then I couldn’t do my fucking eyeliner! It was so-“ she exhales.

“No, I’m not going out anymore.” She says as she runs her hands through her long black hair.

“Oh- alright.. I’m still streaming, u can end if you want in like 10 minutes if you want.” He says as he puts his hands in his pockets.

Her eyes soften at that and she shakes her head and stands up, moving closer to him.

“No- I’ll come watch you stream, give me a couple minutes.” He nods and goes to turn around but is pulled into a soft kiss.

He smiles into the kiss and wraps his arms gently around her waist.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a minute.”he smiles down at me and heads back to his room.

“Back.” He says with a smile as he puts his headphones back on.

“You’re girl has a temper.” Freezy says as he hears Josh’s voice.

“She can, I suppose.” Je shrugs in response.

“Mate, didn’t you say when you like first met on one of your dates you went to get something or some shit like that and she was getting hit on, then.. fuck what did you say?” Harry says.

“Right. That’s not important- and she had the right to get mad at-“ josh cuts himself off with a sigh.

Ethan laughs. “What happened josh?” He questions as he follows his among us character, due to proximity chat.

“She was getting hit on and as I got back I went to open my mouth but she like shushed me in a way then turned to guy down then he was like ‘come on just a drink’ and she said no again then he started insulting her.. I think he like called her a slut for wearing a dress with a thigh slit, then uhm- she told him he couldn’t please her with his dick even if he was rock solid- an appropriate response then this guy called her an ‘emo bitch’ so she punched him in the face.. and broke his nose- and yeah.” Josh says calmly.

“Oh- well.” Ethan laughs as josh scans in the video game.

“Interesting story..“ he says, a smile evident in his voice.

“Mhm..”

Around ten minutes later she opened Josh’s door gently.

“Do you want anything to eat?” She asked softly, a soft smile on her pink lips.

“Yeah- please get me whatever..” he says and straightens his posture.

“Kay, love you.” She says as she turns around.

“Hm, yeah love you too..” he mumbles as he passes Harry in the game, him hearing what he said.

“No PDA, josh.” He fake gags.

“Yeah fuck off Bog.” He scoffs as he goes to check who’s on cams.

After the food or here Y/n came in and handed him his food.

She kissed his forehead and smiled as he thanked her, though this was during a meeting.

“Oh my good josh, get a room.” JJ says loudly.

“Uhm, I’m in my room? And my girlfriend bought me food? No issue.” Josh retorts as he leans back in his seat.

JJ grumbles in response.

After some shouting matches with some other YouTubers from the game, Josh ended stream, he had finished his food and as he stretched his limbs, he put his bowl in the sink and looked around the house for his girlfriend.

He leaks his head into her little walk in closet and she isn’t there, he checks there shared room and she’s in there, sitting up watching something on the tv.

Josh smiles and pulls his hoodie off and sits next to her.

“Oh, you finished streaming? Sorry I didn’t know what you wanted me to order- I hope what I got you is okay-“ she starts and he cuts her off by a soft kiss, his hand travelling to the back of her head to deepen the kiss.

He pulls away and she looks at him, flustered.

“What was that for?” She smiles shyly as he places is hand sob her shoulders.

“Just love you, and what you got me was fine.” He says and holds her gently.

“You okay now?” He asks as she means unto him to which she nods.

He smiles and watches Tv with her in his arms, which she eventually fell asleep in.

A/n:

I HAVEN’T FED YOU LOT!!

Here you go- a quick fic in the drafts- I’ll have a Danny Aarons one out soon! Happy holidays!

Requests are open!

[rassberrylips]

Hiii! Could I get some matchmaking for Hayden Christensen’s characters, I’m 5’6 with black hair that fades into red in a wolf cut with brown eyes. I’m a biology and psychology major, cheerleader, and I’m always considered the mom friend. I tend to try to light up the room and be there for others but I don’t have sort of qualms about speaking up for myself or handling conflict. I tend to speak my mind and be very blunt, rational, and logical. I’m known for having high standards, being picky, and enjoying the finger things in life.

Although I can come off as bossy, mean, I get really sensitive and I tend to be a crybaby sometimes. I love fashion, painting, sculpting, writing, but I also love more hobbies like math, science, and I’m constantly striving to learn. I tend to be the mediator and voice of reason with a lot of patience but I’m the worst when I’m angry apparently. I have a dad sense of humor that can be corny but at least I make myself laugh.

i have a lot of friends but I find it difficult to open up sometimes. I love horror movies even though I get easily scared and I studied ancient history for a long time so it’s something I’m passionate about. Thank you so much! 🩷

your match is ... sam monroe !!

♡ your hair is what drew sam to you

♡ sam thought he was the only "emo" kid but when he saw your dyed black and red hair in the cafeteria he was so exited (secretly ofc)

♡ he had been wanting to talk to you for weeks and when he saw you and his freind alyssa sitting together he took his chance

♡ he was leaning on the tree by alyssa's table in his usual spot with his headphones on and his eyed closed and maybe he didn't have music playing so he could eavesdrop 🤷‍♀️

♡ "hey y/n can you come over to my house after cheer practice to help me study for our next test?" "of course"

♡ so you were hot, emo, a cheerleader and smart ... this was sam's dream

♡ the next day he took his chance and came up with a plan

♡ at the beginning of biology he would compliment your hair, then he would sit in front of you, then at the end of class he would ask you to come over and help him with the subject matter

♡ and thats how sam monroe got himself stuck cleaning his room, retaping posters to the wall, shoving all his dirty clothes in the closet and opening a window to air out that weird smell

♡ when the doorbell rang it was a race of time and gravity for sam to get to the door before his dad ... he lost.

♡ sam had never had a girl over besides alyssa but she didn't really count so it was safe to say his dad was thrilled

♡ every time his dad tried to ask you a question sam cut him off 😭

♡ sam was extremely awkward at first but after a few of your jokes he transitioned from robot to human and you guys had a lot of fun for learning biology

♡ before you left you got sam's number and set up another time to hang out

♡ you guys started hanging out a lot more often ... sam's plan was working !

♡ after a few weeks you told sam you liked him and his brain short circuited (back to robot boy)

♡ yay you're dating now !!

♡ you always helped sam chill out whether josh was messing with him, his step-dad was judging him or his real dad was pissing him off

♡ sam always thought of you as sensitive and calm until the first time he saw you angry

♡ there was nothing to be really mad about except this morning you ran out of concealer, you stubbed your toe on the way to second period, you ran out of lunch money, failed a test in your favorite class and you got your period

♡ everything added up and at the end of the day sam found you crying in his car, he drove you home and listened to you yell and rant for an hour then cry for another

♡ he held you and ran his fingers through your hair (something you do to him when he's upset), ordered you favorite food, put on your favorite horror movie and decided he never wanted to see you angry again

a glimpse into your relationship ...

a/n: yeah i am an alyssa hater and make it so they never dated 😼 anyways hope you liked it merry christmas !! 🎄

[sandersontheside]

Drabble list #4

25. “Worst day ever!”

Any characters of your choosing :3

Beanie!! Thank you for the prompt! Please enjoy high school AU creativitwins being silly boys with just a sprinkling of implied prinxiety bc I can't help myself. Under a cut because it broke 1k words by accident. (prompt lists: 4,5,7)

Roman flung himself onto his bed with a huge sigh, his messenger bag still on one shoulder. 

Remus looked up from his own bed, where he was already clicking away on his laptop. He pulled off his big headphones and let them hang around his neck. “What’s up your ass?” 

Roman responded with a muffled groan. 

“Anything to do with why you’re home so late?” Remus asked. “Rehearsals ended like an hour and a half ago. Where the hell have you been?” Roman was always home later than Remus because of his commitments to the school musicals, unless Remus decided to join tech that particular semester, which he hadn't this time around because apparently Legally Blonde was too boring.

Roman pulled himself onto his knees so he could take off his bag, letting it fall to the floor. “I have had the worst day ever.” 

Remus rolled his eyes. “Okay, drama queen. Did you embarrass yourself in front of that emo kid again?” 

Roman flushed. “His name’s Virgil.”

“That’s not a no,” Remus smirked. 

‘Ugh, shut up,” Roman flopped onto his back. “That’s only one of the things that went wrong today. It started when we were late to school, which I totally blame you for—”

“Excuse me? Which one of us takes an entire hour in the bathroom to shower and do his hair?” Remus scoffed. “You always make us late.”

“Whatever, Mister ‘We have to go back because I left my homework on the table.’”

“Well, if you had been ready to leave earlier, we would have had time to—” 

“Okay, okay,” Roman groaned, rubbing his temples. “The point is, we were late, and then my math teacher yelled at me for being late, and then at lunch I realized I didn’t have my wallet. Patton gave me half his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but I was still starving—”

“Why the hell didn’t you come find me? I could have bought you something.” It’s a rare moment of sincerity from Remus. 

“I didn’t think of that.” Roman admitted. 

“Clearly.”

“Anyways!” Roman huffed. “After that, I had English, and we’re doing Shakespeare, as you know, and we got to pick scenes to do with a partner, from any play we liked. And I wanted to pick Much Ado About Nothing because you know I was born to play Benedick. But then she assigned Virgil to be my partner.”

“Did he not want to do Much Ado?” Remus asked. 

“Worse! He wanted to play Beatrice!” Roman threw his hands in the air theatrically. “Can you imagine? Reciting Shakespearean romance lines to my crush?”

Remus blinked, confused. “That sounds like something you’d love, you nerd.” 

“If he liked me back, maybe! But he doesn’t! So it was just painful, and I got so flustered that I stumbled over some of the lines!” 

Remus winced. 

“And, then, finally, I had rehearsals for the play. But I tripped during one of the dance routines and knocked over one of the sets and broke it.” Roman lifted his hands, which were covered in paint. “I had to stay late to rebuild it."  

Remus let out a long breath. “That does sound like the worst day ever."

“Thank you!” Roman curled around a pillow. “Now, go back to looking at God knows what online and just let me sulk in peace.” 

His brother didn’t respond at first. He glanced at his screen, tapped out something short (a message to a friend, perhaps?), closed it up, and removed his headphones from around his neck. “Nope,” he said finally. 

“What?” 

“Nope. I’m not gonna let you sulk.” Remus stood up from his bed, extending a hand to Roman. “You have two options. Movie night or me kicking your ass at Mario Kart.” 

Roman looked up at his twin pathetically. “Can movie night be Disney movies?” 

“You’re going to make me watch Tangled again, aren’t you?” His words were exasperated, but he was smiling reassuringly.

“I mean, it is the best new Disney movie.” Against all odds, Roman felt his miserable mood start to let up. “But I’m kind of in the mood for Treasure Planet. Or The Emperor’s New Groove,”  he said, knowing full well that while Remus vastly preferred Pixar to Disney, that he had a soft spot for “the weird years” of Disney in the early-to-mid 2000s, just as 2D animation was fading out. If Remus was going to do this for him, the least he could do was pick movies Remus actually enjoyed as well. 

Remus’s smile grew. “Hell yeah, let’s watch Emperor’s New Groove."

Roman smiled back. “Sounds perfect.” He took Remus’s hand and stood, letting his brother drag him out to their living room. Their parents wouldn’t be home for hours—they never were. So, they basically had free reign of the house. Remus cued up the movie, while Roman continued into the kitchen to hunt for some snacks. He returned with slightly burnt microwave popcorn that he didn't even bother to put in a bowl, goldfish crackers, a plate of reheated lasagna because he was still starving, a package of Oreos (Double Stuf, of course), insect gummies that were shaped far too realistically for Roman’s taste, a bottle of Coca-Cola for himself, and Mountain Dew for his brother. He placed it all on the coffee table. “Dinner is served.” 

Remus immediately grabbed a gummy. “Delicious.” 

“I don’t know how you eat that,” Roman shook his head, joining his brother on the couch. “It looks way too real and creepy.” 

Remus shrugged. “It’s still candy.” 

Roman rolled his eyes. “Whatever, weirdo.” 

“I’m not weird, you are.” 

“I’m not weird, I’m unique.” 

“Same thing.” 

Roman gasped in mock offense. “Just play the movie.” 

His brother hit play on the remote and settled into the cushions. 

“Hey, Remus?” 

“Ro, you know I hate it when you talk over movies.”

“It’s still the opening credits,” Roman insisted. “And I just wanted to say thank you. This isn’t the worst day ever anymore.” 

“Gross, don’t be sappy.” 

“Too late.” Roman slung an arm around Remus’s shoulder and pulled him into an awkward kind of sitting side-hug. “I love you, Remus.” 

“Ugh,” Remus grunted, but didn’t try to move away. “I love you, too.” 

[chaussur-blog]

Fuck you! (English translation)

So this is a comic that i made during the summer 21 (and thought out during the year before). So it's a lil old but i'm still very proud of it! I made it with watercolors, on paper of about 17cm x 17 cm.

The original is in French so if you understand it, you can find it: here.

There's the transcription of the text at the bottom of each page in case my handwriting is a lil hard to understand (original is paper, it was made more to be read like that)

Anyhow, enjoy!

Right that moment, i felt like dying

This meant, that some things had to change

Name change : Elliott

Delete these 28 contacts? yes / no

Reorientation : sociology - economy

Hi. I am non-binary. If you can’t respect that, please go to hell xoxo. Some people, 98 [redacted]

That’s why I am here !

University ♡

red hair / unconditional love for crop tops / emo 4 ever / uncertain gender expression / new in town / side-cut

Well. This year will at least be interesting

This precise second, my world exploded

I saw \*this girl - person\*

hair!! / nice smile / hypnotizing eyes / heck of a style/ real cool piercings

… and huge gay vibes

I needed a way, a pretext to talk to them, quickly

Fortunately, the universe wasn’t relying on my subtle flirting skills (& it’s fair)

Hi, do you know where the classroom is ? For orientation

I know where that is! I’ll show you. By the way, I’m Antoine.

Nice to meet you! I’m Elliott!

Little by little, we became pretty close

Coming!

A little too close

Fuck no

of course i wanna have sex with them but i really fucked up i want to have a romantic relationship with them too and this is not what they’re gonna think fuck

of course ; but not like that

solution 1 : talk about it (that’s the right one) / solution 2 : flee

yes ; i’m an asshole

What the hell?

Hi! I can’t be your sexfriend! Sorry (yesterday was fun tho)

Jerk.

Nothing matters anymore!

I am stupid

2 missed calls

Living in a world so cold, wasting away / Living in a shell with no soul, since you’ve gone away / Living in a world so cold, counting the days / Since you’ve gone away from me

Those were bad times.

Do not sit

I found shelter in books

and I, in a whole lot of things

Lectures were really awkward

But I wanted to explain.

Elliott!

Why are you talking to me?

I’m sorry. Can we talk ?

No, not really.

I really / screwed up.

Now is high time for my best coping mechanism

Hi! I’m Alice / I’m Leo! What do you do? / I study sociology and economy. / Could you explain inflation to me? Where do the money disappear to? / Let’s dance instead.

Sure!

Using strangers / Destroying myself

Bottoms-up

Elliott… / I haven’t seen you around, I’m worried about you

Talk to me.

Please let me give you my notes

Hi.

I'm sorry you have to see that, / Antoine

Okay. So you’re obviously feeling too bad for me to help you. But I’ll support you.

Everything will be alright. / There are several steps.

But firstly, do you see your current situation as a problem? / …Yes. / Are you ready,

To try to improve it? / Yes. / You’re sure? / Yes. I’m sick of living like this.

Neat! That was step 1

Thanks, Antoine

Step 2 is to clean your flat and keep it tidy enough

doing the dishes is better than piling them in your bathtub / air is great / changing your sheets, too / getting rid of the harmful stuff

Step 3: restructuring your days and getting rid of your bad habits

Every day: / hydrate eat (3 times) / go out at least once / rest, sleep / go to class & study

Every week: / plan meals / laundry / grocery shopping / do sport

uninstall Webtoons, Twitter and Instagram. / sober of self-harm (2 days) / quit alcohol and smoking / do sport / study, but not too much / journal

But Antoine was very clear: / We’re friends. We’ll see if we can be more when you get better.

There was one step left, last but not least: going to therapy

It took me time and energy. But it was worth it.

Thank you. / No problem, Elliott

Of course, I had some trouble

But Antoine helped me each time I asked him.

Sorry / Progress isn’t linear

That’s rich, prick

I feel much better, so I’m going to ask Antoine out. Well, that’s the plan

stressed out / black dye / attempt at a fancy outfit

Knock knock

Oh hi Elliott ! Looking very smart today!

Er…

Hi… Last time, we did not communicate very well. So I’d like to ask you properly, would you go on a date (with me)?

Of course, Eliott. / Glad to know that you are still interested.

and this date,

was the first of many,

and many other rendez-vous.

Thanks, the universe

***

If you're here i would really love for you to tell me that you read it / what you thought about it so please don't hesitate to! I hearing about it 🥰

And also you can find some more drawings of them on my Instagram: here.

But yeah, thank you, i send you much love, take care of yourself :)

[part-time-zombie]

I've decided to give myself 6 personal days out of the year. These 6 days are not set for a certain date, but instead can be scheduled when I feel that they are needed. Why 6 days you may ask? Well, it's because I've decided to spend each day taking care of myself with a different sides mindset in terms of self care.

Logan day is planned for being as deliberately productive as possible. I will clean my house inside out, organize my things, practice my old hobbies, and take time to learn something new.

Roman day is the day i romanticize myself and take myself out on a glorious date. I will gift myself a large bouquet and chocolate heart, head out for the day in a beautiful outfit, and take myself to the movies, bookstores, malls, and museums.

Patton day is dedicated to catching back up on all of the silly little things that make me happy. I will watch cartoons while bundled up in warm blankets and eating cookies and popcorn, I will go to the park and swing for hours, and frolic barefoot in the grass.

Virgil day will be as introverted as I want. I will go to the library and read a new book in silence for hours. I will blast all of the old emo songs I still loved at max volume and sing for myself. I will wear comfortable clothes and be left alone as I please.

Janus day will prioritize my own selfishness and self indulgence above all else. I will keep my phone on silent and not respond to any calls or texts. I will take myself to a spa and pamper myself with every massage and manicure I want. I may even take a day trip to a new city and live like it's my new home.

Remus day involves a bit of chaotic change. I will cut my hair an extremely new style, maybe even dye it. I will get a new piercing, go out in my most garish outfit,and try things I've been too afraid to try before. I will live like there's no tomorrow.

I hope that I can take the love I have for thomas and his characters and give it to myself, because there is so much love to share.

[hellosaysnoxx]

whoaa cool blog hey!!! can i have a south park matchup :-)

im a teen in high school and my style is kind of slightly-alternative??? like a middle schooler would call me emo but also it's just smudged eyeliner and fluffy bleached hair- i dress more like uhh https://pin.it/6yJ99JL that general look

i like the cure and the smiths and radiohead and loser music idk

i'm a dude but also i'm like SO high maintenance- i'll show up to school 15 minutes late with my eyeliner and fake freckles and curled hair. i once dide show uo to school because my hair iron broke and i look stupid with my natural 1a hair its like a bowl cut

i'll show up to 4th period after luncj with an iced coffee and red bull and finish both by the bell- teachers have emailed me about it 😭

my personality is like. hmm

i act really aloof and probably kind of awkward and rude because i dont know how to talk to people

but once you get to know me im actyally like insane like INSANE

i dont shut up i will NEVER shut up i will text you at 1am and be like "do you think it would be good if i put ketchup in macking cheese is that normal"

but despite that i'm surprisingly emotionally intelligent- something i take pride in

i'm very reasonable in conflict and i can separate emotion from logic

plus i'm really good at articulating myself!!! i can communicate well and i' patient with a lot of people

also im kind of a dumbass but i also have a 4.0 gpa and i do competetive classical piano (sterotypical asian kid moment)

HEY ANON!! :P

So first of all, you seem so cool like HAIDBDINDJFBDBBD/pos

Second of all, you didn't add what kind of relationship you wanted, so I'm just going to go with a platonic one (I hope that's okay😭)

Also, I hope you read the rules because I say there that I am not good at South Park matchups, so don't expect me to be a really accurate person😞

Not proof read!! (Usually never is sorry)

Anyway!! You're matchup isssss.....

Kenny Mccormick

He did call you emo once, but that was with Cartman😭

Sometimes, during school, he'll see you be there for like an hour and then leave, and he's wondering what you're doing and why you leave so early, especially in your grade

But then he doesn't really mind, what's his business

When he apologizes for calling you emo, you both get to know each other better

He LOVES your insane personality/p (platonic)

You're like his older sibling, and you'll both cause mischief together sometimes

Also, he doesn't really care if you don't shut up

You both would text random shit during 1am fr💀

*Readers name* - Do you think it would be good if I put ketchup in Mac n cheese is that normal?

Kenny - Put mustard on it too

He's also really happy that you sometimes have your serious moments

Is also happy that you care and is really grateful that you have patience

YOU PLAY PIANO??

"Can you play the among us theme song?"

Would ask you so many things about why you play the piano

He didn't expect it

Will be angry if Cartman comments "Asian kid" to you for playing the piano

He'll see you sometimes in the hallway and chat with you for a while

When he introduces you to Cartman, Kyle and Stan they were scared and thought you kind of seemed cool

But Cartman called you emo and then they left

Kenny was still there, tho and apologized for him💀

He texts you 24/7 and sends the most random sh1t ever

You don't know how he got your number

I think you both would be sending weird shit together, having a silly talk🤩

You collect random stuff? He'll give you random stuff

In the hallways, he gives you a small piece of metal and walks away

Also, your nickname is Crow now

YAY I'M FINALLY DONE AND I HAD MOTIVATION😍

I hope you have a good day/night anon!♡/p

[michaelwhowalksatnight]

ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ

ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴄʀɪɴɢᴇ ꜱᴇʟꜰ ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴛ ᴊᴇꜰꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ x ᴏᴄ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

ʜᴇʏ ɢ���ʏꜱ ɴᴀᴛᴀʟɪᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴇʙᴜᴛ, ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ᴄᴏᴏʟ!!!! ᴛʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ!!! ᴀꜱ ᴄʀɪɴɢᴇ ᴀꜱ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ ɢᴏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴍᴛʜ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ ɪ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʀᴇɢʀᴇꜱꜱ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍʏ ʜʏᴘᴇʀꜰɪxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜᴜɢʜᴇʜʜʜ. ɪ’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ʀʟʏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ɪᴛ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴄʀɪɴɢʏ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄ!! ᴄʀɪɴɢᴇ ɪꜱ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ!!!! ʜᴇ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛꜰ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ!!! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ:)) ɪꜰ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴏᴋ ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴍᴏꜱᴛʟʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏ

word count: 1,896

i made mistakes again i am sorry this is just a silly thing im writing for myself so its not perfect </3

1 • 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙨

It was a summer day when we met.

Warm, humid, the air sticking to you like honey when you walk outside. Or maybe that was our sweat. Hard to tell.

Our only refuge was the local video store, where tucked between the isles North and I sat, flipping through rated R movies they’d never let us rent, unless Kline was working the register. North looked good today- long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail, Slipknot T shirt with the sleeves ripped off, black jeans that were definitely too warm for this weather, muddy black converse that I knew he would take off the second we got back outside. His amber eyes scanned the titles before turning to me and pouting.

“Nothin’ good.” He said, eyes finding mine. I frowned.

“Well, we could always just get Pizza Hut.” I suggested. North smiled and sat up.

“Good plan.”

I got to my feet and the two of us left, waving a little goodbye to the girl working the desk. I didn’t know her name- just knew she went to the local high school like the rest of us. I’d seen her around. Maybe she was in my gym class.

Something about her green eyes and freckled face stuck out to me. Was she with me in Mr. Byers’ English class? No. No, probably not. Was it stats? No, maybe it was-

“Daph.” North’s voice cut through, shattering the store clerk induced haze I had been in. His hand gripped my shoulder.

I opened my mouth to question him, but all he did was silently point ahead through the glass door of the video store.

Some kid was beating the everloving shit out of Randy, Troy and Keith.

Keith was on the ground, bleeding from a split lip. Troy was knelt over, clutching his stomach, and vomit dribbled out of his puffy lips onto the pavement below. Randy was putting up more of a fight, throwing punches back despite an obvious black eye. The kid, some tall brunette with striking blue eyes, didn’t seem to be giving up. A smaller boy behind him kept calling out for him to stop, grabbing onto his arms in vain. His efforts were fruitless, though, as Blue Eyes kept breaking free and continuing his relentless assault.

I choked back a laugh. “Holy fucking shit, dude, no way.”

North didn’t find it as funny as I did. “Daph, dude, come on. We gotta do something.” He ran forward, grabbing the brunette kid by the collar of his black shirt and yanking him back. The kid grunted as Randy took a few steps back, blood pooling on his upper lip.

“Cut it the fuck out, guys. Chill.” He let go of the kid, moving to stand between him and Randy. Randy scoffed.

“Damn, you that weak you let the emo hold you back?” He wiped the blood off his lip.

“You fucking-” The kid lunged forward again, but the smaller boy held him back.

“Jeff, please. It’s fine. Calm down!” He said. Grabbing my skateboard which was propped up against the video store, I walked over. Randy’s eyes followed me as I walked forward. Yet somehow he didn’t see the skateboard flying through the air, whacking him firmly on the top of the head.

He let out a cry and fell to the ground, clutching his head. It was satisfying seeing him writhe and moan on the ground like that.

“Daphne!” North exclaimed. I said nothing but hopped on my board, gesturing to the two kids and what I assumed were their bikes.

“We gotta dip. Like, now.”

And so the four of us speed off. We don’t stop until we’ve reached the one place North and I feel safe in this conservative town- the skate park. He collapses onto his board and puts his head in his hands.

“Daph. What the actual fuck is wrong with you.” His tone is exasperated. “You just hit a guy over the head with a skateboard. That’s fucked.”

I bristle. “He wasn’t just ‘a guy’, he was fucking Randy. C’mon.”

That’s when one of the guys pipes up. The taller one, with the blue eyes and the knuckles cracked and bloody from throwing punches with the three bullies. If I remember right, the other one called him Jeff.

“I think that was pretty cool.” He grins a sleazy, yellow toothed smile at me. I grin.

“Glad to see someone’s on board with me.”

Jeff props his bike up on the side of the fence and the two of them take a seat beside North and I, our legs dangling into the large bowl covered in graffiti.

“So, who were those guys, and what the fuck is their problem?”

North picks his head up and fishes around in his pocket for his Marlboros. “Fuck if we know. Randy’s dad is some hotshot lawyer or something, so everyone kinda answers to him and his cronies. I think he gets his rocks off by bullying everyone in town.” He pops open the box of cigarettes and turns to us. “Want one?”

Jeff grabs one excitedly. I shake my head, as does the other kid. I glance at him. He looks a lot like Jeff- same fluffy brown hair, same pale complexion, only he has bright green eyes, nearly emerald.

As North lights their cigarettes, I glance at the green eyed boy. “Y’all new here?”

He nods. “Just moved in. Fairmont Ave.”

North laughs. “The shitty house with the gravel driveway?”

Green Eyes pouts. “That’s what Randy said.”

Choosing to ignore that, I twist my spiked bracelet around my wrist. “Well, I’m Daphne, and this is North. Good to meet y’all.”

Jeff speaks up again. “I’m Jeff, and this is my little brother Liu. Good to meet y’all too.” He smiles at me again, and I smile back. Liu holds his hand out for me to shake, which is cute in a “aww so formal” kinda way. He’s younger than us- maybe 15?

“You guys like it here so far?” He asks. I audibly laugh.

“They just had a run-in with Randy and the assholes, what do you think?”

Jeff grins, pressing his lips to the butt of the cigarette. “I mean, it’s a nice place. We’re from New Orleans, so it’s a lot different than what we’re used to. Cool video store, though. Just wish we could get that good rated R shit.”

North and I immediately exchange a look.

“We know a guy,” He said.

Jeff perked up. “Yeah?”

I smile. “Yeah. Our buddy Kline works there. When he’s working he lets us take shit for free. Even the raunchy stuff.”

Liu laughs. “That’s cool.”

I nod. “Yeah, but I bet New Orleans was cooler. It is a lot different here.” Mandeville was a very small forest town, population of like 5,000 or some shit. Everyone knows everyone here, things are corrupt, the service is awful, and everyone is religious as all balls. I do love it, though. It’s got its charm.

“It was pretty cool.” Jeff says, his eyes focusing somewhere off in the distance. He exhales some smoke through his nose. “No offense, but this place is looking pretty shitty.”

North and I laugh. “Yeah, it really is.” He says. “But it’s not all that bad. Hey, you guys should come to our show tonight. Maybe then you’ll meet some new friends and shit.”

Jeff perks up at that, his eyes finding North. “Show?”

“Yeah,” I say. “We’re in a band.”

His face lights up. “No fucking way, that’s awesome! I’ve always wanted to join a band. What do y’all play?”

North raises a hand. “I drum, Daph plays bass, and our buddy Kline plays guitar and sings. Daphne does too, sometimes, if a song is out of his range.” He coughs, and mutters “Paramore” under his breath.

“We do little house shows every now and then at Kline’s place. You guys should come if you can. We’ve got one tonight.” I pick at the flaky black polish on my nails.

Jeff and Liu exchange a look. Finally Jeff shrugs.

“Why not?”

And this marked the beginning of a terrible, terrible mistake.

I wasn’t really expecting them to come, to be fair. So imagine my surprise when two brunettes on bikes pull up out front of the Key house just as I’m walking to the front steps.

“Daphne! Hey!” One of them yells. I look behind to see Liu getting off his bike and waving to me. Jeff followed suit.

One fist hovers over the door, ready to knock, the other holding a bass amp that’s way too heavy for my twig arms. I dressed my best tonight- black platform boots, thigh high black and white striped socks, black skirt, one of North’s shirts from some UK band called The Wombats, my lilac purple hair pulled up in a ponytail. I have to redye it. My brown, almost ginger roots are coming back in.

“Are we early?” Liu asked again. I shake my head and knock.

“Not really. We gotta soundcheck, but more people will be showing up soon.” I tell them. The door opens and there stands our friend.

Kline Key is a towering man, standing at 6’3. He’s older than us- 19- but we’ve known him since freshman year. He’s painted his nails black for the occasion, his curly ginger hair pulled up in the usual ponytail. He never dresses for the shows we play- just wearing the usual white tank top and white washed jeans. His black converse has scribbles all over them.

“Hey, Daph. Who’re your friends?” He asks, his intense green-blue eyes fixing on the two behind me. Jeff sticks out a hand.

“Jeff Woods, and my little brother Liu.” He introduces himself, looking a bit pleased when Kline takes his hand and shakes it.

“These are the two guys that beat up Randy and company yesterday.” I say, resting my amp on the ground. Kline grins.

“Those guys suck. Come on in. What kind of music do y’all listen to?” He asks them, sweeping them away as I go over to the little setup Kline has in his basement. North is already at the drums, tinkering with the set. He smiles at me as I begin to plug my amp in and take my bass out of its gig bag.

“Hey, Daph. The guys come?” He asks, resting his sticks on the snare drum. He’s barefoot again. I don’t know why he doesn’t like wearing shoes while playing.

“Yeah, actually.” I smile at him and slip my bass over my shoulder, beginning the painful experience of tuning her old strings. I don’t change them nearly as much as I should.

North’s face lights up. “Hell yeah! It’s nice to have some new faces here.”

I look over where Kline is showing the brothers his guitar collection. I admire how personable he is. I wish I could be like that. Sadly, this town has given me a bad rep. There’s not much else I can be but brash and cruel, as that’s the box the people of Mandeville have forced me into.

It’s nice to have new people who don’t know what I’ve done.

Over time, the room starts to fill up, we all take our places on the stage, and thus begins the show and the beginning of a new era.

[poisonzeth]

Wait, let me, I've actually ranted about this to friends so, eh, warning: I do Not like Ace's story manga. My rating it a 2/10 is being generous, it's only that high because Deuce content, it fills me with spite and pushes me to make my own version of the manga (lemme plug the drafts here lmao).

For a better understanding of my everything about this, check under the cut, cuz boy-o-boy do I have thoughts about the changes.

I'll be focusing on the first chapter/Ace and Deuce's first meeting.

Oh, and if anyone hasn't read the manga or the novels, there Will Be Spoilers.

First, I need to come out and say I don't like the art style.

This is a personal opinion, ofc, so I'll go over that too.

Boichi is really good with lighting and rendering but he overdoes it with the details, especially because it doesn't work that well for a story as toony as One Piece.

He is also weirdly good yet bad at the same time with anatomy, in a way that leaves it in the uncanny valley for me, it is very detailed but some details are kind of weird. Cute Deuce, but everyone else? Ace, darling, where are your freckles? Your droopy eyes? I'm not even asking for the greasy hair.

I have no idea how he manages to make all these characters (and I mean all, both men and even more women) so deeply unattractive.

He only manages to accidentally draw Deuce cute because his over-detailing and rendering tendencies get absorbed by Deuce's mask.

Not sorry to Boichi but this Ace cannot pull the shit that Alabasta Ace does (tho Alabasta Ace is peak, his Ace can't compare to any other canon depiction of Ace, not even to their shadow) this Ace ain't awakening shit in nobody.

But whatever.

Narratively, it's also weaker.

Starting with the first chapter, Deuce and Ace's first meeting.

So they're stranded on that damn island, where there's nothing to eat, which is why people die there, ah well, in the manga these giant monster birds are living there, which automatically negates the no food thing, so that's +1 hit with the Stupidity Laser to our boys.

Originally, Deuce meets Ace and doesn't wanna deal with him, Ace is like: let's work together and leave this place.

And Deuce is like: nuh huh

Even tho they're on an island where there's no food and they'll die of starvation if they stay, Deuce being the narrator helps, we meet him while he monologues to a pirate's corpse in Sixis, he's a silly Emo Mcedgelord who sees Ace as a shinning sun and assumes a lot of bs.

He's also really funny.

So, from the beginning, we get a feel of Deuce's personality and how his brain works, we get to understand why he doesn't want to work with Ace despite the horrible position they are in (it's paranoia) and we can start assuming stuff about his upbringing from his mental everything, stuff that he later confirms to us while talking to Ace.

All this is lost in the manga.

And not because it is a manga, a lot of what I pointed out can be shown with little to no words when we have the support of a more visual side to the narrative.

They do end up talking a bit.

Both Ace and Deuce assume things about the other, we get to see that Ace is not dumb, he has a sharp mind and sharper instincts, despite Deuce's denial, internally, he confirms to us that what Ace's conclusion about him is correct, on the other hand, Deuce is being prejudiced and spiteful, partially, because he's been 3 days stranded in Sixis and partially because of his upbringing. For example, Deuce immediately assumes that Ace has a loving family that misses him and Ace is like: never met my mom, neither did I my dad but I don't like him, he was a criminal that left us nothing but trouble.

So Deuce responds with: he can't be that bad, it's not like he was that demon pirate king, cuz like, if I was the pirate king's son I would've killed myself.

Ace: …

Deuce: …

Ace: …

Deuce: omg you're the pirate king's son

This interaction also shows us that Deuce can and is as sharp as Ace, even if he has foot-in-mouth syndrome.

In the manga, he just kinda connects the dots waaaay later, after the confrontation with White Beard.

They try to make it an emotional moment where Deuce regrets some things he told Ace while worrying about his captain's life when Whitebeard appears to fight him, but it falls flat to me, he didn't really say terrible things to him, like, 1 phrase was a bit mean sounding but it all came from a place of deep care and worry for Ace.

It's also in this first meeting that Ace names Deuce, and I think this detail is really important, it's both relevant to their interaction and how Deuce will end up dedicating his life to Ace. It's connected to the previous detail about showing their smarts, prejudices, etc.

Deuce tells him that he abandoned his name and face when he left home and that's why he wears a mask.

(Ace: oh, you must really love your family if you're hiding your identity to not bring them trouble

Deuce: Actually, I hate them, they hate me and I want nothing to do with them

Ace: …)

Ace presents himself and Deuce is like: I like your name, I might take it as a penname for when I publish my adventure journal

Ace: what? No, that's my name, it would be very confusing if we're both Ace

Deuce: I never say I would take it right now

Ace: nah, you know what? I'll call you Deuce

Deuce: do you know what that means?

Ace: nah? But it kinda matches right? Sounds nice

Deuce: …

In the manga, he just chooses the name himself at the end of the first chapter.

The manga skips pretty much all of the first novel except for them getting to Sabaody and then the rest is New World, and it also deletes A LOT from that.

After their first conversation, they start working together in the manga, however, in the novel, they're still not working together.

This takes me to the Finding of the Mera Mera no Mi scene.

In the novel: Deuce is delirious with hunger and goes to attack Ace when he sees him with a fruit, but Ace sees him and decides to share the fruit with him, it turns out to be the mera mera, and since Ace took the first bite he now is fire.

In the manga: Deuce gets angry cuz he thinks Ace is hoarding food (they've been working together all this time) and attacks him even after Ace explains about the monster birds, and Deuce, ofc, gets attacked by the birds and is saved by Ace, that's when he finds the mera mera in a treasure box which I'm supposed to believe they hadn't seen even tho they've been working in that area with that stuff for a while now, and Deuce is the one to share the fruit.

This just doesn't hit emotionally nor narratively for me, we're supposed to be shown how and why Deuce would end up devoting himself to Ace, come on.

Ace's kindness after their disastrous first meeting is what awakens Deuce to his prejudices and leads to his devotion to Ace.

The novel and manga do the same "Ace is suddenly aflame and they panic until Ace notices that he doesn't feel heat or pain" but since they're on the shore, in the novel Ace is like: oh hell, nah, I don't need/want no devilfruit rn, wait, maybe it isn't.

So he walks into the sea like: see Deuce? I'm fine! It wasn't a devil fruit it waahhhhhh~

So Deuce saves him, questions some things and Ace goes off to talk about his little brother (cuz ofc he does, he does that several times in the novel, most of which was cut in the manga).

The first chapter, in the manga, fails to convey why people would be willing to follow Ace, why they would feel drawn to Ace and why Ace would be chosen as a captain.

The manga completely cuts the rest of the first novel, from what little we learn about Ace's crew and adventures to Ensign Isuka. Another important character to showcase what I previously said.

She's, ofc, the main marine following Ace, a true samaritan who just wants to help people. She also shows us a little of the kind of life Ace has had on the sea. Yes, she's trying to capture Ace, but after dealing with him she knows that Ace is a good man, she wants him to abandon the life of piracy, but she is naive and ignorant, until the last chapter in Sabaody.

The first novel, as short as it might be, gives us a glance at the Ace's life pre-Whitebeard.

And then the second novel shatters what meagre status quo the first volume settled.

The manga covers mostly this part of the story, although it also cuts A Lot.

Despite the focus being on Ace's first fight and later time with the Whitebeard pirates, the novel also gives us a little of Ace on Fishman Island.

BTW, the second novel isn't narrated by Deuce, and so, let's us follow other's POV, although Ace is still the main (it's narrated in 3rd person).

The novel, also, it's a lot charming and funnier than the manga. Even though both cover Ace's meeting with Shank, part of it is also cut, some being legit funny moments like when he meets Shanks who is very confused when he meets Ace (+ him literally going: this kid should be with the revolutionaries).

But moving on to the meat of the novel.

The manga focuses on Ace's fights with Whitebeard, which, again, not only robs us of what meagre content we get of Ace's crew, it also takes away from Ace's growing attachment to the Whitebeard pirates (specially Thatch) and Whitebeard himself (despite we not seeing much of their interactions anyway).

Like, Thatch being in charge of Ace, dragging him here and there, having him help in the kitchens and just having a fun time together.

The mission in one of Whitebeard's territories Ace is sent to is also very important, it helps him (and us) see the kind of man he is, as well as Ace's dynamic with his own crew and Whitebeard's.

Also, there's this joke in the manga of Ace not knowing that Deuce had knowledge of medicine, which grates on my nerves, because: Are you telling me that I'm supposed to believe that after sailing together all this time Ace never knew that Deuce is a doctor? (well, drop-out medicine student but whatever -Deuce is literally a medicine student dropout who decided to follow his dream career of creative writing-) Deuce from a family of doctors and has studied that shit. Are you telling me that in all those times anyone on the crew got hurt, Deuce never treated them? Are you telling me that I'm supposed to believe that?

And again.

We were ROBBED of what meagre content there is of Ace's crew (did you know he has 2 gyojin there? Baby boy Wallace and Madam Banshee whom I love dearly? Both of them. Did you know that Banshee prefers older men and men who can cook? She specifically mentioned both White Beard and Thatch -I ship her so hard with Thatch you guys-).

To me, the manga fails on so many levels and it's just narratively SO Weak.

+ it's ugly and I hate the ending because what do you mean Deuce wrote about his time with Ace and went "nah, this ain't for the world to see"??? Exfuckingcuse me?

I could go on comparing scenes and changes and whatnot but I better not tbh

Question to everyone who has read both the Ace novel and the Ace Novel Manga:

What are your genuine thoughts on the manga and the changes they made to it?

I personally have many issues with it going from the changes to sixis, the chemistry between Ace and Deuce (how deuce got his name, how deuce found out roger was ace's father to mention a few examples), and the complete erasure of isuka.

If I had to give it a rating I would give it a generous 7/10. I'm glad it exists because we have more deuce content appearance wise but at the same time when he draws the men detailed it creeps me out don't even get me started on how the women look...

[helliontherapscallion]

Hello! For the event, can I please get a Philza x male reader who has old scars from self harming? Like, the reader was like "Yea, I had problems with my self esteem". And Phil just comforting him? Thank you!

Food Fights and Comfort

Warnings: swearing, self harm scars, and self harm mentions (nothing graphic)

“You have no idea how hard getting that enchantment was,” Tommy groaned out through a mouthful of half-chewed food. Wilbur reached over to slap him upside the head, “don’t talk with your mouth full. No one wants to see that.”

“Fuck off Wilbur I can do what I want!” Tommy shoved more food into his mouth, chewed it up, and opened his mouth wide facing Wilbur. Your older brother wrinkled his nose in disgust before he shoveled some mashed potatoes onto his spoon and flung it at Tommy where it collided with his shirt. Tommy looked at the brunet with rage before he swallowed his food and scooped up some mashed potatoes and drew his spoon back. Philza’s hand on his arm and his warning glare made him freeze.

“Tommy, if you throw that I swear to god I’m gonna ground you for a month.”

“But- but he started it! I-”

“Let me finish. And Wilbur’s grounded from his guitar for two weeks.”

“C’mon! He-” Wilbur was cut off by Philza’s angry glare, “don’t make me extend it to a month, Wilbur.”

Technoblade leaned over to Tommy when Philza wasn’t looking and whispered in his ear, “if you do it, I’ll do your chores for two weeks.”

“Make it three and you have yourself a deal,” he hissed back at the pink haired teenager.

“...Fine, just do it.”

You silently watched as Tommy genuinely considered it before picking up his mashed potato-armed spoon and flinging the potatoes at the tall brunet next to you. They splattered on his yellow sweater making Wilbur look at him in offense before scooping his food once more and returning fire, his elbow knocking over your mug. The steaming contents of the mug splashed onto you and scalded your arms, soaking through your thick sweater.

A startled yelp left your mouth as you leapt up from your seat frantically trying to brush off the offending liquid unsuccessfully with your hands. The table fell silent as they watched you.

“Shit, I’m so sorry (y/n), I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, Wil, accidents happen. If you all would excuse me, I’m just gonna go clean myself up.”

“Here, let me help you-” Wilbur pushed himself up from his chair only to sit back down when Philza put a hand on his shoulder.

“No, you stay here and clean up this mess. This is exactly why I didn’t want you two to have a food fight, someone always gets hurt.” He walked over to you with a small, reassuring smile, “c’mon.”

You grew increasingly nervous as he led you to the bathroom, your hands pulling your sleeves down repeatedly. He didn’t know about your scars, they were something you struggled with accepting even though it’s been almost a year since you’ve stopped. You were lucky, he had adopted you just at the beginning of fall when you could wear long sleeves as much as you wanted without getting weird looks.

After sitting you on the counter, he turned to rummage in the closet for the first aid kit. From your short time here, you could already tell that the family would go through first aid kits fast. It was a very accident-but-not-really-accident prone family.

He let out a triumphant laugh as he found the box and turned around to look at you, wiggling it in the air, “found it! Now, let’s patch you up, yeah?” When you made no move to push your sleeves up, he furrowed his brows and looked at you a bit closer. He could see the shame and anxiety on your face as clear as day, confusing him to no end. From your short time living with him, you were always an open book, telling him anything whenever he would ask.

“Kid, why’re your sleeves over your hands? I’ve got to see if you have any burns, so if you could push them up I can put some ointment on them.”

You hesitated, the last time you had shown someone your scars was when you were still at the orphanage. You had shown your best friend at the time, and they exploded at you. They told you that you were a freak, that you were an emo for self harming. They ended up spilling everything to the other orphans, and word spread fast at the orphanage; every day was the same there, so they craved new information like it was an addict’s drug.

That began the assault of ‘show us your wrists’ and ‘barcode scanner’ jokes being thrown your way. You became the outcast of the orphanage as fast as you became the loved one. You weren’t sure if the adults knew about it, but if they did, they turned a blind eye to the torment you were going through. It was a miracle that you managed to stay clean during that entire time, you were so close to relapsing. If it hadn’t been for Philza adopting you when he did, you would’ve fallen back into your old ways.

You knew Philza would never do that, as he was one of the kindest people you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. However, you had thought about your ex best friend and reflected on what they did to you. Philza had something they hadn't, however, he had your complete trust.

You prepared yourself for the looks of horror and potentially getting thrown back into the orphanage and hesitantly pushed your sleeves up to your elbows. When Philza saw this, he gave you a reassuring smile and quickly got to work on your slightly burnt forearms.

The entire time, he said nothing about the blatantly obvious scars that littered your wrists. This confused you since there was no way that he didn’t see them. Before you knew it, he tied off the bandages and put his hand on yours gently.

“Those should heal soon, you just gotta keep putting ointment on it and let it breathe for a while each day. If you want to, we can go downstairs and finish our dinner.”

You snapped yourself out of the daze you were in and cleared your dry throat awkwardly, “sure, that… that sounds good.”

“Great,” he gave you another smile before he went to leave the bathroom, “I’ll meet you downstairs, just come down when you’re ready.”

“Wait!” You hadn’t meant to say it so loud that it scared the blond, but the anxiety and paranoia that almost blocked your throat forced the word to be louder than intended. He jumped slightly and looked back at you with a soft, yet questioning gaze.

You pushed your sleeves down and fiddled with the ends of them, “you’re not going to say anything?”

“I’d never force anybody to do anything they’re uncomfortable with, it’s just not the right thing to do. It’s always better to let people open up to you whenever they’re ready to,” he said, walking over to you again and standing in front of you. “The same goes to you, I’m always going to be here to listen whenever you’re ready to talk about it.”

You shrunk in on yourself slightly and nodded, contemplating on whether you should tell him about what pushed you to that point, how you were treated when you had opened up about it for the first time. Eventually, you swallowed past the lump that had formed in your throat, “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

And so you told him everything about your previously declining mental health and how the others treated you during your stay at the orphanage. Though he concealed it well, you could still see his anger when you told him about the jokes made at your expense. He never interrupted you to ask questions, he never gave you any sign of malice, he patiently waited for you to continue whenever you paused, and he always showed you that he was actively listening to you whenever you looked at him.

A part of you expected him to kick you out of his house and take you back to the orphanage, but he offered you nothing but his full support. Talking about it, though it was hard, was far easier to do compared to your previous experience. He was an easy person to talk to, radiating a welcoming and judgemental free aura.

“You’re not going to judge me?” You questioned him when you were done, anxiety gripping at your chest. He put a hand on your shoulder and shook his head, “no, you couldn’t help it; it’s heartless to judge someone based on their struggles… You’re a strong person, (y/n). It takes a lot to get yourself out of that cycle and I’m so proud of you for how much you’ve grown and persevered through what life’s thrown at you.”

“I- thanks Dad,” you wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him lightly. Without a second of hesitation, he quickly reciprocated the hug. He tucked your head underneath his chin and rubbed your back in small circles, “any time, I’m always going to be here for you. I love you so much, son.”

[an-ambivalent]

Sukuna x Uchiha! Reader

A/N: This is purely for my own self-indulgent purposes -- expanding on this scenario I was daydreaming about. You are invited along to read about my cringefest scenario but only I’m allowed to call it cringe. 

Headcanon synopsis: You are amidst fighting Kabuto with Sasuke and Itachi in the Fourth Great Ninja War when the strangest thing happens. Between struggling to stay conscious from the poison that’s slowly eating you alive to trying to focus on the lengthy explanations of never-heard-before jutsus’ between the two emo brothers, the clash of such jutsus teleports you to another world during another fight. There, the line between enemies and comrades is nonexistent. However, one thing is certain: apparently you wear the same face as of a thousand-years-old demon’s deceased lover. 

For clarification, you are not related to Sasuke and Itachi because that would mean this “reader” insert has fixed looks of black hair and black eyes. You are from the same clan with abilities like the Sharingan and affiliation to fire chakra nature. But fill in your blanks of whatever you want to look like. 

Warnings: This has very minor spoilers about the JJK manga, specifically Sukuna’s abilities. So read at your own risk. It’s just a bunch of OP assholes trying to one up each other ig :P 

                                                          ~***~ 

The rustic smell of blood is present profoundly in the atmosphere. The heavy rain that is suddenly drenching you, and increasing the heaviness and wetness of your clothes and making them stick disgustingly to your grime skin, does nothing to waft away the awful smell. It washes off some of the dried blood from minor cuts and other injuries you had acquired during your fight with Kabuto, triggering your pain receptors in response and causing stinging and burning of pain. But for someone like you who has already been traumatised from the blood shed you have experienced as a ninja, the revolting smell of blood and the burning pain is nothing new. However, the thing that is new is the rain. It had abruptly replaced the mid-day sun that shone horribly bright. During the war, the clear and sunny weather felt like it was nature’s way to laugh at everyone’s face when they were fighting and barely hanging onto their life. The sudden darkness of the night and the open space you find yourself in, instead of the dark cave you were in just mere moments ago, has your shoulders becoming tensed and your blood flow and heart-beat going faster. 

Instantly, your eyes are their notorious deep red colour presented with three black tomes. Your refined shinobi instincts kick in, and you catch the lean and spikey black-haired male that was thrown your way. There is blood trickling down his mouth, and as you held him momentarily, it was easy to deduce that some of his ribcages and other bones were broken, in addition to more serious injuries. Like how milliseconds decisions were required as a shinobi because they determined life or death,  the abrupt situation you were thrown into also required it. You carelessly threw him aside as a half-naked pink-haired teen with black markings on his skin, a hole in his chest and blood dripping down his abdomen charged at you. 

He aimed a vicious and strong punch to your face, which you avoided by side-stepping. When he repeated the gesture with his other arm, you blocked it with your forearm, before twisting your body at an angle, and delivering a strong kick to his stomach and sending him flying away. Using the new created distance to your advantage, you quickly made the necessary hand-signs with practiced ease, before taking a deep breath in. 

“Fire Style: Great Fire Dragon Jutsu,”  You exclaimed, as you exhaled a vicious and high temperature dragon head-shaped flame towards your attacker. 

Sukuna, currently in possession of Itadori’s body, was internally questioning whether the very few hits that Megumi had landed previously had damaged his brain because there was absolutely no way he had seen her face. There was absolutely no way in hell that a mere human would be strong enough to land a painful kick on him. Evidently, the thought that he had seen her face had made him falter in his concentration so it was probably a lucky hit. But the giant dragon fireball that was currently heading towards his way was not going to be a lucky or a pleasant hit, if he did not counter or dodge it. Attacks with fire meant play-time for Sukuna. So, he simply waited until your attack was mere inches away from him, before he easily manipulated the flames and extinguished them. Then, without any current motivation for more fighting, he started to walk towards you. 

Your eyes widened when you saw your jutsu disappear in thin air. Then, when you saw the pink-haired male began walking towards you nonchalantly, your hand automatically went to your back and you unsheathed your sword slightly. Cracks of lightning sparked through it. You stayed grounded on your fighting stance and narrowed your eyes at him, ready to strike should he attack. 

The intense cold expression you wore on your face with her familiar features was so strange to see; and usually, Sukuna enjoyed fighting and taunting seemingly stuck-up people like you. Overpowering such humans before burning them to their demise -- it was such a great way to pass his time. But right now, right now, he was infuriated. He was surprised, and somewhere deep down in his dead demonic heart, was a small sense of longing and hope to regain what used to be. 

His red magenta eyes dug through you in a fierce glare as he stopped just a small distance in front of you. 

“Oi, who are you?” 

The corner of your lips twitched up into a smirk. 

“It’s customary to introduce yourself before asking for someone else’s name. Surely, you have that much manners?” 

Your reply evoked an eyebrow twitch from Sukuna. 

“You’re unnecessarily cocky, aren’t you? If you knew who I was, you would know what was good for you. It’s no wonder it’s so tempting to kill you humans.” He remarked easily, and took a step closer towards you. 

You raised an eyebrow in question. “Me, a human? You’re talking as if you aren’t one.” 

His lips stretched into a wide grin. “Huh, so you can see me and you’re attacking me, seemingly a fellow human without mercy and not actually knowing who I am or what’s going on?” 

It was something about the way he was questioning and taunting you like you were a three-years-old kid that made you glare at him. But, there were no hints of deception or lies in his words. And the nagging feeling you felt churning in the pit of your stomach made you know that something was seriously wrong. 

“So what are you then, a monster? That’s quite subjective though isn’t it; I kill another to protect myself or my loved one, I’m a human in their eyes. The loved ones of the one I killed in order to protect myself, I’m a monster in their eyes. There’s no difference. Although, why I’m suddenly here and not where I am meant to be... maybe only you can answer that. And if you know who I am, you would know what’s good for you. Answer me or you will regret even having the nerve to look in my eyes.” You warned, and just then, the black tomes in your crimson irises started spinning. 

Your cold threats, your body bent in the certain angle it was, ready and just waiting to kill something, and the power radiating off of you -- especially your brilliant blood eyes, it sent unanticipated shivers down Sukuna’s spine. His grin widened until his canine were visible, and just before he could respond, Megumi’s shouts were heard from the distance, interrupting his intense stare off with you. 

“What the hell are you doing?! Get out here civilian before he kills you!” 

Your gaze switched to him and the moment your cold red eyes met Megumi’s eyes, they widened in surprise. Then, finally, the poison that was still in your bloodstream sent sharp waves of pain to your head, causing you to wince and hiss out in pain. This was not missed by the two men around you, especially Sukuna, who was watching you like a hawk. 

He smirked. “Reaching your human limits already?” 

You scoffed. “Hardly. But looks like our chat will need to end here.” You responded easily. Then, with a single hand-sign and your Sharingan tomes spinning more fiercely, you triggered a low-level genjutsu. Both males, who did not know better than to not look into your eyes, were easily swept into it. It was solely for a moment; however, that moment was enough time that when the world around them stopped spinning, there was not even a single clue of you ever being there was even left. 

[calpalirwin]

Better Now

Summary: Putting yourself back out there after a heartbreak is never easy, but you and Ashton are learning that it’s worth it.

A/N: Big thanks to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for listening to me cry over Taylor Acorn songs while I figured out how to combine her latest releases into 1 fic.

Word Count: 2.6k

And away, and away we go!

__

Aside from the composition book that lay open on the coffee table, the recording room was empty. Face contorting in curious confusion, Ashton picked it up, thinking one of his bandmates had left it behind. But as he caught a glance at the words sprawled across the lined pages in black inked handwriting he didn’t recognize he knew he should have closed it. Songwriting was a very personal thing, and he would hate for anyone to find his own songbook lying around and read the contents. But the words jumped out at him, and he found himself taking a seat, still holding the notebook open in his hands.

“And no one comes to save you, you learn to save yourself. The world, it just keeps going on while you’re going through hell. No, it’s not all that it’s cut out to be. ‘Cuz you can’t hide behind the silver screen. Love ain’t like the movies.”

“Jesus…” he whispered to himself.

“Excuse me?” a female voice asked from the doorway, and Ashton jumped, snapping the notebook shut.

“Uh…” he stuttered, staring at the woman with her hair messily thrown up, dressed casually in jeans and a tank top, a tired but wild look in her bright eyes. “Hi. Can I help you?”

She adjusted the guitar case strap on her shoulder. “Uh, I hope so? A notebook? Standard composition notebook. Black and white colored. Probably impossible to distinguish from any other black and white standard composition notebook. I know, super helpful description. You haven’t happened to see one lying around here, have you?”

“Like this?” Ashton asked, flashing the notebook in his hand.

“It would look exactly like that!” she brightened. Then, her smile faltered. “But that one’s probably yours, isn’t it?”

“Uh, actually no. It was on the coffee table when I came in. I, uh, thought it might be one of my bandmates, but it’s not their handwriting.”

“Oh, so you read it?” she asked. No anger or embarrassment. Just clarifying a fact.

Ashton rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sorry… I didn’t read a lot. Just enough to realize the handwriting was different.” He held out the notebook to her for her to take. “It’s uh, good by the way. Whatever you’re working on. Relatable.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the notebook from him and flipping through the pages to confirm that it was in fact hers. “I really need to keep better track of my shit… Thanks for finding it.”

“Yeah, ‘course. And sorry again for reading bits of it.”

She waved a hand at his apology. “Oh, it’s fine. My fault for leaving it lying around. Sorry you can relate to it.”

Ashton shrugged. “Heartbreak: part of the standard human experience. Some of your lyrics actually remind me of a song my band put out once years ago. At the time I considered myself lucky to not be able to relate to it. But seeing yours… which is far more poetic than anything four teenage boys could come up with… I’m glad for songs like that. Makes you feel a little less alone in the drowning.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping this helps me at least start to tread water again. How long ago was the heartbreak for you?” she asked, then shook her head. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I should probably be going anyway. Let you get back to your shit, and go off to deal with mine.”

Ashton chuckled. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s been about four months for me. So still recent enough to sting like a bitch.”

She smiled and laughed a bit at his words, but there was a sadness to both. “Two and a half months for me. So just enough to actually drag myself out of my bedroom.”

“And down to a studio where some jackass reads your most personal feelings. Awesome…”

There was a bit more realness to her laugh this time around. “Honestly, not a problem. It’s meant for people to hear, you know?”

“I suppose that’s true. I’m Ashton, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“Good luck with the song, Y/N. Feel better soon, yeah?”

“Thanks. You too.” She turned to head out of the room, before pausing and turning back around. “What was that song? The one your band made that you couldn’t relate to at the time?”

Ashton’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh. You don’t wanna hear that one, trust me. Cringey teenage attempt at being emo punk.”

“Damn… Emo punk is my favorite.”

Against his better judgement, Ashton pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Alright,” he gave in, pulling up the song. “But you’re not allowed to make fun of me. Like I said, this was years ago.”

Y/N held out her pinky finger. “No judgement, swear.”

Ashton linked his own pinky with hers, and hit play. For the next three and a half minutes he watched her carefully as she stood there with her eyes closed, nodding her head along with the beat. On one hand, he was glad her eyes were closed because it meant that she couldn’t see him watching her, or see his embarrassment. But on the other hand it meant that he had no clue what she was thinking. He hit pause before it could replay again. “Like I said, some of your lyrics have a similar feeling,” he said with a shrug.

She opened her eyes as she nodded. “Yeah, I see what you mean. About thinking you’re getting the fairytale movie ending one second, and the next the ending is anything but happily ever after. Was one of those solos you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m the drummer. So-”

“Lots of back up,” she interrupted with a knowing nod. “Is it because you don’t sing at all? Or just out of convenience?”

“Mostly convenience. In our earlier days we used to split up singing pretty evenly. And then we all got more comfortable in our roles. But I still sing from time to time in more than a back up way.”

“That’s cool. And I bet it makes recording stuff and everything so much easier. I have to do a lot of borrowing or outsourcing to get all the sounds I want.”

“Not in a band, huh?”

“Nope. Just your regular solo artist.”

“That’s gotta get lonely.”

“It can be. But it also means making things in my vision, and not having to compromise on that.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to lay down some drum tracks, or just some company so you’re not drowning alone, I’m here most of the time.”

She nodded, understanding what he wasn’t saying about an intrinsic need to stay out of the house as much as humanly possible. Away from the memories that haunted every aspect of being awake. “Thanks, Ashton,” she said, once again turning to leave, but found herself turning back towards him, another question on her lips. “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”

“Go for it.”

“What’s the hardest part of breaking up? Of trying to move on, and feel like yourself again?”

“Honestly? Waking up, and seeing that empty side of the bed. Hits you like a freight train all over again. That kind of overwhelming sense of dread that you’re never gonna feel normal again.”

“But then you get up, and try anyway, hoping that today it hurts just a little bit less than it did yesterday.”

“But it doesn’t, and you start to lose hope that the pain will ever stop.”

“That’s the hardest part.”

“The fuckin’ worst. But hey. It can’t suck forever. Or, that’s what I keep telling myself anyway. That’s what finally gets me out of bed.”

“And hey! Maybe I'll get a hit song out of it in the process, too.” She feigned a smile, flashing her notebook.

“Oh, that’ll be a hit, no question about it.”

“Thanks. For uh… well everything, I guess. See you around, Ashton.”

“Good luck, Y/N.”

~~~

Y/N eventually did get the courage to ask Ashton for both his company and musical help, on a day when she found it harder than normal to get up out of bed.

She trudged her way into the studio, spotting him watching a coffee pot in the common living area. “Oh, hey,” he smiled warmly as she pulled open the fridge. “Making a fresh pot if you want any.”

She shook her head, grabbing a water bottle and taking a few sips from it. “Can I get your help today?” she asked in a low whisper, hoping to hide the wobble in her tone.

“Yeah, of course. Everything alright?”

She shook her head again, then wordlessly left for her recording room.

“So, what’s up?” Ashton asked when he found her a few moments later, cup of coffee in hand.

“You’re not allowed to judge me for any vulnerability today.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Because this verse is gonna be really hard for me to record.”

He nodded, taking a seat while she set up behind a microphone. A soft guitar track started playing, and when she took a breath, Ashton prepared himself for lyrics of her most recent break up. So when her soft voice started singing, “ ‘Cuz after my dad died, even though she never let us see her cry, my mom was broken inside, ‘cause she just lost her best friend. Why don’t they prepare you for that? When the picture perfect life you had goes black,” to say he was shocked was a bit of an understatement.

There was a click of the track, and the guitar stopped, the headphones settling around her neck. “I’m sorry about your dad,” he spoke up softly. “I- that’s gotta be rough.”

“Most of the time it’s a dull ache. A small hum I can ignore if I don’t focus on it. But there’s a few days where the pain is all fresh, like I’m learning the news again for the first time. A shock to the system.”

“I like the juxtaposition of it all. Most of the time when people think of love gone wrong, or ending before we’re ready, it’s the break up. Because the alternative… it’s…”

“Unfathomable.”

“Yeah. It’s a pain that I can’t imagine, that’s for sure.”

“Lucky you.”

He chuckled slightly. “Nah. Not in the way you think. My own experience is fucked, but in the other direction. He left and never gave a shit.”

“That’s rough.”

“It was, yeah. I guess the small benefit is that I was too young to remember him leaving. So for me, he’s always been gone. Haven’t ever known anything different.”

“See, I’m grateful that I at least have my memories of my dad. Even if he’s been gone longer than I had him. But it’s like a double-edged sword. The memories bring some peace. But it also fuckin’ sucks that they’ll never be anything more than that. That I don’t get new ones.”

“Well, I dunno if talking about him helps you at all. But if you want to, you can.”

“You don’t mind? I don’t wanna bore you, or make you jealous.”

He patted the empty spot on the couch next to him. “C’mon, you asked for my help. Let me help.”

She gave a small laugh before moving to sit next to him. “Remember, you’re not allowed to judge me for being vulnerable.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He listened as stories of her childhood fell from her lips. He offered her up the box of tissues on the coffee table when her words got choked, and would gently prompt her into continuing when she stopped to apologize. He provided her with stories of his own childhood when her own stories grew too painful to share, confiding in her the way she was confiding in him. And when the sun started to cast long shadows across the room, maybe not a lot of work had been done when it came to her song, but Ashton had helped her nonetheless, and both of them felt a little lighter than they had been in a while.

~~~

Help in the form of company was given with much less hesitance after that, with Y/N and Ashton seeking each other out with regularity. Some days would be spent with the two barely exchanging a word as they played out various melodies, or wrote new lyrics. Other days were filled with endless chatter as they shared ideas they had, and provided ideas on how to overcome any blocks in creativity, or just swapped more stories. And other days still, he would help her work on her song.

When Y/N finally finished her song, Ashton was the first person she thought of to share it with, dragging him excitedly into the room with her. “Jesus, this is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen you,” he teased with a giggle.

“Do you wanna hear the song or not?” she asked.

“It’s done?”

“It’s done!”

“Well, hit play! C’mon!”

For three and a half minutes they stood in the middle of the recording room while her song blasted from the speakers. 

“Well?” she asked expectantly when silence overtook them once more. Then, more quizzically, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

He had an amazed smile on his face, dimples cratering his cheeks, and a soft shine in his eyes. “Staring at you like what?” he asked in response.

“Like you wanna… I dunno… kiss me or something…”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Then the soft look was melting away into confusion. “Cuz sometimes I think I want to.”

“And other times?”

“I talk myself down because I’m not sure what I want, or what I feel. We’re both still getting over people who caused us a lot of damage. And I don’t always feel like I’m ready to think about starting a relationship with someone new. But I also know that I’m never going to be ready until I actually start doing it. And I really like the friendship we’ve built the past couple of months. I feel more like me when I’m around you. Like, not only am I no longer drowning, I can actually feel the bottom. But I don’t know if those feelings come from being around someone who can relate to what I’m going through right now, like some weird trauma bond. Or if it’s real “I like you’ feelings. And it’s not fair to you for me to not know.”

She nodded, both understanding what he was saying, and what he wasn’t saying. “What if I kiss you instead?”

“Please, don’t.”

“Because you’re scared we’ll hurt each other? Ash, if we don’t at least try, then we’re never gonna know what’s real and what’s not.”

“It’s partially that. But also… If we end up kissing… I’m not going to want to stop.”

“Then you better not be a lousy kisser.”

~~~

7 Months Later

Ashton got a small flash of deja vu as he saw the black and white composition book lying open, the beginnings of a song scribbled across one of the pages. “Just another hopeless broken heart cliche. And all my fairytale ambitions, I just watched them wash away.”

“Y/N?” he called out, curious to learn where this song was going, and also where his girlfriend could be hiding. “Babe?”

“But it’s too late for sorry baby, even if you’ve changed. I’m not letting myself break down, count me out. Oh, I’m better now,” her voice sang softly as it came down the hallway with her, a black pen twirling between her fingers. She paused as she spotted him standing there with her notebook, a smile lighting up her face. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” he matched her smile, handing her the notebook and pressing a kiss to her head. “That’s nice. Whatever you were just singing. What inspired this one?”

“Just reflecting a bit on this past year,” she told him, as she quickly wrote what she’d been singing in the notebook before the lyrics left her head.

“Feeling a lot better these days, huh?”

“Better than I’ve ever been.”

__

Tag List

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[clearlynotjanus]

Loceit Appreciation Week: Day Four, Debate

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: Tired of the neglect he experiences at the hands of staunch Morality, when Janus is sent to the Dark Side, Logan attempts to follow some years later. CW: Food mention, Moceit fight Word Count: 3448 Genre: Gen, Hurt/comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Platonic Loceit

taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash​​​ @catalinaacosta​​​ @whatishappeningrightnow​​​ @anxiousbean4404​​​ @vexelore​​​ @the-dead-and-the-decaying​​​ @serpentinesomebody​​​ @poptartsaysurloved​​​ @robertdownerjr​​​ @dangitsbrightinhere​​​ @iamuncomffy​​​ @sanderdarksides​​​ @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn​​​ @dragonfander @virgilstarantula​​​ @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626​​​ @cosplayhanna​​​ @edupunkn00b​​​ @wouldntyou-liketoknow​​​ @awesomerandomgirl1​​​ @rizzyluke​​​ @sevencrashing​​​ @all-panic-nodisco​​​​ ​​​

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Though Logic and Self Preservation never had the chance to spend very much time together before the older boy’s disappearance, the conversations they did have were constructive, engaging, and supportive. Which was quite the opposite of what the others had to offer as the years dragged on. During the six that followed the unfortunate event, Logic found himself dismissed and belittled at every turn. Eight years old at the time, he didn’t exactly understand what had happened to his friend. It was confusing, and no one seemed willing to talk about it. The other Creativity mourned like Self Preservation was dead. Fear didn’t seem to notice. Morality cringed whenever Logic brought it up. He didn’t understand.

Time went on well enough then. Eight years old turned into nine, then ten, then eleven; then Fear morphed into Anxiety and the other Creativity disappeared. Even Logic could have called that one -- and he had. If only Morality listened to him and his advocating for the curly haired Creativity’s ideas. If only Fear had let him help more instead of jumping to improbable conclusions. All of it was a shame and it made Logic’s stomach hurt. He had liked that Creativity.

Eleven, twelve, and thirteen passed; then Anxiety disappeared as well, giving Logic a foreboding sense of loneliness. He didn't get along perfectly with Anxiety, but still. It felt like the Sides were dropping like flies. At this rate, Thomas would be more Dark than Light, Creativity said. Morality told them that was nonsense; as long as they three stayed good, Thomas would be fine. But Logic couldn’t help thinking this one was more his fault than the last. Perhaps if he had better communicated reality to Anxiety, things could’ve been different. Morality assured him it had nothing to do with anything like that; Anxiety just couldn’t be worked with. That didn’t sound right.

Through the beginning of his teenage years, the dismissal deepened. Too young, too inexperienced, too angry, too serious, too silly. No matter what Logic did, he couldn’t get through to them -- especially Morality, who seemed adamant that he had no idea what he was doing yet. The arguments ranged from petty to serious. No, Logic would say, Thomas can’t afford another Lego set, Morality, he has to save for textbooks next semester. No, Thomas shouldn’t have extra dessert just because he did his laundry today; he just had cake yesterday and God knows why. Irresponsibility began to overwhelm Thomas as he indulged in his Feelings more. He daydreamed a more fulfilling life, as he’d have himself convinced, through Creativity’s delusions. Logic was never considered. In fact, Logic was bad for insinuating everyone else was wrong.

At fourteen, Logic had had enough. One morning he woke up and decided he didn’t belong with the others -- with Creativity and Morality. He belonged with Self Preservation and the other Creativity. The one that he liked and the older boy who had always listened to him. The thought of enduring another day of disagreements and neglect dried his throat, so as the sun rose, he sunk out.

The Dark Side was, well, dark. Logic didn’t know what he expected but couldn’t find it in him to be surprised. He went to turn on the living room light but curiously found the switch already flipped, the bulb already illuminated. He went to open the blinds and found them already drawn. Rather than foreboding, as Self Preservation found it upon his initial arrival all those years ago, Logic found it fascinating. Not fascinating enough to keep his stomach growling though. Were the others already awake? Did they not have breakfast over here? Perhaps he was just early.

Unceremoniously, Logic grabbed himself a bowl, a box of cereal, and milk from the fridge to construct his breakfast -- a task Morality had always insisted he do for Logic until recently, when he spitefully went a full month of refusing to eat anything Morality made him. He was old enough to make his own breakfasts and lunches, thank you very much. 

“You’re up early,” A voice followed the sound of footsteps down the stairs. “Are you making breakfast for once, Vir--” Janus’ words and feet came to an abrupt end when he reached the bottom landing and his eyes rested on Logan; the teen was small but bigger than Janus remembered, bigger than he was the last time they had spoken for sure. He did the mental math quickly -- it’d been six years since he left the Light Side, Logan had been about eight at the time and had always been six years Janus’ junior; so the boy was fourteen. Logan’s back was ramrod straight at their table as he mindlessly sucked Cheerios off a spoon. Across the room, the television droned the news, but Janus was unable to hear it due to the ringing that pierced his ears.

“Good morning, Self Preservation,” Logan greeted after he swallowed, as casually as anything despite his stare that lasted a second too long. He noted the shine on one half of Janus’ face; the way one pupil had slit and changed colors. Fascinating -- but was he okay? He seemed okay at least.

“Self Preservation?” Janus said with a mask of amused absurdity. “When I left I was Prezzi.” The conversation was good, distracting enough to quell his panic as he glanced up the stairs again. Logic’s room hadn’t appeared -- or perhaps he had missed it?

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you still liked being called that,” Logan explained down at his cereal and Janus felt his heart breaking.

“Of course I do,” His brows knitted earnestly at the boy, a hand clutching his collar as though it choked him. Again he glanced up the stairs. “If you’re alright,” Janus took a step back, “For just a moment. I’ve forgotten something, I’ll--”

“My room isn’t here,” Logan’s voice edged with annoyance as he clinked his spoon against the bowl. “I tried everything and it just wouldn’t move,” He mumbled as he aggressively stabbed a Cheerio.

“You tried to make it move?” Janus’ voice gained a shrillness. He couldn’t believe the boy’s audaciousness! “Logan,” He reprimanded sternly but to no avail. The boy continued to sluice quiet mayhem through his cereal and Janus was at a loss. 

He glanced up the stairs a final time. It was early, Virgil wouldn’t come out of his room for a couple hours at least, if he did at all that day. His mind quietly asked what Remus would be doing, forgetting for a moment in the emotional chaos that he had run away to the Imagination months ago. Janus sighed and crossed the room.

“So,” He said in a decidedly conversational tone as he sat down at the table. “Anything interesting happening today?” He gestured at the television and Logan shrugged. Janus frowned. The topic of why he was here would have to be breached eventually, but as long as the Subconscious was refusing to move Logan’s room, Janus didn’t think it was an emergency. What was an emergency, however, was the poor boy’s emotional state.

“Do you want more cereal?” Janus offered quietly as he eyed the nearly empty bowl. Surely the Cheerios that were left were too soggy to be enjoyed at this point.

“I can get it myself,” Logan nearly spat with a venom Janus hadn’t heard from him yet. His brows raised, both concerned and entertained. 

The Logic he knew would never use such a tone, the contrast was almost funny. Though Logan hadn’t changed completely he noticed; Janus had several memories of Logan insisting he could do something himself. From climbing on counters for scissors he definitely shouldn’t have been using, to pulling bookshelves down instead of asking one of the older Sides to get a book for him, to stubbornly using the side of his fork with both hands to cut a piece of chicken when he would refuse help with dinner. But it would all be done with apologies and explanations, assurances that he’d be safer next time, growing understanding that though his mind was large, he was still small.

“Logan,” Janus said patiently, the humor in his expression dissolving to reveal patience and worry. The boy grit his teeth and continued to glare narrow eyes down at his cereal bowl. “Why did you come here?” Janus asked softly, leaning forward to try and meet Logan’s eyes. 

Then Logan remembered that in the short time they had been on the same side of the Mindscape together, Self Preservation had always listened to him. He had always been there to turn to when the others ignored him. Remembering this made his anger ebb away, though with that, the sadness he had been trying to ignore washed ashore. The hardness in his expression softened, but he still refused to look up.

“Morality and Creativity don’t listen to me,” Logan admitted quietly and shame filled his stomach, colliding with his breakfast in a way that made him nauseous. “I’ve tried everything but Morality always says I’m too young to tell him what to do,” His brow twitched and Janus watched as his sad expression morphed back into something more callous. 

The sight hurt his heart, but mostly it made anger warm his chest. What on earth was Patton doing? The root of all their issues so far had been a distinct lack of listening. From fighting with Janus over developing moral stances, to stubbornly refusing to consider nuance in the pursuit of art and self expression, to the apathetic dismissal of welling fear and anxiety as adulthood approached -- was there anyone Patton listened to? 

“So you came here,” Janus sighed, attempting and somewhat failing to keep the rage out of his tone. “Because I had always listened to you,” He guessed but then Logan shrugged and shook his head.

“Sort of,” He replied and Janus blinked curiously. Had he missed something? “Mostly I just assumed this is where we came when Patton hated us.”

The straightforward words punched Janus in the gut, knocking the wind out of him like he had just unexpectedly stepped off a building and was now free falling with panicked arms that reached for anything to hold on to. As usual, Logic’s assessment wasn’t incorrect. In a way, this was where the Sides Morality didn’t like ended up; but it was deeper than that. At least Janus had to hope it was deeper than that, or else he’d never find it in himself to forgive his closest friend. Janus swallowed his hurt and sat up, shoving his shaking hands under the table. It wasn’t Logan’s fault and he wouldn’t hold the injury against him, though he did need a moment for a deep breath before he was able to find his voice again.

“Patton doesn’t hate you,” Janus reassured baselessly on reflex, but then he stopped. He couldn’t think of anything else to say that wasn’t just blatantly lying -- which, of course, he had no issues with, but it was a sad realization, nevertheless. 

“Then why doesn’t he listen to me?” Logan asked as Janus faltered. “Why did he send you and Anxiety and Remus away?” He looked around the shadowed room as he spoke before meeting Janus’ eyes again. “Creativity calls this the Dark Side which implies that he and Morality make up some sort of Lighter half,” Janus’ hands became unsteady once more as Logan continued asking questions he didn’t necessarily have answers to. At least no answers he wanted to admit. “But if they’re just going to keep dismissing me, then I don’t want any part in that,” He said decisively and pushed his cereal bowl away like it contained the subject matter. “If being a Dark Side means being listened to, then that’s what I’ll be.”

“No, you won’t,” Janus said much harder than he meant to, making Logan’s eyes shoot up. “You’re going back,” he said resolutely, leaving no room for misinterpretation in his tone. Logan opened his mouth but then Janus stood, the chair squeaking loudly against the floor. “If Patton did actually hate you as he does myself and the others, your room would be here,” Janus pointed out, flaring his own heartache with the presumed fact. Logan frowned angrily and balled a fist on the table.

“I’ll just sleep on the couch then.”

“No. You won’t.” 

“Fine, I’ll sleep in Remus’ room. He’s used to sharing.”

“This isn’t a debate, Logan, you’re going back.” Janus said evenly, without raising his voice, which somehow made the seriousness in his tone and the steel in his eyes even more intimidating.

In the glaring silence of Logan frantically trying to think of more argument points, Janus’ phone vibrated in his pocket. With a short and aggravated huff, he fished the object out and rolled his eyes at the displayed message.

[SMS From: Patton]

PLEASE tell me Logan isn’t with you

“Well,” Janus sighed, “It seems we’re both in trouble now.”

[SMS Re: Patton]

Oh no, not at all. Whyever would you think that

“That’s Morality, isn’t it,” Logan guessed, looking miserably down at the table. He didn’t want to think about what Morality was saying.

“Yes,” Janus confirmed as he ignored the message that popped up almost immediately. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he sat back down quietly.

Logan was smart, far too smart for his age which is why everything was very difficult for him. Morality was childish and couldn’t see past the fact that Logan was the youngest. Even so, it wasn’t as if he was an actual child. He was the manifestation of Thomas’ Logic; undeveloped, easily frustrated, overwhelmed by his Feelings and in desperate need of acknowledgement for simply trying his best. But even when Janus would convey it to Patton in that way, there was no getting to him. 

The fear that Logic would be cast aside and hidden away in this Darkness along with him was real, however. If that were to happen, Thomas would be in a very dangerous situation. It was terrifying enough that his natural Fight or Flight was already over here -- that his very will to live was as well. Janus didn’t want to think about what metamorphosis Logic would go through in that process. From Fear to Anxiety, now to Paranoia; watching Virgil suffer was already more than enough heartache for him, which wasn’t even to mention what was happening to Remus.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so angry at you, Logan,” Janus spoke softly, folding his hands on the table. He watched with a frown as Logan continued staring down. “But I really need you to understand that this is no place for you.” He leaned forward, trying to meet Logan’s eyes again, to no avail. “I know it’s hard, I know Patton doesn’t listen, but you have to keep trying,” Janus’ tone and expression were beseeching and genuine, his brow creased with a deep worry he didn’t have words for. “You have to promise me that you’ll keep trying,” Logan looked up, defiance and confusion hardening his eyes. He opened his mouth but Janus continued. “You have to. Even when you don’t want to. Even when the others don’t want you to. You have to, for Thomas.”

Logan stared at him, confusion slowly overtaking his rebellion. Janus looked…sincere and earnest, but he didn’t understand why. What was the point of arguing with Morality and Creativity if they would never listen? What was the point of going back when even Self Preservation knew he’d always be dismissed? It sounded exhausting. At fourteen, Logan was already so tired of it. But there was something in Janus’ eyes that convinced him to stop fighting; something that told him there was more he just didn’t understand yet. If that were true, if that were ever true, he’d believe it coming from the Side in front of him now and him, alone.

“Okay,” Logan sighed and Janus smiled in relief. 

“Good,” He nodded at the bowl as he sat back in his chair again. “You can finish up your breakfast but then--”

“There you are!” Patton’s voice, coming from behind Janus, stopped his words dead in their tracks. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, kiddo!” 

“Morality,” Logan said, the word easily mistaken for a greeting. The boy glanced between Patton and Janus, the latter having lined his lips in a pensive, unhumored smile. 

“Whatcha doin’ over here, bud?” Patton asked as he approached the table. Janus rolled his eyes and leaned as far away in his chair as he could manage. 

Watching Janus’ reactions to Morality, Logan felt equally annoyed; both at the fact that Morality came here to get him, and also for how interrupted their conversation had become.

“Eating,” Logan said curtly, reaching for his cereal bowl.

“Well you know we have plenty of cereal in our kitchen, so why don’t you come on back and I’ll pour you some!” 

Patton’s positivity grated Janus like sandpaper. Years of assumptions and miscommunications soured his stomach. His body reacted to Morality like something toxic.

“Maybe he prefers the cereal over here,” Janus mumbled sarcastically and Patton bristled as though he had honestly expected Janus to stay silent this entire exchange. 

Logan bit his tongue to keep the appeased smile off his lips but his interest bubbled over. No Side had gotten under Patton’s skin like that since Anxiety was sent away. It was almost a missed sight.

“He wouldn’t know what the cereal over here was like unless someone made him try it,” Patton not-so-subtly accused as he reached for Logan’s wrist.

Logan refused at first, pulling with half strength against Patton’s grip. “I’m perfectly capable of pouring cereal myself, Morality,” He mumbled as he met Janus’ eyes. His sardonic and cynical expression seemed to say, it’d be easier to just go along with him I guess, much to Logan’s dismay. “But fine,” He sighed and let himself be pulled to stand, though he immediately shook off Patton’s hand. 

“Thank you,” Patton gloated as he turned to leave and Janus all but groaned out loud. 

Logan paused. The moral superiority that rolled off Patton was familiar, but at the same time something new against the kindness Janus had shown him. He could easily see why they didn’t get along; their methods were very different. Morality was overbearing, insistent, stubborn, rigid, and often narrow minded. Having developed from Thomas’ Feelings, Patton was silly, immature, and hard to take seriously. Self Preservation was the opposite somehow; smart, clever, flexible, nuanced, and able to see the whole picture with ease. Janus was sarcastic, mature, and deathly serious when need be as a result. Comparing them, it was easy to see why Logic had an easier time getting along with Self Preservation, and why it was pointless to hope that would ever change.

“I’m not doing this because you convinced me to,” Logan told Patton as he trailed after.

Patton turned to blink at Logan, looking mostly confused with a hint of offense. “Of course not,” He saved face, “You’re coming back because over there is where you belong.”

“No,” Logan said slowly, glancing behind himself at Janus, who stayed sitting facing away from them. “I’m doing this because Thomas needs me,” He informed Patton as he began to sink out. “And because you and Creativity would be hopeless by yourselves.”

Janus snickered, covering the sound with a cough into his hand.

“My word, Logan sure has developed quite the backbone while I’ve been gone,” Janus snarked once he and Patton were alone.

“What did you say to him?” Patton accused, his tone somewhere between antagonistic and wounded. 

“Why, nothing of course,” Janus mocked and Patton’s eyes narrowed. “We just bonded over our mutual dismissal, is all.”

“I don’t dismiss him!” Patton sputtered and Janus snorted. A tense silence rose before Patton continued. “Anyway, you shouldn’t be talking to him.”

Janus stood finally and turned to face Patton, his brows raised. “And why’s that?” 

“Because you’re gonna i-influence him or something! Like you did with Remus and then Logan will be over here too!” Patton stuttered and Janus scowled.

“Oh please, you know I’m the only reason he went back so willingly,” Janus waved a limp hand. “Though I doubt he’ll try this again anytime soon, so you don’t have to worry your simple little head about it, darling.”

“Well, good.” Patton finished, glowering at Janus’ smirk. He hated that expression. Why was Janus happy about them fighting? It certainly didn’t make Patton happy. He was anything but having to face him like this. Without much more to say, he sank out as Janus offered a caustic wave of his fingers.

“Good riddance.”

Chapter Three || Chapter Five Part One / Part Two

[teresa-moyocoyotzin]

QUEEN OF THE SOUTH FINALE 5x10 POST-EP REACTION

spoilers! under! the cut!!!!!

holy fucking shit!! it’s over!!!! wow wow.

get ready for some ramble-y ass, v unorganized, first reactions to the finale, because i am wine drunk and emotional and still trying to get my heart down to a resting pulse and i have so many thoughts

- okay that was a damn gripping episode, i was on the edge of my damn seat the whole time. i went in with like 99% faith that teresa and james were gonna come out alive but they still had me STRESSED the whole damn time!!!! like even tho i was seeing the little signs throughout the episode that it was all a plan my heart was pounding like crazy!!

- i went into today thinking as long as teresa and james were alive in the end i would be happy but then rewatched a bunch of old episodes right before the finale and remembered that i did indeed care about pote and kellyanne and really actually would be upset if they had died, so i was quite stressed, especially for pote at the end!! when he’s fighting boaz!! which also! was super badass btw. all the sicarios backing off at the end!! lol at the random dude who save pote’s life by making boaz take the “sicario’s challenge” tho (which like? lol what?) like okay haha

- everyone loves chicho so much haha him and pote are so cute!!! i love how much chicho gave his all for pote and KA this episode, i’m sad he couldn’t come w them but it was SO CUTE to see chicho with marcel at the end!!! building a bunch of legit businesses and growing the PCCC!!! i love that journey for them.

- i really didn’t think pote was in on it because honestly i didn’t think he would be able to be that good of an actor (the character, not the actual actor, hemky is amazing lol) but i mean pote really pulled thru. he let all his damn emotions out for that performance cuz i was fully convinced he didn’t know until the end when it shows them telling him. actually i got an inkling when he was saying goodbye to marcel and chicho and gave marcel the ~gift~ from teresa lol.

- i do wish we had gotten more flashbacks because like when exactly did james figure out that devon was gonna order him to kill teresa? when did he tell her? did they figure it out together? teresa said she had a boat on standby for TWO YEARS does this mean the plan had been in place that long??? like before james left phoenix??????? or was the boat just always there and the plan came later??? idk tho. i watched 3.05 today and the “if they come for me, i’ll be ready” “if they come for you, I’LL be ready” REALLY HITS A LIL DIFFERENT NOW TBH what if james already had an inkling and when devon showed up that night it confirmed his suspicions.. and they started planning like. that night after they fucked. dude. idk the wheels are turning too fast in my brain rn. ik they probably just planned it this season after james was “let go” by devon and they knew it was too easy, and maybe just in the past couple weeks’ episodes. but who the fuck knows!!!

- i still wanna know how exactly they faked her death. no confirmation on the powder/ coke theory.. and no discussion of the coke habit if it was one. but if this was the long game situation and they’ve been planning all along.. maybe that theory still holds water.. idk y’all that’s the explanation i’m going w because i can’t think of anything else lol

- okay THE ENDING OMG!!!!! was it a bit cheesy and predictable and entirely too short? yes. did i LOVE IT ANYWAYS OMG LOOK AT THEM THEY’RE ALIVE AND HAPPY!!!!???? YESS BITCH okay by the end i was just so damn relieved that they were alive i honestly didn’t care that the teresa’s-alive-reveal happened like 4mins30secs before the end lmao because they were a beautiful almost five mins. i may get saltier about it but LOOK how happy she is!!! look how happy james is!!! and pote and kellyanne have a sweet lil child that teresa and james can be auntie and uncle to and it’s SO CUTE I NEED ALL THE FANART SINCE TERESA AND JAMES DIDN’T ACTUALLY GET A SCENE W THEIR HONORARY NIECE😭😭😭 FEN?? SOMEONE?? i’ll do it myself if no one else does, maybe even if someone else does because that’s so cute (eventually lol)

- do u think james and kellyanne coordinated their respective swim shorts (surf shorts?? lmfao) and nail polish on purpose because they are THE EXACT SAME SHADE OF HOT PINK and i think that’s so cute for them lmfao

- james in that button up w the wavy hair 😍 teresa in her cute lil beach top and her wavy hair 😍😍 them being happy and in love and alive in a cute lil beach house with their family 😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰 i’m so happy for them!!! they made it out!! they outsmarted everyone!! teresa outsmarted everyone!! without shutting out the people in her life!! we love to see it!

- even though we didn’t exactly get a callback to a jeresa moment, we did get a “you okay?” “yeah” which kinda counts and i’ll fucking take it because you know what?? SHE IS ACTUALLY OKAY FOR ONCE. THEY ARE ACTUALLY BOTH OKAY. MORE THAN OKAY. NOW I’M NOT OKAY WHAT THE FUCK.

-also i LOVED the appearance and disappearance of The Queen there at the end!! her little approving nod and willing departure!! and that james was the one to notice her floating off and bring her back to earth from her final vision or hallucination of her queenpin self!! and then he makes a toast to their new life!! the one that she risked it all to build with him!! ahhhh i’m emo y’all!

- i am also still a little confused about some things tho, namely, why exactly did devon suddenly order boaz to back down and send pote to solitary confinement for protection?? was it really just because he believed he was being the “good guy” and that pote was doing his “deserved” time (even tho it wasn’t even for cartel stuff but ok) and he didn’t like the way boaz did business? cuz i feel like he wouldn’t care that much about pote’s safety even if that were the case i mean.. he wanted them all dead like two seconds before that.. i really don’t get that so if anyone has insight please lemme know!!!

- oh my god i don’t even know y’all that was so much!!! i’m sure i have more thoughts but i can’t even think of them rn!! i just wanna reblog all the gifs and see everyone’s thoughts!!! woo! we did it y’all! we made it. they made it!!!! thank fuck! 🥰😍❤️🎉😂

[piccolini-cuscino]

Getting to the truth.

You’re Bruce’s assistant, but more than that, you’re his friend – his only friend. So, naturally, when he arrives at his own party injured and looking worse for wear, you’re worried. But there’s more than one truth-bomb in store for you!

Note: I had no idea how to finish this one, so it’s a bit garbage (you have no idea how much I wanted to change it up and have it basically be the fic version of Secretary, but alas, this is boring and smut free), but I’m so here for an emo millennial Bruce Wayne and a lil but of humour with my angst.

“Why am I organising a ball for all of Gotham, when Bruce won’t show up?” you sighed, turning to Alfred.

“Listen, I’m just the butler. How am I supposed to know what Master Bruce gets up to at night?”

“You live here, Alfred.”

Alfred leaned in close, peering at you from above his round spectacles. “And you’re his very beloved assistant.”

“Don’t remind me,” you huffed. “They’re only showing up for him, you know. They don’t care about the Wayne Foundation. Orphanages and education. He’s the richest man in Gotham, and no one’s seen him in years. The press would kill for a glimpse too.”

Alfred was fond of you. He always had been. He reckoned you brought a little bit of light to the place the second you walked into Wayne manor, fresh out of college. So, you knew his words were sincere when he spoke, with a gentle pat on the arm. “Well I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

“Good enough for me,” you said, turning towards the door. “I’m going home to get ready. There’s a new Dior suit hanging in the wardrobe. Tell the boss to wear it, will you? And remind him to tuck his shirt in. That’s if he decides to show up.”

It was a night of your own making, and you watched it unfold from the lobby. Checking off names. Stopping drunken high society snobs from vomiting into 17th century vases. Directing everyone and their dog towards the bathrooms. But, for the most part, you found yourself alone, dancing with yourself in the cracks of pale moonlight that streamed like silver ribbons on to the sparkling checkerboard floor. No sign of your boss.

Until something caught you off guard. Quiet, shuffling footsteps over by the study at the foot of the staircase. A dark figure emerged from the shadows, hobbling, ascending. Step by step.

“Hey! You can’t go up there!” you called.

The figure moved faster, breaking into a pained jog.

With nothing else to do, you threw off your heels and sprinted after the intruder. Taking the stairs two at a time. They were heading for Bruce’s bedroom. No one, not even the various women he liked to entertain – not even you, as close as you were – went in there. He was a tremendously private man.

Finally, reaching out, you managed to grab their arm.

The figure flinched away in pain, then they turned to you.

“Bruce?” you gasped, feeling your heart race at the sight of him. His dark hair, unkempt and dishevelled; jet black rings around his eyes. His whole body seemed to tremble and heave. “What happened to you?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. Then he broke out into a witter. “Go back downstairs, I’ll be there in a minute, I’d hate to miss out on all of your hard work. I just need to–”

But you pulled him back, swiping your thumbs through the muck beneath his eyes. They were blue, but they always looked so dark. Like a pained void. “You need to clean yourself up. Let me help you.”

“You don’t need to see me like this. Go and enjoy your evening. I’m speaking to you as your boss. Please. Go.”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne.” You straightened up at his words and turned away. But before you reached the stairs, he called your name. If looks could kill, Bruce might have been a heap on the floor. But those eyes, again, dulled any hurt you felt about the distance between you.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

You couldn’t look him in the eye. It was a battle even just to thank him politely for the compliment. And your legs shook all the way back to the lobby, through a strange mix of worry and giddiness.

You kept yourself to yourself for twenty minutes, alone with your panic, before Bruce returned. Gone was the darkness around his eyes, and his hair was neatly slicked back. He cut a strong, proud figure as he walked towards you in his suit. Even if he was sporting a limp and clutching his side with every step.

“I thought I told you to enjoy the party?” he smiled.

“Sorry, Bruce. There’s just no one to watch the door and show people where the…” You trailed off as he gently took your arm, leading you through into the reception hall. A warmth radiated from him, soothing but stoic. Nothing like the frantic panic from before.

“Help me get through this,” he muttered as the room fell silent. All eyes on you and Bruce.

The party quickly resumed; music played and the chatter of the guests around you echoed through the hall. Occasionally, beneficiaries of the Wayne Foundation would introduce themselves to your boss, or business bigwigs would try to bend his ear about trade deals and contracts and bureaucracy. But one thing was constant throughout the whole ordeal – Bruce’s hand never once left its place on your waist.

You could feel it there. The way his fingers would trail through the material of your dress as people talked and talked and talked to him. And the tension, when he balled his fingers up into a fist when faced with people that he just didn’t have time for. All those little cues forced the question from your lips. “Would you like to dance?”

You knew he didn’t dance. He hated it, in fact. But in that moment, the gratitude was evident on his small, weak smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Something was wrong, though. He flinched when your hand draped over his shoulder. His gait was unsteady. And no amount of makeup could disguise the bruise underneath his left eye. You kept glancing up at it as the two of you daintily spun circles around the room. And he kept glancing down at you, knowing now that you had noticed.

The song ended and Bruce’s hands dropped to his sides. “I think I’ve had enough for one night,” he said with another defeated smile. “People might begin to talk.”

“I think we need to talk, Bruce.”

His eyes darted over his surroundings before they returned to you; his lower lip pinched between his teeth.

“Please,” you pressed.

“Come with me.”

You and Bruce slumped into two cosy armchairs in his study, with a roaring fire, a coffee table and two glasses of scotch between you. “Don’t think Alfred and I haven’t noticed you sneaking off all the time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stared at the flames. “I’m your boss, remember?”

“You’re also my friend. And you also looked like crap earlier. Who did that to you?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, shifting in his chair, letting out an audible groan.

“They obviously hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No you can’t. I think me being here says that much. C’mere,” you said, beckoning him.

“When you’re right you’re right.” Bruce might have been your boss, but he still knew better than to defy you; he slumped to his knees and shuffled over to you.

“Let me take a look at the damage.”

For the second time that night, Bruce recoiled from your touch as you gently pulled up his shirt, exposing a galaxy of bruises along his ribcage and a large, makeshift dressing on his lower abdomen. “Easy,” he said, swatting your hand away.

“How did you get that?” You peeled it away from his skin as gingerly as you could manage. Rather than concern, your voice grew cold. Serious, even. “What have you been doing?”

“I’m a little disappointed,” Bruce remarked through gritted teeth.

“How so?” you asked, running your fingertips over the slap-dash stitches that held together the vivid red gash.

“I thought this was something else.”

“Something’s eating you, though. And who did these stitches?”

“I did,” Bruce said, his jaw clenched.

“Can I redo them?”

Bruce was growing breathless by the time you finished inspecting his wound. “First aid kit’s in the top drawer of my desk,” he wheezed.

“Rubbing alcohol, too?”

“It’s all there.” Bruce wearily watched from the floor as your pale outline trailed its way across the study. His heart growing faster. “You really do look beautiful,” he said, his voice quiet and spiked with hope. He couldn’t meet your eyes when you looked up from rummaging in the drawer, so he stared down at the rug, finding interest there instead, with one hand clawing through his hair. “What was it that you wanted to ask me, by the way?”

“I really don’t like repeating myself, so cut the bullshit, Bruce.” You were so matter of fact, breezing back over to him and joining him on the floor. “I wanted to know where you go at night.”

“If I told you the truth, then you’d have me shipped off to Arkham.”

You poured some of the alcohol on to a cotton swab, keeping your eyes on Bruce. There was always something so defeated about him when the two of you were alone, that no one else ever got to see. And something always got in the way of him being honest with you. “Want to bet on that? How do you know I’m not already considering it?”

Bruce almost chuckled, but the sting from his side made him draw a sharp breath. He studied you out the corner of his eye. “Do you really… want to know?”

“It’d be nice to not have to spend my evenings with Alfred, who worries like a mother hen.”

Bruce choked out his next string of words in quick succession. “Can I tell you something first?”

“Before I cut you open?” you quipped.

“Preferably.”

Before Bruce reached the end of that word, you had already snipped through his self-administered stitches, revealing just how deep the wound actually was. Your feeble attempt at being jovial quickly switched to a reserved kind of worry.

“You’re the first person who’s ever really understood me. You never pry or say too much. You’re always there. And you have such a low tolerance for bullshit. You don’t coddle or bow down because I’m Bruce Wayne. Plus it’s nice to be around someone who isn’t in their sixties or who knew my father…”

You hummed in acknowledgement, neatly weaving the wire through Bruce’s skin. Too focused on the job at hand to really get what he meant. Until his fingertips brushed over your jawline.

“You’re my only friend in this godforsaken world.”

“Besides Alfred,” the pair of you said in unison.

Biting back a fit of laughter, you stroked his cheek and he keened, like an animal craving affection. “What are you trying to say, Bruce?”

Every fibre of Bruce’s being tensed with renewed panic and a tinge of awkwardness. His wide eyes searched for something, anything, to focus on, as long as it wasn’t you. “I’m…I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I’m–“

With a mental fuck it, you threw caution to the wind. You couldn’t stand hearing him bumble on like this. Closing the gap, your lips crashed on to his. He tasted like scotch and cigars, and this much of him was never going to be enough for you. Just when your hands tangled through his hair, Bruce pulled away.

“I’m the Batman.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Bruce nodded.

“I would’ve settled for ‘I’m in love with you’ you know.”

He sighed, sitting back so casually now that the difficult part was over. “That, too.”

“You can’t lie to me anymore, you know that, don’t you?”

He nodded again.

“So,” you said, glancing around the study, “which bookcase is actually a revolving door?”

“Huh?” Bruce asked, pulling down his shirt.

“Secret lair… a bat cave, if you will.”

“Oh,” he said with a chuckle. Then he pointed towards the bookcase behind you. “It’s that one. Pull out Ulysses and it’ll… spin right round. Be careful not to let the bats out, though. They’re kind of like my pets.”

“Fuck you, Bruce.”

“I can show you if you want?” he said, hopefully, as he scrambled to his feet.

“I’ll settle for another kiss. And you getting some rest.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“What, the bat part or the other part?”

Bruce chuckled and planted a small, soft kiss to your forehead. “Both.”

“I had my suspicions. One thing’s for sure though…”

“What?”

“You might need a few pointers with your eyeliner.”