#i didn’t mean anything by it at all if you think i’m equating being old with bad that’s entirely a you problem.. someone easily 20+ years

[bioshzrd]

this random ass guy who’s entire bit is that he can move like this is the only good wesker fan ever

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

[itstivan]

I gotta say it.. yell at me all you want but truth hurts…

If Aiden and Ashlyn didn’t have as much chemistry with each other.. yall would’ve shipped Ashler/Tylyn..

For some odd reason a lot of sbg fans absolutely hate taylyn and I have no clue why.. I think people are just afraid of sapphics /j

But anyways, if Aiden wasn’t in the equation yall would ship Tyler and Ashlyn because 1. they’re a mlw ship and most people prefer hetero ships and 2. enemies/rivals to lovers.

People eat this trope up. And anyone who says they don’t is a liar.

Tyler and Ashlyn have SO much tension that you can’t help but ship them. People are always saying “they fight all the time and hate each other! They’re so toxic!” Mf you ship bakudeku you cannot be talking. (for the record your honor, that’s a joke.)

But in all seriousness..

Have you SEEN the shift in their relationship from the start to present? They go from bickering and hesitant with each other, to being close friends that care for each other.

LIKE HELLO?? Do you see how worried Ashlyn is? (Granted anyone would be worried to see their friend bleeding) But Tyler replies to Ashlyn saying he would want some words of encouragement FROM HER. You know.. LIKE THE TIME SHE WAS SAVING HIM FROM THE TREE??

Ashler is a CLASSIC enemies/rivals to lovers. Plus who doesn’t bicker with their partner from time to time over silly things?

One of the sole reasons Tyler freaked out at Ashlyn is because of anxiety and their whole situation. Who wouldn’t go crazy in a situation like that? But instead of expressing it in a healthy way, he took it out on Ashlyn because he couldn’t think of anything else. And yeah that’s shitty, but he learns his lesson.

Tyler has made so much progress and his character redemption was BEAUTIFUL. You have to remember, he’s just a 14 year old kid in his freshman year of high school, who wouldn’t be scared shitless? He wanted to make sure his sister was safe and didn’t know what to do.

Ashlyn puts him in his place though, and I think that’s where he starts to change for the better.

But you can see the gradual changes in their relationship as the comic progresses, going from tense to comfortable being near each other. FP SPOILERS: i mean hello they literally cuddle with each other in ep 75.

And don’t get me wrong, I can see why some people would be a little iffy, but the same people who are iffy are the same people who ship the most WILD ships..

So if you’re gonna hate on me for shipping something other than your main ship.. PACK IT UP 🗣️

But fr though, if Red didn’t unintentionally write so much chemistry with Aiden and Ashlyn, and you didn’t prefer taylyn, you would 100% ship Ashler. There’s this one blog on here that gives perfect reasons as to why you should ship Ashler as well and they say it PERFECTLY.

It’s insanity it took some of yall this long to finally start shipping them, as a person who’s been shipping them since the beginning of 2023 😭😭

anyways i’m super happy people are shipping ashler and YOU SHOULD TOO!!! /nf

[ottosbigtop]

if you have any crumbs to share... about aac raz/lili/bobby dynamic pleeeez ramble to me i want info i'm so into this concept T_T

oh my guy I have so many crumbs for you. These guys have resided in the back of my brain forever but I was usually too embarrassed to say anything about it outside of a couple joke posts. But this is my house so I’m choosing to thrive and frolic.

Also a doodle of the aforementioned three before I enter my tangent :) rambling under the cut

the initial dynamic of these three goes something like

-Lili & Bobby - can’t stand his fake ass. She remembers having to deal with him at whispering rock and clearly is not very good at letting go of grudges from when she was ten. This is, in fact, Bobby’s worst nightmare. He was terrified of working for the psychonauts partially because he didn’t want to run into people he used to know. Surprise! They don’t like each other.

-Raz & Bobby. Raz has the complete opposite problem he literally barely remembers this guy. They interacted for maybe a collective hour one day when he was 10 years old, he only recalls him because Lili clocks him and reminds Raz. Bobby mostly hadn’t thought about him since camp, but did build a little (lot) bit of a resentment after seeing that weird little freak from camp pop up on different True Psychic Tales covers. That on top of Bobby now having to intern under this guy makes their relationship kind of spotty to start, for sure.

-Raz & Lili. Theyre having fun :) After having fun “dating” as real young kids they fall out of touch during their teen years when Raz goes to travel with then circus again to try and reconnect with his family (whole other can of worms for him.) They meet back up during the late teen years and sort of pick up right where they left off, dating off and on for a bit and “officially” dating long term for a little over a year now.

Both their relationships with Bobby evolve over time, naturally. Bobby and Raz have a whooole fucking thing that isn’t fully conceptualized and Is way too long a concept for me to share but their intern/mentor relationship does help them learn to get along with each other. And of course them getting along means Lili having to deal with being around Bobby more often and so it begins.

The whole ~ feelings ~ aspect mostly starts with her and Bobby I think, funnily enough. They hate each other, they want each other dead so bad, but eventually they have to learn to get along for Raz’s sake if nothing else. So they learn! Try to, at least. They’re both really bad at it.

but the “i hate you i want you dead” manages to evolve into that more friendly insulting banter some people have. “I hate you i want you dead” (complimentary.) It gives Raz a headache because it takes him a while to process that they’re usually joking when they’re arguing with each other now.

Lili doesn’t like when she starts to have Feelings about that shitty little freak (tm.) I think she’s somewhere on the Aro spectrum and when Raz wasn’t around she really never. Felt any sort of desire for romance with anyone else. Girl just kind of forgot about it for a bit until he showed up again. Which caused a lot of emotions. And then got used to that until Bobby is introduced into the equation and slowly she starts to feel things toward him that aren’t Rage and Disgust. Which causes a lot of emotions.

Raz I think is entirely oblivious of having any feelings toward him for the longest time. While Lili is a slow “oh god oh fuck” buildup, he’s just really happy he and Bobby are getting along at all that any sort of progress in affection toward him just feels like another big win for friendship. I think it hits him all at once late at night on a random Tuesday and he just sits up in bed and stares at a wall about it.

The whole Raz and Lili communicating abt the concept of polyamory would make this insane post already twice as long and it’s not a part of it all I’ve thought about anyways so we’re going to shelve it for now. But once they do reach the conclusion that they saw this guy from across the bar and they liked his vibe, they both proceed to trip over their own feet for the next however many weeks.

You see, “woman who does not process her emotions” and “guy who needs a twelve step plan for everything” is a prime combination for two people who are pulling some mad scientist shit to try and talk to this guy rather than just inviting him out to eat sometimes. And Bobby is convinced for a little bit that they’re planning to dissect his brain or something because they keep doing that ^

On Bobby’s side of this whole equation the evolution is just his own little torment nexus for a few months.

he initially discovers he’s got a thing for Lili after they start getting along more and it sucks for him. He enjoys their flirty little threats of violence but he’s also close with Raz at this point so I think it just kind of makes him feel . Gross . Like man am I flirting with my friend’s girlfriend I think I am. Oh he’s probably going to hate me. Help.

and that concern for Raz is also a guy in the back of his brain knocking on a door very loudly trying to tell him he’s bisexual but he’s not quite arrived at that conclusion. Give him a few more missions where Raz grabs him while he’s falling to his death and he’ll get there probably.

there’s so many words. These are so many words. I’ll be honest the wacky schenanigans of the “before relationship” era are so funny to me that I’ve not really had any conceptual ideas for them getting into + Being In a Relationship yet. But I hope that you like this at least! This insanely long ass post goes out to you and the one other guy who’s a fan of these three (hi)

[realityscaresme]

so i wrote a sequel ;)

heyyy wrote a sequel to this little thing, it's setted during weirdmaggedon p.3

spanish version

previous chapter / chapter one

2- Check-mate

Ford was sitting by the crackling fire in the "suite/prison" where Bill was holding him captive, contemplating the chain of events that had led him there. He knew that if he wanted to defeat Bill Cipher, it wouldn’t be possible through conventional means.

Ford had spent years traveling through the multiverse, searching for and researching everything about the demon and his former friend to find out how to stop him once and for all.

And still, he failed.

He was searching for the knowledge needed to stop Bill. Throughout his travels, he discovered that Bill’s greatest weakness was his arrogance and his overconfidence in his ability to deceive others. But there was one thing Bill could never anticipate: someone playing his own game against him. He had never met anyone as sneaky and deceitful as Bill was, perhaps… he could become that person. But he didn’t know where to start.

His mind wandered into the flames of the fire when the suite door opened. Ford instantly became alert. The demon’s visit could never mean anything good.

Bill smiled at him nonchalantly.

“Good evening, Fordsy. How did you sleep?”

Ford didn’t respond; he just looked away at the fire, ignoring Bill. This slightly annoyed the demon. How dare he ignore him? He should punish him for that, but he tried to keep his composure. If he wanted to get Ford back and obtain that equation, he would have to change his strategy. And speaking of strategy, he had an ace up his sleeve.

“Didn’t you miss me? If you were scared of being alone, I could have slept with you and held your hand.”

Bill laughed loudly. Ford cursed him in his mind. Just like Bill himself, he also tried to maintain his composure.

“What do you want now, Cipher? Are you here to torture me again?”

“Was yesterday torture?” Bill asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “You seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.”

Ford blushed, and Bill laughed again. He cursed his mind for recalling the kiss they had shared yesterday, Bill’s lips on his. A kiss that he both loved and hated. His mind was a whirlwind, and he tried to think of something else. He couldn’t give in to his desires because Bill was his enemy, and you don’t kiss your enemies in war. Ford had to maintain his role as a captive, even if it disgusted him. But he would do it to keep his family safe and buy time to figure out what he could do.

Bill sat in one of the suite’s armchairs, crossing his legs and looking at Ford with longing. Like a prize he had just won or, to his amusement, his captive princess. Although Bill didn’t see it that way. Ford was destined to be his since the moment they met, only he hadn’t realized it yet. Bill had to open his eyes and show him what they were capable of together.

He knew they were soulmates.

Ford glanced over his shoulder at him, surprised that Bill was smiling even more than usual. The human tensed up immediately, bracing himself for whatever the demon had planned.

“Get to the point. I know you have something in mind. What are you going to do? Rip out my eyes and juggle them? Tear me to pieces? What?!”

The demon laughed at the human’s ideas; they seemed so romantic to him. He snapped his fingers, and a chessboard appeared between them. It was bright and blue: interdimensional chess. Ford hadn’t even noticed that a glowing blue cup of tea had also appeared in his hand.

“Just like old times” his captor exclaimed with a smile. “I didn’t add sugar because I know you take it that way. A bit boring, but oh well.”

Ford cautiously observed the board, standing up and approaching to sit in front of it.

“And what’s the point of this? After all, you can read my mind. You can know what move I’m going to make.”

Bill laughed, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Not anymore. With that plate on your head, I can’t read your thoughts.” He pointed to Ford’s head, where the metal plate blocked Bill’s telepathy.

Ford remembered, it was true. Even though Bill was in his reality, he could no longer read his mind. He looked at the chessboard again, now with interest. Finally, he had an advantage against Bill, even while being his prisoner.

“This can’t be a coincidence... If you have an entire world to destroy, why do you come to see me?”

Bill smiled, looking at the flames in the fireplace.

“I got that strange feeling... What do you humans call it? Oh, yes, nostalgia,” he snapped his fingers when he found the word.

“For playing chess?”

“Not just for that. For talking to someone, to you.” Bill rolled the visible eye in his head. “My friends may be fun, but I could never do this with them.”

Ford stared at him.

“And does this amuse you?”

“Of course!”

“I’m not referring to playing; I mean destroying the world.”

“Oh, that’s just your point of view. But it’s not just about that; it’s also about you. I also told that Gleeful kid, I know he’s in love with Shooting Star. You know how the saying goes: If you love something...”

“... Set it free / - Take it by force,” they said in unison, contradicting each other.

Bill laughed at this; Ford scoffed without humor.

“But anyway, to convince you and make this a bit more fun... we could bet something.”

“A bet?”

“Yes, for example... if you beat me in this game, I’ll let you join the party, so you can get out of this suite for a bit. Get some air, and meet my friends.”

“I accept,” Ford instantly replied, moving one of the pieces on the board.

The demon smiled when Ford accepted his offer and followed his move, then took a sip from his blue tea cup.

As they played, an idea began to form in Ford’s mind. “He can’t read my mind,” he thought. It was the first genuine advantage Ford had had against his rival.

Bill was a master of manipulation, deceit, and lies. To defeat him, Ford would have to beat Bill at his own game. And it wasn’t necessarily chess. He would have to become a liar and trickster as skilled as Bill.

This went against his morals, but... what did it matter? It was that or lose the war.

All or nothing.

While they played, Ford focused on the game, but Bill... got distracted looking at the man in front of him. Bill didn’t know what beauty was according to humans; it seemed to him to be as abstract a concept as art or feelings. He couldn’t fully comprehend them, or well, yes... in his own way. But seeing Ford gave him so much pleasure. Even after 30 years, which to Bill were just moments.

As they played, Bill’s cat-like eye lowered to see Ford’s hand and slightly interrupted his game by taking it gently. Ford didn’t know what he was doing. Would he tear it off? Bite it? Set it on fire?

But without hesitation, Bill kissed it gently. His lips were cold. Ford was surprised.

“I know you always hated them, but... I always liked your hands. They’re so unique.”

Ford didn’t know how to respond.

“You don’t understand, Sixer, I just want a world where people like us feel safe. Where weird is... normal. I was weird in my dimension too.”

“And that’s why you destroyed it?”

Bill gritted his teeth. Ford noticed his irritation.

“I didn’t destroy it; I liberated them. And I did them a favor...”

“And that’s why you want to ‘liberate’ my dimension now?”

“If necessary, yes.”

Bill let go of the man’s hand, leaned back in his chair, his cat-like eyes half-closed as he studied Ford with a bored look. They continued playing, and after a while, Ford won the game, knocking over Bill’s king and facing him.

“Checkmate! It’s always a pleasure to play with you. I’ll let me out of here for a while. Come with me.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bill opened the suite door, letting Ford pass first in a “chivalrous” gesture. They walked down the stone stairs of the suite, where the music grew louder as they approached. “You’ll love it,” Bill assured him. All of Bill’s friends were demons like him. Pyronica and the others looked at Ford with a mix of suspicion and amusement. But Bill, always the gracious host, served drinks for everyone. As he said, it would be a party that never ends with a host that never dies.

“To warm you up.”

The demon snapped his fingers, and a cup appeared in Ford’s hand. Time sand, a drink that didn’t exist in the human world. And it didn’t surprise him... for demons, even the most expensive wine must be nothing compared to this. Ford discreetly swapped it for an empty one, and Bill believed he had drunk it.

“Did you already drink it? Good, I like that!”

“Can I... try more?” Ford lied. Perhaps it would be wise to take advantage of this demon party while everyone was intoxicated.

“Of course, Sixer, whatever you want.” Bill brought his own cup to Ford’s lips.

This time... Ford let him give him a drink. The demon smiled, satisfied, thinking that little by little, he could break him.

Just one sip was enough; it was ambrosia... but Ford restrained himself. He had to stay more alert than ever. This might be his only chance.

Ford took Bill by the waist, surprising him slightly.

“Just for today... I want to let go.”

"I like that, Fordsy…" the demon replied, wrapping his arms around the human's neck.

He almost got lost in those feline eyes; he had to avoid getting too deep into character. Bill stared at him, caressing his face. He hadn't expected Ford to kiss him this time. The demon got lost in the kiss, not noticing how Ford took advantage of the distraction to pour his drink onto the floor, making Bill believe he had drunk it.

Hours passed without him realizing it at that diabolical party where Ford had already integrated with the other demons. Bill was showing him off to the others like a trophy. And at the same time, giving him credit for the portal once again: this wouldn't be possible without him. The genius who had created the interdimensional gate between their worlds.

They both found themselves on a red velvet couch, a bit away from the party. Bill kissed Ford's neck, caressing his leg with his claws. The human allowed himself to be touched, feeling a mix of emotions: pleasure, guilt, hate, desire. All at once. But it had to be this way, for his plan. To gain the demon's trust while plotting his escape.

It was then that, on the floor beneath that velvet couch, he spotted something that caught his attention: a weapon that had been left behind, he could make out... Time Police. He deduced they had been there before; perhaps there was a confrontation, and it was left forgotten. It was perfect, with that he could escape... but not without making a scene, he'd have to create a distraction, but how? Bill was drunk, but even so, he saw everything... He had to be quick before the demon noticed.

Bill interrupted his thoughts, grabbing his face with one hand so he would look at him.

"So... Are you mine again?"

Ford nodded, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. Bill half-closed his eyes in pleasure and let himself go. They stayed like that for a while, Ford almost out of breath. The demon was very drunk and wrapped his arm around Ford's shoulders.

"Then you're also part of my team now. But I'd like to make it a bit more... formal."

"Do you want to get married?" the human joked falsely.

"That too! But I was referring to a deal..." Bill stroked his face, his hand igniting with blue flames that illuminated Ford's face - "You still haven't given me that equation and, well, I don't have all eternity" - he emphasized, snapping his fingers. A spectral blue clock ticking away and urging Ford.

Ford smiled, surprising even himself, and moved closer to the demon. He had to play his own game. It was the only way.

"I agree, let's make a deal."

Bill's eyes opened with delight, and he smiled. He couldn't help but slur his words. Ford was pleased, so much so that he didn't even feel guilty. He had him in the palm of his hand.

"Excellent!"

"With conditions."

"Speak then, I'm aaaall ears," the demon answered, smiling with his almost fangs.

"You'll leave my family alone. And you won't read my mind or get into it. If I'm going to be on your team, you'll get the information directly from me," Ford spoke, smiling almost casually  "Because we're partners, right?"

"Much more than that, Fordsy... if I'm the king, then you're my queen," the demon winked at him - "I accept. It's a deal. Until the end of time."

Ford knew he was lying blatantly, but it was the only way. Maybe breaking this deal would cost him his life later... but he didn't care.

They shook hands, their pact glowing with blue flames that tingled slightly. It reminded Ford of the first time he did it and how he sold his soul to the devil. But he still doesn't know what was worse: giving him his soul, his body, or his heart.

"So, would you tell me the equation, my love?" he said the last part with irony.

The demon gently laid Ford back on the velvet couch, getting on top of him, caressing his hair with perverse sweetness. The human took his hand and intertwined his fingers with it. With the other, he grabbed Bill's shirt, pulling him gently closer.

"Yes, Bill. But... come closer."

Bill laughed, delighted with the human's change in attitude. Finally, he was being the way he always should have been: Obedient. Submissive.

His and no one else's.

"Of course, Fordsy. Whatever you say."

The demon brought his face closer to him. Ford lowered his voice even more.

"I don't want anyone else to hear. This is a secret between you and me. Trust me, okay, Billy?"

Bill's eyes gleamed with pleasure as he leaned in closer. He couldn't help but show how much that nickname excited him.

"Of course, Fordsy. I love it when you call me that. So...?"

Ford made an almost sensual gesture with his finger for Bill to come even closer. Meanwhile, with the other hand and without the demon noticing, Ford slowly grabbed the weapon under that couch.

"Just trust me..."

When he had Bill just a few inches away, almost about to kiss him, in a quick movement he shot him in the eye with the Time Police weapon. To blind him, if only for a moment. He didn't flinch when blood splattered on him.

"AHH!" Bill screamed, covering his face in pain.

Ford didn't waste a second, taking advantage of the chaos and commotion at the party to blend in. No one noticed him, as everyone was worried about the now injured host of the party. Amidst all the chaos, Ford destroyed one of the walls: a hole was enough to escape.

The demon, still staggering from the unexpected attack and just regenerating his vision, shouted to his minions

"STOP HIM!"

But it was already too late. Ford had already escaped, leaving Bill in a state of shock and cursing loudly. He threw lightning and thunder around him in a tantrum, almost destroying his own pyramid. Even the other demons were scared to see their boss so furious, with eyes red with rage.

"YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS, SIXER!" the demon roared, his voice echoing throughout the pyramid like thunder.

But Ford was no longer there. His heart raced as he fled. He didn't know if Bill had sent his minions to chase him like hounds after prey. He refused to look back. He had won this round, but the game was far from over. He had to save Dipper, Mabel, and Stan. He had to find his family.

Before Bill found them first."

[skelly-words]

Sukuna/gn!Reader

Summary- this is a little fic I wrote in one sitting kinda based off my headcanons. There’s a whole outline for their relationship that I have going on in my head, but this is when they meet in college. I think they’re both juniors or seniors.

this isn't even a meet-cute or anything because Sukuna is such a douche. He doesn't even tell the MC his name bruh.

It’s a quiet morning. School is busy; study, lecture, homework, exams, repeat. It’s gotten better as the year progresses and you settle into a quiet routine. These mornings are nice; when you’re forced to get up with the sun and walk to the bus you take to campus.

Your professor is boring. He’s an older man who probably had amazing ideas in his youth. But now, he often loses his train of thought halfway through equations. It made the class difficult to take notes in and the final would suck, but as long as you passed, it didn’t matter. As an act of mercy, lecture ends early. You slide your hefty laptop into your bag and sling it over your shoulder. The next class you have is still a few hours away. You walk to the West end of campus, where a cluster of cafes supplies students with caffeine and a warm place to study when the weather gets icy. It’s too busy for you to hang around, so you just get a coffee and look for somewhere quieter to be. 

The library always has people in it, but the stacks go so deep and two stories tall, so it’s always easy to get lost in them and avoid people completely. It smells like old books and you nestle on the floor in the science fiction section with your jackets and coffee. What starts as studying quickly devolves as you find a familiar-looking title staring at you from between the shelves and you start to read. 

People filter in and out of the library as classes end and begin, finding a place to camp out through the awkward gaps in their day. You just watch them pass down the hall between the shelves.

“Are you stalking people from back here?”

The sound of someone else’s voice made your heart jump. You first feel ashamed of being caught until you realize that you’ve done nothing wrong. You gather yourself up from the floor, novel, jacket, coffee and bag, before turning around.

“Excuse me?” You mumble, attempting indifference while trying to keep your jacket pinned against your side. He’s too tall, where you feel a little uneasy at the difference, so you stay focused on the off-white linoleum instead.

“I’m just messing with you. Can I get to Asimov, though?” He seems as good with manners as you are, awkwardly gesturing that you move to the side. You stare dumbly at the tattoo marks that wrap around his wrists as he tries to sweep you out of the way.

“Excuse me?” you repeat.

“I like Isaac Asimov. His shelf’s behind you.”

“Shit, sorry.” You step to the side and watch him bend over and examine the titles. His jaw flexes from side to side with his shifting weight as he reads. More tattoos are visible on his face, dramatically following his features, but those are all you can see. It’s like the lines on his face and bands on his wrists are placed just to subtly imply more, a teasing notion that’s satisfied when the sleeve of his t-shirt lifts enough to show the band on his bicep.

“I was reading, not watching people back here.”

He hums noncommittally and continues his search for whatever novel he’s looking for. “You're watching me, creep.” He turns his head quickly to catch you in the act.

“I’m waiting for you to get out of my spot. I was reading there,” you say indignantly. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he trails off. His finger runs down the spine of a paperback and he tugs it free from the tight shelf. “You stole my corner though.”

You scrunch up your nose like your one-hour stake on the science-fiction section means something. “Why do you read back here?” 

“Like you can talk. I found you back here,” he says like you are a specimen or discovery. “Why’re you reading back here?”

“I meant to study, but I shouldn’t have surrounded myself with interesting books. Plus, like you said, I’m a creep. I like it back here.”

You glance up at him to see the same studying look he’d given the books being used on you. He’s thinking about what to say next for longer than he should have to.

“What’s your name, huh?” he matches the question with a soft tilt of his head. His brows furrow when you don’t answer after a beat. “C’mon, I wanna know you.”

“Yeah.” You’re not sure when your skepticism becomes rude, probably whenever he decides to become offended by the shrewd up-and-down glance you give him. “What’s yours?” You know him, not personally. But he’s an athlete and you recognize his tattoos and bright eyes from your University’s social media posts. His widening grin meant that he could tell you were bullshitting around.

“Who gives a fuck about me,” he dismisses, in a heavy breath like he’s just as exasperated with himself as you are. He steps closer, and you can see the dark metal of his piercings glimmer in the low light, one in each ear, and a band around the center of his bottom lip. “What’s your name?”

You can smell his cologne and it makes your name slip from the tip of your tongue. You didn’t mean for it to come out, tightening your lips into a fine line as if that could take it back. He laughs and repeats it twice to you. His tongue runs over the syllables slowly the first time, and the second time to tease as your face begins to warm.

“You’re real fucking funny.”

“I’ll be even funnier over text.” He grins and takes his phone out of his back pocket.

“I’m not dati- I don’t date.” You wish it sounded firmer, arms crossed over your chest in defense.

“Me neither.” He hands you his open Instagram. Apparently, you don’t make the cut for new contact.

“I’m not ‘not dating’ either. That’s not my thing.” But you take his phone anyway and look yourself up.

“Oh, so like-” he seems to think for a moment while you take out your phone to approve his follow request. “You wanna be friends?” It’s a stale and disappointed question that you can tell he knows the answer to.

“If that’s not cool with you then don't worry about it.” You shrug and readjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “As long as I get to keep my new follower, I don’t see a difference.”

a/n- radiohead starts playing. Anyway, probably won’t make this a legit series, but if y’all like it I’ll write more of this au. It’s friends to lovers but not super slow (in my imagination because let me reiterate: none of this is actually written).

Are the banners and breaks working? bc I'm so sick of my blog being busted as fuck. I regret being a tomboy my whole life bc now idk how to be cute and aesthetic and I'm filled with rage asdijfaoiwjdvcois

[jaegersolstice]

Suburban Legends ft. satoru gojo

For the shame of being young, drunk, and alone; prologue.

hockey player!gojo x fem!reader, friends to…a complicated relationship, college & highschool au, angst, fluff, everything in between wc: 1k

You hate the smell of alcohol. 

Not just the potent, sickening scent of the liquid – but that mixed with sweating, gyrating bodies in someone’s (way too big) family mansion and the weight of Satoru’s unsaid words hanging over you. He prevaricates, words slipping from the tip of his tongue yet not quite planting themselves in the ground, mindlessly tracing the school logo on his hockey jacket.  

He had once told you that he would knock back his future: take over the family business, lounge on millions of dollars, live the playboy lifestyle — he didn’t have much of a choice. It wasn’t that anymore. You guys had just graduated high school – bright-eyed, bushy tailed, balancing at the top of the world – and long lost count of the amount of the drinks you’ve downed tonight. 

An arm thrown over the back of the gray sofa, brown liquid sloshing over into his hand, Satoru says it like he’s rejecting another obsessive freshman begging for his number. 

“I’m thinking about going pro– you know, doing the real thing.” In a moment, your feet are covered in brown liquid, your cup already rolling between the feet of the drunk teenagers, cool moisture seeping into your white beaters (Satoru chuckles something about you being clumsy, grabbing the nearest napkin and attempting to soak it up).  

You can’t help but laugh. Soft snickers escape your lipgloss smudged lips (it shines on the edge of your solo cup), and Satoru’s icy gaze meets yours, mouth half opened in amusement, asking you if he said something funny in his whiny voice. You practically tumble off the couch, hunched over in your fit of laughter. In what world did Satoru care about hockey? And the way he (declared!) said it, elbowing you like it was an inside joke between the two of you. 

In all honesty, you couldn’t help but feel entertained and slightly betrayed, like he stole something that was yours. It was you, really, who encouraged him to take hockey seriously. 

 +

Freshman year: chemistry — yes, you remember it quite clearly. Lanky legs sprawled across the lab table during a free period, midnight hoodie hanging off one shoulder, arm gesturing widely and revealing his starch white shirt with every throw of a hand.

“This old man, I swear he knows nothin’ about me and still tries to, like, dictate everything about my life. I mean I literally–I literally told him I want nothing to do with his stupid business and still…you know, he could have just fucked again and had another kid–”  Face turning redder by the second, you smacked Satoru’s shoulder with the edge of your cracked phone (“Your always so inappropriate!”) 

He wasn’t laughing, though. His gaze was far off, landing somewhere between your ear and the classroom door, eyes pinched as if he’s trying to remember a chemical equation (Satoru has never been good at chemistry, honestly). Your eyes fell on his frosted lashes, tapping gracefully against his pillowy cheeks, tracing that up to the fluid slope of his nose and its acute tip, and his lips—

“Find a distraction.” You croaked, maybe saying it more to yourself then you were to him. “You skip hockey practices, get hurt on purpose, and always talk back to the coach. Just try being a little more serious ‘bout it.” You shrugged at him, sliding his strawberry gum from his front backpack pocket and popping a piece into your dry mouth. Brows pinched, his wide eyes followed the shape of your tongue snapping and clicking your gum around in your mouth (He looked more confused than anything.)

Truly, Satoru and Suguru had tried out for the hockey team beginning of freshman year as a joke – Suguru bet that he wouldn’t last a month in a school sport, and, big whoop, it's been a whole three months. Suguru had taken over the goalie position, always a bit bruised, and Satoru-- well, he was Satoru. Obviously, he was good as center, but he just didn’t care enough. Besides, the rest of the team was just a bit too slow to get anywhere far. 

Nonetheless, it was shit advice, and you knew it. 

“Or maybe you could get a girlfriend,” Suguru threw out, obnoxiously sliding his chair over to your table, lightly shoving Satoru’s head and bumping his knees into yours. The pair fell into mindless banter, breezily carried away into some other topic of conversation. 

+

You compose yourself, dragging your fingertips under your lightly eyelined eyes, your body back upright as your head bounces off the back of the couch. Clutching Satoru’s bony hand against your chest with both of yours, you level your gaze with his. 

“Okay, I need you to be like, so real with me right now, you don’t even like hockey! Like, I swear it was just yesterday–”

“Freshman year was three years ago–”

“Three years is so little time! People spend their whole life working towards being pro! I mean it’s not like you’ll be drafted that soon or anything, Satoru…” You trail off as he rips his hand from your grip, your hands falling into your lap at the sudden loss of warmth from your palms. 

You know you fucked up when he lets out a small, pained chuckle, gaze darting away from yours into the sea of people.

“That was bad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come off so harsh, I just…I don’t know? I mean there’s still time, and you could still explore in college. Only if you want that is!” You don’t know why you keep talking, keep protesting. 

This should be a good thing, shouldn’t it? Recently, he’s had a spark in his eye when he talks about it, hockey. You just should let him do what he wants and, besides, the plans you made back in freshman year, before he ever joined hockey, will be what they’re meant to be: just words. 

Your heart has a hard time believing that for the rest of the night.

______________________________________________________________

note: okay so i can't believe that i'm finally writing this, i've been meaning to for sooooo long. This prologue is very vague because i didn't want to pack a bunch of stuff into one chapter, but rather explore it in the next few. It is also not the best, but I kinda wanted something to just start it off. I still have no idea how long it's gonna be BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!

series masterlist (coming soon)

[starksvinyls]

Title: And It's Valentine's Day Rating: Teen+ Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Tags/Warnings: Getting Together, Fluff, First Date, Valentine's Day, Happy Ending, Age Difference, also peter is a lil anxious bean but it's fine Summary: Tony invites Peter to hang out not realizing it’s Valentine’s Day. Meanwhile, Peter is freaking out trying to figure out if Tony asked him to hang out on Valentine’s Day for a reason. Notes: for @starkly for the @starkerfestivals valentine's exchange <3 the prompt used was 'tony finding out peter’s had a huge crush on him since childhood'. i hope you like it, happy (belated) valentine's day <333333

AO3 Link

“Wait, you’re hanging out with him on Wednesday?” Ned’s voice said through Peter’s headphones. 

“Yeah, why?” Peter erased the last part of the equation he had been working on and flipped his pencil back over to try again. 

“Wednesday is Valentine’s Day.” MJ sounded amused. 

Peter’s head shot up to stare at his best friends on his computer screen. There was no way…he looked up at the calendar hanging on the wall above his desk and stared. Wednesday was indeed Valentine’s Day. Oh. 

“Why would he invite me to hang out on Valentine’s Day?” Peter blinked. “Oh my god, what if he asked me to hang out because he knows I’m a single loser who would be all alone and he felt bad for me?” His voice raised an octave as he rambled on, anxiety flaring. 

“Calm down, dude,” MJ rolled her eyes. “He probably doesn’t even remember the day of the week, let alone what stupid commercialized holiday it is.” She did air quotes around the word holiday. 

“No, you’re right, yeah. Yeah.” Peter nodded. 

“Still haven’t told him about your massive crush, huh?” Ned shoved a handful of chips into his mouth. 

“Of course not!” Peter squeaked. “He does not need to know about that. Oh god, what if he knows about that? And that’s why he invited me over? What if he’s going to make fun of me? Or worse, what if he likes me back?!” 

“Peter!” MJ yelled. “Breathe. Tony would not invite you over just to humiliate you. I might have a lot of issues with the man and his hoarding of wealth, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t see how much you mean to him.” 

“Wait,” Ned cut in. “How would him liking you back be worse?” 

Peter groaned and dropped his head to his desk with a painful thud.

—-

By Wednesday, Peter had worked himself up, back down, and then back up several times. He spent the rest of Saturday night on the call with Ned and MJ, the only way they could hang out now, being at three different colleges. On Sunday, Peter took his laundry to May’s and had dinner with her before swinging around Queens for a bit. He tried to get out and patrol his old neighborhood, but with his dorm closer to campus in Manhattan, it didn’t always happen. 

Classes were normal, which was nice, but it gave Peter too much time to think about seeing Tony on Valentine’s Day. He kept up a constant stream of messages in the group chat, eventually causing MJ to send the rolling eyes emoji and put on Do Not Disturb. MJ was probably right, Tony probably didn’t even remember what day it was when he asked Peter to hang out. Wednesdays were Peter’s easiest days, schedule wise, and Tony more than likely remembered and that was why he picked Wednesday to hang out. 

Peter had himself convinced of that when he finally activated the suit and took off towards the tower on Wednesday afternoon. It was nothing, just friends and superhero colleagues hanging out, like they did all the time. There was no reason to think anything deeper was happening, pfft why did he even get so worked up? That was dumb. 

Launching himself higher on his next upswing, Peter let go of the web and sailed through the air towards the landing deck of the tower. He landed in a crouch, popping back up quickly, mask retracting as he skipped towards the sliding glass doors. 

“Welcome, Peter!” Friday greeted him. 

“Hi, Fri!” The rest of the suit retracted into his web shooters once Peter had removed his backpack. He flung it onto the couch and headed to the kitchen for a drink before going to find Tony, as was his routine now when coming to the tower. Peter stabbed the straw into the top of the juice box and wandered down to the workshop, slurping happily. 

Tony was where he usually was when Peter came to find him, hunched over a worktable. This time he was soldering something, so Peter came in quietly. Nothing worse than being startled while doing something delicate, he knew. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because before the door even finished sliding shut behind him, Tony was looking up, his smile already forming. 

“Hey, Pete.” He pulled off his goggles and set the soldering pen back in its holder. “How was class?” 

Peter told Tony about the lecture, his only class on Wednesdays, as he finished up his juice, suction noises included, which made the older man roll his eyes. Peter laughed and tossed it towards the can, landing it without even looking. 

Tony shook his head. “Show off.” 

Peter grinned, heading over to his own station to check on the latest batch of web fluid. 

—-

Peter could feel Tony come up next to the table, his arm hairs picking up the slight change in air flow as Tony moved. He looked up from his notes and noticed the sky outside was dark. “How long have we been working?” 

“About three hours, but Friday says it’s time for dinner, so,” Tony shrugged in a what can you do? kind of way, as if he didn’t have the power to tell his own AI no. “What are you in the mood for? Your pick tonight.” 

That gave Peter pause, and he swallowed. All the thoughts of “was this or wasn’t it?” that had quieted while he worked, came flooding back to him. Normally, Tony just had Friday order them whatever was fastest (usually because they got caught up in their work and were starving by the time they called it quits in the lab), but letting him pick sounded almost…date-like. No. He had already gone over this with himself, they were just friends hanging out. 

“Uhm, Italian?” Peter inwardly winced. That was such a romantic Valentine’s cliche. Ugh. 

“Sure,” Tony turned his attention to Friday. “Order us up some chicken alfredo, and stuffed shells, baby girl. Oh, and some cannoli, from the usual place.” 

Dessert, too? And Tony remembered that the stuffed shells were his favorite. Oh, man…

They headed back up to the penthouse and got comfortable on the couch, Friday pulling up the movie list for them to browse. Dinner and a movie wasn’t unheard of for them, so Peter forced himself to calm down. There was no way this meant anything more than their hang outs usually did. 

“You okay, Pete?” 

Tony’s voice cut through Peter’s internal panic and he turned wide eyes on his mentor. 

“What? Yeah, of course.” 

“You sure? You look like you’re gonna hurl.” The man’s brow was furrowed in concern. 

Peter wanted to bury his head under the cushions and never come out. How embarrassing for Tony to have noticed he was freaking out. And how embarrassing to be freaking out over nothing. Tony was a straight-forward guy, he does what he wants and doesn’t do what he doesn’t want to. If he wanted this to be a date, he would have asked Peter on a date. It probably would have been way fancier than lab time and ordering in, anyway. 

“I’m all ears if you need to talk about anything,” Tony offered. “I was in college once, I know it can be a weird time,” he joked.

“No, it’s not that,” Peter assured him. “I just, uh, sorry. I’m being weird. Ignore me.” 

“Something is obviously on your mind, so spill.” 

Peter wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. God, his face must be a tomato by now. “No, it’s fine- it’s nothing.” He bit his lip, physically trying to keep the words in. He tended to word vomit when he was nervous, and Tony tended to make him nervous. Peter seemed to always be word vomiting around the man. 

Tony was quiet, just looking at Peter. The younger man finally cracked. 

“I just…it’s Valentine’s Day and I wasn’t sure if this was just us hanging out like normal or it was supposed to be more, but of course it wouldn’t be more, I mean. You’re you and I’m me, there’s no way it would be more. And I told myself that, and MJ told me that, but my stupid brain has not let me not obsess over it since Saturday!” Peter rushed out. “And now you let me pick dinner and you got dessert and it’s Valentine’s Day. 

“And I know it’s so stupid to assume, but then this stupid crush goes and convinces me that everything you do is a sign that you like me, too, when in reality it’s probably such the opposite because you have never given any indication that what you feel for me is anything but platonic, and Valentine’s Day is just a made up commercialized holiday so-” He glanced over at Tony and the man was staring, wide-eyed. Peter’s mouth snapped shut and he sunk further down into the couch. “Maybe I should go,” he mumbled. 

“Well…first off, I didn’t realize it was Valentine’s Day,” Tony said slowly, before Peter could get up. 

Peter nearly facepalmed, because of course. He had worked himself up over nothing and now he’s spilled his guts all over the place and there’s no way to shove those back inside. 

“And second, that was a lot. How long have you been holding that in?” 

Peter bit his lip. “A…while.” Tony looked expectant. “I mean, I always had like a celebrity hero-worship crush on you after Iron Man came to be. And then I met you and it sort of became more than a crush, but I knew nothing would ever happen because of Miss Potts and my age, so I tried to ignore it. That obviously has not worked well,” Peter said self-deprecatingly, looking down at his hands where they twisted in his lap. “And then after you and Miss Potts ended things, and I got older, well.” 

The older man studied Peter for a minute. “What if I told you there were some not so platonic feelings on my end?” 

“What?” Peter’s head snapped up, eyes wide with shock. He was sure he heard that wrong. There was absolutely no way that someone like Tony Stark would ever like him…

“Kid, fuck, Pete,” Tony sighed. “I’m, what, 30 years older than you? I had to keep that as buried deep as I possibly could. There are so many potential ramifications with just our ages alone, let alone the whole mentor-mentee situation. I wasn’t quite ready to admit to myself that I had any feelings or attraction towards you, especially when you were 17 or 18. It made me feel like a dirty old man, and I never wanted to pressure you into anything. Which it felt like it would be no matter what,” Tony explained. “But, you brought it up first.”

Peter blinked several times before looking over at Tony. “I mean, I’m clearly not all that opposed to the age thing…” 

Tony stared before snorting. “How do you go from a rambly nervous mess to a cheeky little shit in the span of three minutes?” 

A shrug. “Natural gift, I suppose.” 

“C’mere,” Tony held open his arms.

Peter hesitated for just a moment. Tony didn’t move, though, just waited for what decision Peter would make. Finally, the younger man scooted over on the couch and let himself be enveloped into Tony’s warmth. The embrace was comforting, and felt so familiar despite this being the first time they’d been like this. 

“I’m willing to try if you are,” Tony whispered. 

Taking a moment to think about it (something that MJ would be proud of him for, he was sure), Peter nodded. “I really like you, Tony, more than I probably should.” He rubbed his finger over the stitching of the pocket opening on Tony’s jeans. 

“You said you’d had a crush on me as a kid, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “I didn’t really know or understand who you were when you were just Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries. I heard about you from time to time, mostly Ben or May shaking their heads about some new weapon or scandal. Sorry,” he added. 

Tony snorted. “They weren’t wrong.” 

Peter hummed. “But once Iron Man existed, well, you were a real life superhero. I was eight, that was the coolest thing ever for me.” 

“Jesus, eight,” Tony groaned. 

“Don’t make it weird!” Peter gently shoved his elbow into Tony’s ribs in warning. 

“It’s already weird.” 

“True.” 

There was silence for a few moments. “So, how did it feel to come home and find me sitting in your living room? 

“Oh, man,” Peter giggled. “Pretty sure my stomach dropped to the floor, and then you took me to my room and shut the door,” Peter turned to look at the man. “My fourteen year old, recently-discovered-pornhub brain nearly exploded.” 

Peter shook with Tony’s laughter, smiling at the reaction to what was once such an embarrassing memory for him. He snuggled further into Tony, still a little stunned that he could. They both sat there, content in the quiet of the penthouse. After a while, Tony finally spoke. 

“We should go on a second date,” 

“We haven’t even gone on our first,” Peter laughed. 

Tony laughed, too. “First dates are always full of nervous energy and awkward conversations, but if we count tonight as our first date, then I can take you out and spoil you the way I want and we can call it our second date,” the man explained. “Then, all the first date jitters are solved! Plus, as you pointed out, it is Valentine’s Day and I got dessert.” 

Peter had to admit that was pretty sound logic, and Peter knew he was going to need all the help he could get on a date with Tony Stark. He would be awkward no matter what they called it, but thinking of it as a second date was helping to ease Peter’s mind already. Also, a first date of take out and a movie snuggled on the couch sounded perfect to him. “Okay, now hurry up and pick a movie.” 

Tony picked Empire Strikes Back. He wasn’t a genius for nothing, after all.

[liexwrittesfreely]

Grieving Meaning

(VERYYY long post)

Feelings of despair

Without any profound motive,

Or motive at all.

Of which I must find

Hiding within all the

Sad thoughts I’ve ever had

That no one could refute

Upon me being utterly correct,

Of in exchange they started calling me a realist

Instead of a pessimist.

After all,

What makes me a pessimist

Is that I think about all those real issues

(solely)

Without thinking significantly

At the happiness surrounding me

Which is a part of my real condition of

“the now”.

My real existence

Isn’t solely surrounded by sadness.

Do I need one motive

To feel so much grief

For people who’ve I met

That aren’t dead;

For people I’ve never met

Who died tragically;

For people I’ve known

That died peacefully

Without me by their side?

Out of the blue

Without actively missing them?

With 99% of the time

The grief not being directed towards them

But just me trying to fill the empty spot

Of motive.

When did motive leave?

When did I start feeling grief

Without anything being lost?

When did I start chasing ghosts?

Will my retriever help me

Retrieve these lost ghosts to me

Like how she did with

All these tennis balls,

Lost in the backyard?

I miss you,

However I think you’ve taken a part of me

When you left,

Along, everything escaped from it

Like water in an old bucket.

I’m sorry

I didn’t go through with it,

I think it was for the best though,

Since I’ve also been happy

Even with the leaking

Even with the lack of you. .

Why did I start feeling that way

When I knew you would be gone?

Why did I think it would be all over

Without you?

I cant put anything in my heart now,

And if I do it comes right out.

And I try again.

And it pains me all over

And over again.

I think it's human nature.

I think I’m human.

Or maybe it’s the animal instinct

Of self preservation.

When I encounter

The little white room,

With noisy kids

That seem all too happy

For all the senseless work

Given to us by people

Who barely believe in the world,

Our futures and theirs

Might have been doomed the day

We met the little white room.

For me,

It symbolizes my lack of freedom,

My lack of free will.

Why do I do something so senseless?

So unnatural

As sitting for hours

For no knowledge to be able to entertain me

While my back aches

And the exhaustion becomes unbearable?

I’m tired,

I’m tired!

There’s no physical motive

When I grieve for something I cannot see.

Do I grieve my own freedom?

Do I fear the pain

More than death?

I grieve your loss,

I grieve my loss of humanity.

That is so animalistic

I cannot interpret it rationally

So art becomes the only answer.

Art has meaning without rationality,

Language through personal perception

And not a dictionary.

No formula to follow,

No specific person to impress.

I had forgotten due to the good days

Of rotting in my room

To remember all the pain

Through exhaustion.

Now I know motive.

School has taught me something.

Finally,

Something.

I question the world too hard,

Looking for a answer

For something that might as well be

Simple chemistry.

Still I go to school to study it

Still I keep forgetting.

I can't help but forget how to solve the equation,

How can I make the world a better place?

If they ever make it

A better place

Will people be sad

Now without any real motive

To be so,

Just like me?

Except there won't be anything to blame it on.

Is a land too beautiful to be true,

Not seem like it will ever be something

We are able to touch?

Will reality not seem enough to us all?

What will we chase?

Sadness?

What does that imply for us all?

Motive chases sadness,

Sadness gives motive,

Motive to pass through it to a happier place?

Is there ever an end?

Is there ever an answer?

I will stop thinking so hard

At a meaningless objective

When I have no more time.

[stagesofkiller]

Do you think there is any way Color x Nightmare x Killer could work?

And I don't mean work as in "be healthy" just any way it could happen.

I suppose it could work in a universe where Nightmare is trying to work on himself, but i can’t really see color and nightmare being together in this universe—they’d probably both just be with Killer though.

Although I don’t know if this type of Killer would be happy to settle with that. The two biggest people in his life also being together would probably be a very satisfying thought for him. So maybe he’d find a way to encourage them to spend more alone time together and to actually get to know eachother. If it works or not, I’m not sure.

Probably only if Nightmare hasn’t done truly horrible things to Killer and Color in this universe. Color still wouldn’t like or agree with Nightmare’s worldview and the way he harms AU—but if this Nightmare is more like fanonmare, and also didn’t kidnap Killer but gave him choice to join him or not.

I suppose the matter conflict between Color and Nightmare about Killer here would probably revolve around Killer’s conditioning and programming, and the nature of his SOUL, and the fact that Killer is mortal. Nightmare may not understand these types of things, and unknowingly or not, may have cued and triggered Killer to behave in ways he’s conditioned to and didn’t think much about how it’d effect Killer.

Particularly Stage 1. I can see a situation where whenever Killer seems to start switching into Stage 1 or is triggered into it on the battlefield, Nightmare tries to help by forcing his SOUL into Stage 2. This could cause Killer pain and fear, where some part of Killer’s mind starts to equate Nightmare with Chara regardless of how they aren’t alike in this version.

And Nightmare isn’t able to know this because not only is he not mortal nor conditioned, but because Stage 2 doesn’t feel emotions that he can sense, and wouldn’t think to tell Nightmare to not do that or anything—because it’s normal to him, and he probably doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it.

So Color here may work on also helping Killer and Nightmare understand eachother and communicate and establish and respect boundaries. Which Nightmare might appreciate a lot—especially if he has any worries about Killer leaving with Color.

In a more toxic, canon like dynamic—im assuming it’d probably be a case of something like Stockholm Syndrome. I brought up a few weeks back about the possibility of Color being captured and Nightmare trying to corrupt him—that could be done by manipulating his emotions, mindset, and values.

Killer would probably play a vital role in this, too. Maybe Nightmare has convinced him he doesn’t have to choose between Color and Nightmare, his old life and a possible new life.

That he doesn’t have to lose his purpose and direction with Nightmare, and his hope and safety with Color. The idea of he gets to have it all, and he doesn’t have to change or second guess a single thing. He just has to convince Color—which could take on some potentially dark paths with both Killer and Nightmare trying to coerce Color.

The deal between Nightmare and Killer may be that Color and Killer will go unharmed, and Color will stay off the battlefield (maybe Killer wants to keep Color safe, but maybe he and Nightmare just want to lessen the chance of escape.

And maybe Killer is selfish and wants to keep some parts of Color unchanged—because he knows Color would become just another violent murderer not worth thinking twice of if Color became anything like him. And then Killer would lose hope, and he’d lose his safety net.) if Killer convinces Color to help Nightmare.

And it’d probably just be Killer at first—any sign of Nightmare’s presence would only make Color remember how much he hates him, that he’s his enemy, and everything he’s done to him, Killer, and innocent people.

I’m not sure how exactly this would all go—but it’d be very Dead Dove do Not Eat, and a lot of brainwashing on Color and Killer’s end. May even have light noncon elements if you really wanna see how far it can go.

Either way it’d be twisted, and it kinda reminds me of that one fanfic I read awhile ago where Killer was basically trying to convince Cross that killing was fun, and he’d see that if he gave it a try—before they started making out while Killer was covered in a victim’s blood 💀.

{ @stellocchia }

[lailuhhh]

PSPSPSPSPS

“What do you want me to say, dad? I’m sorry I wasn’t who you wanted me to be? I have my own life. You can’t control every aspect of it no matter how hard you want to. You haven’t even been in my life for damn near twelve years, and you suddenly come waltzing back in— no, sorry, you didn’t even do that. I had the unfortunate time of finding you when I stopped looking.”

“Everything I’ve done, it was to protect you. You don’t understand the hardships I’ve had to face or decisions I had to make.”

“You didn’t even have the decency to contact me at all! I wrote you! You could’ve sent something back, let me know you’re alive. I think I would’ve been better off believe you’re dead, rather than knowing you just abandoned me for the hell of it.”

“Angus—”

“And then, when you do decide that you want to reconcile with me, it’s because you found out you have cancer, not even because you actually wanted to see me.” Mac snorted, humorlessly. “Not really hard to believe you didn’t change in all the time you’ve been gone, but trying to guilt trip me into forgiving you because of a terminal illness? That’s a really shitty thing to do.”

“You don’t understand! Everything I’ve done, all the decisions I’ve made, all the sacrifices, it’s all been for you! Everything! I left to keep you safe; cut ties with my old life to keep you from being dragged into it! Do you think I wanted to leave my only child behind?”

“I was dragged into it anyways! All those sacrifices? I never wanted any of that!”

“You were a child. You didn’t know what you wanted.”

“I wanted my dad! Mom died and just maybe I wanted my dad there with me. I mean, fuck! I was a child! You left me on my tenth birthday! What I wanted was my dad! Apparently that was too much to ask for since you’ve been gone longer than you stayed.”

“I was never really gone, Angus. You have to understand that.”

Mac laughed. “I can’t understand why you think that makes any sense in the matter. I need you to understand that being some sort of mysterious power watching my every move, does not equate to you being there when I needed you.”

James stood staring, his expression unreadable. “Is this supposed to explain your relationship with Dalton?”

“You think you have any right to talk about him? Jack has stayed with me longer that you have. You don’t have any right to say anything about him. And if you even think about doing anything, I won’t hesitate to do everything in my power to take you down.”

“Are you threatening me, Angus?”

“I’m promising you.” Mac glared. “You very well may have pulled every single string in my life, but I’m telling you right now, if you mess with anyone on my team, you’re going to regret it.”

“You have no right to talk to me like that.” James but back. “I’m your father.”

“Not in the ways that matter; blood of the covenant and all that.”

“What are you saying, Angus?”

“I would choose them over you, every single time.”

[raichett]

Was just going through my writing files and I found this in my scrap pieces document (writer life tip: have a scrap pieces document where you cut/paste over anything that didn’t fit into your work instead of just deleting it, just trust me on this). 

If I recall correctly, it’s from Apple Cinnamon Pies (I think?). Grian started talking about religion but I soon decided that it was leading the fic off course and was starting to try to nibble at subjects that were a bit too large and philosophical for how I wanted the fic to be. Think I cut it out when I realised that getting them back on track after this bit of worldbuilding would be difficult.

Enjoy anyway :)

Scar shrugs. “Gods aren’t necessarily benevolent,” he says, and leaves it at that. There’s more than one religion that equates suffering to holiness, martyrdom venerated through the ages. Scar’s not particularly religious himself, save a minor fascination in religion’s role in history and legend, and how it’s shaped society, but he’s kind of live-and-let-live in regards to others’ beliefs.

“I don’t believe in any,” Grian says, shortly. “I believe in the Universe only.” Grian’s face draws itself into a grimace, anger and pain creasing themselves into the lines around his mouth and eyes. For all that he has a youthful face – some indeterminate age of a man in his prime – he looks old, suddenly. Worn and weather-beaten, like a leather jacket inherited from a grandparent; aged in its sturdy beauty.

The Universe. Scar blinks at Grian, a little stunned. Now that’s an old belief.

“I’ve never met someone who followed that belief,” Scar prods, politely but interestedly. “It’s… old.” Ancient. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about it.”

Grian shrugs. “It’s real simple,” he explains. “The Universe is everything and everyone. We are all the Universe touching itself, tasting itself, understanding itself. In a way, we are all dreaming, because being conscious of ourselves on that level takes time and experience, thousands of years of it. We dream the dream of life again and again, and finally reach a level where we wake from the long dream and aid others in their own dreaming. Though we can can choose to dream again, should we so wish.”

“The long dream…” Scar feels as though he’s heard that somewhere before, though he could not say where. “What happens when the dreaming is done?” he asks.

“It will never be done,” Grian says. “The Universe is constantly expanding and dreaming and creating and that is what life means. The meaning of life is just life. There is no greater meaning behind pain or suffering, or happiness and charity. It just is, because people are just people. People make their own gods and spirits, in themselves or in each other, and those are an expression of that attempt to understand the Universe, but – you are not separate from every other thing.”

[la-sopa]

do you happen to know how tall Ferus and Anakin were as padawans? i need to know for fic reasons.

I did math for this.

TinyTim, why are we doing math?

You might be thinking. Well simple answer to the methods of my madness. The we can use Anakins height to gauge(?) Ferus’ height and create a time table because idk how old they are in your fic :)

Anakin Skywalker

Let’s start from the begin

Jake Lloyd was 9 when he played anakin and was 4’5(135cm(this number was rounded)

Hayden Christiansen was 19 when playing Anakin in ep 2 no was 6’0(182cm)

Now why do we need this information? Basically we’re going to find the average growth (in cm) per year between ages 9-19.

We can take 135cm and divide it by age,9, to give us 15cm. Now this makes sense because you grow a lot from when you were an infant to a young kid but this rapidly growing doesn’t add up when you are older. ( I am not accounting for growth spurts I’m working with a fixed continúes growth) so we 15/2=7.5cm which does mathematically make more sense. So we can set up this equation 7.5x= y which basically means 7.5 times X years (because time is a constant) and Y is height.

Yes we can switch the variables to a different symbol but this makes sense to me, because in my mind, there’s a graph. Very blurry graph but still there :)

Also Give or Take a few cm because no one grows at a constant.

Now we can do the fun part 🤩

By setting up a chart.

9. 135 (4’5)

10. 142.4 (4’8)

11. 150 (4’11)

12. 157.5 (5’2)

13. 165 (5’4)

14. 172.5 (5’7.9 ( technical 5,8)

15. 180 (5’10)

16. 182 (technical 187.5 so 6’1) 6’0

17. 182

18. 182

19. 182

I don’t care that the chart is impractical

Let me explain a little bit also, most boys hit their growth spurt from 12-16 but the chart shows hit it early, good for him ig, Also most boys stop growing at 16 and start growing muscle mass instead of height :) science 🧬

I would make a graph online but I’m too stupid

Ferus Olin

Now the disclaimer I TinyTim am very biased and this is opinion based off of my own and other peoples opinion and my foggy memory.

I always just assumed he was about 2in taller than Anakin

And you can carry this on for when there adults and have him permanently taller. But I like to have fun with it and have him stop around 5’8-5’11 (because I think it’s funny and there’s no way all that stress didn’t do anything to stunt is height yk.)

Now I took 5’8 (177) and divided that by 16 (for already explained reasons) and got a scary number 11.0625 so I just then I divided it by 2= 5.5

So to do this logistically I worked backwards

Chart

16. 177 (5’8)

15. 171.5 (5’6)

14. 166 (5’4)

13. 160.5 (5’2-5’3)

12. 155 (5’0)

11. 149.5 (4’9)

10. 144 (4’7)

Also small thing to keep in mind, which I love to talk about for some reason. Is the 2-3 year age gap (I think it’s 2 but there’s a possibility it could be 3) so when Anakin is 12(5’2) Ferus is (5’4) making him taller ever though he caps at at a not so short short king. Anakin surpasses Ferus at 15 Anakin being 5’10 and Ferus at 5’8

Ok everyone clap now I did it.

[messers-moony]

Home | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five goes through everything with his best friend, and when they return with the announcement of their marriage his siblings are appalled. 

Request: “I can request a FiveXreader where the reader is loving, sweet and naive, Five's best friend but the reader has no powers (You can invent a way how they became best friends and they are in love with each other, cliché but I love) One day the reader was sitting in front of the Umbrella Academy and saw Five leave in a hurry (The scene that he will travel in time) In this the reader does not abandon Five and decides to travel in time with him, they end up trapped in the apocalylipse, can you make them stay together?  (Like married I don't know) And also the scene where they go back to 2019? Sorry, if this so bored”

Five couldn’t believe his eyes. After a failed mission, he and his siblings decided to sneak out. Klaus had spotted a park on the way home, and that’s where they went. For the first time in years, they felt like kids again. They were all ten years old and had never experienced a playground before. Allison had never laughed as much, and Diego seemed to finally forget his insecurities while swinging from monkey bars. 

Even on occasion, Luther would help Ben cross the monkey bars. Vanya was finally included, and Klaus had never seemed so carefree in his life. But Five had his eyes on someone else. She sat at one of the navy blue tables, quite a ways away from the playground, watching the siblings with a soft smile on her face. A notebook was in front of her while she twirled a pencil in her hand. 

Curiosity killed the cat. Five was too intrigued not to sit with her. So despite this probably being the only time he could experience a playground, he sat in front of her, obscuring her vision from his other six siblings. Her eyes met green ones; they looked evergreen in the dark of the night. His hair almost looked black, but she knew it had to be dark brown. 

“Good evening.” Her voice, it sounded like heaven to him, “Evening.”

It felt awkward, and the silence could’ve been cut with a knife, “My names Y/n.”

“Five.”

“Five? That’s unique.” Y/n complimented, and his cheeks flushed, “Thanks….” 

Her vision went back to the other kids, “You’d think they’ve never seen a playground before.”

“They haven’t.” Five stated, looking at his siblings, “Our father is strict, so we snook out to come here.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as rude-“

“You didn’t.” Five smiled, looking at her e/c eyes. 

Since then, Five would sneak out a lot more. His power was a fantastic tool. When he and his siblings began to sneak out more, Five always invited her. Klaus, Diego, and Vanya seemed taken with her. Y/n was always so kind and sweet. Her laugh radiated, and it made everyone around her smile. It was like she was Aphrodite, and he was Ares. 

After becoming friends with the academy kids, Y/n had a habit of sitting outside the academy. She usually sat on the edge of the sidewalk with her notebook on her lap, pencil in hand. Five couldn’t remember a time when her hand wasn’t covered in graphite or ink from drawing. He adored it, though, because it was so her. It made him stare at his black pens, aimlessly smiling, knowing that she probably had the same color ink on her hand. 

Becoming friends with Five meant knowing his ambition. Five Hargreeves was driven by his goals and wanted to do them regardless of the consequence. So Y/n knew about his dream to time travel despite his father's wishes. On a gloomy day, Y/n sat on the sidewalk. The only thing drawing her from her daydream was the slam of a gate. 

“Five!”

He didn’t turn, “Five!”

Y/n grabbed his arm, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m- I’m going to time travel.” Five stated with that daze in his eyes, “And you need to stay here.”

“No! I’m not letting you go alone!” Y/n exclaimed incredulously, “Y/n, please.” Five pleaded. 

She shook her head, “Absolutely not. Either we go together, or we stay here together.”

“Fine.” Five reluctantly agreed, holding out his hand for her. 

Hesitantly Y/n slid her fingers through his. They were intertwining their hands together. Five was so focused on time-traveling correctly that he didn’t notice the pink flush on his best friend's face. But he did it, once and twice—finally a third time. Smoke clouded the area, and fire could be seen for miles. 

Y/n dropped his hand and covered her mouth. Five circled in his spot in shock. He felt nauseous and queasy. He couldn’t believe that he let this happen. He shouldn’t have pushed himself. They were stuck. Fucking hell, they were stuck, and he couldn’t do anything. Y/n ran back to the academy, and Five followed her. The h/c haired girl stared at what used to be the Umbrella Academy. Now in ruins. Five dropped to his knees, tears collecting in his eyes. 

“It’s- it’s gone….” 

Y/n hugged him tightly, “It’s okay, we’re going to be okay.”

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna be-“ 

Five didn’t get to finish his sentence. He pushed her away and threw up to the side. When he finished, Y/n took her jacket sleeve and wiped it around his mouth—gently combing his hair from his face. Y/n had never seen Five look so drained. Seeing her in front of him, taking care of him made him break. Five broke into sobs holding onto her like a lifeline. Y/n rubbed his back and held him just as tightly. 

“I’m here, Five. I’ll keep you safe.”

Being thirteen in an apocalypse seems like a death sentence, but when you grow up the way Five did, it’s more bearable. The first few months were awful. Searching for shelter, food, clothes. It was downright hell, but they made it through. On cold nights Five would hold her close to his chest, and on hot nights Y/n would always manage to get him cold water. 

Years passed, and their friendship turned into a relationship. They needed each other to survive, and they just needed each other. Five couldn’t be more grateful that she insisted on coming. He couldn’t imagine doing this alone. But now, he had his girlfriend leaning her head on his shoulder while watching the fire. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, leaving occasional kisses on her temple. 

“I couldn’t imagine this world without you.” Five confessed, “I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” Y/n challenged. 

He smirked, “Oh, really?” 

“Don’t let it go to your head, smartass.” Y/n snorted, “Too late, it’s already there, my love.” Five retorted. 

She kissed his cheek, “Love you.”

“Love you too, darling.” 

Five years later. They were twenty-five, and he wanted to make it official. It was a rather cold day wherever they were, and Five was holding her closer than ever. Y/n was shivering on the old mattress they had found. She was constantly snuggling closer to Five’s chest. They laid facing each other, and Y/n’s head was tucked under his chin. Five’s hand ran through her long hair - after being unable to cut it - soothing her nerves. 

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“I want you - Y/n - to marry me.” Five repeated, looking down at her.

Her teeth chattered, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not like there’s anyone else to choose from.”

Y/n glared playfully, and Five chuckled, “Asshole.”

“So, what do you say? Make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

“I say that if my fiancé doesn’t stop being an asshole, then I won't marry him.” Y/n retorted jokingly, “I love you too, pretty girl.” Five replied, smiling softly. 

He kissed her forehead and allowed her to muzzle closer into him. Gently he pulled the two plain rings he found. They were battered, of course, and the gold was dirty, but that didn’t matter. Five slipped the ring on her finger and his. Y/n placed a gentle kiss on his lips that he gladly returned. Sweet, soft, passionate, and full of love. A description of how she was. 

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Five replied, “Now get some sleep.” 

Y/n was about to fall asleep when she heard Five mutter one last thing, “Y/n Hargreeves.”

29 years. 348 months. 1512 weeks. 10,585 days. Until a woman showed up in their shelter, offering them both a job. Five could remember pushing Y/n behind him defensively. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt in any interaction he had. The woman offered them a way home. Five turned to his wife, and she saw it. For the first time in forty-five years, she saw it. Hope. 

Y/n took Five’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. The softest smile crossed his features before agreeing with the woman’s offer where both of them became assassins—partners in crime. Nothing turned Five on more than seeing his wife fend for herself, and god, was she good at it. Y/n was so naive and innocent when she was ten. But now? At the age of fifty-six, she wasn’t that girl anymore. 

But when they reached the age of fifty-eight, Five finally found out the correct equation. They were at their last mission, make sure John F. Kennedy gets shot and everything goes to plan, but Five had different ideas. Taking Vanya’s book from his suitcase, he looked over the equations one last time. They were going back; Five would go home today. 

“Y/n.”

“Yes, love?”

Five sighed, “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“To go home.” 

Y/n’s smile was blissful; Five could’ve fainted on the spot, “Home?! Like- Like-“

“Home.” Five answered to his overjoyed wife. 

Y/n kissed him more passionately than ever. Five could feel her gratefulness in her kiss. His hands placed themselves on her waist, and hers were around his neck. God Five never wanted to forget this feeling. The feeling of his wife in his arms, kissing him as she would never get enough. When they pulled apart, Five opened the portal. Gripping her hand, they jumped through and landed on the leaf-filled ground in the icy rain. 

“Does anyone else see Little Number Five and Little Y/n, or is that just me?“ Klaus asked, not trusting his eyes; maybe it was an illusion from the drugs. 

Five and Y/n stood up. The first thing Y/n noticed was the ring on her finger was too big now. But Five looked down at the suit he had been wearing previously. The blazer now reached his knees instead of his waist, and Y/n’s shirt was hanging off one of her shoulders. Five and Y/n looked at each other. They were thirteen all over again. 

“Shit.” 

He grabbed Y/n’s hand and dragged her into the academy. Y/n had only been in the academy a handful of times before, and she usually was only allowed in Five’s room because she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. His siblings followed aimlessly and took their spots at the table. 

“What’s the date? The exact date.” Five inquired, grabbing different things around the kitchen. 

“The 24th.”

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.”

Y/n took place beside him as Five began making a peanut butter marshmallow sandwich. The same snack he used to love as a kid. Y/n could remember him trying to eat it back at their apartment the commission provided them but complained it was too sweet. It seems that being in his teenage body again made him crave the sweetness of the snack. 

“So, are we gonna talk about just what happened?” Luther questioned, but no one answered, “It’s been 17 years.”

Five scoffed, “It’s been a lot longer than that.”

The same big spatial jumped behind Luther as he began to take marshmallows from the cabinet, “I haven’t missed that.” Luther murmured. 

“Where’d you two go?” Diego asked. 

“The future.” Y/n answered politely, “It’s shit, by the way.” Five added spatial jumping beside her again and gently kissing her cheek. 

The siblings stared in shock at Five’s sudden act of affection; Five could feel their eyes on him, “What?”

“You just kissed her.” Allison stated, “And?”

Allison didn’t say anything, “Is it a crime for me to kiss my wife or something?” Five asked agitatedly. 

“Wife?!”

“Yes, wife.” Five sighed. 

“Called it!” Klaus exclaimed. 

“I should’ve listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing.” Five began as he looked through the fridge, “Jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” 

He came back with peanut butter in his hand at the front of the table, his wife beside him; he took in the appearance of his siblings, “Nice dress.”

“Oh, well, Danke!” Klaus smiled. 

“Wait, how did you two get back?” Vanya questioned. 

“In the end, I had to project our consciousnesses forward into a suspended quantum state version of ourselves that exists across every possible instance of time.” 

Diego couldn’t wrap his head around it, “That makes no sense.”

Five went to remark, but Y/n cut him off, “It doesn’t have to. All that matters is that we’re back.”

“How long were you two there?” Luther queried, “Forty-Five years. Give or take.”

Everyone looked at the two teens in disbelief, “So what are you saying? That you’re 58?”

“Well, not exactly. Our consciences are 58, but it appears that our bodies are back to 13.” Y/n answered. 

“Wait, how does that even work?”

“It seems that Five might’ve gotten the equations wrong.” Y/n replied, and Five glared at her, “I’m not mad! I’m just happy we’re home. Appearance be damned.”

Five took notice of the newspaper in front of Y/n, “Guess I missed the funeral.”

“How’d you even know about that?” Luther inquired, “What part of the future do you not understand?” Five retorted. 

“Heart failure?” Y/n asked, “Yeah/No.” Luther and Diego contradicted. 

Five clicked his tongue, “Nice to see nothings changed.”

The teenage boy began to walk away, “Uh, that’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Allison questioned.

“What else is there to say? It’s the circle of life.”

Vanya was the first to get up and hug Y/n, “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too, Vanny. Me too.”

[kiyelle]

*.⋆ʚ HOW HE TELLS YOU HE LOVES YOU…KINDA!

with: bokuto, kuroo, oikawa, suna, tsukishima, atsumu, kenma

isabelle says: some are cute & some are dumb ahh! and thank you sm for the love on the notes work ily all

ʚ BOKUTO

*.⋆ ‘y/n… YOU MAKE MY HEART GO WEE WOO’

*.⋆ he’s flustered ok! he was psyching himself up to say something, that was just the first thing to pop into his head :(

*.⋆ gosh i’m so soft for bo PLS

*.⋆ also kuroo probably saw the whole thing and won’t let it go for literal months ‘wEe WoO pfft’

ʚ KUROO

*.⋆ ‘n 3^07 !’

*.⋆ he was helping you study math and you looked so cute concentrating so he decided he was just going to go for it

*.⋆ so when he passed you the slip of paper asking for help on this ‘difficult equation’ you were like •.• sir this was NOT taught in class, you were so confused

*.⋆ ‘turn it upside down and then read it idiot’

ʚ OIKAWA

*.⋆ ‘oh are you the girl uncle tōru is in love with?’

*.⋆ this boy constantly rants to takeru about everything, from how ‘tobio-chan and that chibi-chan have nothing on me and iwa!’ to ‘y/n looked so cute today’

*.⋆ something i love about oikawa is his undeniable passion so being the subject of that fire, sparkles in his eyes and all, makes my heart flutter idc

*.⋆ his poor nephew just had enough though and exposed him so he could go back to playing with his own friends instead of listening to his eighteen year old uncle’s love life

ʚ SUNA

*.⋆ ‘this child on tiktok is trying to tell me we aren’t compatible because of our star signs, the stars are obviously blind to perfection’

*.⋆ even though he mostly acts unbothered or indifferent towards things i feel like the tiniest details make him so happy

*.⋆ just the little fact that the stars agree you’re perfect together would make his heart skip beats

*.⋆ also side note! just imagine rin hanging out with the twins and one asks why he’s smiling at his phone and he says ‘nothing’ but he’s still smiling and it’s all because of you ugh <33



ʚ TSUKISHIMA

*.⋆ ok just LISTEN

*.⋆ i know this boy is always portrayed as a massive kuudere but just picture being up really late with him on call and he’s superrr sleepy and as you’re both falling asleep he says to you:

*.⋆ ‘we’re like the sun and moon, i’m just waiting for our eclipse’

*.⋆ sTOP i have butterflies

ʚ ATSUMU

*.⋆ just printed out a whole stack of heart reaction memes and gave them to you :,)

*.⋆ like didn’t even do anything special, just smacked forty pages of memes onto your desk one morning with the biggest smile ever

*.⋆ he would of sent them by text but he wanted a live reaction to each one

*.⋆ suna is !!always!! making memes of him and his brother so he begged him to make one for you, it didn’t come cheap but the last picture of the stack is indeed him surrounded by hearts

ʚ KENMA

*.⋆ ok let’s set the scene: you’re at his house and it’s almost three in the morning, both of you laying in front of the tv with your shoulders brushing when he suddenly stops playing. but he doesn’t turn to you when he whispers

*.⋆ ‘you know how i told you a while ago that i used video games to escape reality sometimes?’

*.⋆ ‘yeah, ken?’

*.⋆ ‘i don’t think i want to escape it anymore if it means i’ll be with you’

[nicnacsnonsense]

Things which do not necessarily indicate Stede was a bad father pre-canon:

Mary commenting that the kids are adjusting better than expected to him being gone — These kids have gone from living in a household with 2 miserable parents to one with 1.5 (granting a half point for Doug) happy and fulfilled parents. Something like that is going to have a hugely positive impact on them, even if they are missing their dad.

Alma angrily telling Stede she doesn’t want his moldy old food — A bit of a gimme, but obviously this could easily be a reflection of Alma feeling angry and betrayed by his one genuine bad dad move of leaving after previously having been a good dad.

Louis asking him who he is — Look, Louis is a little kid. If he did forget Stede, that doesn’t have to mean anything deeper than little kids forget things a lot. But it’s also possible he does remember Stede and he’s just confused because he doesn’t understand a lot of the way the world works yet. Picture little Louis sitting there at the table like the woman with the complicated math equations meme thinking to himself, Mom is my mom. Mom loves Doug so Doug is my dad. But I remember playing with this person and that he used to live in our house all the time too like a dad. But a person can only have one dad and Doug is my dad so… “Who are you again?”

Mary telling Stede to play with his kids — Yes Mary’s tone is annoyed here, but let’s be real; when your relationship with someone is as bad as Mary and Stede’s was, they don’t actually have to be doing anything wrong for you to be annoyed with them. From what we can hear of the kids, they seem to be having fun and entertaining each other just fine. There’s no clear and definite indicator that Stede is doing anything wrong by having been reading in that particular moment rather than playing with them.

Stede playing pirates with the kids when Mary said not to — Mary says playing pirates will give the kids nightmares, but we have no idea of how rational this belief of hers is. It’s possible she’s entirely right and playing pirates always causes nightmares. But it’s also possible the kids have nightmares sometimes for unrelated reasons and Mary has just come to the incorrect conclusion that it’s caused by playing pirates presumably because it’s a game she doesn’t particularly approve of regardless. We also don’t know how they actually started playing pirates; was it Stede’s suggestion or did the kids beg and plead and insist they didn’t care if they got nightmares until Stede agreed?

Stede never read bedtime stories to his kids/played any games with them other than pirates/tucked them into bed and gave them gentle forehead kisses goodnight/any other random thing someone wants to assert Stede didn’t do — Jesus. We never see Stede going to the bathroom either, are we assuming that means he doesn’t poop? I’m am begging everyone to stop casually asserting that Stede never did x with his kids without any evidence to back up why they think he didn’t do whatever it is.

Things which indicate Stede was a good father, actually (again, aside from the whole leaving thing; bad move there, Stede):

The way he treats the crew, especially in the first episode — He reads them bedtime stories! The whole flag making scene was basically kindergarten arts and crafts! Stede treats his crew the way you would expect a good father to treat his kids. Obviously this doesn’t prove that he actually treated his own kids that way, but that seems a way more intuitive assumption than thinking this is all new behavior from Stede. Especially given that reusing pre-existing scripts and patterns of behavior even when they don’t particularly fit in the new situation is something Stede is known to do.

The way the ship was outfitted — Stede originally designed the Revenge under the assumption his family would be there with them. And the inclusion of things like the children’s stories, the rec room, and the jam room show that he was actively considering how to make shipboard life fun and engaging for his young children.

Ed building a pillowfort — Admittedly this one is tenuous, but I swear I’ve connected the dots! From what we see of Ed’s childhood it seems doubtful he had any experience with building pillowforts. One thing that might explain it would be if Ed learned from Stede who in turn got his practice from playing with his kids.

Stede playing with his kids — Honestly I could write thousands of words (tens of thousands maybe even) on this scene alone, but I’m trying to keep this brief (well, briefer) so let’s just hit the highlights. Stede is reading at the dining table, the same room everyone else is hanging out in. Upon (presumably) hearing Stede agree to Mary’s request that he play with the kids, Alma and Louis try to sneak up on their seemingly oblivious dad — in particular note how comfortable and confident of her welcome in Stede’s space Alma is and the look of anticipatory excitement on Louis’s face — only for Stede to suddenly lunge out to try to “get” them, which at some point evolves into a game of pirates. We see that the kids love playing with their dad, something that happens frequently enough that an announcement that he is going to is not treated as something particularly noteworthy and he is instead pulled into their game in an apparently natural and practiced way. Furthermore, by reading at the table instead of whatever study/library he must have, Stede is making himself present and available for his children even when not actively engaging with them, something he is in part able to do because he does engage with them often enough that they don’t feel the need to demand/beg for his attention whenever he is physically present.

Alma giving Stede the petrified orange half — The orange is a metaphor for Stede’s heart, so leaving half of it with Alma and Louis while taking the other half back to sea when he leaves is a metaphor for him still loving and having a connection to his kids even after he leaves. But most importantly Alma is the one who did this; she came up with the idea on her own, then of her own volition went and found the orange wherever Stede last had it and broke it in half to offer to him. Despite her anger at him leaving the first time and her understanding why him leaving this time is for the best, she is still proactively reaching out to tell him she wants to maintain that connection with him.