#to Make Sure shit doesn't go catastrophically wrong. you know?

[nefretemerson]

ive got summer employees which is really nice because that means I'm not working sixty-seventy hours a week but that Does mean that it's a bunch of teenagers and Youths™️ who are new to all of this. so like. either I've got to be down there with them, or I've got to be surgically attached to my phone at all times so they can call me whenever they have problems. idk. I've had eight phone calls and eleven texts since 11 am. it's not even 3. answering the phone in the shower. waking up ten minutes into a nap to answer the phone. always on that damn phone.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I noticed when reading through all your worldbuilding stuff a bit ago that you changed from having isshin remember some stuff to not remembering shit and while i am absolutely not complaining, im curious why I out changed it? Like, cool either way, I'm just interested in the process ^^

I did and did not change it?

Amnesia is almost never a total void- it's more common for people to have SOME memories, but a total lack of context- the memories play out like a movie scene, but the person has no idea who the people in it are, or why they're doing that.

So Isshin has... some memories, but no context for them. He remembers a family member named Kaien- was that his cousin? A young uncle? A neighbor? He's not sure. He remembers a scary old man and some kid and the world's most annoying woman (affectionate), but he doesn't know who they are or how he knows them.

He also has memories of monsters, and the lore about how to avoid and destroy them- was it something Masaki told him, when they were both recovering in the hospital after his accident? Or something older? He doesn't remember.

Ichigo's taxidermy cat starts talking and walkign around and says his name is "Kon" and he's something called a "Mod Soul". Isshin thought that was a subgenre of music, but something about Kon's story follows a pattern of... something. Who knows what.

There's something familiar about the girl Ichigo brings home one night- his classmate, Rukia, who he found sleeping rough, can she stay here? Of course she can! Isshin has a good feeling about her, but heaven knows why.

Ichigo is going through something that he's weirdly reluctant to talk about- all boys get weird during puberty, but locking himself in his room or hanging out on the roof for hours on end, talking to himself? Odd, even for Ichigo. Especially when Isshin tries to eavesdrop on the conversation and it sounds like Ichigo is talking to an unseen friend- this "Zangetsu" guy. Why does that name sound familar? Why does Isshin even try to remember anymore?

Something is wrong. Something is terribly catastrophically wrong. Kon has been Piloting Ichigo's body for DAYS and won't say where his son's spirit has gone. He was doing the dishes and then suddenly... woke up on the kitchen floor. Karin and Yuzu are sluggish, all feeling like they'd been drugged. There's people asleep in the street. There's a terrible, heavy feeling in the air, like an impending hurricaine, despite the clear blue sky. Isshin is running to the hospital- if everyone's been knocked out, there's nobody watching the ICU, or what if someone was doing surgery when this happened-?

There's a man in the road.

"Shiba? Is that you? Is Destiny serving everything to me today?" he calls out, laughing. He's handsome, with a smooth voice and disarming smile. In the surroundings, it makes Isshin's skin crawl.

"...Don't you remember me, Captain Shiba?" the man asks, sounding vaguely disappointed.

Isshin absolutely does not. But he knows, deep in his bones, that this is a wicked, evil man. And that he doesn't have a chance against him, save for one thing- a ripple, less than half a sense of something, but a man knows his son in any shape, coming up behind the man at speed, he just needs an opening.

"OH HEY!" Isshin says, like catching sigh of a co-worker in the grocery store and shouting the first name that comes to mind because somehow he knows this will make the wicked man apoplectic with rage and blind to Ichigo's rapid approach. "URAHARA! KISUKE URAHARA I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU FOR AGES!"

[holmsister]

I think one of the things Dungeon Meshi is definitely about is how different people deal with being an outsider/marginalised/neurodivergent/what have you and basically what im getting at is that Kabru is TEXTBOOK "high functioning [insert diagnosis here]". Its that how they say it still? Don't care.

Basically. This man shows up and you listens to him talk and see how his party treats him and you think. Oh this is a cool guy who has his shit together. And then after like two pages you find out that he has constant flashbacks to Utaya that make him completely freeze, anxiety attacks, thought spirals, is incapable of analyzing his own feelings, is a stuttering mess when the stakes are high, has never done a chore in his life, keeps putting himself in triggering situations and re-traumatising himself, and the icing on the cake is when you read the extra material and it turns out he regularly forgets to eat and lives in a depression nest of dirty clothes and self-medicates insomnia with alcohol and also is 22. Which also kind of puts Misilril not wanting to let him go in another light - yeah for sure she's controlling and infantilising and also its not like she was really helping his issues but also she was not entirely wrong in her judgement. This man does NOT know how to take care of himself. He knows how to do the bare minimum so when he shows up at work the next day he can fool his coworkers into thinking hes got it together enough. For a bit.

He is DEEPLY unwell and he knows it but he is carried by the desperate wish to avoid another catastrophe. If he stops for a moment he KNOWS he'll collapse so he doesn't.

I also think this is why him acting nurse to Mithrun is such an important part of his arc. Its like. This person who has spent all of his adult life focused on a single objective disregarding everything else is faced with what happens when you do that for too long. And the result is a wet tissue of a creature who looks like he doesn't know where he is most of the time.

He is a man on the brink. I have no doubt he felt relieved when he decided he could trust Laios - not even in a Labru way, straight up because he knew he could not keep going like this.

But also like. Of all the characters in the manga, I think Senshi and Kabru are the most lonely ones. Except Senshi seems to be OK with solitude - for sure it's not entirely healthy to be alone for as long as he was but he definitely did well enough. He is very good at taking care of himself. Meanwhile Kabru *knows* a lot of people but can you really say he has friends? Rin, maybe, arguably, but even she does not seem to truly know him, you know? He keeps himself hidden from everyone. I think the only time we see him entirely honest is when he says to Laios that he wanted to be his friend, and hes so shocked when it comes out, you can tell he did not mean to say it. And differently from Senshi, he does NOT fare well alone. He likes people, he needs people. Again compare with Mithrun - he has like a squad of people taking care of him. If Kabru had a breakdown of that size can you say his party would go out of its way to help? Im not sure. Not because they're bad people, but because he's simply not that intimate with any of them.

Idk man it just struck me all of a sudden. Laios is weird and offputting and doesn't care about other humans the way Kabru does and YET he is infinitely more successful at building deep, meaningful relationships and taking care of himself as well. I think this is part of why Kabru is so fascinated with him as well. He can tell Laios has something he doesn't have. Wait this is turning into a whole another post I'll write this next time.

[andydrysdalerogers]

A Second Chance ~ Mistakes

An Andy Barber x OFC Madeline Barnes AU

I always though when you found "the one" life would be perfect. My life was perfect.  I had a great job, a beautiful house and a handsome husband. Yes, my life was perfect.

Turns out I was wrong.

After a catastrophic event, Madeline Barnes does on the run and finds herself at a bar, trying to forget her pain and wallow in sorrow.

But she also found herself back into the sights of a man who knows her but she doesn't know him.

As Maddie recalls her relationship with her husband, she begins an affair with the gorgeous president of the Rebel Sons Motorcycle Club. The same man who saw her seven years before and won't let go of this second chance.

A/N:

This is a rewrite of the one-shot "A Second Chance" but with the names added. Original chapters will follow.

The tag list is open so if you would like to please let me know!

WARNINGS: smut! (oral M & F, PinV, Masturbation, etc.) cheating (by both parties) divorce, pregnancy, verbal abuse, violence.

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Prior Chapter: The Morning After

Main Masterlist // Series Masterlist

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Bucky’s POV 

The Night Before 

“Bucky?” 

I was lost in some good pussy that was riding me hard, slamming her hips into mine when I heard it. I saw my girl, frozen with her phone in her hand.  

“Maddie! Fuck!” I shoved Kelly off of me.” Madeline, Doll!” I tripped as I pulled on my boxers but I heard the door slam. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I ran up the stairs to grab my phone and I started dialing. “C’mon baby, pick up the phone.” I paced in my living room. What the fuck did I do?  

“Bucky?” I turned back to the blonde, Kelly. Kelly, who was riding my dick not 10 minutes ago.  She’s in my shirt, barely buttoned, her cunt flashing me. “Are you coming back to bed?” 

I blinked.  What was she asking me?  

“C’mon, baby, so she knows, so what? We had this arrangement for a reason, and you should enjoy it.” She ran one long fingernail down my arm, and I shuddered. I wasn’t sure if it was in desire or disgust.  

Kelly had been a stress relief from the demanding responsibilities that I had between work and home.  Madeline was an angel so I could be rough with her like I wanted.  She never showed interest on fucking my way.  I had to “make love” to my wife. A man could only do that so much.  I wanted to bury myself inside her, fuck her hard and deep so she could feel me the next day.  But no, she couldn’t do it. She won’t try experimental shit. I knew she wouldn’t. 

Instead, I found Kelly.  We had a mutual need and a contract to fulfill. My wife was never supposed to find out. I wasn’t expecting Maddie for a couple more hours. I would have time to get the sheets changed and get ready for a cuddling evening.  

I can’t get the look on Maddie’s face out of my head.  

“You need to leave. I need to find my wife,” I growl out. “Get out!” 

Kelly scurries into her clothes and is out the front door in two minutes. I really shouldn’t take my anger out on her. This is on me.  I was... am the married one. This is on me.  I keep dialing her number until I goes straight to her voicemail. Her phone is now off. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to track her. Then it hits me. Steve. I could call Steve and maybe he has access to some of the club’s tools. I dial my best friend’s number.  

“Buck, what’s going on?” 

“Maddie. She’s missing.”  

“What the fuck? What happened?  Was she kidnapped?” 

A sense of dread falls over me. The boys of the MC have a code. And part of that is, we don’t cheat on our old ladies. Steve won’t be happy. “Maddie and I had a fight, and she took off. She’s not answering her phone and its pouring.”  

“What did you do?” 

“I made a mistake. Steve, please I need to find her.”  

“I’ll be there in half an hour.” He hangs up and I curse. Once he finds out, he will kill me.  

I paced through the living room, continuing to try and reach Maddie. I just needed to explain and it would be ok. Would it be ok? Who was I kidding? It would be a fight but I was willing to fight to keep her.  

Steve opened the door and walked in. He saw my disheveled look and sighed, hands on hips. “What the fuck did you do? And don’t lie to me Barnes.”  

I sank onto the couch. “I cheated,” I mumbled.  

Steve radiated his anger. “Goddammit Bucky. What the hell is wrong with you?” He smacked me across the head. “We have always had a code when it comes to our women. Just because you left doesn’t mean you give up on your morals.”  

“Fuck, I know! But you know Maddie, she’s sweet and delicate. She wouldn’t be into the shit I like, and I can’t ask her,” I tried justifying. “I would never hurt her.”  

“But you did, asshole. Where is she now? Probably crying her eyes out somewhere.” He ran a hand through his blonde hair.  “Fuck. I’m gonna ride around and see if I can see her. You should do the same.” 

“What if she comes back?” 

Steve picked up his phone. “Tek, its Steve. Can you get into the cameras at the Barnes house... Yeah the security system too... if Madeline comes in, lock the doors... I know... I’ll tell him. Thanks.” He hung up and made another call. “Ghost, we have a problem. Madeline Barnes is missing... yeah, I’m helping him search... I’ll keep you updated.” He hung up and looked at me.  He could see me seething about his second call. “It's your fault. I needed Tek’s help but I have to let Prez know.”  

I knew that my former President had a thing some time ago for my girl. But, as she is my girl, he had no right to approach her. But now that I had royally fucked up, he might see it as fair game. I couldn’t think about it now. I grab the keys to my bike that I stored in the shed in the back.  Maddie had no idea about my club past.  I didn’t want that part of my life to touch her.  I kicked the engine alive and rode out.  

I would find her if it was the last thing I do. 

Five hours later, we hadn’t found her. I pulled up to my house, defeated. The police scanners had no mention of any accidents with her car. We searched all of Seattle and nothing.  I opened our door and was hit with the fact our home was empty.  She never came back. I sat with my head in my hands. The sound of the door opening had me looking up.  

And watch as my best friend knocked me out.  

I woke up, tied to a chair in a warehouse. What the fuck happened? My head was throbbing, and my vision was still a little blurry. “You awake yet fucker?” 

I am so confused. “Steve?” 

“Yep.” He kneeled right in front of me. “I’m holding you here so Maddie can have some peace while she gets her stuff out.”  

The words take a moment to register.  Maddie. Peace. Out.  “No! You can’t let her do this! I love her Stevie, please don’t let her leave!” 

He sneers at me, then flashes his phone. It's a picture of my beautiful girl, sitting at a bar. Her face is blotchy, eyes pink, probably from crying. She looks broken, defeated. “You mean this girl? This girl that you claim to love but decided to fuck someone else.  The girl you should have just had an honest conversation with to see if she could be the woman you needed. This girl?” 

“Steve, please.”  

His phone rang. He put a rag in my mouth before he answered on speaker. “Prez?” 

“I’m going to take her home in the morning to pack. Make sure the paperwork is ready to go. She gets the money, her car and jewelry. Barnes can have the house.”  

He looked at me. “He’s gonna be pissed.”  

“Then he shouldn't have fucked around. He found out what happens when you don’t hold the one person he should have near and dear to his heart.  She is mine now and I won’t be letting go.  She is my queen, my life and the new first lady of this club.  He wants to fuck around and find out, let him. Get it done, Rogers.”  

“Yes, sir.  Should I let him go?” 

I tried to scream through the rag and I heard Andy chuckle. “Not until she’s had a chance to pack in peace. I’m letting her sleep right now. She’s emotional exhausted.”  

“Did you fuck her Prez?” What the fuck! Steve glared at me like he knew something and wanted to be cruel and I screamed again, wiggling, trying to get myself released from the ropes. No, please let the answer be no.  

“Yep.” The call ended and my world came crashing down.  Steve removed the rag.  

“You bastard! How could you let this happen. She is my old lady!” 

“How did I let it happen?” He snarled. “You did this. You never deserved her. She is an angel on earth and how she ended up with you, I will never know. You have taken this angel for granted for the last time.  Now, shut up and give me a minute. I gotta get the paperwork for you to sign.”  

“I ain’t signing shit!” 

He sighed.  “Then get used to that chair.  You don’t leave until Prez says so.” He walked out of the warehouse, leaving me alone.  

What have I done? She slept with Andy, that slut. She’s still my wife and she slept with someone else. Fuck all if I was giving her anything. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes, but I forced them back. This wasn’t the time for tears.  

I am going to kill Andrew Barber.  

Maddie 

I still feel like I am in a fog. Everything is just a little bit fuzzy. I do my best to focus on the road.  

And not on the man riding behind me.  

I can’t help but smile when I think of Andy Barber. He wasn’t the man I thought I would go for, but I have zero regrets of last night.  He was tender, sweet, gruff, hard, soft, rough all at the same time. He did things to me that I had no idea could be done. James was sweet with me but never bent me over and pulled my hair. He never tried to suck my sole through my clit. I was his porcelain doll.  

And I’m Andy’s bad little Angel now.  

He worshiped me in bed. He showed me how I should have been treated. Reverently and disrespectfully at the same time. I didn’t even want to get my stuff today, because I wanted to stay in bed with this man, but Andy insisted that I had to do this today. 

“A clean break, Angel. Leave everything else. I’ll take care of it.”  

I’m trusting a man I’ve known for 12 hours with my new life.  

The sun is now shinning, the world washed after the downpour of a Seattle storm. I pulled into the familiar driveway, the ache in my heart growing.  I’ve spent five of the seven years we were together in this house. It’s exactly the same as yesterday but completely different today.  Yesterday, it was my forever home, where we would raise our babies, grow old together. Today, it’s James’s house, where I had my stuff but no longer lived. I felt like an intruder as I opened the door.  

“Breathe, Angel, just breathe.” Andy hugged me from behind.  

“It’s foreign and familiar at the same time,” I whispered. I shuddered, remembering the sounds from the night before. “Don’t cry,” I said to myself. He’s not worth it. I stiffened my upper lip and went into the bedroom. I didn’t look at the bed; I couldn’t. Andy went to the closet and retrieved some bags for me.  I pulled out my clothes, packing them and leaving behind what had sentimental value. I stared at my wedding dress but left it hanging.  His new whore can wear it if she likes.  I took none of the sexy outfits I had worn for him. I had a couple that were new, with the tags on. I took those. I left the motorcycle jacket he had gotten for me. 

I tried to remember the good times with James but was coming up empty at the moment.  The only thing I could see was the woman on top of him and his face contorted in pleasure. I shuddered at the thought and moved to my jewelry.  I filtered through it, taking only my family heirlooms, and items I have purchased myself.  I left the fancy watch he gave me.  I stuck my hand out to Andy. “The rings,” I said, and he placed them in my palm.  

I left them on top of the jewelry box, easy to find. His whore could have them.  

After the bedroom, I went into our kitchen and just took my favorite mug, a gift from my father, and a potted plant my mother gave me.  In the living room I looked at all the photos of us. The happy times we had, the memories associated with them. The trip to the beach, the mountains, him on his bike, at Pike Place, the pier, the ferry. I leave them. I grab our wedding album and march outside.  

“Angel, what are you doing?” Andy is following me, a look of worry etched on his handsome face.  

I get to the firepit James has installed himself. I grab a couple of logs, lighter fluid and a match. I start the fire and look over the album again.  I save a few pictures of my family, of me and Steve and just one of James and me. I look at the album and then Andy. Never taking my eyes off Andy, I throw the entire album into the pit. It catches fire immediately.  

“I understand the pictures of Steve and your family,” Andy started, “but why the picture of him?” 

I look at the picture. It was one right after James had finished dipping me for first kiss. We’re laughing and smiling, looking right at each other. I always believed that it was the perfect picture.  

“So, I never forget.”  

NEXT

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[cocktailjjrs]

So......

Since I've been suffering with these angsty thoughts... i though i would invite you all suffer with me...

It's about Chuuya...

I was doing some research for my fic (mainly going through bsd novels, blogs, tags and all) and came across this one Insta post in passing (sorry, i don't remember the name).

It was about BSD's cycles.

First, cycle of abuse, going from Mori-Dazai-Aku-Kyouka

and Second of rescue, going from Natsume-Oda-Dazai-Atsushi-Kyouka.

And then they highlighted a third category, the one's who are not saved - including Chuuya, Aku and Q.

At that point i didn't think much about it, just another post while scrolling Insta.

But now it's keeps bothering me, a constant reminder, whenever i read something BSD.

And It's so heart wrenching.

It also hit me, Q and Aku can still be saved.

Q, while we don't exactly know where they are right now, there is a chance of them getting their own arc, backstory and then being saved.

Aku, while still in Mafia, his partnership with Atsushi is his saving grace already. He is making an effort to not kill, just for their deal/bet. By the end of it all, he will be in a better place than he is now.

But Chuuya. (Spoiler's for light novel's if you haven't read them)

I remember very clearly, when in Stormbringer (don't ask me why i remember this byheart), when Murase dies Chuuya says, "Hey Detective, Weren’t you gonna arrest me?! Weren’t you gonna bring me into the world of light"

Don't get me wrong, I still believe Chuuya belongs to Port Mafia, the darkness suits him better than light.

But that does not mean he never wanted to get out of that darkness. This one instance in SB was proof enough. Makes me wonder, if things had gone even slightly differently, would he be in a better place than he is now? Is there still a chance?

What's even more tragic is that after the whole SB thing, no one seemed stick around enough to help him fight his own demons.

And he definitely has MASSIVE DEMONS.

His whole life seems to be one catastrophe after another! Don't believe me?

His first group, whom he called friends, betrayed him. Classic stabbed by poisonous knife in the back.

Hardly a year later, his second friends group, Flags, was killed by an emotionally unstable man-child seeking validation, insisting on calling him brother.

He went through a horrid ordeal, having to learn he was a lab experiment, seeing your clone vaporise to nothing but bones in your own arms, having to fight those same bones. And as if this was not enough, then fighting the monstrosity of a singularity and in process loosing the only chance to determine your humanity. (Actually whole of SB is dreadful, i don't think it'll ever get worse than that - i really hope it doesn't)

Then, given by the timeline, another year later, his third group of friends was killed by Shibusawa.

And again a year later - his partner, who brought him in all this madness, just fucking leaves without a word. This is the least tragic thing that has happened to the boy, i swear.

And I'm sure it didn't end there.

There must have been so many things going on behind the scenes in those missing years, hell even after the series began, Chuuya has been out of scene because something or the other was going on.

Now you have Fyodor fucking shit up for no apparent reason. With this shitshow, many mafia men, some of whom Chuuya might have developed a relation, are definitely dead. Not to mention the mental gymnastics going to trying to at least be on the same fucking chapter as the two geniuses.

AND ALL OF THIS IS JUST IN THE CURRENT TIMELINE. Don't get me started on BEAST VERSE!!! (That's a can of worms I'm really not ready to open at this point)

The thing with Mentally strong individuals is, they have abnormally high emotional intelligence, they are unnaturally resilient, they can compartmentalize their grief, they empathise with great deal of people, think rationally at any given point and think of ways to make things better.

What many people fail to understand is that no one is born Mentally strong, it's the circumstances that make them as such.

It can happen even through small things.

No one being there for you to express your deepest fears. No one just listening to you, even if they have a solution to your problem. Or having seen other's nightmares come to reality and feeling your own are much smaller, or having made to fell that way.

It creates the mentality of never sharing your fears, your insecurities, your discomfort - because at the back of the mind you keep telling yourself - oh, this person has gone through so much more than i have, my fear is nothing compared to it. I can handle it on my own, they have their own problems to handle. Everyone is busy, i don't think they have time to listen to the same problem I've been facing for years now. I've manages so far, i think I can manager just fine.

You start to undervalue your own feelings and start to fell like you'll burden them. Start to feel like you NEED to handle it on your own.

Now, i don't want to go into a spiral of mental health, but when you look at Chuuya, you can't help but marvel at that kids Mental resolution.

His first action after being stabbed in back was to make a deal with a demon to make sure he doesn't harm them, because they are just kids.

His first reaction to being provoked into revenge was to say Fuck off to his manipulator, not falling for the temptation and doing what he felt right.

He even forgave the killer of his friends (And also the one who tried to kill him) for gods sake! Understanding what he was going through.

He even walked away after knowing his parents are alive (oh the irony) not wanting to put a target on them. (I'm actually on fence with this, the chances of it being a manipulation tactic from Mori is just as high as it being the truth)

He had tremendous mental fortitude.

But you still see the cracks in his emotional state,

He was desperate to know if he was human or not, inclining towards the later.

He didn't know, that your friends can do some nice things without expecting anything in return. They can go above and beyond your regular stuff just because they are your friends, there doesn't need to be of anything at stake in friendship.

Hell, there was a point he believed having a Heart was too sophisticated for him, that he can't be that human!

I can go hours and hours about this.

What i can say for sure is, he has demons in all sizes, shapes and forms, something that he has stuffed in his closet only to deal with them himself, not letting them see the light of the day.

i just don't see anyone actually being there for him long enough for him to trust them fully with his demons.

No, not even Dazai. Dazai himself was a walking cry for help, like hell Chuuya is adding to that pile. He may have found a constant in Dazai in three years, seeing as all other's met their end in one. I believe in those three years, somewhere Soukoku began to feel like his safe place, somewhere he didn't had to think about his demons only by the virtue of dealing with one made of flesh and bones. But then even Dazai left.

I don't think even Kouyou was there for most part. And considering her obsession with a flowers of dark with Kyouka, i think it pulled Chuuya more in her own tragedy. Afterall, she also was never saved.

Mori is there, but Mori is a Demon in his own rights. What we've seen is their interactions have been those of a boss and his close confidents, nothing personal or emotional. Which also makes sense when you think of Mori's theory of running an organization. Chuuya, all things considered, the most powerful member of PM and he is treated as such.

The other significant members of PM, the guerrilla squad, black lizards or Kajji - all of them may know him better than most, but he is still their executive. If a 15 and younger kid took the title of being a protector of his rag-tag group seriously, being a responsible and dependable executive comes with higher stakes. He will carry out his role as one, even if it's the last thing he does.

.

.

.

That was me rambling.

My point is, i wanna give Chuuya a big hug, tell him it's okay to fell tried sometimes. To let himself be vulnerable. That his fears are not invalid. That he is not invalid. That he isn't the problem, never was.

That he will still be valued and wanted, even if he one day looses his ability or he is no longer the strongest.

Can someone please save his boy?

[fincalinde]

nice to see you back on here! if you're answering questions again, i've had something i've been meaning to ask, if you don't mind. do you have any thoughts on the things wwx and jc did for each other?

I'm never truly gone. Whenever you see a fox scurrying about its business in the twilight, I am with you in spirit. By which I mean I'm very busy but I do get a notif if someone sends me an ask.

This one has sat in my drafts for a while and it's still quite messy, but I thought I'd better just get it off the to do list and move on. So, the Twin Heroes!

I've seen quite a bit of negativity towards JC in my time, usually accusing him of all manner of iniquities that aren't actually supported by the text. To make my own position clear: I don't think JC did nothing wrong ever in his life. But I do think he's a capable clan leader and an extremely loyal brother who tried very hard to make things work with WWX.

Let's start with the biggie: WWX gives JC his core. It is an incredible act of love to be sure. Functionally it saves JC's life (he's not going to last long in that state) along with preserving the existence of the Jiang Clan itself. I don't have a problem with WWX making a unilateral decision here, because he knows JC won't agree otherwise and the stakes could not be higher. It also makes sense that the Grandmaster of Impulsive Cultivation conceals the entire thing from JC. He knows the effect the truth will have on JC, and he's just trying to get them through the current crisis and worry about the consequences later. So I think his choices are understandable in a desperate situation where there are no good options.

To be honest, what bothers me is WWX's subsequent dumbassery. My god, man, what is the point of making a monumental sacrifice for someone and then proceeding to fuck shit up for him on a regular basis afterwards?

WWX's behaviour is catastrophic for the Jiang. I understand that he's in his emo goth era and I don't expect him to make perfect decisions at all times, but the way he treads on JC's toes makes my teeth hurt. Quite probably WWX himself was never going to end up in a good place, since his demonic cultivation made him too much of a threat for the Jin (or society at large) to leave him in peace. But that's not particularly relevant to the way he undermines JC. On more than one occasion, JC is doing his best to navigate a delicate political situation and WWX clomps in with his size 13s and makes everything worse for everyone. This, as much as popular sentiment turning against WWX, is a huge driver in why they have to fake their falling out and sever ties publicly.

Meanwhile, JC makes an equivalent sacrifice for WWX—he lets himself be captured, even though it results in the loss of his core and, as far as he knows at the time, the functional extinction of his clan. This is revealed right at the end of MDZS, encouraging the reader to look back at the novel and recontextualise JC's actions throughout. JC put WWX above his own life and the continued existence of his clan. There can be no question that he made as enormous a sacrifice for WWX as WWX made for him. Their mutual ignorance of this fact for so many years is the heart of their tragedy.

But crucially, there remains a difference between WWX and JC. Because JC doesn't only come through for WWX when the stakes are high. Right up until the death of JYL, JC is the one trying to balance his responsibility to his clan with his desire to protect WWX. For a start, they fake the cutting of ties between WWX and the Jiang, when it arguably would be much less risky for JC to cut ties in actuality. JC is also the one taking further risks by allowing WWX to see JYL in her wedding clothes. He even suggests WWX gets to pick her child's courtesy name. These things show a pattern of consideration that WWX simply does not match.

Let's not forget, JC does a decent job as clan leader. He's very young, and unlike NMJ or LXC, he has to build his clan again from literally nothing. Disciples need to be recruited and trained from scratch. Lotus Pier needs to be rebuilt—without Jin gold. He's doing what needs to be done to ensure the Jiang Clan continues to exist, yet still attempting to balance that with his loyalty to WWX even as WWX becomes more and more of a liability. Yes, WWX is being affected by the resentful energy he's cultivating, but his arrogance has been present from the start. It's not that the resentful energy is creating new traits in him, but that existing traits are being exaggerated.

WWX does a lot of very admirable and brave things and he is pretty much always trying to do right by the people he cares about i.e. the Jiang and the Wenmants. The trouble is that he's fundamentally not capable of recognising the damage he's also doing. His altercation with JZX over the soup is one thing—though JC (with JGS) has to pull him off JZX and it makes a bad situation worse, it's an understandable impulse reaction to seeing his beloved shijie being mistreated. But despite the negative consequences of his impulsivity, he never learns to stop and gather more information before reacting (unlike JZX!). He continues to undermine JC by letting the whole world see that he doesn't respect his authority. This really is where I as a reader get stuck: what use is the grand gesture of the core swap when the more everyday consideration is so totally lacking?

I also think it's interesting that in the temple JGY points out to JC that if he'd stuck by WWX, no one could have done anything about it and things might have turned out quite differently. I don't think JGY is being truthful here; or at the very least, if he is being truthful then I don't agree with his assessment. It's a remark intended to goad JC and prod him where he's most sensitive, and it's successful in that regard. I'd be willing to bet that deep down JC does fear that if he'd backed up WWX then everything might have been all right and JZX and JYL would still be alive.

But it's simply not true. WWX's affiliation with the Jiang is catastrophic for them. He openly flouts JC's authority—and of course his demonic cultivation taints the Jiang by association, particularly in light of the Jin smear campaign. WWX's intervention to rescue the Wenmants is the last excuse JGS needs to do what he planned from the beginning: put a target on WWX's back. This isn't a post about whether or not WWX's actions to protect the Wenmants are moral; it's merely an observation that they put JC and the Jiang at risk by association, especially when WWX also deliberately insults the Jin in a public forum. The Jin don't exactly need to work hard to sabotage WWX's reputation: they're merely handing him the rope and he's merrily tying the noose. On a pragmatic level, an actual estrangement rather than a fake one would have been the more better option for JC if his sole priority was the wellbeing of his clan and not also his love for WWX.

On the other hand, if WWX had continued with his demonic cultivation but respected the authority of his clan leader and not undermined him in public, JC might have been more able to effectively protect him. I'm not entirely convinced by that argument, but I certainly find it more plausible than the idea that JC backing WWX would have prevented the consequences of the determined Jin smear campaign.

Essentially, my point is that I'm not splitting hairs about the degree to which JC and WWX love each other. Their love for each other is not in question. Nor is it in question that they have made equally huge sacrifices for each other. But there's the rub. What about the small sacrifices? Who is making those? More often than not, it's JC. JC has the weight of his clan's survival on his shoulders and he still does his best to remain privately loyal to WWX despite the risk it poses to his own position. He only turns on WWX when WWX's actions result in the death of JZX and JYL—JYL being arguably the only person they both love even more than they love each other. (Sorry, LWJ. You only make the leaderboard in Life 2.) Meanwhile, WWX is willing to give up his core for JC but not willing to make the effort to present a united front against political foes who are actively trying to destroy them. He loves JC, but I see no evidence that he respects him.

[donnerpartyofone]

Something that pointlessly rattles around in my brain even though it should have expired by now is this exchange with a friend where I was talking about my dad who owns his own place, lives very simply, doesn't drink or have any regular money drains like that, and is pretty immune to the allure of buying shit in general. He had saved up a certain amount of money that might not sound like a lot, but he said that based on his own lifestyle he could pretty well retire on it; I mean he was retired already, but very comfortably, is what he meant. My friend was instantly enraged by this and made it very explicit that it was the stupidest fucking thing she'd ever heard in her life. She was pissed off that he wasn't factoring in potential disasters, which in an American city can be a lot more expensive than usual, and which she had experienced quite a lot of in her personal sphere. I think the idea of my dad feeling confident in his decent-but-limited amount of money triggered all this anger and sadness about the things that she was going through personally, but my immediate thought at the time was, "Why does she have to be so pissed off at my dad? I mean maybe he'll turn out to be wrong because of some unforeseen catastrophe, but it's not gonna hurt HER and that possibility isn't going to send him back to the workforce or whatever she thinks he should do." (Possibly she didn't want him to DO anything specific, she just didn't like that he could think what he thought)

I think a lot of misery comes from feeling really sure that you know what other people should think and do. I am definitely not immune to this, but of course it's easier to see something when someone else does it. I have a few different friends and acquaintances who are really smart and consider their life choices and philosophies and aesthetics and other selections VERY carefully, more than normal, and they do seem to be pretty pissed off a lot of the time. I'm basically attracted to that kind of toughness and deliberateness, but I think if it makes you EXTREMELY ANGRY at people who don't do what you would do in [situation X which will not affect you at all], then that can be like a hole in your gas tank. And I mean god forbid you have big ticket items in this department like religion or profession or where you choose to live that makes you just HATE large numbers of people who are not going to stop doing the thing you wouldn't personally opt in on; that seems pretty exhausting to me, and despite this it goes on all the time.

[chaoskirin]

Every once in a while, there's a comment on one of my political posts that's like "YEAH YOU'RE VOTING FOR THE PERSON DOING GENOCIDE, IDIOT" and...

I really don't think people realize that Trump would ALSO do genocide, but WORSE. You all do realize that he's not going to get into office and stop the Palestinian genocide, right? In fact, he will very likely send MORE WEAPONS to Israel to make sure they can do genocide even more efficiently. You do realize that, right? And he'll probably fund Russia's war, too. These aren't random hypotheticals. He is signaled very strongly that these are his intentions.

This isn't me "not caring" about people who aren't me. It's that I'm intelligent enough to realize the choice I have is between two people who will commit genocide, and I have a responsibility to pick the person who will cause less harm.

If I have to pick between a person who will kill 10,000 people and a person who will kill 1,000,000 people, who's the better choice? The best option is "neither," but having no president at all isn't a result that can happen in an election. One of them WILL be president.

I don't know how there's some people out there who don't get that, besides knowing there's a HUGE echo chamber that's telling people not to vote. Progressives are NOT immune to those echo chambers, and, in fact, seem to be more susceptible to them because so many are seeking to vote for the perfect candidate.

You have to think for yourself. You have to look at facts. You HAVE TO QUESTION EVERYTHING YOU READ. Think about the consequences of a Trump presidency, not only here, but for the Palestinians and Ukrainians. It would be really easy for you to vote third party, and it would probably feel pretty good at the moment. But then you lose your right to do Surprised Pikachu Face when Trump is elected and makes himself a dictator.

I am not trying to shame you. You gotta stop looking at this as shaming. This is fucking history. This is what has happened before. This isn't a slippery slope fallacy. It is literally in our past, and I'm here telling you it's in our past and what's going to happen if people keep talking exactly like they did in 2016.

Me telling you you're wrong and telling you the consequences of your actions isn't me trying to make you feel bad. It's me trying to tell you to cause less harm in the small way you're able to do that. I'm not guessing here. I'm not making things up to get you to vote how I want you to vote. I cannot stress enough that I have lived through this shit before.

Then I also see a lot of people telling me I should really be posting about what Biden can do for us here to make people feel better about voting for him.

That would also make a lot of people feel good, but that's not what this vote is about. Biden has done a lot of good things, but that literally doesn't matter in this vote. What matters is preventing an absolute catastrophe. The MAIN ISSUE is preventing a catastrophe.

I know some of you don't like what I'm telling you--that this platform is essentially between two unfavorable candidates. But you really are voting for the future of democracy in this country. That's what should inspire you. And if this is dissuading you from voting, well, I don't know what to tell you. Not everything in life gets to have a positive spin to it. Find a reason and vote.

[theoccasionalthoughtaboutlife]

Wow. It's been six years since I've needed to vent bad enough to post here.

I'm...in a really scary headspace right now after admitting a few things to myself. I could kill myself right now and there's not a single person it would be life altering for. I think (hope) a few people would be hurt, or feel sad maybe. But...I don't think it would be life altering for any of them.

My ride or die has a husband and kids, and over the past two years we barely talk anyway. I'd drop everything for her in a heartbeat, but I know she wouldn't do the same. Hell, my goddamn apartment burned down last year, and I don't think I even got an "oh my god, are you okay?" Message from her even though she definitely knew within hours of it happening.

I was really close with her parents, but that relationship fractured when COVID hit and we had...very, different views. We still talk but we're definitely not nearly as close or as social as we used to be with each other. I know I'm not their number one.

A good friend from work, who turned close friend outside of work, moved three hours away, and while I'd drop a lot to help her, and I try to go visit as much as I can, I know I'm not her number one.

My two best friends from university...one has a guy that she's down bad for, and he has a baby. She does everything with them, and she does a lot with his friends. The other best friend and I have just naturally drifted as we work at different spots. They're still super close with each other since they work at the same spot. Same room even. There have been multiple times over the last year where they've both done the "what do you mean you didn't know XYZ happened? Oh yea, I told her on the way to work but forgot to tell you. Sorry!" Thing. They just...both have their lives, and I'm not a priority. I have to admit some fault on that one in that I've not done my best to maintain the friendship either.

My mother has put an absolute loon of a friend over me several times recently. That friend was worth more than my comfort, or even really hearing me out. I'm... conflicted, on if I'm a priority to her, because I think I am, but at the same time, she's chosen this friend over me several times now when it comes to my comfort. And thinking back to my teenage years, she did a lot of selfish things that definitely didn't put me as a priority. It almost feels like I'm the priority when she literally doesn't have someone else in her life to be able to prioritize, if that makes sense. It's a pattern when I think about it.

My best friend, or at least, the woman I've considered my best friend, is unfortunately someone I met through work. We went from being super involved in each other's lives several months ago, to now she even ignores work related texts that I send her. And the worst part is I don't even think she's doing it intentionally. She's just so obsessed with this fucking guy that everything else seems to come second now. And it's making me question every aspect of our friendship. I've always been the one to suggest/ask if we can do something. To reach out. To check in with her and make sure she's okay. And when shit happens to me? I...she's never no been there for me necessarily, and she has reached out to me when things were bad and been there for me, but I almost feel like I've needed to initiate? Like, I need to /say/ something is wrong for her to check in? But I also feel like that's unfair to say because I feel like I'm just catastrophizing right now and only thinking of the negatives due to my headspace. She's just always with this guy, she responds to him immediately, she prioritizes hanging out with him and communicating with him, and I've just....been forgotten. Which feels really fucking pathetic to say. It's gotten to the point where I almost did an AITAH Reddit post asking if I'd be the asshole to just give up on the friendship without even trying to fight for her. Like, it's already to the point where I'm sending myself. I've not messaged her at least 8 times over the last two weeks about things where I usually wouldn't hesitate to message her. I just...I'm definitely not her priority, and it really fucking sucks to have another friendship go down the drain because she prioritized a romantic relationship over a friendship. This one...it fucking stings. She was...is...important. In a lot of ways. She was my new ride or die. I guess it only went one way.

Even my cat. He acts much more affectionate with my mother than myself. I don't know what effect my death would have on him, but for a long time, he's been my last tether. Admitting to myself that he's more affectionate with mother than myself was...a not good realization.

There are other people I could comment on. My aunt and cousin. My best friend from college. Other friends. I'm just...to tired to continue listing off the people I'm not a priority to. The people who my death may (hopefully) make them sad, but it's not going to be one of those life altering moments.

Life itself is...hard, right now has been for a long while. And those connections where the things making it worth living. Or at least, the tethers to force myself to keep going. I've really scared myself tonight with the headspace I've sunk into by realizing that those relationships are not as important to them as they are to me.

I'm not going to do it tonight. Not anytime soon. I don't think. But tonight's reflections have put some things into perspective for me, and I've got a lot to think about over the coming weeks on how I'm going to proceed.

[siri-ike]

He's gone! And his mouth is full of glass! This must be how B and Alfred felt every time Dick pulled this shit.

Dick ran through the hallways, but there wasn't so much as a hint. This must be how he broke in to begin with. Some kind of disappearing act. Swiftly through the corridors, he lept until suddenly he was pulled into a room.

"Tim, what's-"

Tim simply pointed at his desk computer where the security feed from the nursery was playing. The baby lay in its crib, wiggling a little but not upset. In the room was a chair. In the chair was a teen sized figure. Based on the height, it could be either Damian or Danny, and there is no way Damian would be in there.

Danny sat with his elbows on his knees, back slouched and hands fidgeting. His head moved somewhat. Like he was talking.

"Do you have sound?" Tim wasn't supposed to have access at all in his bedroom. He's not even supposed to have a computer in here. Not since the incident.

Tim looked behind them to make sure the door was closed before unplugging the earbuds.

"- better off without me. I'm sure they'll take good care of you. You'll be fed, and warm... and you'll always have someone."

The baby kicked in the air and mumbled despite having its own fist in its mouth.

"I can't, please just trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Nightwing leaned in closer. "Somethings not right."

"I do care. That's why I'm doing this. You'll never be safe if I stay."

"Mmmbrrrprprp"

"I'm sure Mr Wayne will do that if you ask. Or Nightwing, he seemed pretty eager."

"Prfrrfp"

"Respite? First off, where did you even learn that word? And second, I did. I ate, I bathed, I read an astronomy book. Can you believe in that whole library there was only one old space book?"

"There aren't any old space books in the library." Tim recounted.

"It was really high up and dusty." Dick explained.

"Have you ever known Alfred to let an inch of this place get dusty?"

On the screen, Danny stood up and got closer to the crib. And Nightwing realized what was wrong.

"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. It's Vlads." Danny picked up the baby. It was about the size of his torso.

"Tim, do you see anything off?" Maybe he was just misremembering things. "We estimated she was around 3 months old before, based on size. But look."

The baby mumbled at Danny.

"One, that's it. After that, I expect you to cooperate with your new family."

"Blrrrrlt"

Danny grimaced. He doesn't need to take that from a baby.

He drew a deep breath. "Crack," his voice was soft and sweet. "Oh, the pressure- rusting chains on a perfect tower." He sang in a gentle lullaby like tone. "Crash -" He stepped away from the crib and lay his head on the babys. "Oh, another - fix the fallen 'fore it gets you." He held his hand out and made little balls of ectoblasm that floated in the air. "Spinning orbs with a perfect beat, precious little memories. But if one shatters, a catastrophe. The child of the clocks hears it instantly." He let the balls dimm and rise with his voice. "The timekeepers work will never, ever stop. Repairing the fractures of the past." She reached out to one of the balls. She touched it, and it floated slowly away. "Tormented by the pressure to mend it back together, but the pieces all break in their grasp."

"Tim, find an image of that baby from earlier today."

"So their heart keeps on bleeding for the eeeendless dream, restore the little laughs. But the work never ends, no its never meant to mend. This broke heartbeat forever lasts."

Tim pulled up a recording from the dining room. In the image of Danny feeding the baby, it was clear. She was a lot bigger now.

Danny walked the baby over to the balcony.

"Strike. From the hand on the one. As time goes on, we go back and forth. Why? Keep exhausting myself. Just to alter a past that's unchangeable. Spinning orbs with a perfect beat, precious little memories." He opened the glass doors. "And they've all shattered its a tragedy. Child of the clocks fix it instantly." He stepped outside.

"Keep watching." Nightwing rushed out.

"So lock yourself in your grand masterpiece with the winding, twirling memories. Blow out the candles, choke out the lights." The ectoplasm in the room disappeared in an instant. "Let the smoke consume your teary eyes. Lose yourself to the busy monster. He eats your intuition. Forget the stolen smiles. Go chain yourself to your own ambition." He held the child with one hand and placed the other on the banister, looking out into the yard. Still, his voice was soft and lull. "You've tried, and you've tried, but oh, we both know." He looked straight down to the ground. "You've lost your own self, and you have no control." His face was unseen by the camera. But Tim could hear he was stifling back tears. "Grass couldn't grow out from under your feet, little rabbit in a hurry, too helpless, too weak. But you're desperate to escape. You're scared of the ghost."

Danny looked back for a moment. It was enough for Tim to catch the puffiness in his eyes.

"But you'll sacrifice yourself to keep one thing whole. But you'll heal, and you'll heal what doesn't exist. Now it's all dead and gone. We're not heeeeroes." He held her head to his chest in a protective form. "We're kids."

Tim checked the hallway cameras. Nightwing was almost there.

"The timekeepers work will never, ever stop. Repairing the fractures of the past. Tormented by the pressure to mend it back together, but the pieces all break in their grasp." He took the baby back to the crib. "So their heart keeps on bleeding for the eeeendless dream, restore the little laughs." He placed her down, and she slept soundly. "But the work never ends, no its never meant to mend. This broke heartbeat forever lasts."

Nightwing opened the door and ran in. The noise woke the baby who started crying. But no one else was there. Nightwing picked her up and bounced her gently. "I'm sorry. Were you sleeping?" Despite the cool breeze wafting in through the wide open balcony door, she was warm to the touch. He checked behind the door and in the closet. Nightwing steeled his nerves and held her head close to his chest so she wouldn't have to see. He inched closer until he was right at the banister. They're on the third floor, 44 feet to the ground. Survival from this height is unlikely. He looked over the edge and-

Nothing.

He's not there. Nightwing finally let himself breathe again. He was so relieved that even the crying couldn't keep his heart rate up. He closed the door and sat down with her. She tore at his suit, and in her furious mouth, Nightwing could spot little glimpses if white on her upper gum. He reached over to a drawer full of cloth diapers and handed her one. Chewing on it quieted her down a bit. He put his hand to his ear. "Did you see where he went?" He was quiet for a moment. "Must be how he got in to begin with." He stood up. "She's definitely bigger, I can see a few teeth."

She.

It's a girl.

His clone is a girl. His baby is a girl.

Nightwing looked over his shoulder at the sound of a sniffle. He placed her back into the crib and walked away from where she sat and gnawed on her rag. He stepped out and listened close to the door.

On the camera, Danny finally reappeared, sitting with his legs folded beneath him in front of the crib. He reached through the bars and placed a hand on the side of her face. She followed it until she was lying down again. Danny stood up and looked at the ceiling above the chair. It was subtle, but that was definitely a camera. Before he left, he only had one thing to say.

"Diya, it's a star in the Fornax system."

After the Nasty Burger incident, Danny went to live with Vlad under the promise that he would change. And he did, for all of two months before Danny discovered a secret basement full of clones. All except one of them were unstable.

Thoroughly betrayed, Danny takes the one stable clone and puts the rest of them out of their misery. Then he heads to Gotham where the local billionaire has a habit of taking in black hair blued eyed orphans. Fight fire with fire right? Or in this case money with money.

[emchant3d]

Final part of Eddie forgetting about Valentine's day!! Part 1 Part 2

Thank you to everyone who's had a kind word to say about this, I hope the ending does it justice!

Eddie doesn’t know how fast he drives, just that he gets to Steve’s place in record time. The big house is quiet, Steve’s car the only one on the driveway.

All the lights are off, and yeah, it’s kind of late, but Steve is almost always up later than this. But even his bedroom window is cast in shadow, and something about it makes Eddie’s heart twist in his chest. 

He slams the van door behind himself and runs up the walkway, almost colliding with the front door when he reaches it. He beats on it, knocking hard enough that he knows the sound will echo through the empty house and up those grand stairs and right into Steve’s room, and he prays to anything that’s listening that Steve will come down and meet him.

“Steve!” he yells, like it isn’t late as fuck and Steve doesn’t have neighbors. “Stevie, baby, come on!” 

He feels frantic, like he’s going to die if Steve doesn’t get this door open in the next ten seconds. 

“STEVE,” he shouts again, slamming his fist into the door, right before it’s ripped open in front of him and he almost goes ass over teakettle through the doorway.

“Eddie, what the fuck?” Steve asks, frantic as he catches Eddie with a hand around his bicep, pulling him into the house and closing the door behind them. He flicks the locks one-handed because the other is holding the nail bat in the kind of absent grip that tells Eddie he wasn’t sure he’d really need it, but he was going to be prepared just in case. “What’s going on?”

“Why do you have the bat?” Eddie asks, like that’s what he should be focusing on, and Steve gives him a bewildered look.

“You’re knocking my door down in the middle of the night, why wouldn’t I have the bat?” And yeah, okay, fair, but Steve sets the thing down next to the front door and Eddie closes the distance between them. “I need to get you a key, that way next time you show up outta nowhere you don’t wake the whole neighborhood - uh–” Eddie takes Steve’s upper arms in a tight grip, interrupting him. “Eds?” Steve asks, looking at him, and shit, Steve looks too fucking cute when he’s confused. His thick brows are furrowed, lips turned down, big eyes all wide - and that’s when Eddie notices how red they look.

Bloodshot, a little swollen, like Steve’s been rubbing at them in that harsh way he does. He hates crying, feels humiliated when it happens, and Eddie’s been a witness more than once to the way he’ll bury his fingers in his eyes like they’ve personally offended him.

He’s pale, a little shaky, now that Eddie’s really looking, lips bitten red and sore.

He doesn't need to ask what's wrong. He's uncomfortably, acutely aware of what's wrong. Instead, he reaches up, laying his hand along Steve's jaw to smooth his thumb over his cheek. 

"Sweetheart," he says, and Steve glances away, gaze avoiding Eddie's. "I'm so sorry."

“Skip what?” This isn’t what he expected at all. He thought he’d get here and Steve would be angry, would be yelling. He thought he’d get chewed out, possibly broken up with, was catastrophizing the whole way here.

"For what?" Steve’s trying to keep his voice light, trying to keep it casual, but he reaches up and wraps his hand around Eddie's wrist, thumb pressing at his pulse point like it's his own lifeline.

"Honey, I know what I did now. We don't have to act like I didn't royally fuck up Valentine's day." Steve winces.

"Oh god," he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face roughly. He paces a few steps away, looking absolutely mortified. "I was really hoping we could skip this." Eddie follows him with his eyes, lost.

“The part where you realize and we, like, talk it out.” Steve gestures between the two of them. “We don’t need to do this. It’s not a big deal.” He says it like he’s repeating something he’s said before, and Eddie’s heart sinks, wondering how often Steve has told himself that very sentence tonight.

“It is a big deal,” Eddie says cautiously. Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Eddie cuts him off. “You’ve been miserable for days, Steve, that’s a big deal.” Steve actually rolls his eyes, and Eddie barely bites his tongue.

“We can just move past this, though,” Steve insists, and Eddie approaches him slowly, like a spooked animal. Steve’s shoulders jump to his ears, but he doesn’t bolt away, and Eddie takes that as a win.

“What if I don’t want to move past it?” he asks, and Steve flushes an embarrassed pink, eyes darting around like he’s looking for an escape route. 

He sniffles, raises his hand to pinch his nose, and mumbles, “Please,” halting and quiet, “let’s just let it go.”

“But why?”  Eddie asks, and Steve makes an angry little sound.

“Cause it doesn’t matter!” he snaps. Eddie reaches out then, snagging Steve’s hand and pulling him in close. 

Steve fights him for two seconds before suddenly slumping against him, and Eddie sighs in relief, wrapping his arms around his baby and holding him tight. Steve gives a shuddery little breath, and Eddie lets him hide his face in his shoulder, turning his head to kiss his temple.

“It does matter,” he says fiercely. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Steve makes a quiet, protesting sound, and Eddie shushes him. “Let me apologize to you, you absolute brat,” he says, and Steve snorts a little laugh. “I’m gonna make it up to you,” Eddie promises. “I mean it. And I’m never going to forget about it again, I fucking swear, okay? I’m gonna get February 14th tattooed on my fucking face, I swear to God.” Steve finally laughs, a breathless, squeaky little thing, and Eddie smiles, pulling back. 

“Please don’t tattoo your face,” Steve mumbles, looking at Eddie with a crooked little grin. The expression reaches his eyes for the first time in days, and something in Eddie unwinds at the sight. 

“What, you don’t want me to ruin the moneymaker, huh?” he asks, and Steve laughs again, rolling his eyes. There’s some levity in the air, and finally, the frantic pace of Eddie’s heart slows. "Sweetheart," he says softly, because this is important, because this is on him and no one else but he can't not ask,  gentle and imploring and cupping Steve's flushed cheek to trace the shine of pink on his skin, "why didn't you say anything?" Steve's eyes flick away from his.

"It's stupid," he says, and Eddie frowns.

"What is?" And just like that Steve’s back to being annoyed, shifting in Eddie’s hold. He loosens his arms, watching as Steve starts pacing again. He walks closer, steadily closing the distance as Steve rambles.

"Being this upset! It's just - it's just a stupid day, right, like, we don't need a particular day to show that we love each other, it's commercialized and overdone and dramatic and it's stupid to be upset that you forgot one little day when objectively you're, like, fantastic. So I didn't want to say anything because it's dumb to be so worked up and make a big deal out of it and I need to just get over it--"

Eddie kisses him quiet. Maybe it's rude, but he knows when Steve gets going like this, works himself up, he'll talk in circles for ages. It's a mostly-endearing quality he's picked up from Robin, but Eddie knows sometimes Steve needs him to catch him before he spirals too far.

"No," he murmurs softly in the space between them when they part, lips still brushing one another's. "You do not need to just get over it." Because Eddie gets it, now.

Yeah, it's about the holiday. Steve is upset and hurt and Eddie feels like a total fucking asshole, and he's going to grovel for the rest of his life if that's what it takes. But this isn't just about Valentine's day.

"I'm being ridiculous," Steve insists. Eddie shakes his head, and Steve makes a frustrated sound. "I am. It is. It's stupid. I'm - I'm stupid–”

"Hey," Eddie says, and it's a little sharper than he means, but it works because Steve goes quiet, and the look he gives Eddie about breaks his heart all over again.

It's not about Valentine's day.

Steve is so, so used to not being taken seriously. To being dismissed. To being told to just get over it when he's upset, to being minimized, to the things that matter to him being framed as dumb or unimportant.

As stupid.

He's the strong one. The tank, made to take the hits and keep moving. He shouldn't have wants or desires. He's the caretaker, makes sure everyone is looked after, ensures they have anything they could ever want, goes out of his way to get it for them.

And he's shit at doing the same for himself.

"It's just a stupid day," Steve insists, but his eyes are wet and his voice is catching and he sniffles.

"Oh, honey," Eddie whispers, and Steve cracks, tears spilling over the edges of his red eyes and running down his pretty face. “Oh, sweetheart, come here. I’ve got you.”

They end up on the couch, Eddie holding Steve tight and whispering his apologies into his hair as his baby clings to him. 

“It’s not stupid,” he tells him softly. “You aren’t stupid. You’re allowed to want things, Stevie. You’re allowed to expect these things. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry I didn’t give you what you deserve.” He repeats his promises and doesn’t let the guilt eat him alive because he might not have been there when Steve wanted him, but he’s here now, and that has to count for something, he knows it does.

He’s here holding this beautiful boy as he cries and he dries his face with the soft sleeves of his sweater, whispering to him that he loves him, that he’s here, that he’ll make it better.

And Steve believes him, thank fucking God. Steve trusts in him, is looking at him with soft, hooded eyes, is pressing his mouth to Eddie’s and nipping at his lips and clinging to him. He’s letting Eddie strip him bare, letting him press him into the couch, letting him make love to him until he’s crying for an entirely different reason, clutching at Eddie’s back and gasping his pleasure into his throat. 

And that weekend Eddie brings his baby flowers, a stuffed bear, a necklace with a delicate silver chain and a small E hanging from it to join with the guitar pick that Steve has long ago claimed. He plays him the song he’d written for him, gives him the cherry chocolates, tells him over and over how much he loves him, and shows him in every way he can think of.

And through it all Steve keeps that sweet smile, and Eddie just knows he’s going to be spending the rest of his life keeping that look on his baby’s face.

Tag list! I'm very sorry if I've missed anyone!

 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zerokrox-blog @m-owo-n @honhonbaguettegofuckyourself @bejeweledbaby @snapshotmaestro @ineffablecolors @uwujinniee @munsonsduchess @avacrebs @estrellami-1 @huskysarelife @afewproblems @messrs-weasley @bitchysunflower @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nvybloo @unclewaynemunson @valecitainwonderland @megaweird-2-point-0 @resident-gay-bitch @disasterlia @iwouldsail @tinynebula @ilsewrites @umjamlam @booksandsience @xtkxkrzrizir @trikigirl271 @mistlafey @bornonthesavage @baron-zemo-trash @beckkthewreck @a-random-nerd @bela-valdis @goodolefashionedloverboi @em9515 @newtstabber @callmesirkay @ohwelsh

[azzandra]

I don't think I realized how wide-spread video-game like "systems" were as a literary device until I started reading transmigration stories (and, ok, transmigration stories aren't the only ones, but for some reason it does seem to pop up a lot in this genre). I haven't yet encountered a story that does the meta thing of actually delving into where this pseudo-game UI thing originates, though I'm sure there's plenty out there (if nothing else, when the trope gets lampshaded, transmigrators will often make reference to things they've read in other stories).

However, I will confess that every time a system appears in a story, I like to picture that behind the scene there is like, a huge call center where customer service employees sit in their own little cubicles and tap away at their computers, providing system users with service.

This especially accounts for the disparity between systems' usefulness in stories: in some they are an active hindrance, locking users into a set of behaviors and penalizing them for trying to stray from the script. In others, the system acts as an overpowered god-like machine showering the user in perks and advantages and deus ex machina-like interventions at every turn. In most stories, systems fall in the middle, where it's a mixed bag of advantages and drawbacks.

Now, I personally like to believe that how helpful a system is depends on how helpful the customer support agent behind the scenes is feeling.

Because I'm just picturing the, like, progression of one of these agents as they begin all rosy-cheeked and naive and wanting to be so gosh-darned helpful! So they keep tweaking everything in their user's favor, granting them OP junk and bending the plot for them in every way, until the user gradually becomes an asshole and spirals out of control and just makes a huge fucking mess of everything.

But that's fine, probably. That happens. Uhhh... our nice agent doesn't lose their faith in humanity! Even when the cynical colleague one cubicle over snorts and says what happened is fairly typical, our intrepid agent will prevail and help their next user with reaching a happier ending! So they go in on their new case, maybe dial back on the overenthusiastic bonuses and--uh... this one gets killed horribly through a mix of overconfidence and bad decisions. Hm. Okay, okay, it's fine next one is going to be just--aaaand this one becomes a manipulative, tyrannical asshole.

Okay, it's-- maybe it's just the quests. Gotta give out quests that encourage good morals! ...and now this user became a puritanical judgmental busybody.

Eventually, it's hard not to become even a little cynical, you know? What's the lesson here, that given even the least bit of power over others turns people into monsters?

New tack then! If helping doesn't work, let's give these users something to work for! No free shit, they gotta EARN their currency! They think they're so lucky? Bam! Every time they think things are going well, Murphy's Law comes to beat their ass like they owe it money! You want a quest? "Don't die, moron", there's your quest. You get five points if you survive. Spend that in the shop, dipshit.

And for a while, this maybe seems like a better attitude to take. The users are forced into rising to the occasion or suffering catastrophic consequences. With their leashes being shorter, they can't derail the story or the intended narrative as much. Some may even reach the desired outcome, albeit the road is hard.

But all the punitive quests, the limitations and the meager rewards take their toll on most users. Some make mistakes they never recover from. A lot fail, hard, in painful, deadly ways. And the agent grows increasingly uncomfortable as they realize the users being subject to all this become like rats in an experiment, constantly terrified of getting zapped for even twitching the wrong way. The system becomes not a tool, but an enemy, a monster, a strange thing to overcome. The agent gets, on more than one occasion, a screen blowing in their face when a user manages to attain some power that allows them to unshackle themselves.

And hey, the agent has other problems too! Like, the manager is always on them about their metrics, because they're not hitting the goals and they're dragging the whole team down!

So maybe the agent loosens up a bit. Maybe they recalibrate and try to balance out their attitude towards the users before they burn out completely.

And by the time some newbie agent comes to fill up the cubicle next to theirs, they'll have some wisdom to pass down.

[necarion]

@scottfreed: especially since there were a billion catch phrases and thoughts and opinions that the male and female POVs both repeated verbatim.

Something else I've been noticing in this readthrough is the number of things that are blamed on men/women that are some combination of (a) individual issues one character is dealing with, (b) hidden knowledge by one or more characters, or (c) cultural differences.

One person who is particularly bad at this is Mat. During the delightful scenes where Elayne comes to apologize, Mat is extremely confused by "women", when the thing that's going on is Aiel shit. Which Mat aggressively didn't learn about. In general, he does tend to blame stuff he doesn't understand on other stuff he doesn't understand. (Think of the number of things he blames on Rand's "madness" that are just Rand dealing with something weird and complicated, or being distracted. Ditto for almost everyone else complaining about Rand's madness. Or Egwene blaming everything Rand does on Rand having a "big head".)

The flipside, Elayne and Nynaeve blame "men" (somewhat) for Mat being impossible. Although they mostly just blame Mat. But it's worth considering the amount of sympathy and empathy they give Mat: almost none, despite them having just woken him up while he was super hungover.

One thing here is that the older men/women say the stuff about women/men being inscrutable, but they seem to believe it less. Gaul is deeply pissed at the games Bain/Chiad are playing with him, but Gaul is quite aware that it's the two of them fucking with him. He does say he blames "all women", but he knows exactly what he's talking about and who are making his life unpleasant. Cadsuane is very good at understanding the individual problems associated with a given person, but seems to have a very limited sense of gender essentialism.

Just in general, characters exhibit something of a deliberate block about understanding things that they can easily blame on men/women being confusing/different. This goes triple for things that piss them off.

And this is typical for how people in this series have empathy for each other. Everybody is wrong about everybody else all the time. (Light, they're wrong about themselves most of the time!) It's silly to treat their views as correct when they're talking about gender and nothing else.

...

As a side issue, I'm not 100% sure where Jordan lands on the whole "men/women can't possible teach women/men about how to channel" thing. Like, yes. Obviously only a man can demonstrate the weaves to a man. But you could 100% have meditation classes across gender, and there's a ton of theory that can be shared. I think Jordan doesn't agree entirely, given that Moghedien does know stuff about saidin/saidar theory, and Lanfear knows how to fight Rand. The Age of Legends did have a weird gender segregation as well, but it sounds like that was unusual and distinctly towards the end of a catastrophic war. So, shrug

I'm curious the extent to which Robert Jordan intended this (I think he probably did), but the in-universe narrative of "men and women cannot possibly understand each other" is deeply undermined by the fact that you, the reader, are extremely likely to identify as male or female, and are capable of understanding the motivations of both male and female characters.

The reason I think Jordan knew this was not only the effort made to have the characters motives be explicable when you're in their heads, but to have these communication difficulties go away the second the characters talked to each other and explained what was going on with them.

I think more than that, Jordan feels like he thought a lot of culture around masculine/feminine mystique was silly and harmful. Not only because it hinders good communication (Jordan does not agree that "not explaining stuff" is generally a good thing), but also because it leads to other harmful behaviors being swept up in the umbrella. Think of the number of times Elayne, Nynaeve, and the Aes Sedai are being awful to Mat, who treats it as "this is women being awful and inscrutible" when it's really them just being arrogant and awful. Or Mat being flippant and a jerk (in part as a defensive thing) being generalized to an "all men are like this" when it's really "Nynaeve and Mat get along like two cats in a sack that is on fire".

Does Jordan have some weird gender essentialism in his books? Definitely. But he also has far less than people credit to him, if you listen to the characters and not the subtext (or even text).

[letterstotheflre]

TINA! pls don't kill me but i remembered this idea i had a while back and is very close to my heart so just think of this like a lil baby i'm handing to you lmao. could i request 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 sfw blurb where reader is a bit socially anxious. she's just basically always scared of embarassing herself, and we know james doesn't give two shits about any of that, so one day while they're on the street, she gets anxious like she often does and this time james decides to help her loosen up so he starts dancing around, encouraging her to join him even though people are watching. i got this idea watching the uberlin music video with atj if that's any help. feel free not to do it if it doesn't speak to you and sorry for this fucking testament length ask lol

oop this got too long but it was very relatable and i couldn't stop writing lol

all i need is to see your face

GIF IS MINE! (oop look at me, making gifs)

warnings: anxiety

word count: 981

a/n: idk what they call the subway cards in the uk and i'm too lazy to look it up, so lets pretend it's metro card okay? also idk how to describe dancing lol, the movement i had in my mind was the one from that scene with harry and hermione in deathly hallows? i hope you know what i mean

Your hand is clammy against James’s.

You cling to his arm as you walk, almost using him as a shield to avoid people’s stare. And you know they are staring. You can feel the burn of their gaze on your face, on your back, on your uncovered legs.

Maybe you should’ve worn a longer skirt.

James leads the way towards the subway station, trying to keep you distracted by talking about anything and everything.

The closer you get to your destination, the louder your heart beats against your ribcage. You’re pretty sure James can hear it, or at least feel the pulse against his palm. But he pretends everything is fine. Clearly, it's not, because your brain is going haywire with all the possible catastrophic scenarios.

Someone could rob you, or touch you. What if you get the wrong stop? Or if you go in the wrong direction and end up in the wrong station? You’ll have to go back, and everyone will know that you got it wrong because they already saw you walking past them.

Oh god, what if your metro card is empty and the gate doesn’t let you through? People would get mad at you and start whispering and rolling their eyes because you’re going to make them lose the subway!

Jesus, you can’t believe you let your therapist convince you to try going on public transport with James. You don’t even need to use it! You have James, and he has a car and he can drive you anywhere you need!

See? Completely unnecessary and very independent of you!

It gets darker as you go down the stairs, a foul and wet smell filling your nostrils. You scrunch your nose, squeezing James’ hand even tighter when a man breezes by a little too close to you.

“You're okay, baby," he comforts, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. He's been keeping tabs on you the whole walk, gauging your reaction to your surroundings and trying to see how long you could go without reassurance.

You managed to make it all five blocks and the stairs in a relatively calm state. He deems that a success.

When you get to the gate, James goes first, calmly sweeping his metro card on the scanner and strutting forward. When he's on the other side, he turns to you and gives you an easy smile, one that calms your nerves. Slightly.

With a shaky hand, you place your card on top of the scan, holding your breath. It takes a few seconds, but finally, the scanner turns green and the doors open, allowing you passage.

You scramble to James, wrapping your arms around him. He laughs softly and hugs you, smoothing his palm down your back. "I did it," you whisper against his chest, a note of pride in your voice.

"You did, angel. ‘M proud of you, you did so well."

"I didn't know if the way I was holding the card was the right one, though. I couldn't remember which way it is."

James leads you towards the stop, noting a guy that's playing the guitar near the two of you. "Doesn't matter, it scans both ways," he informs you, and you make sure to store that important piece of information in your mind.

It'll make next time easier.

You both wait for the subway, wrapped in one another, and your mind starts to wander again.

You'll have to be fast, least the doors close on you while you're halfway through. Should you sit or stand? How close to the doors should you even be? What was the name of your final stop, again?

You're about to ask James when you realise that you're swaying from side to side. James hums along with the guitar in the background, keeping you close to him as he dances in place.

"James," you hiss. You scan the station and notice multiple business people side-eyeing the pair of you. "What are you doing?"

"Dancing," he says simply.

"Well, stop it!" you whisper. You can feel their stares burning through you, and you want to cry. Your eyes even fill up with a couple of tears and you feel like an idiot, but Jesus doesn't this man have any shame? "They're looking, James. Please stop."

James grabs your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks together. "Don't worry about them. Just look at me, okay? Wanna have some fun with my pretty girl."

His hands fall to your sides, caressing your arms that go around his waist and going to hold your still sweaty hands. He links his fingers with yours and squeezes three times, slowly bringing them in between your bodies and stepping away from you.

He pulls on your arms and sways along with the movement, your body remaining stiff. "Eyes on me, angel," he reminds you.

You peel your gaze away from the whispering women on a bench and look into his hazel eyes. They shine with happiness, or maybe it's also pride? Whatever it is, it allows you to relax, and James is free to move you along.

He brings your body forward and turns along with you, resting his left forearm on the small of your back to have you pressed together, and extends your laced hands to the right.

You giggle when he repeatedly leans to the side until your knuckles grace the floor, then up until you point to the pipes in the ceiling. He peppers your skin with small kisses, laughing into your skin and feeling proud of himself when you go lax against him.

You don’t even notice the subway has arrived, and James dances his way inside with you, dropping you ceremoniously on a free seat and standing in front of you.

He raises your chin with his index, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on your lips. “M’brave girl.”

[gardenerian]

hello hi hello mel ☺️♥️ you are amazing (just fyi, in case you forgot)

if you feel so inclined, I wish you would write a fic where…. Ian and mickey are cooking dinner together in their new apartment 😌

(I feel like we have talked about this before maybe? yes? no? idk, but regardless, I would love to hear your take on it if you ever feel like it. cooking! food! making sure the other eats well!! I’m obsessed)

kthanksloveyoubye 💕

hi cat 😌 i think i have probably talked about this a thousand times over, but as it is one of my all time favorite scenarios, i am thrilled to do it again! (loveyoulotslikesomuchokayherewego)

Mickey unlocks the door with shaking hands, and Ian can see the frustration rolling off him in waves. Half of their day was spent fighting, the other half in stony, passive-aggressive silence. 

Ian spent the whole day deflecting blame, but he can’t cross the threshold of their apartment clinging to self-righteousness. He fucked up, he knows it. 

He doesn't want to bring that anger into their home tonight. He comes to stand quietly next to Mickey, who is kicking off his boots and shrugging off his vest.

He has to ask. Ian can't let the day end like this: with Mickey hurt and resentful, Ian defensive and sulking. So he toes his own shoes off quietly, trying his absolute damndest for nonchalance.

"Wanna make dinner together?"

Ian's ready for Mickey to tell him to fuck off. Or maybe for him to say nothing at all, stalking off to their bedroom and slamming the door behind him. He'd probably deserve it. What he's not ready for is Mickey thumbing at his lip and answering -

"Yeah, okay."

Ian blinks in surprise. "Wait, really?"

Mickey rolls his eyes.

"Yes, Ian, really. I'm fuckin' pissed at you but we still gotta eat, man."

We could order a pizza, his unhelpful brain supplies. We could eat bowls of cereal in silence in front of the television until one of us wordlessly heads off to bed and the other stubbornly falls asleep on the couch. I’ll sleep on the couch. 

He flushes with shame. He hurt Mickey today; he acted rash and self-servingly and without putting his partnership first. And he wonders when he’ll stop fucking doing that. It didn’t feel like that at the time. He just wanted to help.

Ian halts the train of thought. If Mickey wants to be near him, make and eat a meal with him after today, he’s not going to ruin it by catastrophizing. Mickey’s extending his good heart out to him, and Ian’s going to hold fast tonight. 

Mickey watches it all play out on Ian’s face. His whole body seems to soften with it, and he smiles a little sadly. 

“Just preheat the oven, Ian.”

They move stiffly about the kitchen at first. Ian chops the veggies, Mickey prepares the pasta. It’s familiar but stunted. A tenuous, fragile peace, and Ian wonders if it’s just a temporary ceasefire. 

They reach for the salt at the same time, Mickey’s fingers briefly closing over Ian’s before he pulls them away with a mumbled apology. Ian grabs after Mickey’s hand, trapping it between his own. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, bringing Mickey’s fingers to his lips and murmuring against them. “Mickey, I’m sorry. I didn’t think-”

“Yeah, you didn’t think, man. What happened to all that shit about making decisions together?”

“I know,” Ian says lowly, allowing Mickey to take his hand back and return to the pot of boiling water in front of him. There’s not much he can say. He was wrong. 

“I don’t fuckin’ care about the money,” Mickey says then, not taking his eyes from the noodles churning in the pot, “I would have been fine to help him out. But you didn’t tell me. You gotta tell me, Ian.”

He’s right. Ian tells him as much. 

“I just panicked,” he says. “I offered it to him before I realized what I was saying. Lip was so freaked out and I couldn’t take it.”

Mickey chuckles at that and Ian whips his head toward the sound. 

“You never could, man. Your bleeding heart is gonna bankrupt us one day.  Look, let’s just... let’s figure out how to make this work.”

They make their dinner together. It’s not the same as their usual dinners. There’s no music playing softly as they work tonight and Ian doesn’t even hum under his breath. They don’t pause to kiss over the cutting board; they don’t pass each other beers at the counter. 

But they work together. Ian sautées the vegetables, Mickey grates the cheese and toasts the bread. They make their meal in relative quiet, but it’s not so tense. Ian feels the tightness he’d carried in his chest all day loosen as Mickey sets the table with two places. 

They sit down together, and Ian is prepared to eat his dinner in this quiet. Mickey sets his own bowl down and holds his hand up - wait for me. He bounds quickly down the hall to their bedroom, returning just a moment later with their laptop. 

“Eat your fuckin’ noodles,” he directs as the computer boots up. Ian twirls some pasta on his fork and stabs at a piece of zucchini, looking on while Mickey pulls up the spreadsheet where they keep a haphazard attempt at budgeting.

“Alright then. Let’s work this out.”

[dream-a-little-bigger-darling000]

Author's Note: Hi that isn't my GIF. But this is my fic and I would really appreciate it if you told me how you thought it was, and if you especially like it, my requests are open friends. :3 I have the spicy sad right now, and needed a little angst with a happy ending. Ok, be fed I guess.

This has 3,000+ words, are you proud of me or what!?

From the prompt: As teenagers, a boy and a girl agree to marry if neither have by their 35th birthday. Follow the boy as he attempts to sabotage every relationship the girl has until then.

"Hey Tommy? I was thinking."

"That's a shit idea, you should stop doing that"

You swiped at the back of his head.

"Shut up you ass, I'm serious."

"Hi serious I'm- OW fucking hurt is what I am it's a joke, learn to take a-AH." You hurdled a handful of playground pebbles at the 17 year old.

"Alright, alright gorgeous, hit me- No! I meant hit me with the question you little shit." It was getting hard to breathe when he got you to giggle so hard.

You're laughter died down. You looked down, unsure if you could look at his face when you said this.

"I don't have a boyfriend." He abruptly stopped laughing, hiding the obvious fact that he almost choked on his own spit. You breathed a laugh again.

"I don't have a boyfriend. And you don't have a girlfriend." Your smile slipped off.

Tell him. Tell him, you're almost there. I don't have anyone, and you don't either except we do we have each we have each other we have-

You looked to Tommy, his boyish presence fitting on the swing set made for much younger kids. You were much younger kids when you met for the first time, on this very swing set. You think about telling him you fell in love with him when he pushed Jackson Paloski down on the asphalt because Jackson said trailer-trash can't play on the nice swing set. You didn't know it was love though, you were in the fourth grade but your heart still beat a little faster and when you asked him if you could sit beside him during lunch he huffed and complained, showing off he was moody and tough and haughty, but he very obviously made Michael Welsh move from his spot beside Tommy so that the pretty new girl could take her place beside him. And you stayed there. For years. Right beside him.

You felt the breath leave your lungs as you thought about telling him you can't stop thinking about him lately.

Can't stop hoping your skin will touch when he asks you to pass him something.

Can't help feeling like punching every girl that makes a scene trying to gain his attention. You're usually so focused on glaring at the girl that you miss the way he shrinks in on himself, the way he actively turns his body to you.

You think about telling him. And how telling him could mean you could do more, be more.

You think about telling him. And you think about him pulling away from you, gently gathering his things as he stumbles over how to let you down easily, unaware that that's not an option any more. Tommy letting you down would mean shattering.

You clench your jaw. His eyes try to tell you something.

"So. So since. We don't have someone." You look toward the Shell gas station across the street. Tommy wets his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue.

Your throat twinges, the twinge you get when you're trying to hold back tears. You shrug to yourself and let out a breathy laugh.

Coward.

"So since we don't have hot dates, we should make a deal." You make your voice upbeat. You know Tommy can call your bullshit but he doesn't, sit's quietly.

"If by the time we're 35, and we don't have a, someone, to, ya' know. We should get married." Your heart clenches. "If we don't have. Like if I don't have a husband, and you don't. Have a girl, or-" Tommy is quiet. White hot panic races up your spine. You look over at him.

Tommy looks-

He looks like he's frozen, like he's still a few sentences behind, and you're about to throw in the towel and swallow a few of these pebbles so you'll choke and die and won't have to hear his laughter tear apart your heart.

Then Tommy blinks and kind of hunkers in on himself, looks anywhere but you, eyes shifting and darting. His smile isn't his when he manages it.

"Oh, you're so on, sweetheart."

It's not quite right. The atmosphere is still tense and you feel like there's a conversation you're meant to be having, like there were supposed to be different words spoken and heard during that time.

But having Tommy, even if it's like this, even if he doesn't want you like you ache for him, is better than not having him at all.

Beside you, while you hurt quietly beside him, watching the sun set, rocking back and forth on the too low swing, Tommy swallows down self-hatred and overwhelming feelings. Instead, he schemes.

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

It's been five years since you've made your little deal with Tommy. Five years, and every single time you've tried to move on from the man, it's ended in catastrophe.

The time you two had just graduated high school and drove to Tommy's house so his older brother could congratulate you two. Brendan had had a buddy over that night, not much older than you, and you would be lying if you said you didn't flush appreciatingly at his sly smile toward you and the way he actively tried to add you in on the conversation.

The night ended rather abruptly when Tommy had spilled hot tea all over the guys front. Tommy was always collected, and it was rare moment when he was clumsy. Never mind the fact that Tommy never drank tea, and actively made fun of you drinking the stuff.

Or the time you two reluctantly went to Brendan's wedding. You loved Tess, and thought they were a great couple, but stomaching an entire ceremony of the two being gross and affectionate, all while you and Tommy couldn't boo and throw miscellaneous items at them? The entire evening was spent with Tommy snuggly against your side snarking quietly in your ear, so close you could feel his warm breath on the entire side of your face.

Yes, your plan of moving on was going swimmingly.

Then Tommy went to the bathroom, and a handsome man smiled at you across the room. You tentatively smiled back, and he moved as if to cross the distance. Then immediately stopped, his face dropping and his eyes widening slightly as he spotted something a little over your shoulder. You saw him clear his throat and veer toward a large group laughing.

Your felt your face slightly warm and your heart drop a little, self consciously looking over your shoulder.

And let out a noise of surprise.

Tommy stood behind you, so close for a second you thought a very well dressed wall had somehow appeared while you weren't looking. You had just enough time to see 'The Expression'.

Tommy was an amazing fighter. And all throughout high school, he made sure while he minded his own, he could also hold his own, and everyone knew it. He had developed an expression, one that scared every single boy in this town shitless. It was a mix between unbridled rage and open invitation. The message was pretty clear and universal.

Come get some.

You usually laughed and teased him about it, because to you it just looked like he stubbed his toe and he was trying not to yell.

You weren't expecting to see it at his brother's wedding, and you certainly weren't laughing now.

In a blink it was gone from his face, and he turned to you with his beautiful sweet smile, the smile that showed just a little peak of his slightly messed up front teeth. He usually reserved that smile for you. You had never seen anyone else on the receiving end.

"Tommy, why were you just-"

"This blows, I just passed Tess and Brendan flirting. They're already married, why would they keep doing that." He rolled his eyes, moving to your side as his hand disappeared behind your back.

"Tommy did you just square up to the guy checking me ou-"

"Brendan's friend is here, the one who can can do a Kick Up."

You stared at each other for a long moment. You felt his hand barely ghosting over the small of your back. His eyes where sharp, a little desperate.

"Tommy."

"There's also a rumor he killed a guy with just a playing card."

You licked your lips. He raised his eyebrows, his lips getting distracting.

"Shit Conlon, why didn't you start with that, take me to him."

Or the time, more recently, when you went to a match to watch Tommy completely destroy his opponent. You loved going out to see him fight. Loved the adrenaline and the satisfaction when Tommy won, making him less timid, a little more rowdy and confident, a little more touchy and feely.

You've kind of given up on the whole moving on thing, even if it was driving you up a wall.

Tommy had just won, and you were eagerly waiting to congratulate him, excited to hug him freely, without him wondering why you were hugging him to begin with. And maybe to hold on a little tighter. Maybe to allow your hands to rove a little more freely.

Hey, was it not a night for celebration?

A man started to chat you up. You smiled patiently and gave some noncommittal grunts and affirmations as you continued to scan the crowd, looking for the familiar mass of Tommy, all hard edges and bulk. You were bouncing on the balls of your feet.

The guy moved closer, making a joke you didn't really hear. You laughed, your eyes darting and searching.

"You look beautiful by the way. I saw you watching the fight, crazy that you're into this stuff. Not a lot of women I know cheer like that."

You finally glance over to the man, but quickly get back to standing on your tip toes, looking above heads.

He doesn't even look that bad, and it's obvious he wants to get your number. He's just not the man you want chat with, and definitely not tonight. Not on a night that Tommy just won, and a night he'll want to come over to yours, joking and teasing, touching you much more confidently than he normally would. Falling asleep much more easier with his head on your lap.

You tamp down a smile. You wouldn't want this guy to get the wrong idea.

"You know, there's a really good Thai place down the road- Ah, fuck, watch it buddy. Can you not look where you're go-" You hear the man choke off the sentence, trying not to smile as you imagine the other guy. probably a lot bigger than he is. Wouldn't want to completely ruin his night by laughing at the guy.

"Fuuck me, buddy, sorry. I did not know who I was talking to." You could hear the man swallow. "Hey, I think you did great in the ring tonight, real good job of... Knocking that guy out. With one punch."

You whirled around, smiling so wide you felt the strain on your cheeks. There was only one guy who did that tonight.

Sure enough, Tommy was standing there. He had put on a shirt and took his gloves off, but he was still sweaty and breathing hard. He completely stanced up, like he is in the ring, and his expression was-

Well, you chalked it up to the testosterone flowing freely through the place. Probably just mad that he ran into another dude.

It still didn't stop you from running and jumping directly on him, arms coming up to wrap around his neck, legs completely circling his torso. You giggled into his neck, exclaiming how proud you were of him, how good he looked out there, completely stroking his ego, but not caring at the moment.

You felt his arms immediately span your back, feeling like his hands where trying to be everywhere at once. That was new. That was new and you couldn't say you hated it.

What you didn't see was the look on Tommy's face. The cold calm of someone who just threw a punch so hard at a man who was bigger and faster than him and shut his shit down. Directed at another man, much slower and smaller in comparison.

You didn't see the stranger's face pale, but you distantly heard the sound of chairs clatter to the ground as he turned tail.

Five years of pining (not so) quietly for Tommy, the man you had fallen in love with, but without a doubt did not love you back.

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Tommy knew without a doubt that he loved you.

All those years back in fourth grade, when he let it slip that his favorite snack was those crackers with the cheese filling, and you showed up with a whole pack of them to share, smiling this big goofy grin with your beautiful eyes and warm presence.

God how could he not.

The problem was how he was supposed to convince you to like him back. Him, Tommy, who fought most of his way through high school, who didn't like to get too close to people, who didn't like eye contact or conversation that ran too long or too forced. Who loved you though.

And who was very annoyed at the boy flirting with his girl.

It never failed to make Tommy's blood boil. He knew he had no right, because for one, he spent five years doing his damned best to break up every chance at you leaving him.

Just until you guys turn 35, right Tommy boy? You can probably keep that up.

Tommy breathed in a shuttering breath.

He just wanted to buy you your favorite drink at your favorite café. That's all he wanted to do. And maybe find and excuse to hold your hand without burning up from the embarrassment of actually having feelings (can you imagine?).

But of course, some dick-head always noticed how beautiful or kind or warm you were, and had to take their shot.

Well, Tommy was fucking sick of it.

Tommy thought of all the times, and there were a lot of times, when he had to step in and derail the situation. He knew this would be the last time. He had to do this, get rid of the unrelenting ache he felt while going to sleep, looking at you, thinking about you.

Tommy moved toward the you and the man you were talking to like he was entering the ring. With the mindset that he could get totally and irreversibly hurt, but he was gonna fight to the bloody end beforehand.

"Do you need directions?" Tommy asked as he slid up behind you, closer than he would have ever before. He felt your confusion even if he couldn't see your face.

"What?" The man was just as quizzical.

"Oh, I was just asking if you needed directions or if you could get lost on your own." Tommy raised his eyebrows, setting his hand on your hip, trying not to think about the many, many questions you'd have about that.

The man thought about arguing, but then he really looked at Tommy. Looked at you, then back to Tommy. Decided he didn't want to bleed tonight, and huffed out an angry sound.

You at least waited until he was out of ear shot before whirling on him.

"What. What was that?"

"Ok, I know what your probably thinking-"

"That you're out of your mind Tommy?! Are you kidding me right now? 'Get lost?' Get outta here with that shit, what was that?"

The two of you were pretty far back in the shop, but he still lowered his voice to make sure no one was bothered.

"Ok, yes, you're mad, I can see that-"

"Oooooh well I'm glad you can see that Tommy." You felt your face start to turn red, feeling exhausted and confused. "Explain. Explain to me Tommy, that every time a guy wants to have a nice, civil, God forbid, flirtatious conversation with me, he high tails it out of there just as fast, Tommy, explain."

Tommy felt an expanding ache somewhere behind his left eye.

"Ok. Ok I'm gonna say something stupid-"

"You always say something stupid, stupid-"

"Can you just. Can you let me finish." Tommy felt exasperated and a little insane. He was about to confess in a coffee shop to the girl he loved and things would never be the same again because she was about to leave, but fuck it if he wasn't at a boiling point.

"Ok. You know how we made a deal?" You looked at him, raising your eyebrows.

"About who could spray the most whipped cream in their mouth? Yeah it's me, it'll always be me. So you got so mad you're trying to, what, make sure I die alone, I don't..."

"What? No can you not, can you focus right now?" Tommy's palms were starting to sweat and he clenched his eyes shut tight. He breathed in and let it back out in one harsh huff. "When we were seventeen-"

"Seventeen?"

"When we were seventeen you said that if we weren't married by the time we were 35, that we should marry each other." He watched as your eyes widened and your face warmed a little. "Well, the deals off. I'm not doing it any more."

Tommy wasn't sure what to expect, but the flash of utter pain that tore across your face was not it. You stepped back, looked like you were about to bolt, your eyes wild. You tried to pull yourself together but it was really hard to breathe. No matter how many times you tried to prepare yourself for this day, you could have never imagined how it actually almost brought you know to your knees.

"So. Here's the new deal. If in like, five minutes, you're still single, and I'm still single..." Tommy swallowed hard, licking his lips. "We should just." His eyes darted to your lips.

You froze. Tommy caught his lush lower lip in between his teeth. He'd never been more nervous his entire life. So nervous for the inevitable laugh, the pity laced rejection, because really, it was one thing to be friends with a shy awkward boxer, but another to look at him and think, 'yeah, that'll do.'

Tommy had approximately five seconds to wallow in self deprecation and pure terror before he had a handful of you, and something that suspiciously felt like lips on his lips. But that's funny, because he's almost positive that that's not the case.

Then he felt your tongue swipe his lip and decided he cared fuck all and proceeded to get lost in you, your breaths, God he could feel, taste, your breath as you both got consumed by each other.

Someone coughed disapprovingly your way. The two of you broke apart, panting slightly.

"Ok, ok please don't. I really don't want you to hit me but I'm really fucking dense, right, and I just have to ask, you did that because you. You like like me- OW I said I didn't want you to hit me!"

You felt yourself laughing, felt your never ending ache subside and your love sky rocket.

"Oh, you're an idiot," You pecked his lips, he tried to catch your mouth fully but failed. "You are such and idiot- Oh my God we're both idiots holy- Hey. Hey, you, you've been. Have you been sabotaging-"

"Did you hear that?" Tommy tilted his head and looked toward the ceiling. "Ope- oh yeah. No. yeah, that's for sure the sound of-" He cut off, dropping his serious expression, grinning as he leaned down and kissed your mouth again, this time taking your words and any objections, affectively cutting off any questions that would leave him looking stupid.

You two would need to sit down, to talk about how you've felt all these years, how you were both so stupid that you both refused to confess to each other.

But for now, you lost yourself in the taste of Tommy, and the heady feeling of someone you've loved for seemingly forever, loving you back.

Real Quick: Would you be mad if in the next fics I write I called this man Tomithy? Asking for a friend.