#(I have just been stuck in the hell that is editing stuff...)

[hummingbird24220]

HELLOOOO I'm the one who submitted the req where reader drowns...IT WAS SSOOOO GOOD JDJDISJDJSIJFN

anyways i have something else in mind....okok... reader is like superrrrr sick like 110 degrees fever type shift and everyone figures that out (unfortunately) when reader just....falls to the floor and doesn't have enough energy to get back up and the crew has to take care of them and sanji mayhaps uses reader being unconscious as a chance to touch their face and stuff uhhh yeah ilyilyily

erm all platonic...make sanji a perv.....and can reader have a older brother? a protective one?

UHHH YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER IF YOU DON'T WANT TO

Hello! Sorry it took so long - as mentioned on my previous posts, ive had a lot in draft form but not edited to publish! Just getting to it now <3 Hope you like it ^^

Boiling Point

Sanji x Reader

The sun had barely climbed past the horizon, golden and soft, and you were already sweating buckets. Not from the usual humidity, not from exertion. Just... existing felt like swimming through lava. But you pushed through it—because when didn’t you push through?

You swayed as the ship gently rocked, the world blurring around you in watercolor streaks. You tried to hide it—joking, smiling, brushing off any worried glances. Until your knees buckled mid-step and you crumpled to the Sunny’s deck like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Oi!" Luffy blinked, completely unprepared.

"Shit—(Y/N)!" Usopp scrambled to your side as Zoro cursed and dropped his weights.

Chopper was already sprinting over. "Move, move! Let me see—ahhh!! Your temperature’s off the charts!" His tiny hooves trembled as he checked your vitals. “They’re at 110°F—that’s not just a fever, that’s a boil-your-brain fever!!”

"Why the hell didn’t they say anything?!" Nami hissed, crouching beside you, brushing hair off your sticky, flushed forehead.

"They did say something," Robin said gently, standing behind her. "Just not with words."

Sanji was the last to approach. He held back, drying his hands on a kitchen towel, lips pressed thin. But when no one was looking—when Chopper was busy yelling about rehydration and cold compresses and moving you inside—Sanji knelt down. Carefully. Reverently.

You were unconscious. Soft little breaths escaping your parted lips. Your cheeks were burning with fever, lashes fluttering like you were stuck in some nightmare loop.

Sanji swallowed hard.

Just a touch.

Just once.

His hand, warm but far gentler than it had any right to be, brushed along your cheek, then traced your brow to smooth the sweat-matted hair back. "Mon trésor..." he whispered, thumb ghosting across your temple.

"I’ll make you a broth so good it'll heal your soul, I swear..."

He hovered a second longer, resisting the urge to kiss your knuckles.

Then—

"Oi. Blondie."

Sanji jerked like he'd been shot. A broad-shouldered figure stood at the foot of the galley steps, arms crossed and glaring down at him.

Your older brother.

Not crew. But very much present. And very much glowering.

"I saw that."

Sanji cleared his throat, rising smoothly. “Just checking their temperature,” he lied.

“Uh-huh.” Your brother’s voice was flat as a cutting board. “With your mouth, eventually?”

Sanji chuckled, awkward. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Not while they're sick.”

“Not while they’re asleep either.”

“...Right.”

A long, heavy pause. Then:

“They like soup,” your brother muttered, softer this time. “Lentil and ginger. Makes them sleep.”

Sanji blinked, surprised.

He nodded, just once. “Got it. You... sit with them. I’ll cook.”

-

You drifted in and out of consciousness, sweat-soaked and buried in blankets, head pounding. At one point, you thought you felt someone brush your cheek. And a soft, baritone hum. Not your brother’s.

Warmth bloomed in your chest—fever aside.

Even half-dead, you could still feel it.

Someone was watching over you.

And damn if their cologne didn’t smell divine.

-

The next few days passed like a heat-haze dream—dizzy, slippery, and hard to hold on to. You drifted in and out, waking for brief moments of lucidity that never lasted more than a handful of minutes. Every time you opened your eyes, it felt like the ship had tilted, the world shifting just a little too fast.

But there was always someone there.

Chopper came and went like a determined little whirlwind—checking your temperature, giving you fluids, muttering frustrated reindeer curses under his breath. At one point, you were sure he slapped Luffy’s hand away from trying to draw on your face. ("They’re not a doodle pad, Luffy!")

Nami was a surprising constant, gentle hands sponging sweat from your skin when you felt clammy and disgusting, quietly murmuring, “Don’t worry, no one’s seeing anything.” She wiped down your face, your chest, your arms—never once making you feel exposed. “Just hang in there, okay?”

Zoro kept watch outside the door when he wasn’t training. You heard him once, grumbling to Sanji: “If they die, you better not cry loud enough to wake the whole sea.”

“They’re not gonna die,” Sanji had growled back. “Not on my damn watch.”

You weren’t always conscious enough to speak, but you felt him.

Sanji.

Always there.

Even when you were barely tethered to reality, there was the smell of sea salt and cigarettes and spices. You’d wake up to soft rustling sounds—he was brushing your hair back, or changing the cold cloth on your head. Once, you cracked your eyes open and found his head on the bed beside yours, arms folded, chin resting next to your hand. He was asleep. You must’ve been dreaming. Because you could’ve sworn he was holding your fingers between his.

He did that often.

Touching you only when he thought no one was looking.

The fourth day, the fever had broken, but you were still weak. Everything hurt. The sweat felt gross. You managed to croak something—probably half a sentence—and next thing you knew, Nami had helped you out of the clingy clothes and wiped you down with a warm cloth. You were too tired to be embarrassed.

"You're getting better," she told you. "Bit by bit."

You blinked at her, and she smiled. "The boys are worried sick. Sanji hasn’t left this room for more than twenty minutes. Not even to cook."

"...'m sorry," you mumbled.

"Don't be dumb," she said gently. "You're loved."

That evening, things were calm. Too calm.

You were asleep again, body still heavy with fatigue, curled in the nest of blankets that Robin and Chopper had padded around you. The lantern light was low. Everything smelled like citrus and broth and you felt… okay. Not good. But not dying.

Sanji was seated by your bedside, quiet and still, holding your hand in both of his.

Your hand, so limp in his warm fingers, like you'd trusted him even in your unconsciousness.

He rubbed his thumb along your knuckles slowly, like a prayer, staring down at you with a softness that could kill.

"I’m not trying to cross any lines," he whispered. “I know they’d tear me in half. Especially your brother. But gods, sweetheart… you’re making it so hard not to fall deeper.”

"Let go of their hand."

Sanji froze.

Your brother stood in the doorway, eyes shadowed and arms crossed, jaw ticking like a time bomb.

Sanji rose, still gentle, but firm. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

"You think I’m blind? You’ve been hovering like a lovesick vulture since they collapsed.”

“I’m taking care of them.”

“You’re making it weird.”

“They’re not yours to guard like some dragon over treasure!” Sanji snapped suddenly, voice cracking like flint. “I haven’t touched them beyond holding their hand!”

“You think I don’t know what kind of guy you are?” your brother barked, stepping closer. “I see the way you look at them. Like you’re already undressing them in your head!”

“I respect them,” Sanji hissed. “I’d never do anything they didn’t want—”

“Because they’re asleep, Sanji. They can’t say yes. Or no.”

Your name slipped from Sanji’s mouth like a guilty prayer.

The voices were loud. Angry. Too angry.

And it dragged you from sleep like being pulled from underwater.

You blinked, throat dry, the world grainy and spinning.

“S…stop…”

Two grown men froze mid-argument and whipped their heads toward you.

You looked at both of them, eyes half-lidded and voice hoarse. “Don’t yell… headache…”

Your brother was at your side in an instant. “I’m sorry. I’m here. It’s okay—”

Sanji stayed where he was, shame etched across his face, unable to meet your gaze.

But you reached your hand out toward him, shaky and slow.

His eyes widened.

You didn’t say anything else.

You didn’t have to.

Your hand rested, palm up, between them.

Waiting.

And Sanji took it.

Even your brother couldn't argue with that. Not out loud, anyway.

-

You were finally sitting up.

Propped against a stack of pillows, a soft blanket tucked around your legs, and an untouched bowl of soup resting on the side table. The fever had broken for good now, but everything else ached. Joints, muscles, eyelids—it was like your entire body had been wrung out and left to dry on the Sunny’s mast.

But at least you were awake. Present.

The breeze from the cracked window was cool on your skin, the scent of ocean salt and lemon cleaner drifting in with it. Chopper had stopped fussing (barely), and now it was just you… and your brother.

He sat beside the bed, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his nose. That familiar furrow was back on his brow—the one you remembered from when you scraped your knees as a kid or came home past dark.

"...You gonna say it or just look constipated all afternoon?" you rasped.

Your voice wasn’t croaky anymore—just tired. But there was enough of your usual bite in it to make him sigh.

He leaned back and crossed his arms.

“I don’t like that cook.”

You blinked. "Wow, what revelation. Guess the fever’s not the only thing that broke."

He frowned. “I’m serious. I’ve seen how he acts. The flirting. The hearts in his damn eyes. The nosebleeds. You’ve got no idea how guys like that think.”

“Oh, I think I do,” you replied softly.

He glanced at you—cautious. Waiting.

You let out a sigh and leaned your head back against the pillow, letting your gaze drift to the ceiling, the timbers above creaking softly with the ship's movement.

“Sanji’s… yeah, he’s a flirt. He’s dramatic. He’d probably marry a tomato if it was in a short enough skirt.”

You heard your brother snort faintly.

“But when I was half-dead,” you continued, quieter now, “he didn’t do anything inappropriate. He stayed. He held my hand. Talked to me like I was gonna wake up. Like I mattered. Not like a fantasy. Like a person.”

Silence.

“I adore him,” you said, voice sincere and a little dreamy. “He’s a bit of a mess, but he’s my mess. I trust him. Completely. And he’d never do anything I didn’t want.”

There was a long pause. You glanced over.

Your brother was quiet. Still staring at the floor.

Then, finally—he stood.

You blinked. “...What?”

He didn't answer. Just walked to the door, pulling it open—

—and immediately stopped.

Because there, pressed shamelessly flat against the frame like a blonde gargoyle, was Sanji. One eye wide. The other squished from impact. Probably had been eavesdropping since the word "adorable."

He froze.

Your brother stared at him.

Up.

Down.

Up again.

He didn’t say a word—just gave him a sharp, assessing once-over… and then, after an agonizing beat, let out a grunt, patted him once (hard) on the back, and muttered, “Don’t be an idiot,” before walking off down the hallway.

Sanji stared after him.

“…Did I just get blessed or threatened?”

You laughed—soft and wheezy, but full of affection.

“Both,” you coughed out.

He was by your side in an instant.

“Mon dieu, I thought I was gonna explode if I couldn’t come in,” he breathed, kneeling by the bed. “You—you really said all that?”

“‘Course I did,” you smiled, eyes half-lidded but warm. “It’s not a fever dream anymore. I meant it.”

Sanji looked like you’d handed him the One Piece wrapped in silk.

“You’re... you’re incredible,” he whispered, brushing your hand with his thumb like you’d break if he held on too tight. “And if you let me… I’ll prove to you that I’m worth all that trust.”

You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead gently into his palm. “I know you are.”

He kissed your knuckles, trembling with restraint.

“…Not marrying a tomato, by the way,” he murmured, grinning.

“Damn. There goes the competition.”

-

You were finally back on your feet.

Still wrapped in a blanket most of the time like a sad little burrito, still groaning when you bent the wrong way—but walking. Breathing. Living.

The sea breeze didn’t sting anymore. The sunlight didn’t hurt your eyes. And the food—Sanji’s food—actually tasted like something again instead of cardboard in broth.

Your steps were slow but steady across the Sunny’s deck. It felt like relearning your body. Every muscle ached like it was fresh out of storage. But you didn’t walk alone.

Sanji was there. Always.

A hand at your back when you swayed. A guiding arm around your shoulders when you took the stairs. His fingers curled gently around yours as if he had to be touching you in some way—just to make sure you were still here. Still his to protect. Still real.

And you let him.

No, you welcomed it.

You leaned into every soft brush of his palm, every whispered “careful” and every murmured French endearment you didn’t understand but felt in your chest.

The crew had mostly adjusted. Nami just smirked and gave knowing looks. Robin teased you by calling it “recovery-based clinginess.” Luffy didn’t get it but hugged you extra hard “just in case.” Zoro rolled his eyes but didn’t say a word. Even Usopp had admitted once—when he thought you were asleep—that he missed Sanji in the kitchen.

But your brother?

He was less subtle.

Much less.

You’d be walking with Sanji’s arm linked through yours, cheeks warm with affection, and from somewhere behind you:

“BLEEEHHHHHHHH.”

You sighed without looking back. “I swear to god.”

“That was physically painful to witness,” your brother gagged, dramatically fake-coughing behind you as if love itself was a contagious disease. “You let him kiss your hand in public. I have secondhand burns.”

“You don’t have to watch,” you called back flatly, half-amused.

“I do when he’s glued to you like a horny octopus!”

Sanji didn’t miss a beat.

“Technically, if I were an octopus, I’d have three hearts and still wouldn’t love them enough.”

Your brother let out the most offended groan humanly possible. “I’m going overboard. I can’t witness this. I won’t.”

You just laughed.

Because even he couldn’t fake the way his eyes softened when he saw you smile. Couldn’t hide the way his teasing came with less venom and more resignation these days.

He’d lost the war. But you were happy.

And he couldn't argue with that.

Later, you sat with Sanji on the railing, his hand cradling yours like it was the most fragile thing on the ship. The sky was gold and rose and the sea calm beneath you, soft as silk.

Your brother walked by, eyeing you both.

He opened his mouth. Took a breath.

Paused.

Then just shook his head and kept walking.

"...No gagging?" you murmured, mock-shocked.

Sanji pressed a kiss to your temple, grinning. “I think that was his blessing.”

You leaned into him, fingers twined with his.

“Poor guy,” you murmured. “He didn’t stand a chance.”

“No one does,” Sanji whispered, brushing his lips across your hairline. “Not when it comes to me and you.”

[bloodawakening]

Guess who is LOCKING IN-

[pielove123clan]

My head's being mean to me again. Big oof.

[arolesbianism]

I love drawing Aris as sif so much she's so cutsies. It almost makes up for the horrors of having to draw her as sif. Almost.

[choerrypuffs]

AITA for setting my cheating ex's car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

pairing: firefighter!haechan x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 8.6k

synopsis: revenge is best served cold―or on fire. literally.

author’s note: luvpuffcore is finally back!! ilysm cat and moon and thank you for another amazing year of friendship <333 i truly am the #1 most successful fan of all time 🤩 also special shoutout to cat for letting me use some of her creepy dms and moon for sharing her league knowledge yall are god's strongest soldiers fr !! happy new year, my loves ✨🎆💞

warning(s): mentions/threats of violence, sexual jokes, y/n commits arson but in a girly pop way (pls don't try this at home), character assassination of mark

playlist: get him back! by olivia rodrigo ― is it new years yet? sabrina carpenter ― drinks or coffee by rosé ― risk by gracie abrams ― mastermind by taylor swift

additional: check out a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab!

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 3d

AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

I (24F) caught my boyfriend cheating on me with a discord kitten he met on League of Legends two days before our anniversary. I proceeded to have the biggest crash out ever known to man, bought a gallon of gasoline, went to his house in the middle of the night, and lit his car on fire. I had completely forgotten his cousin was a firefighter in the area, and he showed up at the scene, which hindered my masterful plan a little bit. Luckily, my ex didn’t press any charges though because no way in hell he’s going to admit he has a discord kitten in a court of law. Anyways, the next day, my ex groveled and begged me to go to his family’s Christmas party with him so that he could save face in front of his mommy. Long story short―let’s just say it didn’t go well. His cousin ended up driving me home, and I think maybe I’ve fallen for him? 

⥣ 9.8k ⥥ 1,439 Comments

mcballs-im-lovin-it0323 • 2d YTA for not crashing out even harder bc i woulda slept with his entire bloodline if he played in my face like that 🙂‍↕️

➥ Reply ⥣ 2.8k ⥥

picklepounder1010 • 1d would’ve had him calling me mama, papa, auntie, uncle, grandma, grandpa etc fr 😩 ➥ ⥣ 943 ⥥

god-of-donuts0423 • 1d YTA for dating a lol player

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

goonknight1027 • 5h no way this post is about that twink lol streamer ➥ ⥣ 629 ⥥

part one | oh, i wanna key his car…or light it ablaze?

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:03 PM heyyy u play lol too 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:05 PM im a yasuo main 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhat kinda asian are u

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhatchu look like

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMsorry was that too much 😂😂😂

Your best friend, Rosie, has to put your phone down and take a few deep breaths. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Keep going. You haven’t even seen the worst of it,” you respond through a mouthful of strawberry ice cream, completely deadpan. 

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:21 AM ahh 😂😂

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:22 PM *kisses you*

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PM can i tell U something weird :3 😂

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:40 PM[Audio Message]

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMi wrote this rap about my feelings for y baby girl

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMbecause uve been such a good gril for me

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:57 PM holy fck holy dcking fck that body of urs is absurd

Rosie covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes in a grimace. “No way he copied Adam Levine unironically.” 

“Keep going.”

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AMwhen can i see u

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM ill be free after christmas

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM after annyign fam stuff 😂😂😂

Every message Rosie reads feels like another sucker punch in your gut and your ego, but you just dig your spoon into the tub of ice cream with even more force and let her keep going. Every time you blink, you feel dried up mascara flaking off your eyelashes and getting stuck in the dried tears and snot on your cheeks. 

“‘Annoying fam stuff?’ Is he talking about your anniversary?” Rosie demands.

Yes, your anniversary with your now ex-boyfriend, Mark Lee, is on Christmas. You used to think it was romantic. What a goddamn idiot you were. 

“At least he called me family,” you reply wryly, a hysterical laugh rattling in your chest like a wet cough. 

Rosie shakes her head and hands your phone back to you. “I can’t read any more of this. I’m going to be sick. I thought Discord mods and Discord kittens were just memes. I can’t believe people like him actually exist.” 

You just shrug.

“Where the hell is he now?” She crosses her arms. 

“Probably at his parents’ house. They’re on a ski trip, and they won’t be back until tomorrow,” you sigh, getting a headache thinking about how you were going to explain this to Mark’s parents. 

“Good. Change the locks on your door before he tries to come crawling back. He’s done mooching off you,” Rosie huffs. 

“You were right,” you state matter-of-factly, “That he was just a jobless bum loser who’s a momma’s boy.” 

She looks guilty, leaning over and giving you a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You think about the time you first met Mark, when the two of you were just starry-eyed freshmen in college together. He was so awkward and shy that it took almost an entire semester for him to finally look you in the eye. He followed you around like a sad puppy and would get flustered at any prolonged amount of attention you gave him. After about three years of him being hopelessly in love with you and unable to work up the courage to ask you out, you finally decided to give him a chance in your final year of college. It was a white Christmas, and you remember his trembling hands holding your face, freezing cold fingertips brushing your cheeks, and how red his nose was when he leaned in to kiss you. He looked at you as if you were a goddess that was put on this Earth purely for him to worship. 

Maybe that’s why you moved in together with him when the two of you graduated, even when he was unemployed and you supported him financially. Maybe that’s why you smiled and nodded when he told you he wanted to try being a Twitch streamer. Maybe that’s why you gifted him his first microphone for his setup, or baked him a cake when he finally got his first viewer (even though it was actually a secret account that you made in order to boost his confidence). Maybe that’s why you never complained when he started skipping out on dates (sometimes even your birthday) in favor of growing his audience, or when he bought you extravagant gifts like jewelry or designer clothes without any clue of your preference or size. Maybe that’s why you chose to ignore the churning feeling in the pit of your stomach when you noticed his eyes starting to drift towards anything but you.

Maybe you were always the one who worshipped him. 

It’s almost comical how easily almost a decade of your life has gone down the drain―and all it took was a couple of laughing emojis. In the end, the one who loves more is always the one who loses the most. 

You gave up your best years to Mark Lee, and yet you seemed to have run out of tears to cry for this man. 

Instead, all you have left now is pure, unbridled rage boiling inside of you. It’s the kind of anger that needs to simmer first―the kind that manifests first as a calm indifference before it finally bubbles over into a complete meltdown. But you’ll be damned before you set fire to your mental health and personal belongings that you worked tooth and nail for over a man who ruined your life. 

So, you’ve decided to set fire to something else. 

“Rosie,” you say softly, your voice chillingly serene. “I’m going to set his car on fire.” 

Rosie laughs. “Want me to be your getaway driver?” 

“No, I wouldn’t want to implicate you,” you respond smoothly. “Besides, I want him to know that I’m the one who did it.” 

She looks at you for a moment, trying to decide if you’re joking or not. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes. I don’t have the energy to care about him anymore,” you answer―only a half lie. “You should go now. I know you have a late shift tonight.” 

Rosie gives you another tight squeeze. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m off this weekend, so we should go get drunk off our asses.” 

After she leaves, you slowly get up and make your way to the bathroom. You wash your face in the sink, scrubbing on the gunk off, and apply a fresh layer of makeup. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to make sure you look hot as hell (pun intended). Once you’re done, you make your way to the nearest gas station and purchase a gallon of gasoline before promptly driving to Mark’s parent’s house. 

By the time you get there, it’s already close to midnight, and not even the darkness can shroud Mark’s new Tesla Cybertruck. You remember when he bought it because you had to pay for half of his rent for the month because he was saving up for it―the smug grin on his face, as he announced it to his Twitch chat. You’re embarrassed at how happy you were for him, and you didn’t even have the heart to tell him how hideous you found it. The truck’s mirrored exterior reflects the moon in the starless night sky, and the full moon almost looks like a shiny, pretty bullseye calling out for you to destroy it. 

Without hesitation, you get out of your car and immediately start dumping gasoline all over and around the car. The scent of gasoline normally makes you nauseous, but the scent of revenge smells even sweeter. Before you take out your lighter, you pick up a large piece of broken concrete from his driveway. With all of the strength you can muster, you hurl the concrete into the driver side window of the truck and watch your reflection shatter along with the glass. 

The car alarm starts blaring, and you wait for the light in Mark’s room to blink on. You see his silhouette as he opens his blinds and peers out, just to lock eyes with you. He gawks at you like he’s just seen a ghost, and it doesn’t take long for him to make his way down to you. As he stumbles down the driveway, you take out your lighter and flick it on, letting it slowly slip from your fingertips. Your heart swells with a hysterical sense of glee as his eyes widen, the orange flames reflecting in his teary eyes. His Cybertruck is set ablaze with a Hollywood-esque level of perfection, and the fire gives your face a golden glow as if you were the starring actress. 

“Y/N! Are you fucking crazy?” Mark hollers over the crackle of the flames, voice breaking. 

“Oh, you bet I fucking am,” you laugh. 

“I’m gonna sue you―you bitch! Have you thrown in jail!” he screams, fishing his phone out of his pocket and punching in 911 on the keypad. “I’m calling the cops right now!” 

“Do it, you spineless piece of shit! I’m going to make sure everyone in this damn neighborhood and on the internet knows what a lying, cheating, soul-sucking little leech you are!” you yell back at him. “I’m going to ruin your fucking career first and then happily walk my ass down to the police station.”

That makes Mark stop in his tracks, his thumb hovering over the dial button. He can’t control the fear on his face. “No one is gonna believe you.” 

“Aw, you sure no one will believe me when I show everyone the screenshots of your DMs with uwukittenbb69?” you taunt. 

“I’ll say they’re fake!” he nearly screeches. 

“Let’s fucking go then! My word against yours. We’ll see who they believe,” you challenge. 

Mark falters and takes a small step forward. “W-Wait…” 

Unfortunately for him, he’s interrupted by the squealing sirens of a firetruck pulling up to the street. You and Mark exchange glances, and you silently dare him to report you, before both of you turn towards the firefighters exiting the truck. 

“Mark…and Y/N?” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of the approaching firefighter’s voice. You watch in horror as the firefighter removes his helmet, and you get a clearer look at his face. Tufts of wavy caramel-colored hair sticking out, a youthful and angelic face that doesn’t suit his occupation, and heart-shaped lips turned downwards in concern―it’s Mark’s cousin, Donghyuck. You’ve met him a decent amount of times at family gatherings, and he sometimes drops by you and Mark’s apartment to deliver homemade food from his mom. Donghyuck has always been kind to you, and you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Donghyuck’s confusion is short-lived before his attention falls back to the fire and how close you are to it. He quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the burning truck. 

“Be careful. Are you hurt?” he asks carefully, eyes scanning your face with precision. “And why aren’t you wearing a jacket? It’s freezing out here.” 

You open your mouth to try and fumble out an answer, but you flinch at the sound of Donghyuck’s colleagues blasting Mark’s car with water from the firetruck’s power hose. All that’s left of the Cybertruck is a deformed and blackened pile of scrap metal with a plume of smoke rising from it. You can’t help the sense of satisfaction you feel. 

“Don’t breathe in the smoke. It’s not good for you,” Donghyuck urges, gently sticking an arm in front of you and gesturing for you to step back even further. “Come with me. There’s blankets in the back of the truck.”

“I’m fine,” you finally manage to say, shaking your head. “I’m not cold.” 

It’s true; the fire you set has been more than enough to make your insides feel all warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t look like he believes you but doesn’t try to push any further. 

“Okay, so what the hell happened here? We got a call from the neighbors saying there was a blazing ball on fire in Mark’s driveway and that the two of you were in a screaming match.” 

“Ask Mark,” is all you say. 

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“It was an accident.”

As if on cue, Mark suddenly materializes next to you and Donghyuck―a restless expression on his face. He probably thought you were telling Donghyuck what he did to you and rushed over. 

“What?” Donghyuck’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “You’re saying that was an accident?”

“Yeah. I was just…messing around. Don’t worry about it. It was an accident,” Mark says through gritted teeth, sounding completely defeated. 

The corners of your mouth twitch when you chime in, “A senseless accident.” 

Donghyuck is completely speechless as he glances between the two of you. However, you look past him and watch the fireworks exploding in the dark sky. Pulling out your phone, you see that it’s midnight, meaning it’s officially the 25th of December. Glancing over at Mark, you see him trembling in the cold with a sniffly red nose and bloodshot eyes. He’s staring straight at the ground, fists clenched. 

You smile. 

part two | wanna push him in the fireplace and watch him burn!

When you finally get home that night, you draw yourself a steaming hot bubble bath and even use the fancy bath bomb that Rosie bought you. After you get dressed, you make a charcuterie board and pour yourself a glass of wine as well before falling asleep to a Hallmark movie playing on your television. It’s probably the best sleep you’ve gotten over the past month. 

You wake up in the morning feeling refreshed, a certain five-foot-nine burden lifted from your shoulders, and text all of your friends and family your holiday greetings. Rosie invited you out to her family gathering because she didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas, but you declined. You decided to stay home and get some cleaning done. Of course, by cleaning, you mean boxing up all of Mark’s stuff and donating it to Goodwill. You initially wanted to burn everything, but you’ve committed enough arson already. 

Just as you’re getting ready to make a hearty breakfast in preparation for the mass Mark exodus, you hear the door to your apartment being opened, and your blood runs cold when you realize you haven’t changed the lock. Then your cold blood begins to boil at the audacity that Mark still must have in his pathetic little body to even dream of stepping foot in your home. 

Gripping your frying pan tightly, you march out of the kitchen to greet him. Mark at least has the sense to shrivel back when he sees you approach him. To your delight, he looks absolutely terrible. It’s obvious he didn’t get any sleep nor did he feel the need to change out of his pajamas. 

“I know you’re mad,” he says quickly, holding his hands out as if ready to block a punch.

“If you actually knew that, you wouldn’t have stepped foot in my apartment,” you say nonchalantly. “You have ten seconds to give my key back to me and get the hell out before you have to call the cops again.”

“Chill, chill,” he mutters, “I’m just here for my stuff―”

“Don’t tell me to chill. I’ve always hated it when you tell me that. It makes you sound like a patronizing douchebag, which you are, of course,” you snap. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you just waltz in here and casually get your stuff. Most of which I paid for, by the way.”

“Y/N, come on,” he sighs. “at least let me get my PC setup.”

That makes you burst out laughing. “Holy shit. You really have the gall to ask me for your PC setup? Are you on actual crack? Get the fuck out!”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry, okay? Just one more thing―”

“Don’t make me swear to Jesus on his birthday―” 

“My mom wants you to come to the Christmas party this afternoon,” he blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…haven’t told her yet. I wanted us to tell her, um, together, after the party.”

He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand what he’s implying. He wants to make it seem like the breakup was mutual to save his reputation and because he knows his mom will lose her mind. He’s pretended to be her perfect little boy his entire life, a momma’s boy to the very core, so he can’t ever let her know what a bottomfeeder he is. 

“Is this some sort of social experiment to see how far you can push my limits before I finally snap? Again?” you ask incredulously. 

“Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything. I won’t ask for my stuff anymore. I won’t tell anyone about the car thing. I promise you that you won’t ever see me again if you do me this favor,” Mark sputters.

You hate that you still hesitate, despite how much you’re disgusted by him. It makes you feel like you haven’t completely axed the part of you that was in love with him, and that sickens you. However, Mrs. Lee has always been like a second mother to you, and it doesn’t feel right to just cut her off without a proper goodbye just because her son is a cretin. You suppose this could be good closure for such an ill-fated relationship. 

“You swear on your life that you’ll leave me alone forever after this?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Mark nods profusely.

“Fine. I’m only staying for an hour, and I don’t care if the party isn’t over yet. We’re going to tell her within that period or else,” you state. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Y/N.” Mark opens his arms to hug you, and it takes every fiber in your being not to whack him across the head with your frying pan. 

“Do not touch me,” you warn, “Now get out.” 

To his credit, he promptly hightails it out of your apartment (perhaps he finally noticed the murderous glint in your eye). You almost immediately regret agreeing, but you tell yourself that today is the last day that you’ll ever have to deal with the likes of Mark Lee again. Putting a hold on cleaning, you get ready for the party instead, donning a cute holiday fit that you had prepared especially for today since it was supposed to be your anniversary. Now, it makes for a great revenge dress. 

Mark had texted you to let you know to bring a gift since there would be a white elephant gift exchange, and half of you wants to call him and scream at him for not letting you know sooner and the other half is screaming at yourself for forgetting to block him. Not having enough time to go out and buy a gift, you decide to wrap up the scarf that you knitted for Mark. You stayed up all night after you got off work to make it for him, and it looks a bit wonky, but you thought he would appreciate it. You feel bad for whoever receives it, but there has to be a few duds in the mix or it’s not a true white elephant experience. Maybe they can use the scarf to wipe up their dog’s piss or something.

When you drive back to Mark’s parents’ house, it’s an ironic clash of atmospheres. The place is decked out with Christmas decorations, an amalgamation of rainbow lights, inflatable snowmen, and wreaths on every door and window. Yet, you can also see remnants of the dark burn marks in their driveway. Mark must have managed to call a tow to take his Cybertruck away just in the nick of time. You do wonder how he managed to explain the burn marks, though. 

Taking in a deep breath, you hype yourself up in your car visor mirror before stepping out and walking to the front door. Before you can even knock, Mrs. Lee opens the door and envelops you in a bear hug. She smells like sugar cookies, and it occurs to you how much you’ll miss her. 

“Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she coos, cupping your face. She then ushers you into the living room, linking her arm through yours. “I was so worried because I thought the two of you got into a fight while we were on our trip.”

You just smile uncomfortably. “O-Oh.” 

“A mother’s intuition is always right, you know,” she says, winking, “Plus, I knew something was off when Mark told us he’d be staying at our place for a couple nights. Poor boy was a mess, you know. He somehow managed to total his car in the driveway! Can you believe it? He really needs you around to whip him into shape!” 

You hope she can’t see you holding in a laugh. As you’re walking, you scan the room for Mark, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It doesn’t surprise you one bit that you’re being treated as fodder so he can hide in his room. 

“Anyways, say hi to everyone!” She leads you directly into a circle of Mark’s aunt and uncles. You give them all an awkward hello and try to slink away while they all converse, but one of Mark’s aunts turns towards you. 

“So, how long have you and Mark been together, honey?” she asks. 

“Um, about four years―”

“Oh, but they’ve known each other for much longer than that. Seven years! Mark had the biggest crush on her, you know,” Mrs. Lee interjects. 

“My goodness, does that mean we’ll be hearing wedding bells soon?” Mark’s aunt teases. The rest of the circle oohs and ahhs, and you want to strangle yourself with a garland. 

“I mean, what is he waiting for anyway? He’s making loads of money on the Internet now, isn’t he?” she continues. 

“Exactly. I want grandchildren, you know,” Mrs. Lee huffs. 

Unable to bite back your words anymore, you clear your throat loudly. “I have something I need to―” 

“Oh, Y/N! I’ve been looking for you,” another voice chimes in. 

All of you turn around, and a gasp nearly escapes you when you see Donghyuck standing in front of you. He’s in a white cable knit sweater, and his wavy hair looks so fluffy that you almost want to reach out and touch it. His cheeks are a bit flushed, probably because he’s in such thick clothing (or Mrs. Lee’s famous spiked eggnog). Without his uniform on, he looks much softer, dreamier. 

“You…have?” you ask, bewildered. 

“Yup! Come on, I gotta ask you something,” he answers cheerfully, gesturing for you to follow him. 

You’re a bit wary of what he’s scheming, but you’d rather risk it than have to deal with any more marriage talk, so you gladly let him whisk you away from the crowd. Donghyuck leads you to a less crowded part of the room, swiping a piece of chocolate cake when he walks past the dessert table, and tucks himself into a corner that’s concealed by a giant Christmas tree. 

“Here we go. I introduce to you my super covert corner that I stand in when I want to avoid nosy relatives,” he says in a sing-song voice before offering you the cake in his hand. “Would you like some German chocolate cake made by yours truly? It’s pretty damn average, if I do say so myself.” 

You pause, only just now realizing that Donghyuck helped you out. You suppose you have nothing to lose, so you accept the cake. “Oh. Thank you. So, you didn’t have anything you wanted to ask me?” 

“Well, actually, I do,” he hums, giving you a sheepish grin. “You set Mark’s car on fire last night, didn’t you?”

Part of you already expected this question coming, so you manage to keep your expression neutral. “Are you accusing me?” 

“Why, I wouldn’t dare. Besides, I don’t need to. I know you did,” he says casually, shrugging.

Even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. In fact, Donghyuck almost seems to find it amusing. 

“Do you have proof?”

“Mark told me,” he states sweetly.

You sigh loudly, immediately giving up the ruse. “I knew that damn lowlife would yap.” 

“So, what did he do?” 

“Of course, he told you what I did but didn’t tell you what he did,” you snort. 

“What, he cheat or something?” 

“Worse.” 

You pull out your phone and show Donghyuck Mark’s Discord DMs and watch his expression morph into disgust as you indulge in the cake he gave you. The dessert is perfectly average as he said, but there’s something charming about it. In that way, the cake is quite similar to its maker. 

“As a government employee and resident fighter of fires, nothing justifies arson,” he states after a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “but this comes pretty damn close.” 

You give him a smug I-told-you-so look.

“But seriously, what you did was really dangerous, Y/N. You could have injured yourself badly. That jackass is not worth getting third-degree burns over. There are better ways to get revenge, you know,” he lectures.

“Like what?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, like TP or egg his car or something. Slash his tires?” 

“God, are you from a 90s movie or something? That’s lame as hell,” you snort, taking another bite of cake.

“Dig your key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive? Carve your name into his leather seats? Take a Louisville slugger to both headlights? Slash a hole in all four tires?” He wriggles his eyebrows. 

“Are you quoting Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood?” you ask incredulously.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats…” Donghyuck sings, purposefully off-key. 

You can’t fight that smile that spreads across your face, and it eventually turns into a full-on belly laugh when he continues to sing. It’s the first genuine laugh, the first moment of brief happiness and relief, that you’ve felt in a long time. You thought you had it when you set Mark’s car on fire, but something still coiled in the pit of your stomach like simmering, black smoke. In this tiny little corner that smells of pine needles and chocolate cake, you feel free like a clear sky after a long winter storm.

“For the record,” Donghyuck says, voice gently dipping, “you’ve always been too good for him, and everyone knows it―including him. He’ll regret what he did to you for the rest of his life. That’s your revenge.” 

Your breath staccatos in your chest at his words. You tell yourself that he has always been a smooth talker, but he looks at you with such honesty and warmth that you want to believe him. 

“Have you always been this sweet?” You meant for the words to come out in a teasing manner, but your voice is tinged with breathlessness. 

Donghyuck grins, and his lips remind you of the heart-shaped lollipops that you see in the store during Valentine’s Day. “The sweetest.” 

A part of you wonders what would happen if you craned your neck and kissed him right here and now. Not because you’re romantically interested in him, of course. Rather, it would be a spectacular way to get revenge on Mark. Most girls go for the brother or the best friend―maybe even the dad if one is particularly ambitious―but the cousin is an untapped (pun NOT intended) medium for revenge. 

You wonder if Donghyuck tastes like cookies or wine-filled chocolates or spiked eggnog or even fruitcake. You really hate fruitcake, but you suppose you wouldn’t mind for the sake of revenge. 

But you would never do that to him. He’s much too kind of a person to be involved in you and Mark’s mess. The fact that you’re able to confide in him and he actually takes your side is something that you truly appreciate. As much as you want to torment Mark, it’s best to just end it here. 

“You can use me too, you know,” Donghyuck adds.

“Huh?” You blink.

“For your revenge,” he clarifies. “Use me. To make him jealous, to bully him, whatever you want.” 

For a moment, you almost believe he somehow read your mind. 

“Just wanted to let you know,” he says, shrugging, “since you probably think it would be too mean. Plus, I think you would need my help anyways.”

That makes you feel greatly offended. “What is that supposed to mean? You say that like I didn’t set a car on fire.” 

“You’re too naive in your thinking. Revenge doesn’t always have to be loud and in your face like that. It’s a lot more fun when you break them down psychologically in more subtle ways,” he explains.

“So, you―as a government employee―can’t approve of me committing arson because I got cheated on, but you―as a government employee―can casually and openly discuss waging psychological warfare on another civilian. On said person who cheated on me, who also happens to be your cousin because you seemed to have forgotten that, ” you point out sardonically. 

Donghyuck just smiles before slightly leaning in, eyes flickering down to your lips. You open your mouth to retort but your words instantly die in your throat, softly gasping when his hand brushes your chin as he reaches over and swipes a bit of chocolate frosting from your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Sure I can,” he answers smoothly, “because, unlike a certain someone, I won’t get caught.” 

“I didn’t―”

“And by the way, Mark didn’t tell me you set his car on fire.” 

You gawk at him as he walks past you with a content grin on his face. “Now come on, I hear my aunt calling for us.” 

Maybe you need to take back your earlier statement of Donghyuck being too kind. He might actually have more screws loose than you.

.

.

.

You almost completely forget about Mark until he finally comes downstairs for the white elephant exchange. You’re in such a daze from your earlier interaction with Donghyuck that you barely recoil when Mark takes a seat beside you on the couch, especially since Donghyuck is sitting in the rocking chair directly across from you. 

The gift exchange begins once everyone has drawn a number, and you honestly just dissociate for the first half of it. Keeping your gaze trained on the piece of paper that has 26 scribbled on it, you don’t look up until you feel Mark get up beside you and pick a gift from the pile. You’re praying to both Jesus and Santa that he doesn’t pick yours, but you suppose you've been deemed a sinner and also put on the Naughty List (maybe for setting your cheating ex’s care on fire?) because Mark somehow manages to find yours in the pile of presents. 

When he opens it, you can tell by the way he quickly glances at you that he knows it’s yours. After all, he saw you practicing your knitting throughout the week. He happily wraps it around his neck and beams proudly. “I love it.”

The way he carefully looks back at you makes you want to smack him into the new year. You know he’s trying to get on your good side, and you make it clear with your scowl that it isn’t working. 

You’re actually grateful that it’s your turn next so that you’re able to get up and walk away from him. Wanting to get this entire situation over with, you haphazardly grab one from the top of the pile. Your heart sinks when you take out the stuffing paper from the bag and realize that it’s Mark’s gift. You contemplate putting the paper back in and not opening it at all, but you cave under the pressure of all the expectant pairs of eyes on you. 

In typical Mark fashion, his gift is a signed T-shirt of his own merch. It’s an obnoxious yellow color with his Twitch username and a giant screen printed image of his face plastered across it. He’s written his signature right over his forehead, so it makes him look like he has random chicken scratch on his face. 

“Oh, it must be destiny!” Mrs. Lee exclaims, clapping her hands together. 

You force a smile before returning to your seat, doing everything in your power to ignore Mark’s stupid giddy expression. Shoving the shirt back into the bag, you casually kick it away from you. 

A couple more people take their turns, and you’re counting down the seconds to when this is finally over so you can go home. Eventually, it’s Donghyuck’s turn, and he saunters towards you and holds his hand out. 

“Gimme.”

You blink at him.

“Your gift. I’m stealing it,” he explains, wiggling his fingers. 

“You want…this?” you ask, completely baffled. 

“Well, duh. It’s going to sell for a lot of money, you know.” He winks. 

You can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s helping you out again. “This has to be unethical. Aren’t you a government employee?” 

“Government employees need to make money too,” he replies, sighing. 

“Well, if you really want it, I guess I have no choice,” you huff, faking exasperation before handing him the bag. 

You’re smiling when he takes it and walks back to his chair, and you hear Mark grumble something under his breath. Turning to him, you raise an eyebrow, snippily asking, “What?”

“I said,” he repeats so loudly that it reverberates throughout the room, “when did the two of you get so friendly?” 

A silence falls over everyone, and the two of you are now center stage. 

“Are you really going to do this now?” you hiss. 

“I noticed that the two of you were getting awfully cozy behind the Christmas tree earlier,” Mark retorts, shrugging. 

Donghyuck gets up to intervene, but he doesn’t have time to even react before you grab a pillow from the couch and chuck it in Mark’s face. 

“You’ve got some nerve. Was this your plan all along? To make me look like the bad guy in front of your family?” you demand, feeling your face grow hotter and hotter from rage. “You and uwukittenbb69 were getting awfully cozy too, don’t you think? I’d say snug as a bug in a goddamn rug even.” 

Mark stands up in a flash, his eyes frantically glancing at his mom before pointing his finger at you. “Baby, I told you she was just a friend.” 

You nearly choke on air when you hear him call you that. Making a beeline towards the pile of presents, you begin to toss them at Mark with each question you add. “You absolute lunatic. Do friends beg each other for pictures of their tits? Do friends write raps confessing their love for one another? Do friends blow off their anniversary with their girlfriend so that they can meet up for a quick booty call? And yes, I’m saying quick because you and I both know it’ll be a speedy endeavor.”

“What on Earth is going on?” Mrs. Lee cries out as Mark tries his best to swat away the presents being hurled at him. 

“You’re a psycho bitch,” Mark yells. “It’s not like I actually slept with her. We were just messing around online. You got jealous over nothing. And you set my car on fire!” 

“You wanna see psycho?” you snap, throwing the present in your hands down onto the floor and marching towards him with your bare fists before you suddenly stop and take in your surroundings. You see the horror and shock on everyone’s faces, the way they’re looking at you, and then perhaps most clear of all―Mark’s expression. He’s angry just like you, but there’s a glimmer of victory in his eyes. As if he’s bested you in some manner. 

And he has. You’re the villain now.

Taking in a deep breath, you will yourself to walk over to Mark in a calm manner, looking him directly in the eye. 

“You’re nothing except a liar and a cheater, Mark Lee. That will never change that no matter how much you try to spin it in front of your family. You built your success off my back, and I hope that haunts you for the rest of your life. May you receive everything that you’ve done to me tenfold. That’s all I want to say—” You pause. “Oh, and I’ve always thought your Cybertruck was fucking ugly.” 

You reach over and snatch the scarf from his neck before turning and walking out of the door, feeling like you finally managed to cut off the ball and chain around your ankle. Just as you’re about to reach your car, you hear someone calling after you. 

“I’ll drive you home,” Donghyuck says once he catches up to you. 

“I’m not so distraught that I’ll become a hazard on the road,” you say wryly

“Well, when it comes to being around a car, you’ve certainly proved that you’re not exactly at your most dangerous when you’re behind the wheel,” he jokes. 

“You may have a point,” you acknowledge, giving him a small smile.

“Let me drive you home, Y/N. I’m worried about you,” he insists again, much quieter this time. 

“How are you going to get back then?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I’ll call an Uber or something.” 

“That would be such a waste of money,” you snort.

“Not if it’s for you,” he says almost instantly. His normally brown eyes almost look auburn when under the golden glow of the sunset. 

There’s such determination, such assurance, such warmth in his gaze that you let yourself be surrounded with, no longer having the energy to resist him, and it feels like falling onto a soft cloud after a long, winding journey. For once, you just want someone to take care of you, even if it’s just for a moment. 

“Fine. Do as you please,” you relent, tossing him your car keys before walking around to the passenger side and climbing in. 

Donghyuck looks relieved, beaming when he situates himself in the driver’s seat. You try not to be impressed with the way he easily backs out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the headrest behind you, maneuvering the wheel with a deftness you’ve never seen before. Then again, he does drive a massive fire truck on the daily, so your Toyota probably isn’t much of a challenge for him. 

He drives with his eyes staring straight down the road―almost too focused―because you know he’s trying not to look at you. Probably because you’re making it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to look at you, leaning your head against the window and away from him. It doesn’t mean that you don’t see his wandering eyes, almost as if it were second nature, drift back to you in the reflection of the window.

“Pathetic, right?” you finally say, feeling suffocated by the heavy silence.

“What’s pathetic?” 

“Me.” 

“Why would you be pathetic?” Donghyuck grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as the leather creaks under the force of his hold.

“Mark was right. I talked a big game in front of him, but in the end, I was just the psycho ex-girlfriend. I told myself that I would never let him hold my emotions hostage anymore. That I would erase any care I had for him left in me. Because indifference means that I’m truly free. But I couldn’t do it. I really hate him, to my very core, and that means he still has power over me. I hate that most of all. I want him to feel the same pain I did, and I want to exact revenge on him, but at the same time, I want to move on with my life. I’m like a dog chasing my own tail; it’s pathetic.” 

You wanted to sound more lighthearted about this, turn it into a joke, but Donghyuck seems to draw out a vulnerability within you that makes you want to tell him everything you’ve been trying to desperately ignore. 

“Y/N, you’re dealing with the end of a long-term relationship. It’s only natural that you have confusing and conflicting feelings about everything. You’re not pathetic; you’re human. Mark stole your girlhood and your youth, and it’s going to take time for you to heal from that. It’s impossible to immediately get back on your feet after what he did to you. None of this is your fault, so don’t ever berate yourself,” Donghyuck’s voice trembles as he speaks. “I promise you that one day, you’re going to wake up and you’ll realize that you don’t remember what Mark's favorite food is. His favorite movie. His favorite color. Then you’ll realize that you can barely even remember what his face looks like when he’s sad, happy, angry. Eventually, you’ll forget about him entirely, and all the pain he caused you will just be seconds of your life that evaporates from your mind completely.”

When he speaks to you like there’s nothing he’s more sure of in this world, it makes you want to believe him. You want to be his promise. 

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, placing your hand on top of his for just a moment before pulling away. Your touch is feather light, but you hope he didn’t notice the way your fingertips lingered a second longer. 

The two of you fall quiet again, but this time, the silence is much more comfortable now. You’re almost disappointed when he pulls into your apartment complex, unsure of how to say goodbye to him. 

“Would you like some hot cocoa or something?” you blurt out when he parks. “I think I have some in my apartment.”

You don’t realize how suggestive your offer sounds until it’s too late. Donghyuck hesitates for a moment, and you can tell he’s debating on if he should tease you about it or not. To your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s getting dark soon, so I should head back.” He pulls out his phone and starts ordering an Uber. 

“Want me to wait with you then?” You’re not sure why you keep insisting on staying with him, but this day has been so batshit insane that you almost feel like a passenger in your own body. 

“Probably not a good idea,” he chuckles.

Now, you feel both confused and slightly offended again.

“And why is that? I know I’ve been a bit of a menace today, but still…” you trail off awkwardly. 

Donghyuck pauses for a moment as he stares at you; his face is closer to yours than it’s ever been because you’re sitting right next to him. You can tell he’s thinking very carefully about his next words. It occurs to you that, for a guy as seemingly flippant as him, he is actually quite thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve been compared to Mark my entire life,” he begins, musing. 

“Sooo…you didn’t want me to wait with you because you’re gearing up for a trauma dump?” You raise an eyebrow. 

Donghyuck holds his hand up in front of you, shushing you. “Shh, let me have my big moment.” 

“Sorry. Please proceed.” 

“Ahem. As I was saying, I was but a poor, innocent wee boy living in the shadow of the golden child in our family. Mark was always the more athletic, the funnier, the more charming one. His grades were ass, but he always managed to get out of trouble because he was the favorite. When I got my job as a firefighter and he was unemployed, my family barely congratulated me or even acknowledged it at all because they were afraid they would upset Mark. You see, I’ve actually lived quite a tragic life,” Donghyuck sniffles, wiping away a fake tear. 

“What a shame that they can’t see how wonderful you are,” you chime in, a smile in your voice. 

Your honesty in response to his joke visibly catches him off guard, and he blinks a couple of times before your words finally register. 

“Right?” he huffs dramatically, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes completely as a light flush dustes his face and ears. “But fret not, I didn’t particularly mind. It was nice not having to live up to any expectations. Besides, I was happy for Mark when he finally got successful as a streamer. We were raised like brothers, and I always admired him. I was proud of him.” 

“Ha, little did you know—”

“All this to say that, growing up, I’ve never been once jealous of Mark,” Donghyuck states proudly. 

Then he slowly looks over at you with longing eyes, almost as if his body turning itself towards you is a natural reflex. His expression is so soft and affectionate that it nearly takes your breath away. 

“That is, until he met you.” 

So, this is what Donghyuck looks like when he’s in love. You wonder if it would ever be possible for you to wake up one day and not remember it. 

But you aren’t sure if you return his feelings in the same way. Just like you couldn’t bring yourself to use him for your revenge, you can’t bring yourself to ask him to wait for you while you figure out the mess of your current emotional state. The one who loves more always loses, and you don’t want to lose Donghyuck. 

“I just wanted to tell you that,” he continues, “I’m not expecting a response. It’s for the better you don’t respond right now anyways. If you want to pretend like this conversation was all a bad dream conjured up by sleep paralysis and never want to talk about it again, I’m okay with that too.” 

You smile. 

“But…if you’re able to, just look my way sometimes. I’ll do everything in my power to keep your attention, even if I have to get on a unicycle with a clown nose and juggle. And, if one day, you find yourself looking for me on your own, let me know. Then, I’ll ask for an answer,” Donghyuck promises.  

True to your word, you don’t give him an answer. Instead, you take the scarf that’s been laying across your lap—the scarf with a few holes thanks to missing yarn and sections where you accidentally knitted the pattern in the wrong direction. Now it’s a bit stretched out due to you snatching it off Mark. 

But this scarf, as average (maybe even less) as it may be, is charming in its own way. 

Leaning forward, you wrap the scarf around Donghyuck’s neck. He watches you in complete awe, in a trance, as if he were in a dream and any movement would wake him up. 

“I should head inside now,” you say quietly, trying not to giggle at his stupefied expression.

He only nods dazedly, and you’re certain that would have been his reaction regardless of what you said. It takes a few more beats for your words to actually click before he clears his throat loudly. “Right. Yes. You should.” 

He hands you your keys back before stepping out of the car and opening your door for you. “I’ll wait down here until you get inside, and then I’ll go meet my Uber.” 

“Thanks for driving me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him. 

“You’re welcome. Good night, Y/N.” Donghyuck puts his hands in his pockets and tucks his chin into the scarf as he watches you go.

As your hand hovers over the doorknob, you know you should just open the door and walk inside so you don’t keep him waiting in the cold. You really shouldn’t look back because it would mean that you wanted to. Not because he asked you to. 

But you do. You look back—

only to meet his eyes, the two of you exchanging knowing smiles.

extra | is it me? am i the drama? i don’t think i’m the drama…

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 9h

(UPDATE) AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

So, it turns out my cheating ex got catfished. His supposed Discord kitten was actually some random guy and his friend who were dicking around. They ended up leaking the DMs so they’re all public now for those who would like to read them (by now, I’m sure you all know who my cheating ex is). I would highly advise against listening to the rap confession though. Godspeed if you choose to. I am also selling his expensive PC setup on Facebook Marketplace if anyone’s interested. Happy New Year!

P.S. I ended up inviting the cousin over for hot cocoa. He’s very sweet. 

⥣ 11.3k ⥥ 2,293 Comments

pissrevolver1122 • 8h rip bozo got catfished by me n bro for some robux 

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.8k ⥥

pooprevolver0205 • 8h can’t believe bro actually jacked off to a pic of knees LMAO ➥ ⥣ 1.9k ⥥

piss-k1nk0219 • 2h yall are about to have the awkwardest family get togethers ever lmao

➥ Reply ⥣ 910 ⥥

bigsnowballs0813 • 4h $5 and an iced coffee for the pc take it or leave it

➥ Reply ⥣ 748 ⥥

femboyluvr0701 • 1h are u gonna set the cousin's car on fire too

➥ Reply ⥣ 639 ⥥

justgirlythings-arson119 • 1h probably not he’s very good at putting out fires :(  ➥ ⥣ 482 ⥥

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - Prologue -

Based off this blurb + Fem Reader : Not edited : 3.2k Words : Full M.List

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? (this is just a prologue, all chapters will have a different writing style) CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) (applies to all chapters regardless if it's discussed or not)

Bakugo, or to you, Katsuki has been a huge figure in your life. Probably the biggest motivator as well. There since you were young and immature, running around in random neon clothes your mom let you wear after your 4-year-old self argued with her for half an hour.

You were the third addition to Katsuki and Izuku's friendship. Butting in on their rivalry often. Defending Izuku while shooting Katsuki a nasty glare. Helping Izuku with his bruises but also helping Katsuki with his, if he ever got any. You stuck to either boy's side, depending on who you saw first. Which, more often than not, was Katsuki. But you left his side whenever he picked on Izuku. Helping Izuku's muddy self get out of the river before considering Katsuki. 

That was in elementary school though, in junior high you stayed a balanced friend between the two. Stopping fights between the two boys, scolding the blonde boy every time. Yet you helped him clean up any time he picked a fight with anyone else. Wrapping up his bloody knuckles any time he needed, either from too much training or him being an asshole. You look back fondly on those times. Any time you so much as touched him, he sparked up, hands shooting out small explosions as he blushed. He felt bad obviously, but he was a preteen going through puberty and a pretty girl was touching him, what did you expect? He grimaced at every 'ow' that left your lips after he sparked up with your hand caring in his. He grew into his quirk and his control. So once the first year of high school hit, he was okay with small touches from you.

Thinking back on it, it was surprising he was okay with you, quirk-wise. He always gave Izuku hell for it, but never you. Maybe it's because you didn't have the drive to be a hero, wanting to stick to doing the sideline work of being a support tech. You weren't quirkless, but until the first year of junior high, you thought you were. Not having a flashy quirk or even a showing quirk at all. Only finding out because you've always aced every test and had an incredible academic ability. After a few too many recommendations of sped-up courses, did your parents take you to the doctor. Seeing that you did in fact have a quirk. Hyper-intelligence. You were basically a genius with an insanely good memory. It was an odd mutation of your parent's quirks. Your mom was able to remember everything she read and your dad was able to see the composition of anything he saw.

So along with Katsuki and Izuku, you strived to go to UA. Wanting to be in their support course, having strive to be a huge support tech in the future. Hopefully with your own company. You were well on that path as well.

You were there for that god-awful attack Katsuki dealt with in middle school. Seeing him covered in the sludge monster, gasping for air, haunted your dreams. You were walking with him after all. Watched the sludge climb up his body as you frantically tried to pry it off, your hands just slipping through the muck. Being pushed away once Katsuki started to cough violently. He didn't want you anywhere near what was happening. Looking wide-eyed at you before coughing for you to get help. So reluctantly, you did. Looking back at the blonde as he was submerged before you bolted for help, screaming for it down every walkway.

Only to come back to watch your other best friend running in to try and help. Screaming his name as well as you ran to get to them. Being pushed back by the wind All Might made when he came to help. Falling on your back as you watched, with tears in your eyes, Katsuki being freed from the sludge, gasping for any air he could. A hero lifted you up and held you from running to your friends, despite your frantic yelling for the boys. When they were cleared from the medics, you were allowed to see them. Instantly hugging Katsuki while yelling at Izuku over his shoulder, telling him he was stupid to run in without a quirk. Even though you were about to do the same. Katsuki rubbed off on you in that way. Yelling at others all while knowing you'd do the same.

By all means, you knew that wasn't going to be the last time you saw the boys in danger. Especially after Izuku got a quirk just in time for the UA testing. You weren't worried about the exam portion, the three of you studied together for that after all. Well, you studied with both of them, but they never studied with each other. Your test had an additional few tests but you passed them with ease. Just like how you knew Katsuki would pass his. You were worried for Izuku and his trial, which you were right to be, he broke both his arms with only one shot of his quirk. And after all that, it was still unlikely he'd get in. When you did get the letter of acceptance, you were with Katsuki, Izuku told you to go with Katsuki as he would probably not get in and he wants to be with his mom. Katsuki and you yelled and jumped around his room in excitement at the bold lettering of 'acceptance,' well you were jumping, he was being cocky and acting unaffected about it. Izuku called you only minutes after to let you know he got in as well. Katsuki rolled his eyes as he heard the news. Complaining once you hung up about how he didn't know how a nobody like him got in.

Getting into UA started everything for you. You got an insanely good internship after the sports festival. You followed Mei's lead, with Katsuki's and Izuku's advice, and showed off a suit similar to the American hero, 'Iron Man' just with your own flare and adjustments. Getting scouted for Endeavor's hero agency's personal tech crew. Following under the head of their tech.

With being in UA you got some insider information about what the hero course was doing. Making the hero outfit of both Katsuki and Izuku and doing any upgrades they needed. Eventually doing their friend's suits as well. Insider information wasn't enough, unfortunately. You were aware that the hero course went to the forest for training but you only knew Katsuki was taken when you met up with a beaten-up Izuku in a hospital bed. Having got a frantic call from Kirishima the second they got phone service. Him telling you to meet at this hospital because Izuku was in bad shape due to a villain attack.

You were involved in the rescue plan for Katsuki. Bring stealth equipment for a disguise. You weren't able to get anything else due to the time frame but you were there and it was successful. Holding your hand out alongside Kirishima for Katsuki to grab. You were also there for the fall of All Might, and consequently the fall of the boys beside you. Katsuki having his lip quiver as Izuku stood in shock.

Since you were there, and the villains saw your face and technique, you were invited to the dorms as well. They were supposed to be only for the hero course but they made changes. You dormed with the Class A girls.

You saw the boys leave that one night, deciding to stay in bed and let them hash it out. They should be grown enough at this point to not kill each other. Regretting that decision when you saw how beaten and bruised both the boys were the next day.

Their Provisional license exam was at the same time as yours. Yours being a test of how effective your gear is and if it's safe enough for the public heroes. Coming back to the dorms to see a happy Izuku and a distraught Katsuki. You spent that night in his dorm room, helping him prepare for the extra course he now had to take.

Being within the top best-performing techs within UA, you were recruited to help with the War. Making sure everyone had good and up-to-date equipment, giving extra support items, but also being within the team itself. They needed any help they could get and you had a suit good for fighting. Aizawa asked you himself. He knew his two best boys trained you enough to know how to defend yourself. So you were in the evacuation crew. Only parting from that when you saw the boys running in the direction of mass destruction.

You stood by Aizawa's side as you saw your best friends get pummeled within an inch of life. You stood there, holding Aizawa up as you watched Katsuki take three stabs in the chest for Izuku. Leaving the teacher's side instantly, running up to the limp and bloody body that was Katsuki. Hands searching his body to try and stop the blood. Bloody hands ripping his hero suit to push it into his wounds. Crying for him to stay awake. When his eyes were fluttering shut you placed your bloody hands on his face, trying to ground him as you shook his face. Bringing a hand up to slap him awake. His eyes shooting open to look at you. Iida eventually pulled you off him, helping Katsuki stand, and dragged him off the battlefield.

You had to bite your lip to hold in a yell when you saw Katsuki go back into the fight. The bloody handprints you left still on his face.

The hospital trip was a rough one as well. Waited the miserable hours for either of your best friends to wake. When one was being examined you went to the other. Constantly checking on both. Luckily, the moment Katsuki woke up, you were just coming back from grabbing a drink and some snacks.

Katsuki snapped his eyes open when he heard the door open, body jolting to sit up. You dropped your food, pushing Katsuki back into bed with a hug. He was mainly confused. He remembers the fight but he didn't expect you to be here. He wrapped his IV-ridden arm around you, hugging as tight as his ribs allowed. After all, he was extremely worried about you going into the battlefield. You didn't have nearly enough training. When he finally passed out from the pain his last worry was if you'd be alive when he woke up.

His brain was foggy, he was just getting his senses back, feeling you, smelling your hair that you must have washed the night before, and hearing the small sobs of relief you were letting out. "Stop crying, I'm fine," Katsuki rasped, voice still shattered from everything.

"You almost died," you pulled back, placing your hands on his face, getting the flashed memory of your bloody hands on him as he struggled to stay awake and alive.

He really took in your appearance then, forced to look at you with your hands squishing his face. You looked like a wreck, it was obvious to anyone that you hardly slept. Your clothes were wrinkled and your hair was a mess, as if you ran your hands through it too many times.

"Kats?" you called for his attention.

"Huh?"

"You can't do that to me," you scolded, knowing deep in your heart, something like this would happen again.

He knew that too, which is why he just pulled you in for another hug. "Why's my quirk weird?" he whispered, not feeling the usual sense of his quirk.

"What do you mean?" you asked. You tried to pull away but his grip was firm, keeping you pressed into his arms.

His face reddened. The reason he felt off was because he didn't feel the normal energy rushing through his hands that came out as sparks at your touch. "Just not sweaty, y'know, like normal."

You laughed lightly, voice still fragile from how much you've been crying, "They put you on quirk suppressants, they expected you to explode with anger or something when you woke up."

Ideas flashed before his eyes. He was on quirk suppressants and was unable to use his quirk, at least right now. He wasn't sparking up at your touch.

He left his arms loosen, you pulling back once again to check his face, make sure he really was there. Placing your hands on his cheek, squeezing your eyes shut at the memory before looking at him again. He thought over his next move, looking at your expression for a while. He reached his hand up to hold yours against his face. Looking up at you before his other hand reached up and pulled you in for a kiss.

That was the first kiss between you two. Put off as the heat of the moment and never discussed afterward. Both of you knew it wasn't, but you would die on the hill that it was. Right after you parted, a doctor came in to inform you that Izuku was starting to wake up, and he needed to run some tests on Katsuki.

After that, everything was insanely busy. Preparations for the war were already taking place. Izuku was asking for your help with his suit. The last suit he asked for before he wrote a goodbye letter and went MIA. That was hard for both you and Katsuki. You spent nights awake together going through the tracker you left on his gear, keeping track of his location and health.

Those nights together feel like a fleeting moment that you could never grasp again.

When the second year was supposed to start, you saw your childhood friend die in front of you. With nothing you could do as he laid limp on the cold ground. He was beaten and bloody just like everyone else. Just like you were. You went into the fight on a whim, just having finished a suit for yourself, and after about 20 minutes of fighting for your life, you were knocked down. Laying limp while you saw Katsuki get his lifeless body thrown to the side.

You woke up in the hospital before him, body still bruised but you were healed more than most. Katsuki's room was the first you went to, after asking every hospital worker if he was alive. His room was cold, not lively with his usual energy, but his heart was still pumping. Notes from his mom littered his table, just like yours but with more. You couldn't stand looking at him for more than twenty minutes. Choking on your tears as you decided to see Izuku.

Walking was too much for you, despite your healing, seeing Izuku's entirely broken body broke you even more. You passed out after a few moments of seeing the green-haired boy. Head flooding with the reality that both of your best friends almost died, and one did.

The nurse kept you in your room from then on, you passed out and hit your head. Gaining a major concussion with the fall. You were completely bedridden and required to be in a room with little to no light. So it was a shock when a bandaged Katsuki slammed open your door, multiple people behind him telling him to lay down and rest.

You had the horrible hospital food halfway in your mouth when he barged in. Dropping it as you stared at the boy.

"Are you okay?" he asked despite the protests behind him.

"Yes? Are you okay?" you asked back, more confused than anything.

Katsuki shoved the people off his shoulder and pushed his way into your hospital room, closing and locking the door behind him.

"What are you doing? You died! You need rest," you protested, finally having your brain start working.

He scoffed, walking to your side, with a a limp, "Can't sleep, 'think I can knowing you're in the hospital room down the hall?" He pushed you to the side of your bed, making a spot for him to lay next to you.

"When'd you wake up?" you asked softly, accepting he wouldn't have it any other way.

He stayed quiet for a moment, "Like thirty minutes ago."

"Bakugo!" you slapped his arm, super gently compared to normal, "Have you let them run their tests? How do I know you're okay?"

"Relax, and don't call me that," he huffed.

"You died!"

"I know," he sighed, looking away, "They ran a few tests and said I'm fine. Shouldn't be up but y'know how I am."

You let out a sigh of relief, "You should go to bed, Kats."

"Told ya, can't sleep," he looked at you

"Yeah but they need to-"

"I'm on quirk suppressants, can I kiss you?" he interrupted you, a blush coating his face.

"Huh?" you blinked, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Please?"

"I mean sure but-"

He didn't let you continue anymore, pressing his lips to yours after he got your consent. This kiss was more passionate than the first. Like the other just escape death, like how it was. His hand cradled your face, pushing you closer just to kiss you softer.

When you both pulled back, you let out small breaths. Foreheads resting on each other as you stared at each others' lips.

"Been wantin' to do that," he whispered.

"Me too," you smiled. Any conversation before being forgotten, for a moment at least.

You heard the door handle to your room jiggle. Keys being tested on the lock.

"You're okay though?" he pulled back, looking at you for any injuries.

"Just a concussion, you have it worse," you frowned, looking at all the cuts that were covered with a bandage.

"I've lived through worse," he said for comfort.

"You died from this," you furrowed your brows. "Let your doctors run their test, otherwise I won't talk to you."

"But-"

"Go," you stayed firm. Just in time for the doctor to unlock the room and rush him out.

About two months or so later, you two had the chance to sit one one-on-one together. No physical therapy appointments to attend or any work to do. Just time to talk. The war left a lot of cleaning up and school only started again a week ago. Everything was changed and fixed. Which left little free time other than sleep. You've seen each other between the kiss and now but it was always in groups.

You talked for a while that day. Deciding to actually become something more. To be more than childhood best friends. So you did, about halfway into the second year.

The second year was busy, with all the changes to the hero world and the world in general. You never got time alone to work on your relationship. Staying normal besides the title change to your relationship, never even kissing again. It was hard but you worked through it, too busy to even think about it. The third year was the same, just only sharing a kiss if he got injured or when you got a huge job offer. You also shared a kiss at graduation, when you agreed to live together after school.

Getting a two-bedroom apartment together, right next to where you both worked. At first, you thought that the second bedroom was going to be an office. But it ended up being his room. The two of you not sharing a bed despite almost 2 years of a relationship at this point. Yet you worked with it, if he needed more time then that's okay. He was everything to you. And you could tell you were everything for him as well. It just got a little weird when your friends forgot your relationship, asked if you were unhappy or abused, or even flirted with you.

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

[sturniololuvz]

Hiiii!!! Can you make a fic where the triplets little sister has bad eating habits and eats all day long and then she finally realizes that she is fat, and then she stops eating for a longgg time and loses a bunch of weight to where she’s super skinny and the triplets notice and make sure she’s ok and then she breaks down? Pleaseeee I need something like this!!🫶🏼💗🫶🏼💗

okayyy

“I’m Still Me”

Sturniolo Triplets & little sister Y/N (age 15-16)

Genre: Angst / Hurt/Comfort / Eating Disorder Themes

⸻

Y/N had always been the bubbly one. The one who made weird food combos at 2am, who’d snack during videos and joke around with the triplets without a care in the world. Her eating habits had never been questioned—just a part of her personality. Always laughing, always chewing on something.

But over time… things changed.

It started with a comment. One random TikTok under a vlog clip:

“Does their sister ever stop eating lol??”

She laughed it off at first. But it stuck.

Then came another:

“Not to be rude but you can tell she’s gained weight…”

She stared at herself in the mirror that night, tugging at her shirt. Pulling up her hoodie and turning sideways.

And for the first time, she didn’t recognize the girl looking back at her.

⸻

Over the next few weeks, her habits flipped completely.

No more late-night snacks. No grabbing handfuls of chips during editing sessions. She skipped breakfast. Nibbled at lunch. Started making excuses at dinner.

“I ate earlier.”

“Not really hungry.”

“My stomach kinda hurts.”

It wasn’t long before the weight started to drop.

And she liked it. People stopped commenting. Some even complimented her.

But her face looked hollow now. Her jeans hung loose. And her once vibrant energy faded into something quiet—exhausted.

The triplets didn’t catch on right away. Chris thought she was just moody. Matt figured school was stressing her out. Nick noticed the quiet, but didn’t know what it meant.

Until one day, they were filming, and she stood up too fast and collapsed.

⸻

Chris was the first to her side.

“Y/N?! What the hell—are you okay?”

She blinked, dizzy, struggling to sit up. “I-I’m fine…”

Matt grabbed a water bottle. “You’re pale as hell. When’s the last time you ate?”

Her silence was louder than anything she could’ve said.

Nick sat down beside her slowly, eyes full of concern. “Y/N… tell us the truth.”

Tears filled her eyes before she could even speak.

“I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” she whispered, voice cracking. “I just… I hated how I looked. Everyone kept saying stuff, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I stopped eating, and at first it felt good, but now—now I feel like I’m disappearing and I’m scared and I don’t know how to stop.”

She broke.

Collapsed into Chris’s chest, sobbing so hard her whole body shook.

Chris wrapped his arms around her, holding her like he did when she was a little kid with scraped knees. “You’re not broken, Y/N. You’re just hurting. And we’re gonna help you get through this.”

Matt crouched beside them, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to go through this alone, okay? We’re your brothers. We got you.”

Nick nodded, voice thick with emotion. “We love you no matter what size you are. You’re still you. And that’s who we care about.”

She clung to them like her life depended on it. And in that moment, she realized she didn’t have to carry it all by herself anymore.

⸻

Weeks later, the road to recovery was still hard. There were good days and bad. But the boys never let her eat alone. They made meals together. Went on walks. Left notes on the fridge that said “You’re beautiful” and “One step at a time.”

And slowly, with their love and patience, Y/N started to believe it too.

⸻

[alicethenobody]

My headcanons about the Sparda twins coming back from hell.

-They’re stuck for about 11 months, after they find a way out after managing to sever those stupid roots so they don’t bother anybody anymore.

-Just in time for Patty’s 19th birthday party!

-Somehow they accidentally end up there, and chaos ensues.

-Patty scolds Dante for missing her birthday party last year and cries tears of joy at the same time knowing he’s finally home, she’d visited DMC everyday to see if Dante had turned up and now she doesn’t have to wait anymore to see him again. After the scolding she gives him as tight of a hug as she can. Dante promises to make it up to her and reassures her he didn’t mean to neglect her on her birthday. Patty demands double the presents, and even though he doubts he can afford much he’ll try to find a way. He can’t say no to Pattycakes.

-Btw for those who don’t know the novel reveals Dante planned on seeing Patty after handling Urizen, he just didn’t want to go to the party itself because he feels uncomfortable and like a freak around “normal” (his words) people like Patty’s friends and thinks he’s dangerous to be around.

-Vergil is confused. Very confused. They act a lot like family. Could Dante have had a kid? He never said anything about that.

-Nope. They’re just really tightly knit found family.

-Patty eventually starts roasting Dante like usual, mainly for how he smells horrible and his hair is a mess. She demands that he showers right now.

-Vergil decides he likes Patty already and teams up with her to roast his brother and tells him “Do what she says, Dante. You wouldn’t want to make her upset.” In the most smug way fucking possible.

-Dante wanted to go back to the shop right away considering he’d been gone for so long, but again, he really can’t say no to Patty.

-They return to DMC after that. Nero is there and he’s silently shocked for a moment when the twins walk through the door, in the middle of an argument about something really stupid. Probably about pizza toppings. Nothing really serious just normal sibling banter.

-“GUYS! GUYS! GUYS! Can we please talk?!”

-Dante, realizing Nero is there, is giddy to see his nephew. However… Nero gives him a swift uppercut to the jaw.

-This leads to Nero dragging Dante somewhere they can talk alone. He demands an explanation as to why Dante never told him about anything.

-This will be difficult, but Dante knows he needs to explain stuff to him. It’s only fair. He has a right to know.

-He doesn’t open up about his trauma that lead to all this, that’d be out of character. But he does explain to Nero the best he can that the Sparda family has a long, bloody and traumatic history and he thought if Nero got involved he’d get hurt and he didn’t want the only family he had left to get hurt, or ruin the happy life he was living with Kyrie.

-He expects another punch from Nero, he thinks he deserves it, but instead Nero crushes him with a hug.

-“Never fucking do that again, idiot. From now on we’re family, you got it? No more secrets.”

-Dante nearly cries as he says “You have my word, kid.” in the goofiest, most overjoyed way possible. Also he’s kinda nervous about it at first because he’s not used to receiving affection anymore but he hugs Nero back.

-Vergil on the other hand? Having a… relationship with him is gonna be difficult as hell. It’ll take a while before Vergil and Nero are comfortable around each other. Kyrie and Dante play a big role in helping the two, though Vergil was a lot more reluctant at first to accept his little bro’s help.

-Also Vergil lives with Dante and let’s just say the business is a lot better with him around. They still bicker a lot but it’s out of love because what siblings don’t annoy each other?

Will Nero ever learn about the Sparda family’s history in better detail? I have a lot of thoughts about that, as well as possible plot points in a DMC 6 type scenario but I just wanted this post to be about the immediate return from hell.

Edit: Wanted to mention I also have thoughts about Nero’s side of things while the twins were in hell about what he was doing and how he was feeling and all that stuff but this post is mainly about this twins.

[bluephoenixprincess]

Courting Tournament: Spicynoodles edition~<3

and now to outline for you all here, the premise of a Courting Tournament fic i plan on Actually Writing.

So, its post Season 5, and for the moment at least, MKs hero life has slipped back into the comfortable rhythm of jobber demons causing trouble and MK stopping them, as many weak or low level demons get emboldened by the powerboost from the Pillar Stones.

But then things start getting weird. Slowly but surely the Various Demon attackers get less and less focused on whatever Mayhem or theivery or whatever they were up to and start focusing more and more on MK himself. Not in a "defeat you for glory way" either, in a much more uncomfortable way.

And if that werent bad enough, MK finds himself slipping into his Monkey form more and more often, thankfully without emotional distress or uncontrollable power outbursts, but it just keeps happening and MK still isnt very used to the form to begin with.

Mk being Mk of course tries to hide slash ignore these issues until he cant anymore. Culminating in a fight with a stronger than average demon who get MK on the back foot for a hot second and starts saying some very uncomfortable things about how he cant wait to take MK home and make him his little wife/husband/mate.

MK hearing that immediately goes monkey mode, puts that guy through several walls, and flies off to FFM to find out what the hell is going on.

And Like, MK knows about courtnapping, the basics at least, that demon tradition considers whisking away prospective mates and showing them how well you can protect them and provide for them the height of romance. A little weird but hey, humans have had some weird romance traditions as well.

But the realization that all the demons he's been fighting want to courtnap HIM? combined with the weird stuff going on with his monkey form? MK cant deal with this.

By the time he gets to Wukongs house he's crying and stuck in his monkey form with no idea what to do about everything. Wukong immediately bundles his successor onto the couch and, after a glass of water and some comforting fur grooming, manages to get out of him whats wrong.

Needless to say Wukong is Concerned and a bit miffed that MK didnt tell him or anyone else what was going on. But concern and caring for his crying student whos clearly stressed the fuck out now, lecturing later.

With his eyes of truth and maybe a magic test of some sort, Wukong discerns the cause of all the nonsense.

MKs body has Reached the demonic state of full maturity, which most notably includes the core of his magic fully maturing. Because of this, not only is he more or less stuck in Monkey form for awhile, but every demon for miles around can feel vibrant energy coming off him in waves.

And they want a peice of that.

So, Regardless of how widespread the knowledge of Sun Wukongs successor (and basically heir) was before, its spread to all corners of demon scociety now. And just like his mentor before him poor MK is getting swarmed.

MK is understandably upset by these revelations and may or may not start hyperventilating while trying to play it off and insist he can totally handle it. Wukong decides to call in the rest of the Monkie Kid Crew to come up with a plan.of action. Cause while MK could probably handle most of his suitors, he shouldnt have to.

Some explaining, arguing and tea brewing later the whole crew is gathered in Wukongs house, Mk cuddled up between Mei and Tang.

Options are gone through and discarded, letting MK just deal with them as they come is out. Wukong offers MK to stay on Flower Fruit mountain till the suitors get the hint and leave him be since thats what he ultimately did, but when asked how long that could take Wukong makes an uncomfortable noise and avoids eyecontact as he remembers it took over a century. So... no.

Eventually Wukong Sighs and brings up a solution he knows can deal with these types of situations, at least for awhile, If they Hold a Courting Tournament for MK, they can deal with all of his suitors at once and turn what could be months of headache into a couple weeks at most.

Theres a lot of yelling and explaining, and Wukong ultimately puts the decision in MKs hands. Mk thinks long an hard but ultimately decides a couple weeks/few days of being a spectacle is preferable to who knows how long of being harrassed.

"*sigh* Lets do the tournament thing"

~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~

So wheres Red Son in all this? At some big fancy Demon gala/festival thing with his parents, bored out of his mind and surrounded by people he mostly dislikes. As is typical for such gatherings.

He and his parents are there to shmooze, make alliances and work on properly reestablishing the Demon Bull Families influence in Demon high society.

Redson, after having one to many snide comments made his way about his families repeated defeats at the hands of Wukongs successor, is hiding in a corner sipping a drink waiting for the night to be over.

And definitely not thinking about how much he'd rather be hanging out with the Dragon Girl and Noodle Boy, especially Noodle boy.

Until the host of the event calls the whole rooms attention to make a big announcement. That theyve just recieved a messenger from Flower Fruit Mountain. The mere mention sends a stir through the crowd, the Monkey kinds been basically a reculse for the last several centuries so him sending out a message is big.

And it is big. As the announcement, to this gathering and all of the three realms, is that Wukong and company will be holding a Courting Tournament, no not for the Monkey king again, but for his Successor.

Red Son Drops his glass and cant even begin to care when it shatters on the floor.

~○~▪︎~○~▪︎~○~

Back with Monkie Kid Gang plans are being made.

Mei all but insists on being MKs Champion. And While MK is worried she might get hurt, Wukong swears to him that he as host will enforce Strict Rules to prevent such things.

Thus, the stage is set. I'll come back to this, but since i plan to write this as a full fic, i dont want yo spoil too much.

[pissybird]

Trey’s dream has shed a little bit more light on his relationship with Riddle, I think. this is unedited and unfiltered. I may take it down later and replace it with a thought out, formatted, and structured analysis. This is just off the cuff stuff for now.

TLDR: The Riddle in Trey’s head is probably still 8 years old and Trey might have trouble seeing Riddle as a 17-year-old. Riddle, on the other hand, might be a bit more objective about their friendship, but that really remains to be seen.

Riddle, who deals with his mother every day , has lots of trauma to think about and deal with. That’s not to say the tart thing wasn’t significant to Riddle (we know it definitely was), or to say that Riddle forgot about Trey and Chen’ya (3,000 crossword puzzles!), but I think Trey…fixated on it more??? Or fixated on it in a different way at the very least.

So Riddle has all these traumas from his mom, the tart thing being a drop in the bucket (albeit a very significant one!). Meanwhile, Trey has no other (plot relevant) traumas. So Trey has been kind of ruminating on this moment, remembering Riddle as he was, building him up in his head, a la the Great Gatsby, and doesn’t really know how to handle it when Riddle turns out to be different than he remembers. Meanwhile Riddle, having more or less turned his feelings “off,” approached reuniting with Trey again in a more objective way. He knew this guy for like two months, six years ago. And Dr. Rosehearts has been piling more shit on top of Riddle since then as well (so that Riddle not only has Rules Trauma, but also food trauma, appearance trauma, etc.).

Trey, having not had the same shit piled on him, has only this one moment that affected him so profoundly to ruminate on. Whether consciously or not, it seems like all Trey can think about when he thinks of Riddle is the tart thing. It’s like Trey’s brain took a picture of little Riddle in that moment, and won’t let go of it. He’s unable to see Riddle in any light that gives Riddle some agency to maybe be a bit different then Trey remembers, even besides the militance. It kind of puts his behavior pre OB into perspective.

A little bit of an aside here, but Trey’s attitude toward Riddle really frustrated me at that point in the story, and I was relating pretty hard to Ace! it irritated me, because I saw it as Trey babying Riddle (which it kind of was) and having had a similar childhood to Riddle in a lot of ways, it annoyed me. I felt like Riddle was being condescended to a little bit. But now, knowing that Trey had hyped Riddle up to hell and back, it makes more sense.

Trey, whether he was to admit it or not, is a pretty nurturing guy (whether that comes naturally to him or not is a whole other post). So he sees Riddle as a very mature, albeit somewhat happy-go-lucky 8-year-old who gets mistreated by his mom. Trey is so stuck in this moment he is incapable of seeing Riddle as the near-grown man that he is. Dr. Rosehearts is Trey’s hero (in a twisted way) just as much as she is Riddle’s villain. The tart thing existing in Trey’s dream speaks to this! Riddle, through Trey’s trauma, serves as a kind of outlet for Trey’s fussing and mothering. Dr. Rosehearts has given Trey a child to spoil. (This, of course, is not the end all be all of Trey’s treatment of Riddle (please read on) but it’s worth noting.) Trey wants to nourish and comfort his friend, who wouldn’t need nourishing and comfort if something hadn’t happened to him (Trey subconsciously emotionally seeing the tart incident as a singular event, because it’s really all he bore witness too).

Trey’s dream wasn’t “Riddle and all of Heartslabyul happy and carefree,” it was “spoiling everyone, especially Riddle, and maybe making up for past mistakes.” (Edit: I realize I didn’t remove a sentence I was going to for clarity. Trey’s dream does indeed have to do with “letting everyone be carefree”. I meant Trey wants “happy and carefree in addition to making up for what he might feel are his past mistakes” whoopsie! 😭)Trey’s dream, Riddle eats without restraint. Riddle is tall. The only thing Riddle doesn’t get is the title of Housewarden, because that makes it much more difficult for Trey to accommodate Riddle and everyone else. The dream knows that Trey wants to dote on everyone, especially Riddle, but it also knows that Trey is tired. He can’t sustain both being Riddle’s vice housewarden (a position foisted upon him by his dorm mates, interestingly enough!) and being as indulgent toward others as he would like (or feels he must be).

It wouldn’t surprise me if Riddle’s dream had very little to do with Trey. Even if it’s “Riddle got to have a good childhood,” Trey may just serve as a face, but could really be anyone. He may have a shit ton of friends, which we know he wants, and Trey may be treated as equal among them as opposed to a bestie.

I’m not saying Riddle doesn’t care about Trey, or that they’re not close. But I think Trey really has an idea of Riddle that just…doesn’t exist anymore. Riddle is changing and growing, but he’s not 8. He’s growing into an adult, and gaining agency and forming a personality that extends beyond his mother. There may be a day when Riddle has a healthy relationship with rules, food, his mom, etc. But the Riddle that Trey remembers isn’t there anymore. He’ll always be a little bit different. And this kind of makes the “little brother” thing make sense, I think, even when we know that Riddle acted like he didn’t know Trey (which he didn’t, of course, It’d been 6 years.). Even now, Riddle and Trey have only known each other…what…2 years total?

Of course, their dynamic when it involves Cater is interesting as well, but that’s a different post I think.

[janeyseymour]

hi i love ur writings so so much i’m so sorry this idea is rushed but i hope its enough

abbot family is trying to encourage melissa to “get back out there” and meet people after everything she’s been through. she brushes them off constantly until they stage an intervention during lunch and even barb is concerned for her work wife. melissa leaves this lunch with some big feelings because little does everyone know melissa has been seeing someone this whole time. comes home to reader smoking a joint while cooking in the kitchen and reader says something along the lines of “you look like you could use this more than me” and they make a plan together to introduce reader to everyone at a 4th of july bbq

you gonna get what you ask for 🤪 Not edited in the slightest. I got places to be and people to see

Intervention

WC: ~2.35k

It’s been a year and a half since Melissa Schemmenti publicly said no to a marriage proposal. A year and a half since the fiery redhead had gone out with anyone, and she really doesn’t have any plans to start dating again- at least that’s what the Abbott crew thinks.

The truth is, the second grade teacher has been seeing you since the night she went to the casino and bar to blow off some steam after reuniting with Gary to return his things and get her stuff back.

You were at one of the slot machines when the redhead passed by you, laughing.

“What’s so funny, Red?” you asked as you looked up at her.

“You ain’t gonna win no money that way,” the woman stopped in her tracks to tell you. “C’mon. Let me show you how it’s done.”

That night, you stuck by her side as you watched her win thousands of dollars at one table alone, clearing out quite a few men.

It’s late when she finally threw in the towel. She offered to walk you out to you car, and you took her hand in your own.

“So,” you exhaled a small cloud of smoke from the cigarette the two of you were sharing. “What are you gonna do with all that money you just won, pretty lady?”

“Take you out on a date,” Melissa had replied cooly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven?”

Neither of you looked back.

That was a year and three months ago. While your side of the family knew of your relationship with the teacher (and they absolutely adore her), her crew doesn’t have a single clue of your existence or rather large presence in Melissa’s life- despite the fact that you were now living together and your lives were intertwined.

So whenever anyone at Abbott tells Melissa that they found someone they think she might fancy, she just brushes them off.

“Janine, no offense, but if you think someone is worth dating, I would find them to be-”

“Hey,” Gregory cuts her off.

Melissa just shrugs. “My case in point. Greg, you know I love you like the black son I never had, but you’re boring as hell.”

“Ava, I am not about to go clubbing with you to pick up a man fifteen years my junior,” the redhead rolls her eyes.

“C’mon,” the principal chuckles. “They fun! They’re like energizer bunnies.”

“I barely have the energy to stand and get the remote from the other side of the room,” Melissa retorts as she opens her bottle of iced tea.

“I think you would like him!” Jacob pleads. “He saw your picture and said you were fine.”

“I am fine,” Melissa states, gesturing to her figure. “And I’m just as fine without a partner.”

It’s gotten to the point that even Barbara is concerned about her friend’s adamant denial to get herself back out there. So, the day that Melissa has recess duty, she brings it up to her coworkers.

“Now listen, I am not usually one for meddling in someone else’s love life, but don’t you think it’s concerning that Melissa flat out refuses to even attempt to put herself back out there?” the kindergarten teacher asks to the faculty room.

“Weird as hell,” Ava waltzes in, but having heard the question decides to chime in. “But aye, good for Schemmenti, realizing she don’t need no man in life.”

“I just find it odd…” Barbara taps her chin. “Melissa, while one with a tough exterior, loves love. She’s always wanted someone to spend her time with.”

“Maybe we should stage an intervention,” Jacob suggests. “To really show her that she’s good and healed from the failed proposal and to get back out there.

Gregory looks mildly impressed with that suggestion. “That might work.”

They have no idea that the entire time she’s supposed to be out monitoring the children on the blacktop, she’s smiling down at her phone like an idiot talking to you.

And when she comes home that day, she fully goes through with the things you two had texted about earlier.

The Abbott crew plans an intervention for Melissa- a banner, letters, all of it. When she comes into the staff room, smiling down at a midday text you had sent her, the rest of her colleagues are standing by the couch, looking somber.

“Fuck. Who died?” Melissa’s smile drops immediately.

“No one died, Melissa,” Barbara states.

“But we think a part of you might have,” Janine says dramatically, somberly.

“What the hell are youse talkin’ about?” thee redhead rolls her eyes. 

“Melissa, dear,” Barbara says softly, calmly. She makes her way over to her friend and takes her by the hand to guide her towards the seat they had put in the middle of the room.

One by one, they read the letters that they had all written, expressing their concern for their favorite fiery Italian teacher.

“Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher finishes up. “We all love you dearly, and while we understand that it takes some time to get over the heartache that Gary caused, this is a bit extreme. We are worried.”

“An’ I appreciate the thought and care that you guys put into this,” Melissa tells them with a sigh. “But I promise youse: I’m fine. I don’t need to get back out there.” She almost adds on that it’s because she’s happily seeing someone, and has been since three months after her split from the guy that filled the vending machine.

“Just… know that we’re all here through all of your seasons,” Jacob tells her. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“We do care about you,” Janine says softly, and she offers the redhead a hug. Melissa doesn’t necessarily want to embrace the shorter woman, but she goes into the arms of her colleague.

Gregory just gives her a nod that conveys his love for his coworker, to which she smirks and nods right back in his direction.

“Now, can we eat lunch?” the redhead chuckles.

As the day passes on, Melissa comes to realize just how much her coworkers care for her- their gesture, albeit absolutely ridiculous and dramatic, was heartfelt and full of love. Maybe she should just come clean about the relationship she’s in. Or she could just buy them all some Philly soft pretzels and soda instead to thank them. Yeah… that’s what she’ll do for now before she can talk to you about how the two of you want to go public about your being together.

She orders the pretzels to be delivered to the school before the day is done, and when everyone is reconvening back in the faculty room to grab their lunch bags before heading home, Melissa makes sure she’s the first one down there. She has the box on one of the tables, along with a some cans of soda. Whatever they don’t take, the redhead knows will be eaten and drank at home.

“Oi,” she calls to her friends. “Come get a pretzel and a soda as my thanks for carin’ about me so much.”

They all light up at the sight of the gesture, aside from Gregory.

“I do not like pretzels, or soda, and for that reason I will not take one,” the man says as his friends dive in. “But thank you.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “I figured you would say that. Which is why I got you a bag of peanuts and a water.”

He looks mildly impressed and takes the offered items gratefully.

Once again, they all voice their love and care for the woman that gave them a salty treat before heading out for the night. Everyone except for Barbara. She waits for Melissa to clean up and gather her things before walking out with the woman.

“That was very sweet of you,” the kindergarten teacher nudges her friend.

Melissa huffs. “Oi. Don’t knock me like that.” She readjusts her grip on the small box of pretzels before sighing. “But it was just a thank you for caring.”

“We care about you a lot more than you know,” Barbara smiles. “And just so you know… you are a Philly eleven, and I do think you should get yourself back out there. I know it can be scary to put your heart back out there, but even if it ends in heartbreak and a few smashed in headlights, I will always be here to help you pick up the pieces.”

“I know, Barb,” the redhead says softly, so out of character. “Thank you.”

“Think about it!” the older woman says as she parts and heads off in the direction of her car.

With a sigh, Melissa unlocks her car and gets everything settled before slumping into the front seat.

Coming home with a treat, she texts you.

Is it you? You reply back.

She chuckles at that. She can practically see the smirk written on your face. You’ll see.

When she pulls in, she can smell you before she sees you. You’re clearing smoking, but she can also smell the delicious dinner that you’re making. 

The redhead makes her way into the house, deep in thought of how much her friends are looking out for her, and attempting to piece together how to approach you about the topic of coming out.

It’s odd. Your girlfriend makes her way into the kitchen and places the box of pretzels down, but she doesn’t make her way over to you the way that she usually does. Instead, she’s looking down at the food, brows furrowed and deep in thought. 

You turn the burner down to ensure that the food won’t burn or bubble over before making your way behind Melissa. You wrap the arm that isn’t holding the joint around her waist before holding it up to her lips and offering her some. Even in your somewhat inebriated state, you know something is up with her.

“You look like you could use this more than me,” you chuckle softly.

She shrugs, but does take a hit before blowing the smoke out.

“Hard day?” you ask her gently. “Need to be taken care of?”

Again, she shrugs. She doesn’t really know what to say. This is so unlike Melissa. Usually, she comes in huffing about the ridiculous antics of her boss, she bounces on her toes when she tells you the sweet things the kids had done or said, and she is more than willing to dish out the tea that was spilled in the staff lounge earlier that day.

“Mel?” you ask softly, taking a cheek in your hand and cupping it gently. You force her to look at you. “What happened today?”

She laughs softly, before full out cackling. This sudden change in mood startles you.

“Mel, babe, you’re scaring me,” you tell her. “What happened?”

She sits down and plucks the joint out of your hand. “The crew planned an intervention for me,” she tells you with a chuckle as you go back over to the stove.

You turn. “Oh?”

She nods, a playful smirk on her face.

“For?” you raise a brow. You turn your attention back to dinner. “Can I guess?”

“Sure, hun,” she laughs as she takes another drag.

  “The aggression that you email the parents with?” No. “The heeled boots hitting the linoleum tile too loudly when you’re pissed?” No. “The arson?” No. “The threats of a bare knuckle fist fight?”

“Jesus,” Melissa laughs. “When you list all of that out, I sound like a terrible person.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I love everything about you!”

“I know you do,” she chuckles. “But no. None of that.”

“Then what?”

“My love life.”

“Your love life?” you turn to look at her incredulously.

“My love life,” the redhead sighs. “They had a banner, they had letters, they had the chair in the middle of the room… everything. And for me. When I don’t even have a problem with my love life.”

“So why did you come in lookin’ all sad?”

“Not sad… just thoughtful. The things they said… it showed me how lucky I am to have coworkers that care for me as deeply as they do. So at the end of the day, I had pretzels for them to show my gratitude. And after, Barbara and I walked out together… and… how would you feel about telling people that we’re together?”

You finish stirring the food and plating it before bringing it over to the table where your girlfriend is sitting. You set the two dishes in front of her before sliding into her lap. You finish off the joint together before smiling.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell her. “I’ve just been waiting for you to be.”

“Yeah?” she asks you as she kisses your temple.

You nod before taking a bite of your dinner. Damn, between the two of you, you should open your own restaurant. “We’ve been together for over a year, living together since six months in, I don’t plan on going anywhere, and I would hope you don’t either. I think it’s time.”

“I think so too,” she says softly. “But with the end of the year comin’ up… we’re all crazy busy.”

“So we can organize something for after the school year?” you suggest. “Maybe a fourth of July barbecue?”

So that’s what the two of you do. Your girlfriend walks into school on the last day and tells her friends that she knows that don’t have anything going on for Fourth of July, and they better be at her house for a barbecue. They all look at her, clearly confused. No one- not even Barb- has been invited over to the house since Melissa and Gary broke up. Nevertheless, they don’t argue and all promise to be there.

They all come in one clump, and the faces that they make when you open the door draped around Melissa are priceless.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” she says proudly. “The reason that I have been declining all of the people you’ve suggested I date, and the reason I have not ‘put myself back out there’. I don’t gotta when I have her.”

[puzzleglum]

I posted the original version of this giant Lanyon and Hyde analysis essay (plus theories!) on the 30th of December last year. That was when this page was the latest. Since then, I’m happy to say that it still holds up well, so far! But since I never posted it properly on Tumblr itself, I thought I’d do so now. Especially since I’m planning to write more about Lanyon and Hyde very soon! That will be a bit of a follow-up to my thoughts in this. This version includes edited in comments to account for the NEW pages that came out since I first wrote this essay. So for anyone who’s read it before, you’ll find the new stuff I wrote between brackets! [Like so.] It ended up being about 750 words longer. Total wordcount is now around 3150. I had…a lot of thoughts. For future reference, the latest page, as of the time I posted this edited essay, was this one. Enjoy!! ——— I believe this conversation has the potential to be radically important to the story, the themes, and character arcs. Even lifesaving. Why? Because Hyde has already given up. He knows that saving Jekyll is impossible. It’d be like diving into a black hole and then trying to get out again. You just can’t do it. Hyde would get exactly as stuck in their mind as Jekyll currently is, if he tried to go after him now. But, he didn’t yet try to think of a way around that problem. It’s hard to think when you’re having a mental breakdown, though, so I don’t blame him. What Hyde needs is some help. A chance to calm down and think about any and all solutions he missed. Enter: Lanyon. One of the stubbornest people Jekyll and Hyde have ever known. And thank heck for that, because that stubbornness might be exactly what Hyde needs, right now. There is no way in hell Lanyon is just going to stand by and let Hyde give up. Just like how he couldn't just watch as Jekyll was sacrificing his health and sanity in the name of the Society. He even threatened to close the Society to try and save him!

What Jekyll has done, his mind-suicide attempt, is exactly the end point of what Lanyon was worried about. Because Jekyll did it to save the Society from being destroyed by his secret getting out. He’s placed himself on the altar, deliberately, to bleed out. One final sacrifice as their leader. But of course, on an emotional, visceral level, he really did it to make Hyde suffer.

Hyde’s the one who is now literally bleeding. He’s been abandoned, condemned, and feels like a worthless monster. This is the end for him, and he knows it. So. What will Lanyon do, now that he’s let himself into the office? If I were him…I’d get out the first aid supplies, because Hyde’s glass cuts aren’t going to clean themselves up. [EDIT: this prediction about the first aid turned out to be right! Hooray! But that still leaves the question of whether Lanyon will convince Hyde not to give up on the idea of getting Jekyll back…which requires a more emotional kind of help.]

But the question is, can Hyde allow himself to be helped? He’s prideful, and stubborn. Always has been. And just like Jekyll, he hates to feel emotionally vulnerable. That’s why Hyde’s first reaction when Lanyon opens the office again is to taunt him. Anything to get back even the smallest feeling of control. He refuses to drop the act and admit the obvious: he did make quite a mess of himself. But Lanyon sees through him easily. He, too, knows the feeling of wanting to seem in control. [EDIT: there’s also an element of fear as to why Hyde tries so, so hard to keep up the act. I’ve written more about that here. And, on the latest page, Hyde DID admit that he made a mess of himself! Gradually, Lanyon is managing to chip away at Hyde’s mask. If you ask me, it’s just a matter of time before he drops the act entirely.] But before I talk further about Lanyon and Hyde, I want to talk about Jekyll for a bit. I’ll circle back to those two, no worries. Jekyll never wanted to ask Lanyon for help, either. When Not-Lanyon suggested it, he shut it down immediately. Looking anguished at the very thought of Lanyon finding out about his secret.

It’s not that he didn’t need help. He knew he was struggling, that the conflict with Hyde was wearing him down. But, it’s the idea of letting others in that’s torture to him. The moment he’d let anyone in to help, they’d see how profoundly imperfect he is. They’d see him as a monster. He can’t stand the thought of being seen as anything less than “good.” So he thought he could fix it by himself, because he had to. It was always about shame. He couldn’t let Lanyon know how he had failed to “fix” himself with his experiment—the thoughts he shouldn’t have, the things he shouldn’t want. All so terribly improper. So evil. Asking for help would mean they’d see how truly “rotten on the inside” he is. And Jekyll would’ve rather died than let that happen.

And now they can see it. The secret is out. It’s over. This is the end for him. All his failures, his madness, on full display for everyone to see…it’s his worst nightmare come true. And the worst part is Lanyon seeing him like this. Jekyll has always admired Lanyon, always considered his opinion highly, always cared what he thought of Jekyll. He even used to think of Lanyon as exactly the kind of Perfect Gentleman that Jekyll so desperately wished to be. Until it became clear, during Hyde and Lanyon’s first talk, that Lanyon is simply human, not perfect after all. But I digress. Jekyll was very good at hiding his secrets, until the events of the story slowly took that away from him. Suffering in silence, until he couldn’t anymore. The involuntary transformations, the instability of his and Hyde’s form, was the final nail in the coffin for that secrecy. Lanyon finally got to see why Jekyll thought he was “rotten.” Because the rot has a name, and it’s Hyde. The embodiment of everything Jekyll hates about himself. Everything he could never show others. Everything he tried to separate himself from, in the pursuit of perfection. Everything he never wanted Lanyon to see in him. But, let me rewind a moment. What happened before the reveal? What did Lanyon do?

While Jekyll never asked Lanyon for his help, that doesn’t mean that Lanyon wasn’t trying to help him anyway. He’s been trying to help Jekyll this whole story. But he had no idea what the problem was. And you can’t truly help someone if they refuse to let you in. It hurts, when you want to help your loved ones, and they don’t trust you with knowing what ails them. It hurts, to reach out and be rejected. So Lanyon tried again, desperate to be let in. To help, no matter what it was.

Lanyon still doesn’t know what the problem is, but he can make a reasonable guess. After all, he’s no stranger to internalized homophobia. Or fear of commitment, or attachment. Not to mention that the kind of relationship they have will always carry risk with it. We can’t forget that it was criminalized to be gay in the Victorian period. That fear is perfectly understandable. Which is just one of the many reasons that Lanyon confessing his love for Henry carries such weight for them. He truly wants to be there for Jekyll. No matter what it takes. Even if it means being emotionally vulnerable, something he’s usually quite allergic to himself. It’s something he, Jekyll, and Hyde all have in common. All of that is to say, it’s such a shame what happens next, isn’t it?

Hyde refuses Lanyon’s attempts to reach out, just as Jekyll did. He tricked him so he could make his escape attempt. Once again, Hyde runs away. How ironic then, that Lanyon was just talking about how he understands the urge to run away! [EDIT: not only does Lanyon understand wanting to run away, he also understands putting on an act. Keeping up a certain reputation. Something Jekyll and Hyde are both concerned with. Lanyon’s persona of a cynical dandy who doesn’t care about anything, Jekyll’s persona of a perfect gentleman, Hyde’s persona of the evil spirit of London at night…it’s all a performance. It’s defense, and sometimes offense. It’s excuses. It’s coping strategies, and armor to hide behind. It’s a lot of things, for all three of them. Personas are tools, and we may adopt them for lots of different reasons.] Of course, it’s different from Hyde’s perspective. From Jekyll’s point of view, Hyde is the problem he so desperately tried to “fix” on his own. Obviously, Hyde doesn’t want Jekyll to succeed in his efforts to control or contain him, or get rid of him. What he ultimately wants, what has always motivated him, is to be free. And to that I must ask, free from what, exactly? I’ll get back to that question later. Let’s put a pin in that for now. [EDIT: this is one of those things I’ll talk about more in a follow-up post. No worries!] I’ve seen one read of this scene being that Hyde is jealous. That he wishes that love confession was for him, not Jekyll. Which could certainly be true! But I’d like to add a different read, or at least, to add something else to that read. Earlier, Hyde had been taunting Jekyll with the idea of Hyde stealing Lanyon away from him. Jekyll, naturally, got defensive. What could Lanyon possibly see in Hyde? To that Hyde replied, what could Lanyon see in Jekyll?

So another read I have is that Hyde finds a certain bitter irony in Lanyon’s love confession. Because Lanyon doesn’t even know who Henry really is, and he doesn’t know that Hyde is the Sweetheart side of Henry that he so jealously wanted for himself, fifteen years ago. So, from Hyde’s perspective, perhaps that love confession actually IS, or at least SHOULD be, aimed at himself. And Lanyon doesn’t know there’s such a distinction to be made in the first place. Isn’t that just so deliciously ironic? To say you love someone, without even really knowing them? Maybe Hyde thought that Lanyon got the wrong guy when he said that he loved Henry. (But, in another sense, he absolutely didn’t. Because Hyde is every bit Henry, too.) …But, that read only makes sense if you take Hyde’s taunting towards Jekyll seriously. Obviously, he said all that stuff about stealing Lanyon to upset Jekyll. But does he actually believe any of it? I think he wanted to. Tried to convince himself. Because it would prove he wasn't NOTHING. Remember, he had that whole identity crisis where he realized his Spirit of London persona is, and always was, a lie. But if he can be the Doe-Eyed Sweetheart instead, then he must still be worth something. Still the owner of some kind of identity. But now, with Jekyll gone, he might feel different; he's a worthless monster, and it's silly that Lanyon could ever think otherwise. After all, just because Lanyon wanted the Sweetheart…doesn't mean he actually wants the rest of Hyde, too. The destruction. The ruin. The pathetic, worthless wretch that he is. There is NO WAY Lanyon cares for THAT. Could ever love him when he's obviously NOT being the Doe-Eyed Sweetheart right now, and isn't capable of it in such a bad state, either. So Hyde clinging onto that label of Sweetheart was foolish of him, he might think. Maybe he believes he was delusional to think he was ever anything more than an evil monster. That he COULD be more.

(To be extra clear: I, myself, don’t believe any of the harsh judgments of Hyde in the previous two paragraphs. I just wrote it how I believe Hyde might be seeing it right now. His personal perspective. My own thoughts are very different!) Thus, the insincere taunting towards Lanyon. Because he knows he's no sweetheart, and Lanyon was a stupid lover boy for ever giving him that false hope. That hope of an IDENTITY. A place, or person, to belong to. But, moving on. I can totally see a moment, in the current confrontation between Lanyon and Hyde, where Hyde might be confused as hell if Lanyon doesn’t just…abandon him. Because he should, right? Jekyll is gone. It’s too late to rescue him, as Hyde already told Lanyon. What reason could Lanyon possibly have to stick around? To Hyde, it’s clear as day that he’s hopeless. Saving Jekyll, and thus saving Hyde as well, is a futile endeavor. So that’s my first theory: Lanyon will stick around, and try to help Hyde. Likely starting with cleaning up Hyde’s glass cuts. Hyde won’t get it, at first. Lanyon knows Hyde’s not Jekyll, right? He knows Jekyll is never coming back, right? Then, why, pray tell, won’t Lanyon just leave? Can’t he see that Hyde is evil, and doesn’t deserve any help? [EDIT: judging by how shocked and bewildered Hyde looks when Lanyon goes to patch up his injured hands, I think there is truth to how I envisioned Hyde’s thought process here. But it will be clearer as the scene goes on. Hyde asking whether the fact he caused those injuries to himself horrifies Lanyon also fits with Hyde’s very negative self-image and self-hatred. He’s expecting the answer to be yes, of course it horrifies and offends Lanyon’s sensibilities. Jekyll and Hyde share this fear that Lanyon would hate them if he knew the truth about them. But thankfully, Hyde is wrong. That’s clearly not what Lanyon is leading up to with that “But…” and as for me? I’m expecting a note of acceptance from Lanyon, and likely a re-affirmation of love. That’s what I predict, anyway.] And thus I circle back to my question at the top of this post: Can Hyde allow himself to be helped? Can he find it within himself to let Lanyon in? And to that I say: may I present some visual parallels? :)

“Now, it’s only a matter of time.” This was the start of Jekyll’s resignation to his own fate. There was no getting better. There was no saving him. Inevitably, his secret would get out to the wider public, and then the Society would fall. Everything they’d all worked so hard for, sacrificed for, lost in an instant. The only option left, he realized later, was to bury himself within his own mind, and let his secret die with him. Note that the door is closed. He’s alone, isolated, and left with no hope. Barely any light in his dark office. Now check this out:

It’s the same angle on the office. The same top-down view. This was right after Hyde threw Lanyon to the ground and tried to escape the Society. Both Jekyll and Hyde had refused Lanyon’s attempts to reach out, to help, and be let in. He’s utterly confused, powerless, lying on the floor. But look at the door. It’s halfway open. It’s letting light in, even if it’s not enough yet. The secret is so, so close to being revealed, and very soon after, it will be. Soon, Lanyon will know what Jekyll was dealing with, this whole time. And that brings us to the end of this lovely trifecta:

What a stunning reversal! Now, the one with the power in this scene is Lanyon, unlike before when Hyde was in power. Hyde’s the one who now lies powerless on the office floor. His taunts are completely ineffective. Note the way Lanyon looms over Hyde. Those beautifully piercing eyes of Lanyon, the eyes that Jekyll and Hyde always loved so much, are trained directly on Hyde. He has no intention of letting him out of his sight, for Hyde to run away again. This time is going to be different. The doors are now open all the way. Letting the light in. Because Hyde will not escape being known, anymore. No more secrets, and no more hiding. [EDIT: I love the fact that Lanyon sees through Hyde, just like how Henry saw through Lanyon’s nonsense, all those years ago. I hadn’t expected that flashback story from Lanyon, but it was SO lovely, especially in how it was used to illustrate that Lanyon GETS IT. He understands the desire to keep up an act, a reputation. He gets what it’s like to hide certain aspects of yourself from the wider world. He can RELATE to both Jekyll, and Hyde. Love it!!] In other words, here’s a handy dandy tweet from Sage, which perfectly illustrates my point:

(This was a comment on an update post for the last page of Chapter 15, where Lanyon finally showed up.)

And it IS mortifying, letting people in! I get it! I do. But sometimes, there is no other option left…except for accepting your own annihilation. Resigning to suffering. But Lanyon has always been familiar with Henry’s tendency to resign himself to his own suffering. For fifteen years, in fact.

And he’s not afraid to force the issue. Lanyon, as I’ve said before, is one of the stubbornest people Jekyll and Hyde have ever known. And sometimes, that’s a really good thing. So Hyde will probably try to reject Lanyon’s help at first. But it won’t stop Lanyon from trying to help anyway. And I do believe Hyde will be the first to give in. He’s in a crisis, remember? One’s stubbornness may tend to give way in such extremely high stakes circumstances. The stakes are literally life and death! What’s worth more, then? One’s pride? Or one’s very life?

———

Final new writing starts here: It’s interesting to me that Hyde didn’t physically push Lanyon away when he started with the first aid on Hyde’s poor bloodied hands. I was right that Lanyon would just help him anyway, without waiting for Hyde’s approval, but I was wrong in thinking Hyde would clearly try to reject it. Instead, he’s just…bewildered. Like he has no idea what’s happening anymore. Lanyon isn’t acting how Hyde would expect at all, and that’s throwing Hyde off in a big way. Hyde is probably thinking something like, if Lanyon knows I’m me and not Jekyll, but he’s helping me anyway, then…?! And it just…doesn’t make sense to him. It does not compute. It goes against all of Jekyll and Hyde’s views of themselves, and of the world. If Lanyon--a handsome gentleman who dislikes gross stuff, and never understood Henry’s fascination with monsters or rogue science--is willingly helping Hyde, who believes himself to be a wretched monster (brought forth with mad science! Wicked alchemy!) who ruined himself, ruined everything, then what is even going on anymore? Has the whole world turned upside down?! And so it becomes clear that, not only are Jekyll and Hyde bad at understanding themselves, sometimes they’re quite bad at understanding their loved ones, too. But to be fair, Lanyon was putting on an act, too. He spent so long brushing off any accusation of feelings, of sentimentality, and worry for his best friend. It’s only recently that Lanyon decided to be open with how much he truly cares about Henry. And it’s still a bit hard for him, I imagine. Being vulnerable. Opening yourself up. But Lanyon has learned that it’s worth it, when it counts. And this? This is absolutely the time when it counts the most. The stakes are the highest they’ve ever been. And I hope, and theorize, that soon enough, Hyde will learn the value of opening himself up, too. It might just help save his life.

It might just help them save Jekyll.

...And that's the end! Thank you so much to anyone who reads to the end, and leave a comment in the post reply section, if you feel like it! I love any and all feedback!! I'll be back soon with a follow up where I examine some other things Lanyon and Hyde have in common, among other topics. Stay tuned! :D

[redux-iterum]

how do i outline coherently. i am struggling

I'm going to assume you have an idea of how the story goes already, you just need to actually write it down. Which is the most difficult part of this whole thing, for me, so I feel your pain.

If this is the case: My game plan is to first outline in a way that will be most helpful for me, in order to get it written out at all. Iterum is written more coherently for Lynx's sake, but my original content is an organized mess, which is perfect for me. It doesn't matter if it's scatterbrained - the important thing is that I know what's going on and it makes it easier to outline to completion. You can refine it later. Just get it done.

You know that phrase, "Write drunk, edit sober"? Take that metaphorically. Write like a damn maniac with as little cohesion as is needed, and then come back to it and organize it into something anyone can read, if you care to.

My tactics:

Use bullets like this to write down each story beat and minor event. This makes it easier to rearrange things if I have to in the future.

--------You can also add additional, smaller bullets to each big bullet with as many details as you need to add on for context.

Color code words and characters, especially in big, bulky paragraphs. This makes it easier than just a Ctrl+F on a Google doc - you can scroll down quickly and catch wherever a character is without having to click "next" a bunch.

If blocks of text automatically overwhelm your brain, cut down paragraphs into two or three sentences. (Thank you to @thunder-the-ranger-wolf for helping me with this one recently.)

As you're writing the events, make notes with -dashes- or (parenthesis) or even bullets that will tell you something important that you don't want to forget. Things like "this weapon will be used by Jack later on when he's rushed into the room for safety", or "note that Howard should look tense and anxious in reaction to this conversation", or even just "add a flashback here once the first arc is outlined and I know what details I need to hint at". You'd be amazed at how much shit people (especially me) will forget about that's small but crucial to the story, because they're writing the big events for extended periods.

If you get intimidated by a loooong synopsis that you've been working on for a while and still isn't done, just catch up on the last few paragraphs or single page that you've written and then continue from there. You may repeat events or contradict a previous plotpoint, though, just as a warning. I handle that issue when the outline is done and it's time to refine it; I also like to reread everything frequently on an off day without writing anything new to catch those mistakes.

In the event that the above happens and a plot point is written twice, be aware that whatever choice you make on where to actually place it could drastically change the rest of the plot going forward. If you hate rewriting stuff, that'll be annoying.

Stuck on where to go next? Make a new paragraph with a single sentence that reads, "something happens here", and then move on to the stuff you can more easily write down. My preference is to be a little detailed about it: "something happens here that gets Joy from the cafe to the wrong neighborhood", and then writing about what happens in the wrong neighborhood. It's surprisingly a lot easier to figure out the transitional events like this once you have a specific A and B point to connect.

Have multiple docs to write and rewrite on. You don't have to write in one and then fix it over and over. Just write down what you have and are confident in so far, and move to the next document if ideas change or you're getting frustrated and need to start over. You'd be surprised at how helpful this is. It's like sketching something poorly and then redrawing it in a better and better state with new pages of paper. Hell, you can even trace stuff you liked from the first page and add it into the next version.

In the case of my first webcomic, when I didn't know what the fuck I was doing and events had to be rearranged all the time due to the nature of the storytelling, I resorted to using an art program (in my case, MS Paint) to write very short summaries of story beats and outright organize them in a visual format. I am not kidding about this. I straight up just used my mouse to put plot points here and there, and then change them around if something sounded better over at the beginning instead of the middle. It was shockingly helpful. It looks silly, but if you're an image person instead of a word person (as I am), it's a very easy way to visualize exactly what the fuck's going on in the outline.

Now let's say you complete the outline and it is a cobweb of chaos. Excellent. All you have to do now is write everything down in an outline similar to a Wikipedia summary. Translating "Stan says this -> everyone hears a gunshot" into "Stan angrily declares that he's sick of his mistreatment. Before anyone can respond, a gunshot goes off outside" is surprisingly easy. Is this a bit tedious? Yes. Is it optional? Absolutely. Do I recommend it? Very much so.

I personally like to do it because it's a cleaner, more organized version of the mess I made earlier. It's especially helpful if you're going to have someone go over the outline and critique or question things. My version of a completed outline will have chapters as full paragraphs detailing what happens, like so:

Chapter EIGHT: The morning sun rises and Kel pulls himself out of bed with a hangover. He stumbles to the bathroom and tries to wash up before the headache gets to be too much and he lays down on the floor. Meanwhile, the front door opens and the burglar from the night before (this will be revealed to be Sarah in chapter 19) sneaks into the house. They decide to try and grab more stuff, even with the sound of footsteps and retching in the upstairs rooms being audible. Just as the burglar finds Kel's mother's necklace, Kel comes downstairs and, seeing a stranger in his house, immediately confronts them.

Then on to chapter nine, and so on.

That's all I got for now. Hope this helps!

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

Hi, I'd like to ask you about your headcanons for Kwazii's pirate days.

I'd also like to know your thoughts on the ship between Ranger Marsh and Calico Jack.

KWAZIIS PIRATE DAYS

Marsh and calico jack stuff is under the green text so scroll if u want that)

HEHEHE YES!!! Ok so my au, Misty Memories, Calico jack (or cj for short) actually left when kwazii was only around 10 years old. During that time Kwazii stayed on a pirate ship called the Salty Spirit, that was part of the Split Tail pirate clan. Cj meant to return in one to two years time and told kwazii to become an even better pirate until he returned. He uh, never did back.

Anyways Kwazii certainly had time to learn about navigation, treasure hunting, pirate War fare, survival skills, fighting skills, how to trade food for information with animals, and so on...

There was an incident that happened a long time ago that he can't really recall the details of. He just knows that he ended up leaving to set sail to find his own adventure and his own treasure! (And maybe to find his grandad... but he wasn't experienced enough to go to the amazon, so he had to get some experience!)

So most of kwaziis teen years were spent surviving alone (well he made some animal friends) on islands and open seas-

Maybe or maybe not pickpocketing a little bit from ports and selling stolen engine and supplies from other boats- (if you're mean to dolphins and hurt lil critters u TOTALLY deserve it anyways, I mean pirates stole from rich mean people all the time so whats the difference really?) Imagine this scraggly kitten teen threatening some unethical fishermen 💀🙏 like he did get in some scraps but he won? So yay? He even kind of sort of legally bought his own boat-

Kwazii also learned that he Didn't Understand Land Lubbers, that AN ABANDONED LIGHTHOUSE CAN MAKE A GREAT PIRATE BASE, and that the dolphin baby u saved when u were 16 from a fishing trap will always rememeber u and return the favor <3

He totally also didn't (*wink wink*) steal any supplies or anything valueable from sea ports and definitely didn't ransack any old archives for treasure leads- He was successful in finding treasure though- after all he DID have insider pirate knowledge.

Of course... after a while he realized well.. the person he was originally searching for- (Cj?) He.. there were no signs that he was at any safe spot or meeting spot or pirate spot he knew of.... so he had to accept maybe his grandad never returned because he was gone... he hoped he could at least find the treasure his grand dad couldn't some day, to honor him, even if it was a stupid backburner dream.... ;)

So he def got into some pirate shenanigans and whatnot, but he wasnt... really *in* the real pirate world with actual heists and all that yk? And just dreaming about his grandad and this fantasy.... until he met an overheated polar bear who very much under estimated the tropical heat.... more on that here just ignore the old art i hate itttttttttt so much uueuuehghh

CALICO JACK AND RANGER MARSH

About cj and marsh tho- honestly so much of this is just my own headcanons and characterization but-

I'm gonna be real I'm aro ace so most of my ships are probably somewhere on that spectrum, but I really like them alot ^v^!! like HELLO an old pirate man who acts all sweet and soft with the "kiddos" but (at least in my au) is a total feral lil gremlin with anyone his age???? An old AUTISTIC AS HELL Park ranger who Thinks He's A Normal Guy and is like "hey maybe I should just live my life nearly totally isolated lol" AND THEN SEES THE OLD PIRATE MAN AND GOES DAMN NEVER MIND???

I just think cj is incredibly lonely but very afraid of connecting to people after years and years of isolation (his dead wife told him in his dreams to get over himself 💀👍) and marsh is just having a mid life crisis because he's been stuck in this repitition of life and is worried.. maybe he made some wrong choices and he's losing out on what could've been cuz he was too scared to try anything...

I think cj would be all "oh nooo I'm a wee ol pirate cat 🥺" and act like he doesn't remember normal social norms and boundaries just to get into marshes life. And marsh hasn't made a real friend or vulnerable relationship with like ANYONE in decades and he's just questioning his life choices and then he suddenly has to deal with this two faced GREMLIn of a man.

I just think its beautiful and that they'd bond over "old men sitting in silence on the porch in the morning", having Old Man Regrets TM, being afraid of change, and also USING OLD FASHIONED THINGS AND HAVING ANIMAL FRIENDS YOU TREAT LIKE PEOPLE BUT VERY DEEPLY UNDERSTAND ARE FERAL 🗣🗣🗣

Ok done i just love them alot 🥺🙏

Thanks so much!!!

[mugenmcfugen]

Inability to play games and ever approaching anniversary of my 'Total Subconscious Rewiring' left me with only one choice; to totally dive down in my own Delulu Town™, I really do love digging around just because I have this stupid hunch about something, even if that leaves nowhere most of the time. So if you decide to stick around, I believe my delulu will be worth your time.

In my HC version of Deadlock I placed Vindicta to be maybe librarian of sort because, after being dead for so long she'd probably be confused as hell (and this is somewhat confirmed in her convo with Kelvin that she mostly had trouble with language), and libraries back then were best repository for knowledge and finding stuff (or people if needed), hence why she would gravitate towards it.

So, thing that sent me on digging spree this time was that new sign for Music Hall

I was mostly hung up on these two names, IT ALMOST made me skip the name of Music Hall itself: Morgana.

I'm well aware that Morgana is name that's heavily connected to fantasy literature, mostly with Morgan le Fay in various editions. There's also singer Morgana King. But something made me think ''what if I were to throw Morgana into NYC google maps''? Surprisingly, zero results for the size of the NYC. But it did give me ''The Morgan Library & Museum'', and when I went to the wiki page of it, my mind was almost blown the fuck out. Not only Morgan's Library first director was woman named Belle da Costa Grene, but that wiki page was filled with purple links which I have all been opening during my head canon delulu time:

Alexandre Dumas, writer of ''Count of Monte Cristo'' which I made into Vindicta's favorite book.

Musical Manuscripts of Gustav Mahler, Austro-Bohemian composer, and this one is insane because I only mentioned it in comic itself, because song ''I'll be seeing you'' is said to have resemblance to the last movement of his 3rd Symphony, and I used it as a interesting backdrop that Vindicta would be more on taste for classical music.

and if I wasn't already insane by the last one, this library has biggest collection of works and letters by NATHANIEL MOTHERFUCKING HAWTHORNE HIMSELF. SO MY WHOLE REASONING FOR HER BEING CLOSE TO LIBRARY WAS TO FIND HINTS ABOUT HAWTHORNES and I'm goddamn blown the fuck out. Best part is, majority of those letters were acquired by library in 1909, so even timeline itself would match up with it.

Other two purple links were Voltaire and Bob Dylan, although adjacent I didn't really use it as anything else but soft inspiration.

I think I've spent a long time browsing trough Morgans Library site and I can't lie, I was enamored with it completely, the fact that you can browse their collection and see what they have is amazing. I especially love their collection of sketches, I also found two lovely drawings.

Then again, I'm also probably blowing it the fuck out of proportion, I'm well aware of apophenia phenomenon where brain is stuck on finding connections, since I'm definitely in period of year which is most stressful for me, but I'd rather let myself be entertained by this and end up being dead wrong than to relieve some stuff again. I do need to rewire those neural pathways anyways. Who knows, this could all be the Fata Morgana itself.

[zabala0z]

Welcome back to “new TMA fan listens to season 2!” and im ur host. So far I listened to 3 episodes from season 2 but I gleaned a lot of connections from it. Oh what is it unknown viewer? Golly gosh I’m so glad you asked. <3

MAG 41: Too deep

Jon’s such a dumbass like bro get the hell out of those tunnels. I didn’t make many connections since he was just yapping the whole time but it’s interesting there was like a wine bottle from 2003 down there??? Who is drinking down there??? My notes say that the tunnels could’ve been connected to the tunnels from MAG 35, the one from Harold Silvanas statement. Like literally connected. Could be a stretch but hey, they’re both tunnels.

Also he found those circle of worms. No theory but could be a portal or some shit

MAG 42:

This one was kinda creepy to me just cause of the guy at the end being like “encore?” So casually like bro there are dead bodies. Anyways something stuck out to me; that crystal shop.

Jennifer mentions being near a shop called “crystals. Books. Tarot” and a guy, tall, black and face of deep worry staring at her and asking what she was listening to. Then mumbling about protecting her hearing. This reminded me of MAG 32, when Jane mentioned working in a crystal shop (“Good Energies spiritual supplies shop) and how her coworker, Oliver, would stare at her with sadness and a bit of fear in the end.

Both seemed to know something. While Oliver wasn’t given a physical description, my theory is that they’re both the same people and he….knows crap or something. My only connections in the vague idea of knowing something and working in spiritual shops but who knows.

Finally. MAG 43:

Oh god. First, I love Basira. She needs to be paid more. Next, we finally have a name for the unnamed burn victim from First Aid (MAG 12)! Diego Molina. Apparently an assistant curator. He was yelling the same stuff from first aid about “Asag” yada yada but he had that red leather bound book that was mentioned in MAG 12. The one Gerard asked if the paramedics brought. He was killed by Gerard that episode but the event from MAG 43 happened half a year earlier. Nice to know a name.

(EDIT AUG 2, 8:11 PM: forgot to mention but I’m assuming Gerard and Diego know each other since Gerard seemed to be chasing after this book in First Aid and Diego had it. Both were found in MAG 12 together and Gerard later killed him so I wonder what’s their beef? Their deal?)

Also, Alice Tonner, or Daisy, mentioned spider husks. Possibly a reference to Arachnophobia (MAG 16)? Or any other statement with spiders since they pop up a lot in the magnus archives. She also mentioned vampires which could be related to Vampire Killer (MAG 10). Maybe she had to investigate one of Trevor’s kills or even knew a vampire, who knows.

Anyways. Jon is apparently going to get those tapes. I mean go you. Be careful

So that’s the end of my post! I took a couple day break to recover from the trauma of the last couple episodes of season 1. Everytime I post like these types of things, I always feel like that one meme

Like that’s me. I have a 15 page document on the magnus archives opened in front of me. Guys that’s me.