#but at the same time. they're unable to understand. unable to hear me when I'm screaming for help

[dirtytransmasc]

having non chronically ill family is so fucking hard. they've never been ignored for years until there health issues have manifested from something manageable to something that will never go away, never stop hurting, never get better. they've never been ignored cause their BMI is above average so losing 10 pounds in the few months isn't a concern, never been told they should actually lose more weight while talking to a doctor about not being able to eat for days on end. they just don't understand and think that just because they're "going slow" at the start, means they'll actually do something in the long-term, when in reality, they either don't care or don't believe you and want to slap an anxiety diagnosis on you and move you on your way. they just don't understand.

[frudoo]

I really like your writing! I'm so glad I found your page. I was wondering if I could do a drabble or little one shot ask about the 141 boys (poly or individual doesn't matter either way) I just had this idea because there's so many ideas about the boys not thinking they're good enough for their girl but what if it was the opposite way and I was wondering what you'd think their reactions would be.

The idea is that their girl is on the phone with her friend thinking they can't hear her talking (maybe they were asleep or out for a run or something) and her friend asks how things are going with them. Their girl full on gushes about the boys to her friend and her friend is like "oooo sounds like love to me! Have you told them yet?" And their girl is like "I... No of course not...They can't love me, I couldn't possibly expect them to."

This is long but thank you for listening to me ramble!

PLEASE I got so sappy with this one I just couldn't stop my fingers from typing. Also you're such a sweetheart <333

Warnings: Mentions of self-doubt, food, mentions of sex. Fem!Reader. MDNI.

Kyle Garrick:

     Kyle’s had a long day, and the man just wants a proper cup of tea. He starts down the hallway, but when he hears his name coming from your room, he stops dead in his tracks. He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t help but crack your door open to eavesdrop a bit. 

     “I’m telling you, he’s perfect! When I have a bad day, he’ll take me out for coffee, or we’ll go for a walk or just look around the pet store. Sometimes he’ll even do my laundry! It’s- it’s not a crush anymore. I’m in love with him,” you ramble on to your friend, who’s giggling with glee over the speaker of your phone.

     “Well, have you told him?” She questions excitedly, and you go quiet for a moment.

     “Of course I haven’t. Why would I? It’s not… it’s not like he feels the same. I’d just be hurting myself,” you reply sadly.

     Kyle frowns deeply, and he’s almost positive he can physically feel his heart breaking. God, he’d rather fall out of another helo than ever hear you sound so distraught again. He wants nothing more than to barge into your room and pull you into his arms, kiss away all your doubts and prove to you just how much he loves you. Instead, the sound of your voice brings him back to reality. 

     “I think I’m gonna grab a snack. It was good talking to you,” you hang up the phone and open your door, surprised to see your roommate standing right there. “Kyle! Shit, did- did you-? I’m so-”

     “Y’mean it?” Kyle asks softly, not wanting you to feel embarrassed.

     Even so, you sheepishly nod your head, unable to meet his eyes. His warm hands cup your face and lift your head up to look at him, and he smiles so warmly that you can’t help but do the same.

     “Silly girl. I love you, too.”

     John Price:

     The base was dead today, barely any paperwork to do or new recruits to train. For the first time in months, John was able to get off on time, and he decided to surprise you with a bouquet of flowers and your favorite Indian food. When he arrives at your flat, he uses his spare key to unlock the door and steps inside, kicking off his boots—ever since that one time you playfully lectured him on keeping your home clean, he’s engraved the rule into his brain.

     John sets your gifts on the island in your kitchen, glancing around for any signs of where you could be. You’re definitely home, he can tell that much by your keys dangling off the holder and your own shoes by the door. He carefully steps through the hallway and hears your unmistakable voice in the bathroom, along with the quiet sound of running water. He goes to turn the handle but decides against it when he hears his name slip from your lips.

     “God, I love John so much, you don’t understand. He’s everything I could ever want. Every time I see him, I just- I wanna kiss him stupid, y’know? I mean, shit, he’s already seen every part of me since he’s my best friend and all.”

     “So… when are you gonna tell him? It sounds like he’s interested, babe,” your friend’s voice rings through your phone. “Best friends don’t normally just see each other naked.”

     “Oh, stop it. There’s no way he could feel the same. I’m just… I couldn’t ask that of him. It wouldn’t be fair.”

     John’s heard enough. He trudges back into the kitchen and fixes your plate of takeout, as well as a glass of wine and some chocolates. He arranges the food on a tray and brings it back to the bathroom, not even bothering to knock before walking inside. You scream, and normally he would laugh, but he’s so hurt that you think you’re unworthy of his love, and he’s dead set on proving otherwise. 

     “Do you always scare the shit out of people you’re trying to surprise?” You laugh, hand resting on your chest as if it’ll calm your beating heart.

     “Only the one I’m in love with, sweet girl.”

     Simon Riley:

     “M’gonna step out for a smoke, love,” Simon informs you, and you nod politely.

     The coffee shop is a little too crowded for Simon’s liking, and he needs a break. Your company is the sweetest he could ask for, and he feels bad leaving you for even a second, but the demons in his head were begging for an escape. Still, he stands by the window where your table is located just so he can keep an eye on you. Call it a weakness, but when he sees you messaging your friend, he can’t tear his eyes away from the conversation. Thank the heavens for the little slip-up the café made, having the one-way windows installed inside out.

yeah he’s like,,, stupidly perfect

it’s like he’s trying to make me lose it???

like sir i’m already in love with you

what more do you want

lmaooo why haven’t u told him yet????

he’s obviously in love with ur dumb ass too

oh fuck off

you know we’re just friends

don’t give me hope

     Simon frowns deeply, tossing the butt of his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with his boot. He’s spent his whole life in shackles, deeming himself unlovable, unworthy of anything good or sweet or kind. But when he met you, those thoughts dissolved like melting snow—he even took the mask off for you. He didn’t even know it was possible to love somebody so much, so to have the one person he adores more than anything in the world doubt herself? He won’t have it. 

     He reenters the coffee shop in a hurry, long legs striding over to you as quickly as possible. Before you can even react, he leans down to press his lips against yours, hands firmly on your face to keep you still. When he pulls back, he’s near tears looking at your shocked expression.

     “I don’t love y’like a friend. I love y’like a man loves his wife, like you’re the air I breathe. I’ve always been yours, y’hear me? Always.”

     Johnny MacTavish:

     Johnny’s expecting to feel your warm body beside his when he wakes, but instead he’s met with the soft thud of his arm onto the unoccupied sheets where you should be. He frowns and rubs the sleep from his eyes, checking his phone—it’s only 4:00 in the morning, and the sun isn’t even out yet. You’ve obviously not been in bed for a while, and it worries him. Did you leave in the middle of the night, all by yourself? Shit, what if something bad happened to you?

     Johnny hops out of bed and quickly pulls on his jeans from last night, starting a frantic search through his house. You’re not in the bathroom, or in any of the spare rooms, not even the sunroom where you love to cozy up and read a book. The last place he thinks to check is the kitchen, and lo and behold, there you are, brewing some coffee and talking on the phone to someone. Your best friend, he realizes, when you put the call on speaker to pour yourself a cup. 

     “It’s just… last night, he told me he loved me, and it- I don’t know. It ruined me. I couldn’t even finish, I had to fake it.”

     Johnny freezes and leans against the door frame. His stomach feels sick suddenly—did he really fuck up that bad last night? God, he knew he should have just kept his mouth shut, but he figured there was no better time to confess his feelings for you while he was… well, inside of you. He really thought you felt the same. Your little sniffle drags him out of his thoughts, and his eyes land on your now crying figure once again.

     “N-no, you don’t understand. I know he just said it because of the sex. I’m not… he couldn’t love me. Not the way I love him. We’re just friends who happen to sleep together sometimes. It’s my own fault for catching feelings when he- he deserves someone so much better,” the break in your voice destroys Johnny and all he can do is listen as your best friend calms you down.

     He doesn’t make a move until you’ve hung up. Only after you’ve set the phone down does he come barreling in, wrapping his strong arms around you, ignoring your shriek of surprise. Johnny pulls back to cup your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the fresh tears that managed to slip past your waterline.

“Ye’re the only one ah want. D’ye understand? Ye’re the only one fer me. Ah meant wha’ ah said, hen, ah love ye. There’s no’ a force on this earth tha’ could make me want ye less. Ye’re mine, alreit? As much as ah’m all yers.”

[666writingcafe]

An Interview With Lucifer

Part Three of A New Series

Question One: How do your friends describe you in a word?

Cranky.

Question Two: Who would you want to be stuck with on an island?

If I was limited to just one person, then MC. If there were multiple people, I'd add Mammon and Barbatos.

Question Three: What are you hiding now?

Treats from Cerberus. Not because he isn't a good dog, but because he's found their original hiding place and has been digging into them constantly, and the treats I give Cerberus are rather expensive, so I can't exactly afford to buy them every day and ensure that other stuff gets paid for.

Question Four: Do you prefer mountains or beaches?

It depends on my mood. If I don't want anyone to find me, then definitely mountains, but if I'm feeling a bit romantic, then I'd hit the beach.

Question Five: What is your hidden talent?

I can juggle. And I don't mean that in the metaphorical sense--although I can do that too--but in the literal sense, like a circus clown. It's one of the ways I relieve stress, because I can just shut my brain off and focus on keeping the objects I'm juggling up in the air.

Question Six: What makes you laugh?

You'll get a satisfied chuckle out of me whenever someone I dislike gets what they deserve, but if you want to hear a true, unrestrained laugh, either get me drunk on Demonus or put me in a room with MC when they're in a good mood.

Question Seven: If you were a thing, what would you be?

A metronome.

Question Eight: If you have no GPS, how would you find your destination?

I'd print out directions. (But what if you were unable to do that?) Then I'd ask the locals where I need to go. I may be the Avatar of Pride, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to admit when I'm lost. (someone yells out, "that's a lie, and you know it!") And if all else fails, then I'll get to my destination through sheer determination.

Question Nine: Describe your three best qualities.

Apparently I'm patient, kind, and loving. (Why do you phrase it like that?) Because I wouldn't necessarily call myself any of those things, but I trust that the person who did wouldn't lie to me about such things. (And who might that person be?) MC.

Question Ten: Would you consider yourself a cool person?

I'm going to lean towards no. I'm far from being a trendy person. Just ask any of my brothers. (What about MC?) You'll have to ask them. I know they like spending time with me, but I honestly don't know why. Usually I'm busy with paperwork, and it's not like that's terribly interesting.

Question Eleven: What is a skill you want to master?

Baking.

Question Twelve: What would you do first if you won a human world jackpot?

Pay off any debts MC may have.

Question Thirteen: What one aspect of the human world would you change if you could?

I'd make it legal to punish animal and child abusers by inflicting the same types of torture onto them as they did on their victims. (That's rather serious, Lucifer.) So is abusing those that are unable to understand why their supposed family is hurting them.

Question Fourteen: What is your preferred card or board game?

Let's just say that I'm not allowed to play any tabletop fantasy games unless I can ensure that all of my work is complete. (Why's that?) You've met Levi, yes? (I have.) Now, imagine me behaving like him, and you'll have your answer.

Question Fifteen: What is your current favorite app on your phone?

Don't make fun of me, but there's this app where you can send messages to people and it shows up on their phone in a cartoony heart. (Are you talking about the viral Candy Heart app?) ...yes. (That's actually quite sweet.) It was MC's idea, and I initially did downloaded it just to amuse them, but I've come to enjoy using it as time has gone on.

Question Sixteen: Would you go to space if you could?

I'm content with merely looking at pictures of space.

Question Seventeen: What kind of museum or exhibit do you prefer?

I like learning about the history of different objects. Looking at their evolution fascinates me.

Question Eighteen: What kind of humor do you prefer?

I'll throw you a curve ball: I enjoy a nice pun from time to time, even if it would be classified as a "dad joke".

Question Nineteen: Do you prefer driving a car, a motorcycle, or a bicycle?

Oh, a motorcycle, by far.

Question Twenty: When was the last time you climbed a tree?

This is going to really show my age, but the last time I climbed a tree was when I was a young angel. *pauses* Thinking about it is making me want to do it now. Being up in the branches is quite peaceful.

Question Twenty-One: What is your strangest habit?

There are times where the only way I'm able to fall asleep is to hang upside-down like a bat.

Question Twenty-Two: What is your weirdest fantasy?

I'll give you an oddly specific one: if I'm ever able to retire, I'd like to buy a farm somewhere in the human world countryside and raise livestock and plant fruits and vegetables with MC. (You've brought them up several times in this interview.) You could say that I have a soft spot for them. (Or that you love them.) Well, obviously. They're a wonderful person to be around. I'd like to spend the rest of my life with them if I could. (You mean, their life.) Listen, I don't choose my words lightly. What I say is what I mean, one hundred percent.

Question Twenty-Three: Here's something a bit more light-hearted: would you rather fight a shark or wrestle a lion?

The lion. I can't swim nearly as well as Levi can.

Question Twenty-Four: How do you want the world to end?

By my hand.

Question Twenty-Five: Would you like to be shorter or taller?

I like my height just the way it is. (What if you had to choose one or the other?) Then I suppose taller. I don't feel I'd be able to intimidate people as well if I was shorter.

Question Twenty-Six: Who is the annoying person you want to get rid of in your life?

I don't necessarily want to get rid of anyone, but I'd like to seriously alter the behaviors of Solomon and Mephistopheles.

Question Twenty-Seven: Which artist and/or song dominates your human world music playlist?

I'll give you both: Metallica and "Adore You" by Harry Styles.

Question Twenty-Eight: If you had to go to prison, what would be the reason?

Treason.

Question Twenty-Nine: What is the most critical trait you seek in a friend?

They have to be able to keep secrets.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[gaasuba]

Disapproval

please take care of yourself and don't read if you aren't in the headspace to handle a story about abusive parents/cops

AO3 Link

"I'm..." Miles hesitates. He hates how he seems to keep finding himself here, freaking out about a secret he's been keeping from his parents for more than a year and unable to just.... say it already!

"I'm dating... Hobie." He winces, fists clenched in his hoodie pouch, bracing for whatever reactions his parents may have. He had been running countless scenarios in his head, even long before he had decided to tell them, so he's pretty sure he's prepared for whatever.

There's a long, stunned silence from his parents. It gives Miles time to be aware and feel uncomfortable about how they're seated while he's standing, like a performer in the spotlight. The tension he feels growing is finally broken by a single word from his dad.

"No."

His dad's response is.... stupid.

"No? What do you mean 'no?' It's not a question it's what's happening." Even tho he was expecting something like this, it takes a lot to keep his body language polite. It's an effort that is not being reciprocated.

"It's what's about to stop happening." His dad crosses his arms and Miles' heart sinks when his mom frowns and nods along in agreement. No allies. Worst case scenario on that front. That's fine. He can still salvage this.

"Why? What's wrong with Hobie?" he hates that asking this question was necessary and he really wishes Hobie hadn't insisted on being here. Miles thought it would go smoother if he talked to his parents alone, but Hobie was so insistent. They usually backed down so easy the first time that Miles told them 'no' about anything, so how could Miles argue? The compromise was for them to wait in his room, but that means Hobie would be hearing his parents' unwatched words.

His mom rests a placating hand on his dad's shoulder before speaking.

"Miles," saying his name in an attempt at being comforting is infuriating, "we're glad you have other people like you to support you..."

'But...'

"but couldn't you date someone... less... violent?"

'Violent?'

"Hobie's not violent." What else was there to say?

Miles remembers their first kiss, how Hobie had been unable to look at him as they had asked. The words were burned into his mind. "Can I kiss you?" As if they hadn't really been asking 'will you kiss me?' They didn't move after he had said "yes", only looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes, and had waited for Miles to make the first move. It had been the same way for their first time holding hands, their first date, first time sleeping in the same bed, for telling their friends, for being public where the press in each reality could see. They hadn't even looked at his artbooks without permission!

Always asked.

Always waited.

Violent????

"He breaks people's faces with his guitar!" his dad accuses.

"I break people's faces with my fists!" Miles retorts, pulling his hands from his pocket to gesture at one fist with his other hand. But the mention of the guitar makes Hobie's slow cover of Sunflower come to mind and he lets out a heavy sigh, relaxing slightly. He hadn't realize how much his shoulders had risen.

"That's different!" his dad stood, elbows out and fists clenched, causing Miles to take a startled step back. Despite the intimidation, he remains confident when he counters.

"How is it different!?"

"You aren't out there killing cops!" he must have read something different in Miles' confused expression because he adds a condescendingly triumphant, "Yeah!" before crossing his arms again and asking harshly, "You think I don't know what those blue laces mean!?"

"I've told you what their dimension is like! You've seen what injuries Mom's treated them for!" Miles doesn't understand how his dad is struggling with this. He knows how different other realities can be. He knows that cops can be corrupt, even in this reality. He was the one who gave Miles his BLM button!

"And how are we supposed to know any of those stories are true?" His dad's tone had softened, assured that he was close to ending this discussion with a win. But Miles could think of several ways they could know already. They could have gotten footage of the violence against protesters. The propaganda against Hobie. Could have let them visit the community center. But they had never asked!

"If you wanted proof why didn't you ask!?" Miles throws out his arms in exasperation.

"Okay, Okay, Okay," his mom interjects, standing and pointing a placating palm towards each of them, "Let's all calm down." Of course she stepped in before his dad had to respond. God forbid Miles get a win here. He looks away in annoyance, knowing he can't control his expression, no matter what she says next. "We thought you were dating that nice blond girl."

Miles feels like he's losing his entire mind. If he wasn't watchless and glitchless, he would suspect he's in the wrong universe. Since when did they think Gwen was nice? And how did they still not know her name after almost two years!? He doesn't dare look back at them but he manages to stay mostly calm when he replies.

"I've literally never dated Gwen." The thought of dating her had made him uncomfortable ever since that day at Spider Society HQ. He had expected her to have his back, instead she had joined everyone in the chase. She even got close to catching him! The only person who had never been against him, always had his back, was always there for him.... had been Hobie. He thought he had made that clear to his parents every time he talked about it.

"You've never dated and yet we keep finding her sweaters in your room?" his dad escalates again. Miles sighs and isn't able to keep the exasperation from his voice.

"She forgets things at everyone's houses, Dad." But of course that's a wrong answer....

"How many boys' rooms is she sneaking into!?"

"Jeff, please. Focus on Miles," his mom places a comforting hand on her husband's chest before looking back to Miles. "So then, how long have you been together?" Miles sighs again and drops his gaze to the floor, her previous words taking on new meanings. 'Focus on Miles.' 'Focus on what we can be mad at.' 'Focus on blaming him for being afraid to tell us.'

"Since right after... you know. Everything." They hadn't really put a name on it but they understood. And of course it wasn't acceptable.

"That's more than a year!" his dad yells the obvious while his mom gasps.

"Sixteen months," Miles says quietly. It was going to be a bit embarrassing if Hobie had been able to hear that.

"We've let you alone together in your room with the door closed!" his mom says, sounding scandalized.

"So then, why now? What finally got you feeling guilty enough to tell us?" Miles glares at his shoes as if they can change his father's words. Throwing the reason of guilt out is going to make anything Miles says next sound selfish. But he does have a reason, and he isn't going to lie about it.

"You think we're letting you invite him after this!?" His mom asks incredulously.

"My birthday is soon, and I don't want to have to pretend we aren't together like last year." It had been torture. How Hobie had been afraid to touch him too much or for too long. The sad look Hobie would give as a warning when they caught him smiling at them too fondly. They had even brought a single, half-assed combination birthday/xmas gift as a kind of decoy and Miles had to wait days before they could meet up again for them to give him the real things.

.... How he wasn't able to kiss them goodbye.

"What?" he snaps his head back up to stare in confusion. He's about to correct her misgendering when his dad adds,

"We're not letting him back in the house! You'll be lucky if we even let you have a birthday party!" he sounds surprised that Miles didn't know all this already.

"Dad! That's crazy! Do you even hear yourself!?"

"Oh and you're grounded!"

"For how long!?"

"A year!"

"A whole year!? What does that even do!? What suddenly changes after a year of isolation!?" Miles is trying to not cry. How is this happening? Why are they acting like this!?

"That's as long as we can protect you from that pervert!" His father snaps.

"Pervert!?!?"

"Yeah! How old is he anyway!? He looks 30!"

"Thir-" Miles feels like he's going to get a headache. "They're only thirteen months older than me!"

"An adult!"

"Gwen is fourteen months older! And you were fine with me dating her just a minute ago!"

"Whatever! Whatever!" Miles suddenly realizes why they hate when he uses that word. Miles uses it to try and give up.... but they use it to force a win. All this time they've been getting mad at him, grounding him, for something he wasn't even saying!

"I can't believe this. We're going to have to put bars on all the windows." His father rubs his head, exasperated, As he paces around the room, Miles struggles to hold back tears. "But those portal things! We'll have to restrict your watch use. And we'll need to take your door off it's hinges!" Jeff raises and drops his arms, like this is the biggest inconvenience he's ever had. He stops pacing to point stiffly at Miles, "Tell that spider society of yours whatever it is you tell them to get a replacement for you."

Miles feels the tears spill and he can't stop himself from turning invisible. Jeff grabs for him.

"Don't you dare," he shouts, managing to get a firm grip on Miles' arm.

"I wasn't doing anything!"

"Jeff!"

"Let go!" Miles pleads, desperate to not use his spider strength.

"No!"

"Please stop!" Miles turns to his mom with pleading eyes she can't see. "Mom!"

"Mi amor, please!"

"Not until you turn back visible!"

"Oi!" Miles' bedroom door bursts open with the word. A printed shockwave from the door's collision with Miles' dresser clashes against the style of 1610.

"Hobie," Miles breathes. He isn't sure if he means to say it as a warning or a plea, but he's so relieved to see them that he turns back visible.

"Oh come on! What the heck are you doing here!?" Jeff snaps as Hobie steps towards him, a pink border flaring behind their mostly yellow form. It's one of their least threatening color sets to people unfamiliar with them, but Miles recognizes it for what it is: Radioactive.

"Miles loves you too much to hurt you." they grip the wrist of Jeff's hand that's still holding onto Miles, "I don't." They squeeze, the action causing them to shift to their printed style and their border's edges to spike.

Jeff yells as he releases his grip to try and free himself.

"Hobie! Stop!" Miles yells.

They do.

"See how easy it is to stop being a git?" they sneer at Jeff, their border disappearing and their colors chilling out into their neutral look. Miles clings to them, hugging them tight, and speaks quickly.

"I'm so glad you're here. I'm sorry. You were right. I love you. I'm sorry."

"S'ok, love." They wrap their arms around him firmly, "This ain't on you, you hear?" Their deep voice is comforting, and their hold is so familiar that Miles can almost feel the gentle rocking of Hobie's home where it usually happens. There had been so many missions that ended like this and Miles finds himself desperately craving all the comforts that usually come next.

"I want to leave," Miles barely keeps steady as he says it. He wonders where he even found the strength to speak.

"Whatever you need, love." It was exactly what Miles wanted to hear, what he needed to hear. He's stopped crying and he wipes his cheeks on their shirt with a pitiful laugh.

"Take me home." Just saying the words made him feel so much better. It didn't feel like a request or pleading, it felt like casting a spell, because he knows Hobie will make it happen.

Both their spider sense is suddenly triggered with the sound of radio static.

"Is anyone there?" Rio pleads. "This is the wife of Captain Morales! A spiderman just attacked my husband and is planning to kidnap my son!"

Miles barely has time to process the words he just heard before Hobie is speaking.

"I've already packed for you. Let's go."

"What?" Miles is too lost to keep up and Hobie can see it. They take his hand and retreat back to his room, ignoring Jeff's protests. Miles half notices his partially packed room before a bag is shoved into his arms and a portal opens. His parents are screaming but he can't process anything that they're saying. So he listens to the only word screaming in his mind.

'Leave!'

He lunges through the portal, not even landing gracefully, laying on his back and staring at Hobie's patched ceiling. He manages to comprehend the thuds that follow him as more of his stuff being flung from the portal. Forcing himself to stand, he watches as Hobie lands more gracefully than he had, their arms wrapped securely around a box of records. Their radioactive colors look more pink in the lamplight of their livingroom.

The portal closes.

Hobie sets the box of records down with care and a huff.

"How someones like them turned out someone as wonderful as you I'll never-" their words die at the sight of Miles; stiff, his eyes wide, still clinging to this duffle as if it was the only thing holding him together. The sight is so jarring that they shift to monochrome. They snatch the bag and throw it across the room, replacing the empty space by pulling him into a tight hug.

Miles instantly shatters, clinging at the back of their vest as he sobs into their chest.

"I've got you," they promise, holding him tighter and pressing their lips to the top of his head and speaking softer, "I got you, love."

Miles feels something unexpected on the back of Hobie's vest when he grips them tighter, and gasps when he recognizes it. He pushes them back to look up at them with wide eyes.

"He tased you!?" and he hadn't been there to redirect the charge....

"Shit." Hobie swears as they toss their vest to the side. "Didn't mean for you to notice that. I'm fine. Don't think about that now."

"Well I don't want to think about it later! I should have been there to protect you!" Instead he was running away like a coward. Left Hobie alone. Hobie would have never done that to him!

"Tasers is nothin, love," they say with a chuckle, "I'd been fine even if it had made it through my jacket."

"How do you know that??"

"Your playful shocks are more powerful than those mosquito bites." They pinch his side, teasing. It tickles and Miles can't help but yelp out a laugh. "I keep sayin you need to start thinkin with volts more." They were right. They were always right. Miles presses his face into their chest again and, finally feeling safe, all his strength leaves him. Hobie catches him and guides him to the couch.

"Sorry," Miles mumbles.

"Nothin to be sorry for," Hobie assures, kneeling to pull off Miles' shoes.

"Mi amor, no," Miles complains, "You don't need to do that...."

"But I'm gonna anyhow." They toss his shoes to the side before thwipping over the bag they had thrown from Miles. Catching the bag causes them to turn their neutral colors. They must finally be feeling safe too. "Now stop fussin and let me take care of you," they scold as they rummage in the duffle. They find what they're looking for quickly and toss the pajama pants at Miles' face. Exhausted as he is, he isn't quick enough to catch them and Hobie laughs at his fumble. Miles loves that sound. So the embarrassment was worth it.

"You get changed while I put us on a cuppa," they say, standing, but they hesitate with a worried look, "You alright alone?" Miles nods but Hobie still doesn't move, wanting him to say it.

"I'm fine. Promise. Make it peach tea?" his reassurance makes Hobie smile again.

"Of course, Sunflower." They lean down and place a gentle kiss on Miles' cheek before turning to leave across the deck of the boat. "Whatever you want."

Once they're gone, Miles is left with only the sounds of the boat creaking and the lapping of the water. He takes a moment to close his eyes and enjoy the gentle swaying caused by the waves. Unfortunately, it gives him time to become aware of his own body. He still feels so weak, his stomach hurts, and his head is starting to ache.

He changes clothes and starts to look through what Hobie had packed to distract himself. He starts by shifting the crate of Uncle Aaron's records onto the shelf with Hobie's so they would be secure. Next, he gathers all of the duffels against the end of the couch: the clothes from his clean bin with a few of his figures tucked between, the clothes from his dirty bin, his spider gear, drums, markers, and empty sketch books.

Miles can't help but smile to himself. Of course Hobie would think to grab his supplies before grabbing his older works. He wonders what his parents will do with what he left behind. They wouldn't throw it out.... right?

He bites his lip, trying not to cry again.

"Hope I got the most important stuff," Hobie says, snapping him out of his thoughts. They're carrying a full tea tray. "I would have packed more but...." They stop themself. "Sorry." As if they have anything to be sorry for.

"I didn't expect you to pack anything," Miles says, sitting back on the couch while Hobie sits the tray on the table in front of it. "Thank you. You're amazing."

Hobie smiles and turns pink, the pink they only turn for him, the one covered in scribbled hearts and hand written lyrics. "Back at ya, love," they say as they pour the tea. They prep Miles' cup without asking him what he wants, already knowing, and sit heavily next to him. They take off their shoes and toss them aside before kicking their legs over his lap and passing him his cup. Miles breathes in the steam as he waits for it to cool and it helps with the headache.

"After this we should get some shut eye," Hobie says, eyes closed, enjoying the steam from their own cup. "You want the top or bottom bunk?"

Miles snorts into his tea at being teased for his question from the first time he spent the night here.

"Come on, man!" he laughs, "Aren't you ever gonna let me forget that?"

"Never," they say before taking a sip of their tea, the warmth and comfort turning them back to neutral. Miles tries to take a sip of his own but it's still too hot. "I'll stop teasing you about it when you stop wearin logos and brand names."

"And what can I do to make you come up with a different trade option when I want you to do something?"

They shrug, "Probly nothin."

Miles rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He tries another sip of his tea and is thankful it's cool enough. The warmth in his stomach helps with some of the ache. Hobie picks up a couple of pills from a sauce cup on the tray and holds them out to him.

"Figured you'd need some pain killers," they explain. Miles wants to tell them that they're amazing again, but decides he doesn't want to be that repetitive. He settles for a simple "thank you" and takes the pills, swallowing them with a sip of his tea.

They stay that way, cozy and playful, until Miles starts to feel like it's becoming impossible to keep his eyes open.

"Bed time?" Hobie asks and Miles nods lazily, setting his cup back on the tray. They kick their feet back off Miles' lap, turning neutral, to stand and pick up the tray. They set it in a bin next to the deck door before returning to Miles and lifting him cradle style.

"I can walk," he says, but there's no bite to his words. He wraps his arms around Hobie's neck and nuzzles against it. The cool, smooth metal of their collar feels good against his hot face.

"Mmhmm," is their only reply as they carry him to the lower deck. They set him on the bottom bunk and start changing into their own sleep clothes. Miles takes off his hoodie and socks before checking the bedside drawer for bonnets, tossing one to Hobie once they've changed into their sleep pants.

"Skootch," Hobie says, sitting on the bed next to him. He does, taking his usual place closer to the wall, tucked under the narrower top bunk. He pulls the covers up to his chin and breathes in deeply, comforted by the familiar smell. When he feels Hobie's arm wrap around his waist, he takes their hand to replace the blanket, kissing their fingers and hugging their arm.

"I love you so much," he whispers, briefly worried he'll cry again.

Hobie hugs him tight and tangles their legs. "I love you," they place a firm kiss against the back of his neck, "Whatever happens."

[scrollonso]

for certain legal reasons i can't respond to op... so i'll be commenting here! thx xx

@formulapookie 😸

NOT ONLY DID MARCO LEAN FORWARD BUT HE MADE HIMSELF SMALLER.

OH MY FUCKING GOD YOU GUYS DONT UNDERSTAND

HE LOWERED HIS GAZE FROM MARC'S EYES TO HIS BODY.

IM ACTUALLY GOING INSANE BC WDYM HSHSAHJASJXJAZAJ

ok let me continue analyzing it

"GET A BETTER LOOK" YES.

HE LEANED FORWARD WITH THE INTENT OF LOOKING AT MARC. JUST MARC.

THE LAST TIMES WE'VE SEEN MARCMARC AT THESE PRESS CONS TOGETHER BEZ HAS REFUSED TO EVEN LOOK AT MARC WHILE HES SPEAKING.

HE'S BEEN CHOOSING TO IGNORE MARC'S EXISTANCE BC WE KNOW HE'S WELL AWARE OF IT YET ACTIVELY DECIDED TO STARE INTO THE CROWD OF REPORTERS.

UNTIL NOW.

nvm i checked the date and im backtracking but what i said still stands...

MARCO DOESN'T CARE THAT MARC REFUSES TO PAY HIM ANY MIND

REFUSES TO CALL HIM HIS NAME.

REFUSES TO GIVE HIM ANY OUNCE OF THE RESPECT, THE ATTENTION, THE PRAISE THAT HE SO OBVIOUSLY CRAVES FROM THOSE AROUND HIM.

MARC INCLUDED.

IT DOESN'T MATTER THAT HE'S VALE'S BOY. DOESN'T MATTER THAT THIS IS THE LITTLE BASTARD MARC MARQUEZ IS TALKING ABOUT BECAUAE BEZ CRAVES HIS TOUCH ALL THE SAME.

give me a second to watch the press con...

ok so i'm at school so my connection is so bad and i keep having to deal w the video buffering but this is what ive seen so far

marco's go-to method is to look at pecco first then marc then turn and look away like he just got caught doing something he isnt supposed to

marc went on about smth (i couldnt hear bc my audio is down so low but it doesnt matter) and the whole time marco was leaned forward either looking at him or around him

when marc mentioned pointing at the sky for his grandfather marco looked at him again

he keeps like catching himself staring when the camera is on him and getting embarrassed then "fixing it" so he's looking literally anywhere else

you know when you can see someone but you dont wanna stare and make it obvious so you try and nonchalantly look over? yeah thats what marco is doing this whole press con.

and even though marc refuses to call him his name, to say marco while bez is so quick to say marc, marco continues to watch him.

like he did in 2015. like he did when he took that picture with marc in qatar. watching from afar, as if marc is this god, unable to be touched, to be dirtied, to be whatever the fuck else i cant think rn i'm doing this instead of classwork

moral of the story, bez puts himsself second and marc third. you cant fake your body language, whether he's leaning forward to hear the questions better or to be more comfortable or whatever he'd say if you asked

his eyes are on marc. and if they arent they're finding their way to marc. even if its just for a fleeting second he's unable to stay away for long.

ty now i have to do college prep work xx

[sequencefairy]

Ya know, I was gonna be done. I spent hours yesterday talking friends off ledges when people were harassing them for being excited about the watcher announcement, or when their anxiety ballooned while watching the never-ending fucking tide of absolutely entitled morons kept piling on and on and on and spreading baseless bullshit every where.

But like, I cannot be done.

Because I am just so fucking disappointed. I'm so fucking sad to be sitting here watching people writhe with glee over the reactions to the announcement, and fill their little vengeful mugs in anticipation of watching the fall of a fledgling independent media company they are literally standing around lighting matches to throw onto the pyre.

Y'all make me sick.

You profess to love these guys, to want to see them succeed, to enjoy the stuff they make for you. You beg and demand and scream for more time with Ryan and Shane and bitch constantly during periods of the year when it's not Ghost Files or Puppet History time. You complain to anyone who will listen about how this is a betrayal, as if they're your fuckin' friends who you know personally.

News flash, they're not. They never were. You're parasocially attached to the plush puppet and the guy who sticks his hand up it in a way that is detrimental to your critical thinking skills and you know what? Fucking don't subscribe to the streamer. Who fucking wants you around anyway?

I would bet American cash money that none of you have EVER had to sit with your staff in a meeting and figure out how you were going to keep your company afloat. That none of you have ever had to decide to take a risk like this, in this kind of economic climate and be cautiously excited about what it might mean for you and then to have this absolute viciousness being the response.

I'm really sorry that for some people the price is just out of their reach. I completely understand wanting to join in on something and being unable to because of the money. The amount of times I've had to say no to doing something fun because I just didn't have the cash is not a small amount. It sucks. It really sucks.

But you know, the emotionally mature response to not being able to afford something is to be like, well is there a way that I can save up for this? Something else I can cut out? And if the answer is no, then, unfortunately, sometimes, you just have to be left out. This is a fact of life.

Do you people also get bitchy with artists who charge commission prices that mean they can afford to live?

The comparisons of Watcher to non-network television streamers are laughable. Like, Watcher is absolutely not on the same level of operating profitability as other streaming services. They are an independent production studio that gives a shit about making content that they like to make and taking care of their employees and the other people who are associated with them. And in order for them to continue to make the stuff we like (Ghost Files, Puppet History, et al), we're gonna have to buy-in.

Seeing people say with their full chests that they should just fire people? Are you fucking hearing yourselves? Who should they fire? Their queer employees? The people who write and do sound and edit? The people who make Ghost Files or Puppet History look the way it looks? The people who are the reason the shows work?

And, I'm sorry, but if you think that the solution here is that they should just ... make worse shows, I don't even know what to say to you at all. Sorry that Steven and Ryan and Shane wanna do more than lifeless unsolved copies for the rest of their lives. Go watch fucking unsolved if you want that, watcher has always wanted to do more, do better, make bigger things. And you know what? They are for sure allowed to do that.

I am also utterly enraged by the racism. I cannot even imagine what it's like to be any Watcher employee of colour today, watching the hate and the cruelty roll in. Y'all are just fucking mean, and gross, and I hope you all walk on legos in the dark in bare feet.

Everyone who is acting like this is some fucking personal betrayal needs to go smoke a bowl or do a bong rip and chill the fuck out.

[liesmyth]

Blood cancer, necromancy and physical ailments

This started as a reflection on the evergreen “but could John have healed Cytherea’s cancer?” and then it went off… somewhere else, namely necromancers being physically frail and what it means for the worldbuilding and thematically. Bear with me etc.

what do we know about the nature of Cytherea’s cancer?

Very little! We know it runs in the necromantic line of the Seventh, but we don’t actually know how house heirship is passed, so we don’t know if it only affects one / a few family lines or most of the House. Cytherea-as-Dulcie says that her family “wanted her to keep the genes going,” implying that the illness was rare outside her immediate family, but Dulcinea doesn’t seem to have been under the same pressure, from what little we know.

Another guess is that the Seventh hereditary cancer is tied to necromancy in some way, as it seems to only manifest in descendants who also exhibit necromantic attitude. If that’s the case, then it’s likely it is a strain of leukemia that manifested post-resurrection and didn’t exist before (like necromantic ability) and like necromancy, it can’t be studied properly – because the understanding of the illness barely evolved from Cytherea’s time to Dulcie.

[FOUR more bullet points under the cut]

why I don’t think John lied about not being able to heal Cytherea

A variety of reasons. The obvious one is that it would be pointless not to heal her, if he could. The Lyctors dismiss the theory that cancer makes a necromancer stronger (“Seventh House woo-woo,” cit. Augustine) and so does Palamedes, who studied it for years. I'm going to assume they're right. Then there are no benefits to John in keeping Cytherea ill, except watching her suffer, and this is deeply at odds with John’s entire shtick in which they’re all a happy family and he makes a point to personally serve everyone at dinner because he’s just some guy. John likes to think of himself as the good guy, even when he's being actively terrible, and there’s no way to spin ‘let someone live with cancer for millennia’ in a way that makes you look good to yourself.

Additionally: if he had lied, then it would have been with the knowledge that it would backfire horribly if it ever came out he had, and completely shatter for good the happy family act. Conversely, the Lyctors have had ten thousand years to consider their long list of grievances against John, and they all studied Cytherea's cancer to figure out how to help her when she joined them (per HtN) but don’t even seem to consider the possibility that John refused to help when he could have. Mercy, the ultimate anatomy savant, is so pissed off at John that she’s ready to kill him — I think if she had even vague suspicions it would have come out in that confrontation. The only reason it didn't, IMO, is because she knew how the illness worked better than we readers do and had reasons to confirm John's claims herself.

if John wasn’t able to heal Cytherea. Why? he’s God, etc

This is where I take a step back and look at the broader picture. Necromancers are frail. They are physically slight, have low endurance, and are physically weak. Judith is a decorated officer but she runs a 10 minutes km (a fast-paced walk) and Ianthe can barely hold up her arms to do her hair (probably an exaggeration by Corona, but not by much). These are also people who could kill someone at a distance with only moderate effort, but can’t turn that power inward to give their own bodies a boost. The same goes for the various reproductive issues we hear of in the series – Harrow’s parents, of course, but also Abigail and Magnus being unable to conceive even with all the resources of the Fifth.

It seems that necromancy can be turned against others – manipulating their bodies – with a lot more ease than it can be used to fix necromancers’ bodies, which have some level of ‘flawed by design’, probably related to the way their bodies process thanergy. There's no juicing up Judith’s lungs to make her run faster, and necromancy doesn’t make Abigail and Magnus's genes compatible for reproduction. IF the Seventh House cancer is tied to necromancy in some way, it seems plausible that it can’t be “suppressed” from the organism of a necromancer, because it’s just another facet of their abilities.

(That said, it all hinges on that big IF! My theory that it would make very little sense for John not to heal Cytherea if it was within his abilities IMO holds whether the cancer is tied to her power or not, but if it’s the second one then I can’t begin to guess why.)

the #THEME of it all

Look. I just think that “some things can't be fixed by necromancy if they are rooted in it” is pretty plausible as a worldbuilding detail (setting the limits of a magical system) and also it really resonates as a doylistic writing choice. Magic has a price, and so on. I just think it’s neat!

(And, again, I think it makes more sense as a framing for the characters’ actions, from how John likes to play the good guy to how Cytherea probably has some amount of control over the tumors in her body, post Lyctorhood, just as Lyctors have detailed control over every other cells in their organisms. There’s something about the way she decided to go on for millenia, “mostly cancer and a little bit woman” as a funeral monument to her lost humanity. I’m not eloquent enough to put it into words but I’m gonna link to these tags by @thewinterstale on this OP by @theriverbeyond. Big thoughts, big brains etc.)

IF cancer doesn’t make someone stronger, why do people think it does?

We know “thanergy boost at the moment of death” is a real thing. It is a leap that slowly dying for years = more power during your lifetime, but it’s not an unreasonable conclusion. What is odd is that we have multiple informed accounts that it doesn’t (Augustine, Palamedes) but the idea keeps being perpetuated.

(Ianthe seems to believe that it does, but fwiw this is not Ianthe’s area of study and I find it plausible that she’s just repeating something she has been told which, again, makes sense superficially)

Anyway. Cytherea knower @thewinterstale​ has suggested that maybe Cytherea herself is the reason why the Seventh House, to the present day, believes that cancer = power. She was incredibly talented despite the illness, so much that the Emperor summoned her specifically as the last disciple in his super-exclusive circle. And that was the last the Seventh House saw of her.

If the memory of Cytherea that lives on was that of an incredibly powerful necromancer, the miracle at Rhodes, cancer-ridden and so powerful… that’s enough fuel for a dangerous myth. Maybe, through the millennia, all the Seventh House hoped to achieve was to produce another Cytherea – suffering and all

[venteas]

now my life is sweet like cinnamon, like a fuckin' dream i'm living in - genshin fic

ft. yae miko, ei, zhongli, jean, neuvilette

summary: they've left the universe, but are still watching you from above <3 (letters from them to you after they're gone, take that as you will, but it is heavily implied that they are dead)

YAE MIKO! my dearest yn, i have so much to tell you. there's so much i've seen here, and i wish with all my heart that you could be here with me. don't get me wrong, little one, i do believe you should stay a little longer, just to experience the whole of teyvat (and please send me all your stories, i just love reading them over fried tofu), but it'd be nice to have someone here with me to experience these wonderful things. i've met some old friends now, and we've caught up on so much. who knew a few hundred years could change someone so drastically, yet retain their essence? i wonder when you journey here, will you still be the same? oh, it'd be interesting, don't you think? it'd make a terrific novel. 'world-renowned traveller traverses the afterlife, how do they fare?', a fine title for an article, isn't that right? well, i should probably get going now. there's so much to do, and so much to see. do tell ei to write me back sometime, it would be lovely to hear from her again. and you, little one, should write to me too. hehe, the stories from your travels are always amusing, after all. with love, fried tofu with all the frills

EI! dear yn, how have you been? it must be awfully tiring, travelling around. i do hope you get the proper rest you need. there's always desserts in inazuma, feel free to stop by and help yourself to some. oh, and how is little paimon doing? i remember she quite enjoyed the sweets we shared on a number of our walks. frankly, it's been rather relaxing here. i enjoy it very much. it would be a great pleasure if you could visit one day, but that'd mean your journey would come to an end, and i know you have your sibling to find. i am regretful that i am unable to provide much information on her, but i've heard stories of a traveller very much like you, from centuries ago. they say that the traveller was brave, valiant and kind-hearted, much like you. it is at times like these that i realise i have missed so much, meditating in the plane of euthymia. i dearly wish that i had more time with my people, and you, of course, to truly understand the wonders of this world. do that for me, won't you? live your life out to the fullest. do not leave behind any regrets. and when we meet again, you will tell me all about your adventures. oh, and bring some desserts for me, please. thank you. yours sincerely, ei

ZHONGLI! yn, it has been a while since we last corresponded. how have you been doing? i heard that you are currently in fontaine. it is a beautiful place, i must admit. one full of history and culture and stories. if we have time, let us sit down with osmanthus wine and i shall tell you the stories i've heard. there's a story told in liyue, of a man who plays the guqin and another, a lumberjack, who understood his playing. it is said that the guqin player and the lumberjack agreed to meet at the very place they met a year later. tragically, the lumberjack met his end before he could fulfill this promise. wrecked with grief, the guqin player vowed to never touch even a string again, destroying his instrument, for what use would there be if there was no one else who would understand him? hearing this story again, it reminded me of you. who else had such empathy that they could understand the will of the divine? that said, you do have many other nations in teyvat to explore. throughout your journey, you will meet gods in disguise, and mortals disguised as gods. you will meet the soft-hearted, and the cruel. and you will survive it all, for you are an adventurer, above gods and deities, above the Heavenly Principles. please do visit me when you have time. i'd love to have a drink or two with you someday. and if you could, do check up on liyue sometime. i know they are well, but as a mortal, i never got the chance to experience it fully. it would mean a lot if you could do it in my stead. childe should have enough funds, should you need any. yours, zhongli

JEAN! my lovely yn, i heard you are doing well. that's good to hear, really. your job as an adventurer comes with its risks, and though they may not show it, but the knights of favonius often worry about your safety. haha, on more than one occasion, i've caught a few of them in the tavern wondering about you. do visit mondstadt more often to put their mind at ease, yeah? speaking of mondstadt, how are things over there? i left in such a rush that i wonder if things are frenzied. oh, i know i shouldn't worry, but i don't want everyone to pick up after me. you know how lisa hates doing work. kaeya's often busy too, travelling to sumeru and whatnot. albedo and sucrose are often busy with their experiments too, so i doubt they'd have time. and amber! how is she? poor girl, i heard her father passed on recently. she will get through it, i'm sure. and little klee, oh, i hope someone's able to keep her company. ah, am i rambling too much? i apologise, i've just been so worried over them. if you don't mind me asking, how has barbara been? i was her only family, since she isn't that close to the ragndinvr brothers, but i was always swamped with work. i do hope she's doing better. i never did get the chance to say i'm proud of all that she's accomplished now, did i? in that sense, i think i've failed terribly. enough about me, though. where has the wind taken you to? what else have you seen? and paimon, she's still with you, isn't she? take care of each other, both of you. come back to mondstadt when you need a break, its doors are always open for you. i hope to see you again, dear yn. may the wind bless your travels. best regards, jean gunnhildr NEUVILETTE! dear yn, ahem, is that how you start an informal letter? i apologise in advance, i am unused to sending such letters. now that you have left fontaine, things have strangely been a little duller. i often find myself looking up from my desk, waiting to see your face as you hand over a bottle of water from yet another one of your travel destinations. i thought i had sampled water from all over, but alas, you have once again proven me wrong. it was always a delight, however, to watch your expressions as i comment on the taste. i think, in some ways, it has helped me identify the subtle cues of humans. for example, when you lean in just a little when i speak, it shows your interest in my opinion. conversely, when your fingers start fidgeting, i know i've overstepped. i do not wish to bore you with an incredibly long letter, so i shall keep this as concise as possible. as you travel across teyvat, you will face victories and defeat. i know that your fairy companion will, sooner or later, tell you this, but you need to know that you are a traveller unlike any other. you are stronger than most, kinder than most. your strengths are built from your weaknesses, so one loss is just another stepping stone. with that said, i wish you all the best in your travels. when the time comes, let us sit down and have a meal, my treat. warmest regards, neuvilette

a/n: the story mentioned in zhongli's part is actually true! it's about 伯牙, a guqin player who wrote 水仙操 and 钟子期, a woodcutter. their story is more about their devotion towards each other as friends despite the staggering difference in class. you can read about them here.

[stinkysam]

Monkey D. Luffy - Maybe the paradise was the friends we made along the way.

Warning : slight marineford spoilers

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "let's say reader's dream is to find "paradise" and he's so so close to get it but that means leaving luffy and the crew behind so he has to say the goodbye (with some tears ofc) then the crew leaves but days even months later they're under danger and unexpectedly reader arrives to help them, when they all see him back it's bc he realized that the crew and luffy were his home and paradise (ofc he confesses to luffy in that moment lol)" - @vainillacookie

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

A/N : since it's canon everything that happened before the timeskip happened in a few months, readers comes back before the timeskip, so during the marineford arc

"Are you sure ?" Asked Nami.

"Mh. I have to."

"We're going to miss you." Said Usopp.

"We better hear about you." Added Zoro.

"For once, I agree." Sanji said, lighting a cigarette.

You chuckled at their words and hugged them too, your hand patting their backs. You were going to miss them.

"You will. And I'll be back before you get to miss me. I'm close, I can feel it."

They smiled back at you, supporting your need to go a separate way for your dream.

"If you need us…" Nami began.

"Yeah, call us and the great captain Usopp will come to you !"

"Thank you, guys…" You smiled as you gave them a wave, before turning and walking away, leaving the kitchen.

Only one person remained.

Luffy.

He didn't understand why you had to go alone to find that damned "paradise".

You could find it together in the Grand Line ! But you had apparently already made up your mind.

"[Name], I'm sure we'll find it on the way ! Just like the All Blue for Sanji !"

"It isn't said it's in the Grand Line, Luffy."

"And ?"

"It means I have to roam all the seas to find it, but you, it's said it's in the Grand Line so you only have there to go !"

Luffy crosses his arms and frowns, clearly disagreeing but unable to come up with something.

"I still don't think it's a good idea."

"I'll come back when I find it."

"..." He stared at you, unsure. "You promise ?" His voice is softer, interest piqued.

"Yes. I promise, Luffy."

"Because if you don't, we'll come for you." He announced, still frowning.

"I know. I hope so."

He hummed, groaning, not wanting to let you go. You smiled sadly at him, ready to say your goodbyes and he quickly wrapped his arms around you to hug you.

"You better come back." He said quietly, a small smile on his face. "You'll always be a part of our crew."

You nodded, hugging him back, holding him as close as you could before parting. You tried your best not to cry, not really wanting to leave just yet. But you had to.

"Find it. Find that paradise."

"On it, Captain." You smiled in return, kissing his cheek on a whim before leaving the Merry, planning to stay in Logue Town for a few more days to continue your research.

Days had passed and your search continued. You had found a small boat and left Logue Town. You visited islands after islands to find your paradise and quickly days turned into weeks as you roamed the other seas. You couldn't stop thinking about your friends and Luffy, often seeing their bounty show up in the newspaper, always growing. It seemed like he made new friends along the way. Chopper, Robin, Franky and Brook.

-

Months had passed and you were now on the Grand Line, looking for Luffy.

You hadn't given up on your dream, you still knew that Paradise existed but now you knew where.

Why did pirates have to speak in riddles all the time and hide everything ? Couldn't they just say things ?

Luckily for you, you knew where to find Luffy. You've heard his brother was going to be executed and there was no way he wouldn't go there to try and save him. So you did the same, hoping you'd find him amongst all those marines and pirates.

You ran and ran, killing everyone that tried to stop you until you saw him, wearing a yellow shirt.

"Luffy !" You yelled running to him.

His eyes widened and a smile instantly appeared on his face. He kicked a few marines on the face as he ran to you, arms wide open, ready to welcome you in.

Within seconds you were reunited, lengths of arms wrapped around you, caging you against him as he laughed.

"What are you doing here ?! Did you find your paradise ? Are you coming back ?"

You laughed at his questions, he looked so happy to have found you.

"Yes, I found it now, it's by your side, Luffy."

He looked at you, slightly confused by your words.

"What ? I'm the paradise ?!" He smiled, laughing, not understanding.

"Yes, no. The crew is the paradise. You're my paradise, Luffy !" You cupped his cheeks and he grinned.

"So you're coming back ?"

"Yes !"

"Good ! Because I was growing impati-"

You cut him off by kissing him, unable to wait any longer, not caring if it was in the middle of a war with deadly enemies everywhere.

When you parted, Luffy giggled, smiling. Despite everything going on, Luffy was happy. He had you, and was going to save Ace.

[fuck-customers]

One of these days I'm gonna snap and tell this one lead to go fuck herself and probably punch her in the face.

She is always so rude and condescending for no reason. I personally have worked here long enough to not need to ask a whole lot of questions, but I've seen how she treats the new hires when they ask questions and it's extremely disrespectful.

They'll ask a question that sure, is obvious to those who've been working here for many years, but they've only been here a week or so, so it is not obvious to them, no one is born knowing every single one of Store Procedures so managers should be nicer to new hires. Especially since THEY hired them.

For example, this rude ass bitch will listen to a new kid ask a question like "hey I'm out of receipt paper, where do I get more?" Which, in their defense, is in an unlabeled drawer that looks exactly like 3 other drawers right next to it, so...I can understand how a new person wouldn't be able to immediately figure that out. And this rude ass how will be like "UMM...you should've been shown WHERE the paper is on your first day, you've been here A WEEK, you should know this by now." Which. 1. Is unnecessarily rude and 2. I've seen how pisspoor the management and training is here, I would safely bet the new hire was never shown where the paper is kept. And 3. The hours are so fucking shitty that I guarantee that even though the new hire was hired a week ago, they've only had 1-4 shifts max and it would not be unsurprising if they were unable to remember after having so much time in between shifts, IF they were even shown in the first place. Plus even if they worked a week straight, it's only one week and they're human and humans forget things sometimes. Chill.

She'll also make passive-aggressive comments about something an employee has done that was wrong (that most likely was an honest mistake) and instead of taking that coworker aside and talking to them privately, she'll make a passive-aggressive announcement over the radio (something like "just so WE ALL ARE ON THE SAME PAGE, we're not supposed to do [XYZ specific thing that coworker accidentally did wrong, and all other employeescan easily deduct who she's talking about, since there's only 1 employee per department]") so all the employees on the floor can hear, instead of just speaking to that individual employee privately.

But her disrespectful attitude does not stop at new hires. No. I've been here much, much longer than her (multiple years longer) and she's so fucking rude to me and other established employees as well.

For example, today, I worked an extended shift, so I had to take a lunch and our store manager told me that she was going to go do something and then she'll be back in a minute to cover my lunch, since I can't just leave my department unattended. So after 10 minutes of her not returning, I ask over radio if she wanted me to clock out for lunch now or wait a few more minutes for her to come back. And instead of just fucking saying "yeah I'll cover you" or simply just not responding considering I WASN'T TALKING TO HER, the fucking lead no one likes comes over to my department and starts grilling me because I was "supposed to already be clocked out ages ago. Why are you still here?" Yeah next time I'm just gonna fucking walk away and go on lunch without confirming that I have coverage. Fuck you.

I've talked to a few coworkers and apparently she's always rude and condescending when speaking to any employee, so I'm surprised she's even managed to last as long as she has (one month) because she's already made an immediate enemy out of every employee that's had the misfortune of interacting with her.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[cliowo]

In this essay, i will explain the reasons why sky children of the light has become an increasingly unwelcoming game to new players and veterans alike-

Yeah yeah i usually only share my words here but tumblr feels like a really comfy place for me to share unfiltered thoughts and i needed somewhere to vent ig (skip if you have no idea what I'm talking about)

When I first started playing in prophecy, sky was a really fun game. We didn't have the request for a guide function then and I'm actually really grateful for it because the joy was in exploring each of the different realms and season areas on my own and randomly stumbling across spirits whose stories were waiting for me to discover. Maybe it was because I was a dumb moth - i didn't even know how to access seasonal spirits trees - but the pressure to cr just wasn't as intense as it is for moths today. The back to back seasons and "days of" events seem to have sucked the fun of exploring the world of sky for moths because they're so focused on grinding for candles/hearts/event currency that they just dont slow to smell the in-game roses anymore. And the thing is I get it because there's just so many new cosmetics as well as older ones from past seasons and events to farm for.

I mean sure you don't have to collect every cosmetic but 1 cape costs like 70 candles on average, same for a pair of pants iirc, a prop/acessory at 40-70 candles (70 if its an instrument??) , and hair at around 40-50 candles; and the best part is you can only earn 20-21 candles max in 1 reset 🤡 Add all of that plus the need to look for event currency in fear of facing such prices in the event rerun and you get stressed out moths facing existential crises every 2 weeks when ts arrives😀 Sorry moths, the economy is bad irl and just as bad in sky.

And what of the veterans? Yeah, well, we get no friends as everyone starts to quit the game and those that stay live off copium revisiting the places we once visited with friends- Or maybe that's just me

New friends, you say? *cue flashback to moths begging for help with cr* we exchanged like maybe 5 sentences max at chat benches🥲 i have nothing against helping out but it does make it difficult to form a bond when they disappear right after and you fade into their constellation of ubers

And then we have the seasons.

... Honestly the only season that made an impression with me after aurora was the recently concluded season of the 9 coloured deer, which was also another collab season💀

I actually had to check the sky wiki for this:

Remembrance - ironically very forgettable. What was the story again? Was it the one with the group of spirits living in one specific hole in vault like why- vault is bigger than that sad hole- OH THE PLUSHIES okay maybe this one was passable... im trying okay

Passage - ??? Havent finished this season's quests so uh- so far it seems like... a cult..? In isle...?

Moments - if they wanted a camera in-game, they could have just added it to like the days of sunlight event (the camping one) or smtg. They did not have to force a season for a camera💀 imho the camera was the only thing worth mentioning abt this season and i don't even take pictures

Revival - i suppose aviary is pretty and it's nice that the spirits have somewhere to stay now. Not particularly impressed. Don't really remember the story in this one.

...i heard rumours of a furniture season after the 9 coloured deer. Looking forward to hearing what they'll name this one lmao

The quality of "days of" events is still acceptable to me. Just maybe ignore the numerous iaps and the fact that we have multiple umbrellas but only 1 is f2p (don't understand whats up w that btw)

And also the recurring bugs💀 I've been playing for at least 3 years and I've faced these bugs/problems multiple times:

1. Unable to light frends constellations because the screen just yeets itself into oblivion or some random environment feature where i cant press the button

2. Game crashes (after every update istg-)

3. Splitting servers

4. Sky discrimination and gate keeping, aka refusing to let me open the game

5. Being unable to collect currency/dailies (it's not my internet i checked)

The lack of compensation is another matter entirely

I don't know man I'm tired. The only reason why I still have it installed is because it's my only link to the people I used to have fun and relax with. Not everyone has discord or insta or some other social media.

If you made it this far thank you for coming to my ted talk. Feel free to leave your thoughts- just remember to be respectful

Tldr:

The sky economy is bad. For everyone. Moths (and maybe even vets) are stressed out and vets are losing friends. The seasons are increasingly dull and the long-lived bugs are frustrating.

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

"That was the worst thing I've ever experienced in all of my life. I never imagined something hurting more than my mother's funeral, but...but I...."

"Yeah. Me too. I keep thinking that they're just going to pop out from the hall and laugh at how gullible we were for thinking they were gone. I-I...I don't know how to keep going anymore. I'm just so tired."

Queen Maura and her very relieved to be back as consort, Ulyssa, stood in the echoing chambers of the Twikkii Island royal crypt, trying to process the events of the day.

They had entombed Spencer and Alysiara in the newly created family vault for Maura’s dynasty mere hours ago, but neither of them knew how to move forward. The service was finished, people had sobbed and told the royal couple how dearly the prince and princess would be missed and then left. The royal guard had gently hinted to the queen that it was time for her to leave as well, but those were her children. How could she leave them behind in a cold marble tomb? She had never left them alone without supervision in all of their short lives, how could she just leave them now?

"You did good today. With your speech, I mean. It was very moving; I think the public responded to it well," Maura said quietly, still staring at the marble walls that held her children. "You...you handled the regency better than I'd expected too."

When Ulyssa shot her a nasty look, Maura tried to understand why. Nothing made sense in her mind anymore, and it took a moment to realize that her wording had been insensitive.

"No, I didn't mean...I just tried to imagine doing it myself if my mom had...had lived a little longer than she did. I know I'd be an anxious mess, barely holding it together. You did everything to make sure that we could bury our children together, and I appreciate that. Truly."

Ulyssa nodded curtly, but felt her shoulders loosen slightly at the earnest remark. It had been some time since her wife had paid her a true compliment, and Ulyssa wasn't used to it anymore.

"We're on the same team, Maura. You prepared me for the possibility the entire time we dated. I'm here to support you; that's what a consort does. It wasn't easy, but I did my best because you're my wife. I care about you."

Maura looked away from Ulyssa's unwavering stare, unable to summon the courage to talk about her feelings on their marriage in a place as gloomy as this.

"What do we do now? Do we just go home? It feels wrong."

"It's not like they're here anymore, Maur. It's okay to leave. They're in a better place than here, waiting for us to join them someday."

Maura stared at her wife she had suddenly sprouted an extra head.

"You're suddenly spiritual," she commented. "I never thought I'd hear you say something like that."

"That's not true," Ulyssa replied, crossing her arms. "I've always thought about life after death, you know, since my mother's a zombie? Things just seem a little clearer since the service. Claudia passed on a message to me from her parents."

"Claudia did what? When did she talk to you? I barely saw her the entire time."

"People want to talk to queen who nearly died, not the consort who held things together for a few days. Claudia and I talked quite a bit, actually."

Maura froze, unsure of how to process this information. Had Claudia truly tried to ease a grieving mother's mind with supernatural knowledge, or was this some kind of deception? Both options seemed equally as likely, but Claudia had always made it quite clear how she felt about Ulyssa. Maybe Claudia sympathized with her now as a mother. Maybe she was trying to turn Ulyssa away from Maura during a vulnerable time.

"What did she say to you? I wouldn't mind some peace in this whole mess. She could have told me too."

"Well, we're married, Maura. I'm sure she thought I could pass a message to you at some point."

Maura recoiled at the hostility in her wife's voice. When had their relationship become this bad? It had imploded with Ulyssa's affair, but it had been cracking ever since the day Maura’s mother had died. Had it really taken a near death experience and losing two children to open her eyes to what should have been obvious? She and Ulyssa hadn't truly been alone together, being honest with themselves in years.

"Yes. Yes, sorry, that makes sense. I've just talked to so many people today, I thought that Claudia might have wanted to be one of them. What did she say?"

"That our children were happy," Ulyssa said slowly, ensuring that she repeated Claudia's phrasing to preserve the accuracy of the information. An afterlife was somewhat difficult to picture and Ulyssa didn't want to get it wrong. "They're being guided by your family and adjusting well. There was some mention of Alysiara running some kind of horse farm, I'm not sure if that's a euphemism for something or not. She does love horses. Spencer and your mom have been spending a lot of time together, and she's loving being a grandmother, despite the circumstances." She paused to take another deep breath. "There was nothing we could do to save them; it was just their time. Claudia said not to blame ourselves because once a death has been written in Death’s records, there's no changing it. It's not our fault, Maura. I didn't think I could spend the rest of my life living with the guilt of not being there to protect them, but there was nothing I could have done to change what happened. There's nothing Adrian or Trent could have done either."

Maura’s eyes fell to the floor, suddenly filled with regret.

"You heard about Adrienne's new title already?" she asked quietly. "That decision is mine to make and I won't revoke it. She deserves to be rewarded for saving my life."

"She does, yes, but that's not why you've made this choice. You want to punish your cousin, one of the few remaining blood members of your family, for not stopping something that was beyond his control. At least be honest about it; we can all see why you're doing this."

Maura paused again, unsure of how to respond to that accusation.

"I don't do well with death," she said at last. "I know that no one truly does, but I seem to be especially messy when faced with it. I hated my mom for letting my father die and remarrying. I let you crack under the pressure we faced when my mother died and didn't even notice how bad we had gotten together. I lost my children and all I can seem to do is lash out at anyone who tries to help. I'm a mess, Ulyssa, and I'm sorry. I try not to think about what my legacy would have been if I'd died. I know that I wouldn't be remembered as a queen as respected and loved as my grandmother. I'd just be 'petty, vindictive Maura' who got herself and her children killed at a stupid family barbecue. Plus, I'd be handing Adrion such a huge responsibility that he'd probably turn out to be just like me in the end. He'd probably grow to resent my memory over the years and hate me by the time we were reunited in the afterlife."

"Maura, that's not true. Adrion loves you, and you'd do anything to help him. You're not a bad queen either. You should have seen the public's response to potentially losing you. You would have been greatly missed."

"I don't know where my father is buried," Maura said quietly, trying to sort through the feelings that Ulyssa's words had raised. She struggled with the memories of her time spent with her own deceased mother. "I should think about him more often, but I don't. I don't even remember him, really. But I'm the queen, I should know where he's buried."

"You're not awful for not thinking about him," Ulyssa replied. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't remember my mother well either. Not...not how she used to be anyway. The way she laughed, the books she used to read to me...it's all gone. She was dead to me the moment she left us for Abe's dad, and now she's forever undead, so we can't even bury her. Her festering corpse still shambles in the restricted zone somewhere, but she's gone. Everything that she was or could be is just gone, and will never come back. I was so angry at her when she died that I never thought about whether I could forgive her and now I don't know if I can. There's no closure, just more hurt."

"You never told me that before. About your mom. I never thought that her non-death bothered you like that. You don't really speak about her."

"The only light in this dark, horrible situation is that our children are properly in a better place," Ulyssa stated firmly. Maura nodded, barely holding back tears. "They can never be like my mother and that's the only kindness the gods have shown us. Do you remember my first boyfriend, Zane?"

A quick smile graced Maura’s lips before she could fight it.

"I remember you sitting in your dorm room trying to tell yourself that you loved him. You were so cute back then, trying to find yourself and rewrite your life. I always admired that about you."

"I watched Zane's corpse try to attack the people he loved. It wasn't anything like Zane was, not even close. I can only imagine that my mother is the same. It is a blessing that our family won't be subjected to that."

Maura nodded solemnly, tears once again flowing down her face.

"I underestimated the way you were raised," Ulyssa said if only to break the silence that had fallen between them. "From the outside, you grew up in a huge castle, had tons of money and were gorgeous on top of all of that. I used to wonder what such a person could see in someone like me, what we could have in common. But it was all a lie. Royal life is dangerous and frustrating, and unrelenting. You never got to mourn your dad because the queen said so, you even suspect she had something to do with his death. Your mother and half-sister died right before your eyes and we are still powerless to find their murderer. I underestimated everything that you've been through when I should have been supporting you."

"I'm sorry about the baby," Maura blurted out. "I was just so angry and hurt about your affair. I thought that if I had a child with someone else, then we'd be even and we could move on with our marriage. Naming her and caring for her couldn't have been easy to deal with, and I'm sorry. I'm not sure that I would have handled it as gracefully as you did, had it been Georgiana's birth and you were unconscious."

The very thought of Maura handling anything to do with Georgiana with grace was enough to choke a small laugh out of the consort.

"No, I don't think you would have either," she agreed, still surprised that her body was somehow capable of laughter after all that had happened. "I mean, you named her after the most infamous bastard royal in Pleasantview history, after all. You've never been one for subtlety."

"No, no, I guess not. Mom always said that I was the spitfire in the family. Trent or Callista would have made a more suitable monarch in her eyes, I'm sure. Unfortunately for her, she had me first."

"That's not true and you know it. Trust me, I've learned extensively about the proper role and duties required of just a regent over the past few days and I can honestly say that you need that spark that you have to be a good leader. Trent has always been shy and hesitant; you have no problem making decisions and fighting for what you think I'd best. You stand up to Claudia, but keep her close at the same time. You're a good queen, Maura. Your mother is proud of who you've become."

"Who I've become is a hardened, self-righteous adulterer with two dead kids and a potential war brewing," she sighed wearily. "What's so great about that? Nearly dying has really made me stop to evaluate my life. If I had died, what would people say about me? What would they remember me for?"

"For being strong and kind," Ulyssa supplied. "You're well liked by our people. They trust that you know where to lead this country."

"Well, they shouldn't. I'm a terrible queen. I've openly had affairs, hoping to get caught. I've created a royal bastard out of revenge, and I made Adrian's daughter a rank higher than him, all because his daughters lived and my two children didn't. I'm the worst queen, Ulyssa. Even though my grandmother and her mother did terrible things to keep the throne, they at least knew what they wanted. They had principles they weren't willing to budge on, and I don't have any. I'm a petty, terrible person."

"You're many things, Maura, but you're always the woman I've loved since we were in high school," Ulyssa said quietly, reaching for her wife's hand. To her surprise, Maura reached out and wrapped their hands together. "You're a bitch who has strong opinions and refuses to back down when you think you're right. You like hurting those who hurt you, even if it was by accident. You won't divorce me because you have some weird hangup about divorce that I don't understand. Honestly, Maura, I don't always like the person you are, but I've never seen you act in a way that would threaten your people. You're a good queen, even when you're not always the best person."

Maura nodded. Ordinarily, she'd take offense to her wife's words, but Ulyssa was probably right. She couldn't disagree with her points, even if she had the energy to.

"Ulyssa? Do you still love me? Really love me, I mean. I know you just said that you loved me over the years, but do you still love me the same way you did when we were first married? Do you even want to be with me?"

Maura burst into fresh tears before Ulyssa could give a response.

"We're not what we used to be, and it's all my fault!" she sobbed. "If my mother had lived, we'd still be happy together. We'd probably only have two kids and they would have been born a lot later than our kids. You would have more free time to relax and wouldn't have to deal with all the responsibilities of a queen consort. My mother never mentioned there being a hell when I saw her, but I'm sure that it's real and that's where I'm going to end up when I finally do die."

"When you saw your mother? What does that mean?"

Maura froze, caught in a lie of ommission. She hadn't quite found the words to tell her wife about her experience yet. Telling Claudia was one thing, but Ulyssa didn't have reapers for parents.

"Uhhh...I was going to tell you, I wasn't sure of what to say," Maura admitted. Beside her, Ulyssa crossed her arms defensively. "When I was unconscious, when you were queen regent, I saw my mom again. I don't know if it was real or a dream, but Claudia thinks it was real and that my spirit wandered away from my body, but-"

"Claudia knows about this, but I don't?" Ulyssa snapped. "What the hell, Maura? You remember what happened while I was busy running your country and you didn't tell me? Why?"

"Well, Claudia has reapers for parents, and I just wanted to be sure that it wasn't just a dream. I was going to tell you this week once I had more time to think about it. It's been so busy, and I didn't want to get anything wrong."

Ulyssa raised an eyebrow at this explanation but remained silent. That excuse was at least plausible, even if it was infuriating. Still, as Maura’s wife, Ulyssa should have been told about a near death experience and they could have talked to Claudia together.

"I saw my mom," Maura confessed. "She was there to talk to me and I asked her some questions. She told me that my father's still alive. That he might have been kidnapped by the Red Queen all those years ago. I have Adrian and Trent running down leads to find him. Maybe he's been kidnapped this whole time, just waiting for someone to rescue him! I have to try to look for him."

Maura tried not to look suspicious, but probably didn't succeed. If Ulyssa was pissed off about Maura not telling her about seeing her mother, then Ulyssa would definitely be furious that her wife didn't immediately tell her about seeing their lost children. It was better to just leave her with the information from Claudia's parents that she already found comfort in. How would Ulyssa ever even find out that Maura had withheld the information? It was highly unlikely that Claudia would ever talk to Ulyssa nicely again, and her parents never spoke about work or the afterlife if it wasn't important. Ulyssa would never know and she therefore couldn't be angry at Maura for confiding about their children with someone else.

"Your father is alive?" Ulyssa gasped. She looked shocked enough to only ask questions on that subject. "How? Wouldn't there be a ransom if a foreign queen took the crown princess' father? She should have at least wanted to gloat about it. Most psychopaths in movies like to gloat.

And are you sure it was Queen Charlotte? Did your mom really say it was her? There were more dangerous people than the Red Queen back then. Was your great-grandfather, Ben, still alive? I mean, we have to hold the Goldman Memorial Ball every year now for everything he did to just one of his kids. The man liked murder, and he didn't care if he killed family or not. There's that creepy lot on our border with Strangetown that he used to use for god only knows what, after all."

Maura paused to consider this explanation. It wasn't a bad idea. She wasn't sure when King Ben had died in relation to her father, but her grandmother knew about that lot. Crystal Cove's Queen Celeste attacked the Red Queen of Pleasantview and locked her prisoners in the cells that authorities had discovered there. It was a place that was well known by her ancestors. There was a real possibility that her father had been taken there at some point. It wasn't much, but it was a lead.

"It's worth looking into," Maura conceded. "I mean, Queen Charlotte is the obvious suspect, but you're right, I need to keep an open mind."

She reached out to embrace her wife, and to her grateful surprise, Ulyssa accepted the hug.

"I do still love you," Ulyssa said. "The answer to your question earlier is yes. I've never stopped loving you, and I never will. Even if you're a little petty sometimes, none of that matters. We're not the same people that we used to be, true, but I want to work through things and be a team again. Can we be a team going forward, Maura?"

"I'd like that." Maura released her wife with a small smile.

"Claudia did mention something weird about Zane during our talk. Something about how he was pissing everyone off in Arkhelios? Has she mentioned anything weird like that to you?"

"Not that I remember," Maura replied honestly. "We don't really talk about Arkhelios unless we have to discuss Victoriana's father. Which we almost never do, by the way."

"That's strange. I wonder if it was part of the message from her parents then. Though, I can't imagine why Zane would cross paths with the Goldmans."

The sound of tears interrupted the couple. The children were downstairs being watched by the royal guards while their parents struggled to find a path forward. They had been quiet so far, but clearly the queen and consort had run out of time for adult conversations. They still had a family to protect.

"It's okay, honey. We'll go home now and make some hot chocolate," Ulyssa promised as Adrion clung to her. "We can all change into our pajamas and read a story together. Our family has changed shape a little in this lifetime, but you'll always have your brother and sister watching over you. We'll see them again, I promise."

"Your baby sister is waiting for us back at home," Maura added, stroking Georgiana's back soothingly. "We need to be strong for her and for our people. It's our job to make sure that our subjects feel safe and we can't let them down."

Ulyssa fought back a groan at her wife's words. They had been raised quite differently, and the children did have royal duties to perform, but couldn't Maura hear how callous her words would be to a grieving child? The Durant family was overly affectionate, especially Jorah, and there had still been duties expected of them in Arkhelios. Maura couldn't hate the fear her grandmother had inspired in her about royal duty and still pass on that same mindset to her own children.

But then again, not learning how to guard their minds from the stress and the danger of the crown didn't help them either. Surely, there had to be a compromise between letting their kids just be kids and dumping the same trauma on them that had shaped their mother's capacity for cruelty and spite.

Viola watched her parents guardedly. They had been gone on the upper floor of the tomb for what felt like days and for once, they didn't seem to be shouting at each other. Things would never be the same without her siblings, but maybe, just maybe, they could make it through this as a family.

[doctordragon]

TW: institutionalization, assault, transandrophobia, drugging mention

When I was institutionalized, I was violently thrown to the ground and held down by a grown man (I was a minor at the time) because I didn't want to stand in the 'right gendered line' (the facility had 'mixed genders' but they separated boys and girls in different parts of the same room. Couldn't sit on the same couch, or stand in the same line). Afterwards I was cornered and threatened with another violent assault and drugging if I didn't 'behave' (I was never been violent or aggressive the entire time, I just didn't want to stand in the line of my agab, and was even willing to compromise and stand and sit on my own but they weren't willing to compromise with me) by the man who assaulted me.

The kicker? I'm "tme", the staff knew I was afab (and deadnamed and misgendered the whole time too), I'd not even started hormones so I looked at most like a tomboy. But of course I could never understand how evil mental health facilities could be (never mind the long history of punishing and institutionalizing gender non-conformity in afab people, the trans community supports erasure apparently)

Afterwards they told me it was to protect me. Violently assaulting me to "protect" me, that's something distinct about transandrophobia. Had I been transfem, I think it still would have happened, but then they'd try to justify it by saying they're just trying to protect the girls from me. Because transfems are seen as a danger, and transmascs are seen as stupid girls putting themselves in danger (and of course it's okay to hurt them because 'that's what they signed up for', sigh)

My sincerest apologies if this ended up more like a traumadump than an addition which is what it's intended to be. Just know you are not alone.

That's beyond horrific and I'm sorry something awful like that happened to you. Transandrophobia in the healthcare industry is a rampant issue. I have a lot of transmasc friends and pretty much all of them have experienced some sort of medical gatekeeping or violence based on their gender. A lot of it is to "protect" us as well, like T being a controlled substance to protect poor lost women from themselves. As I type this out, I'm almost on my fourth year uninsured without a PCP and unable to get the top surgery I need because my state has a PCP shortage and I'm struggling to find one that will do trans healthcare. I can't get the healthcare I need (stuff that is unrelated to my transness) because I am transgender.

People who use "TME/TMA" repeatedly demonstrate that they don't understand the difficulty of simply existing in the modern world as a trans man. They don't understand that while trans women face their own unique oppression, trans men do as well. We should be focusing on the similarities of our issues, because I always end up relating heavily to my sisters far more than finding I can't understand.

Thank you for sharing. It means a lot to hear your similar experiences and know I'm not alone in my trauma.

[whumpcloud]

Things End | People Change - Natural Instinct

masterlist

taglist: @whumpsday @whumpycries @whumpwillow @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @whumpshaped @suspicious-whumping-egg @chibichibivale @melancholy-in-the-morning @zillastar13

content: whumper turned whumpee, vampire whumpee, bad caretaker, references to torture (sensory deprivation and sun burning), starvation, begging, muzzled whumpee, dehumanisation

Clary's feeding him now.

Well, maybe that's a stretch. She's still keeping her distance, and Cai is still the one that removes the muzzle, but she's there, and that she's even worked up the courage to be there means the world to Vincent.

She knows it, too, and it makes her avoid acknowledging him at all. She goes down, she stands there, and she goes back up. And it makes him so happy.

Clary screams into a pillow. She hates him, she does, for ripping her away from the world and making her terrified to even step out onto the porch at sunset. She saw exactly what the hunters did to him and she has a violent urge to do it all to him, a thousand times worse. Chain him up and make him scream for mercy.

But he would do it and thank her, and that's the part she can't stand.

Because nobody should ever suffer so deeply that they'll thank you for the pain?

No, it's because she wanted to make him that way. Not anyone else. She wanted to break him down to this shell and then keep breaking. Didn't she? Doesn't she?

She feels dizzy.

Cai raps her nightstand and tries to offer her a smile when she looks up. "I'm going to feed him. Coming along?"

Clary sighs, and nods.

Vincent is somehow beginning to look worse. Clary thinks it's that he's fed - his newer injuries have bled a little, and she isn't sure Vincent knows that she's noticed it. He's bruised, too, around the wrists and throat and ankles. Vampires need blood to heal, same as a human, they just do it much faster.

Cai's figured out that he can thread a straw through the basket muzzle so that he doesn't have to take it off, and something about that nags at Clary, but she ignores it. This is what she wanted.

"Thank you," Vincent says, half-smiling.

She watches him, the way he holds and drops the bag. Better than anyone she knows Vincent can't control his strength, and he's been progressively clutching it tighter, leaving marks in the plastic. He's not so weak anymore. She finds herself unable to be afraid even so.

"Cai, I want to be alone with him," she says.

Her brother turns towards her. "What?"

Vincent freezes. This is it. This has to be it. She's finally realised that he wouldn't dare fight back and she can do whatever she wants to him. At least there's warning. A moment of preparation. Unlike the hunters, where they deprived him of his senses until he didn't even have the privilege of hearing their footsteps coming towards him.

"Just go, I'll be fine," Clary says.

"I'm cuffing him," Cai signs sharply.

"I don't need you babying me," Clary replies. "Go."

"I'm not-" Cai groans and takes a deep breath. "Please. It's for your safety."

"I'm perfectly fucking safe!" Clary snaps, then shuts her eyes and clenches her fists when Cai recoils. "You've been getting close to him for days and he hasn't done a thing. This is my trauma. I get to handle it how I want."

Cai hesitates. "I know. I'll… go."

Vincent whimpers when Cai turns back, and shakes him by the collar of his shirt.

"Hurt her and you won't even be able to beg when I'm done with you," Cai hisses. "Got it?"

Clary seems annoyed, but she doesn't step in. Vincent nods, and Cai lets go.

They're alone. She's alone with Vincent.

"Is he outside?" she asks.

"H-Huh?"

"Cai. Is he outside the door? You can hear him, I know you can."

Vincent listens. He's gotten used to the sound of Cai's heartbeat. He nods.

"So if you do anything, he'll know."

"I understand," Vincent says. "B-But I won't. I promise you, I won't even touch you."

She stands there, for what seems like a long time, saying absolutely nothing. Vincent shifts on his knees and she flinches. He keeps still after that.

"How did you get caught?" she says, and it's quiet, but it sounds loud in this room.

"I was careless," Vincent mumbles. "I picked one off a group. It was my bad luck that they were a group of hunters."

Clary scoffs. "Don't be stupid. You think I'm gonna believe that?"

"It's the truth."

She searches him, for any sign that he's making it up to seem weaker than he really is, but she can't sense it in the slightest. He attacked a group. Why would he even contemplate it?

She takes a step closer. "Why did you keep asking for me?"

"I missed you."

"Like hell you missed me," she growls, and he flinches. "You left me to die and you wanna say you missed me?!"

"I'm sorry!" Vincent whimpers, and presses his forehead to the floor. "I know, I know I'm awful, I shouldn't have done that to you, I'm sorry--"

"Shut up!"

Vincent digs his nails into his palms but he keeps his mouth shut.

"You abandoned me!" Clary snaps. "You got bored of me and left me bleeding out in the woods and you expect-- you expect what?!"

"...C-Clary, I didn't…" That isn't what happened, is it? Vincent doesn't remember clearly. "I wasn't bored of you. That's not what happened."

"Don't just tell me that's not what happened," Clary snarls.

"I d-don't… remember. I'm sorry. I should remember, I'm so sorry." Vincent can hear her getting closer. "But I didn't… I didn't want to. I never wanted to."

"I was a plaything to you."

"No, you weren't," Vincent whispers. "I'm sorry, I know I… I used you, but you were always a person. Even when I said you weren't. I didn't mean it, I-- you were everything to me, Clary. You still are. I wouldn't lie to you, not now, please."

There's no way she should believe him.

He holds up his hands, keeps his head on the floor. "I-If you want to hurt me, I'll… I'll bleed, now. If you want that. Is that what you were waiting for?"

He sounds almost fucking hopeful. He clearly doesn't actually want to feel pain, she can tell that much. But he does want her to hurt him. He's practically desperate for her to hurt him.

"Just… get up," she mutters. "Stop doing that. You look like an idiot."

Vincent sits up, forcing himself to do it slowly. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

She kicks him in the chest, more out of blind frustration than anything. It doesn't hurt that much, but Vincent whimpers like it does. He's gotten good at that. Screaming louder than normal, whining on purpose, begging incoherently when he could easily form the words please and no and stop. Sometimes it made them stop sooner. Mostly it did nothing, but it was worth trying, because it made them smile in that skin-crawling way and tell him he was taking it so well, bloodsucker, maybe I'll only leave you in the sun for an hour instead of two and he could hope.

Vincent jumps when Clary's hand is placed on his cheek.

"I-I'm sorry, I'll stay still," he murmurs.

Clary doesn't reply. She's shaking, of course she's shaking, but he keeps his mouth shut, regardless of the muzzle. Is she going to slap him again? That's surely far less than he deserves.

Her hand creeps behind his head. Her eyes are locked to him. Watching like a hawk. He doesn't move. He stares straight ahead.

He feels her pulling at the muzzle, and then it falls from his face onto the floor. He wants to stare up at her, but he tenses and forces himself to be still.

Her wrist is in front of his face.

"Nnh!" Vincent opens his mouth on instinct and promptly shuts it. Her pulse, he can see and hear and almost feel her pulse under her skin. He never once fed from her wrist, but he has a few times in years past, and he's sure he could do it.

Vincent tries to pull back, but Clary holds her wrist up against his lips and his teeth scrape her skin and he could drink human blood again if he just pierced her skin and took it.

Animal blood is not enough. It will keep him from starving, but just a little human blood will make him feel almost alive.

Clary watches. Clary says nothing.

"C-Clary," he whines. "Clary, please, it-- can I? Please, can I? Please, please. Only a little. P-Please."

Permission. He wants permission from her. Clary grits her teeth. She wanted him to take it, to prove that he's exactly how he is in her fractured memories.

Vincent didn't change. His captivity just brought one side to the forefront, the side of Vincent that cried as he held her, that brought her almost anything she asked for in an attempt to make her happy, that might have even cared, if Vincent was capable of doing that, if she believed Vincent was capable of doing that.

"I hate you," she hisses.

Vincent lets out another soft whimper as Clary locks the door. Was that a test? But she acted as though he failed by not feeding from her. Did she want him to? Surely not.

He brings his knees to his chest and hides his face in them. Was it because he begged? Was it because he considered doing it at all?

Natural instinct is no excuse. He should've been better than that, after all of this, after all of this pain. It wasn't enough. It might never be enough, but he'll happily submit. He won't be a monster. Not ever again.

He clutches the muzzle. He doesn't know how to tie it, but he presses it to his face, and holds it there. He won't bite. Please, he won't bite.

[manystarredface]

Midway Between You and Me

A Jordan/Marie fic with the 'soulmates feel each others pain' au spice thrown in for some zest. :D I wrote a thing for the first time in a long time.

Summary: Five times Marie Moreau felt her soulmates pain and one time her soulmate realized whose pain they were feeling. LINK

or Chapter 1:

Once.

Marie dreamed of her soulmate as often as any other child fully in love with the men and women who flew across their screens and sold them ideals. Which is to say, she dreamed of her soulmate very often. Her sleeping dreams drifted through her mental sieve and left only impressions of her soulmate: a hero, chivalrous like all those main characters in her books. And why shouldn't they be a hero? All the best soulmates were. 

"Mom said she and dad aren't soulmates," Marie whispered one night, before they were trying to actually sleep, feeling quite old as her little sister Annabeth gasped from beneath her Queen Maeve comforter. She imagined her mother's eyes in the rearview mirror as her sister hissed back.

"What do you mean?!"

"I mean Mom said she and dad aren't soulmates. I asked her today when she picked me up from school." The two girls went quiet at that little admission. Then, Marie whispered what else their mom had said. "She also said that they loved each other as if they were soulmates. That's cute." Marie's little smile at her mom's words lasts even through her sister twisting out a 'blech' noise.

"Where do you think your soulmate is?"

"Hmm, maybe they're in Belleville? Wouldn't it be great if they were that close?"

"What if they're in India?"

"I bet they'll become so famous over there that we'll hear about them over here, too!" The two girls giggled at the idea; Marie twisted at the idea in glee. Annabeth wasn't done asking questions, though.

"What if they don't become famous though? What if they're like Mom and Dad and are just normal? What if he's a bus driver? What if he's a butler?"

"We'll still find each other." Her mouth puckers into a frown even as she says it. Surely they'd still find each other. They're soulmates. Everyone always found their soulmates. Even if it took a long, long time. Just like Lottie and Eustace -- she'd find her soulmate. Marie was as sure of it as she was that she had to breathe air to survive. "And if they don't become famous, I'll become so famous that we'll have all the money we need to find--AH!"

"Marie?!"

Marie could not breathe, as if something had taken her lungs and squeezed them within their vice grip. She gasped, unable to take in even a hint of air into herself. In some distant, fuzzy way, she could hear Annabeth calling out, screaming. Like a fish, she laid there while the lights turn on and suddenly her parents were there. Her dad's blurry shape disappeared and Annabeth's cries got quieter, but her mom is above her, pulling at her. Finally, after some moments, she dragged a lungful of air into herself. The pump of her own blood filled her ears first, but eventually her mom's words sink in. Her stomach was cold, she felt her mom's hands there as she lifted her head to look down.

"Oh Marie, I'm so sorry, honey. Come here. Come here." Her mom's arms engulfed her before she could understand the dark stripes that were expanding along her waist and across her torso. The pain finally registered though as her mom held her tight. Marie spent the night of her 10th birthday sobbing into her mom's arms. On the same night she found out that she had a soulmate, she went to bed certain that they had died that exact same night.

Twice.

By her 16th birthday, Marie knew a few things: that her sister hated her, that she was going to be a superhero, and that her soulmate, despite all of the bruises and injuries over the years, was still very much alive. For her birthday this year, Marie had shown herself into the training gym at the orphanage. With practiced ease, she pulled her trusty penknife from her pocket. There was the barest hint of hesitance as she laid it across her palm and dragged it through her flesh. A mumbled 'sorry' was all that she gave to it, though.

Her blood flowed out form her palms, shimmered around her and weakly turned around like a slow-moving hula hoop. She guided it and ground her teeth, waving her hand so as to guide it up and down, cresting and sinking against the backdrop of the gym. At her feet, she could make out the stop watch running ever closer to her best time. Words she lived by circled round and round "Just one step at a time until you reach the finish line," pushed her on and on. Even as the taste of iron filled her mouth without any obvious cause she kept twirling the blood ring through the air, until a lightning strike of pain lanced across her shoulder. No one was in the gym to be impaled as the blood ring blew out like spikes. Marie crumpled to the ground, a hand to her shoulder, and a keen of pain scratched its way out of her.

Frantically, as she shook on the floor, she pulled up the sleeve of her t-shirt and palmed at the flesh at her shoulder. It was blistered, rippled by invisible fire, already rough beneath her fingertips. Would the nurse be able to fix this? As the pain drained away, like the grains of an hourglass, she took deep breaths and let herself settle. It was the first pain she'd received from her soulmate since summer had started. Now with the new school year, they were getting into some kind of fight? Marie pushed her cheek into the wooden floorboards. Had it been a fight or perhaps a response to her cutting her palms? Should she send a message back with another sliced palm? A bruise or burn of her own to remind them that this was a two way street?

She couldn't gather up the strength to pick up the knife again, so she let it be. Let her soulmate fade back to the shadows of her thoughts. The more concern that stepped most prominently into the light of her mind was that Mr. Ashby was going to yell at her for her getting blood all over the floor again.

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 15 - pregnancy

stray kids

1.6k words

female reader insert

Reader x Seo Changbin

NSFW

🖤 warnings: lots of buildup, rowdy coworkers who can’t mind their business, fingering and such, the use of “mommy” but in the literal sense, this one embarrasses me 😳 🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

You shouldn't be nervous, but here you are, so nervous that you've picked one hand clean of nail polish and are starting in on the other.

Changbin's been away for a few weeks now, almost a month if you're counting the nights he'd had to spend away in the country before going abroad, and it's been such a long time since he's seen you in person. It's not the same in pictures, and when you've video called him it's been mostly shoulders-up. So the idea of him seeing you now...

You've popped, is the thing.

For the last few months, you've been exactly the same, and then in the last week or so, suddenly, there it is.

It's normal - you looked it up, it's something to do with your pelvis and where things go at different points in the process - but now, for the first time, you really distinctly look pregnant.

He knew it was going to happen, obviously, that you'd change pretty dramatically over the months, but he hasn't seen it yet, and you're nervous.

Meeting him at the airport and making him react there didn't seem like a great idea, so you'd arranged to meet him at his company and drive home together. His teammates who'd gone on the trip with him would be there, but the three of them are his close friends and would only give him the requisite hard time about it all.

You'd spent the day on that side of town, trying to get yourself to relax. And now you've gotten a text from Changbin that they're at the corporation's office space, that you can come meet him anytime.

It'll be fine. It's Changbin. Just Changbin.

Of course, it's not just Changbin. A point made very clear to you when you walk into the lobby and hear Lee Minho whoop at you.

"Oh, wow!"

"Dude," hisses their team leader, Chan.

Only Hyunjin, angel that he is, comes up to you, glee painted plainly on his face. "Look at you!"

"It's weird, right?" you say, sheepish but unable to resist smiling back at his excitement.

"It's amazing!"

Changbin's mouth is open a little, eyebrows lost under his fringe. You can't tell quite what emotion he's feeling, but it looks like amazement more than anything, which isn't negative. You relax a bit.

"Can I touch?" Hyunjin asks.

You're going to tell him that he can, going to thank him for asking rather than just touching like every old lady you've seen in the last seven days has done, but Chan interrupts.

"We should let them get home," he says lightly. "It's been a while and I'm sure the lovebirds have missed each other, yeah?"

There's some mischief on his face that you don't understand, and you really don't want to understand.

"Good point," Hyunjin agrees, "Changbinnie-hyung, take good care of her."

"Oh, I will," says Changbin, the first thing he's said this whole time.

As if he's been un-paused, he comes over to hug you hello. His whole body tenses when he goes to wrap his arms around you tightly and is a little impeded by the slight but very specific shape of your bump between you, but he doesn't stop coming to give you a kiss that's a little breathless.

"See you!" Chan calls, as Changbin takes you by the hand and leads you out to where your car waits, at the sidewalk. "Have fun."

His tone is still nothing but trouble. You wonder what he knows that you don't know.

Changbin is quiet as he climbs into the driver's seat; you prefer being the passenger most of the time, anyway, but he'd slipped the keys out of your hand before you could ask who was driving tonight. He doesn't seem upset at all, luggage loaded into the back and eyes on the road, but he's definitely thinking about something.

"Are you okay?" you ask, when you're almost home and he still hasn't spoken.

"Mm?" Changbin glances at you. "Yeah, of course."

"You're being weird."

He sighs, struggle obvious on his face. "I know."

Well, if he knows, then you're not imagining it. Self-conscious, you lay your hands over the swell of your stomach, impossible to ignore.

"Do you...not...like it?" you ask, feeling incredibly stupid but not knowing any better way to say what you mean.

"Sweetheart, that is absolutely not the problem."

You don't understand. You look at him inquisitively.

Just Changbin, driving one-handed like usual, the other hand on the gearshift. He's white-knuckling the wheel, though, and there's a tense tic to his jaw. And - oh -

He's rock-hard in his suit trousers.

You have no idea how he flies in suits, but now you're glad he does, because you can see the unmistakable bulge in his pressed beige trousers, hard against his thigh. He's probably been like this the whole time.

"It's not that I don't like it," he says, sounding just a bit choked.

It's that, if what you're seeing is any indication, he really, really likes it.

Well, that is a very different matter.

You leave him be, for the rest of the drive. You arrive at your apartment building, park, and you help Changbin wheel his minimalist luggage up to your door. His eyes are on you, the entire way; you can feel his searching gaze as you put your hand absently on your bump, again, and as you walk, a little different now that your body weight is distributed like this.

You can't be blamed if you play up the slight off-kilter waddle you've got, now, just a bit. Since you have an audience.

As soon as the apartment door is shut behind you, Changbin lets out a groan that he's probably been holding since the office, and comes over to gently, gently cup your new bump in his hands.

"How did this happen so fast?" he asks.

You would answer, if he didn't immediately lean in to devour your mouth in another kiss, a very different one from the gentle press he gave you when his coworkers were still watching. Idly, you think that this is probably what Chan knew: that Changbin was getting desperately, undeniably turned on by you.

"Biology," you say, and he laughs roughly against your cheek.

"I mean it," he says, "You looked the same when I left, and now..."

"Don't act so surprised. You did this to me," you say, plaintively, and while you meant it to be teasing, that's not how Changbin takes it.

There's a glint in his eyes that you know all too well, and you know he's pleased by the way he puffs out his chest, just barely noticeable, just a flex of all the muscle there. "I did, didn't I?"

Jackpot.

"You did," you say, though you're smiling. "I'm gonna get ready for bed. Your kid is a lot of work, 'm tired."

Not one to take kindly to being riled up and left, Changbin follows you demurely as you go into the bedroom, leaning on the doorjamb as you peel off your shirt, back mostly turned to him.

"Damn," Changbin mutters.

"I don't need an audience," you say.

"How about audience participation?"

He's sliding up behind you, hands tentatively around your middle like he's afraid you're going to push him away. You wouldn't, of course. You simply lean back into him as he splays his hands over the bump, chin over your shoulder, a small noise in your ear like he can't quite believe it.

"You look good like this," he says.

"That's good, because I feel swollen and sore," you quip.

"Aw," Changbin pouts. "You need to relax."

"Any ideas?"

"A few."

Considering he's still hard, erection pressed against you, it's not hard to imagine what those ideas might be.

"I missed you a lot," you say, turning out of his arms and depositing yourself on the bed.

It's still comfortable enough to be on your back, early on as it is, so that's how you lay after squirming out of your sports bra (the only one that doesn't pinch uncomfortably, right now) and bottoms. You're left in just panties and the smooth new swell of your stomach, and Changbin is looking down at you like it's the first time he's seen you undressed.

Which, well. It's the first time he's seen you undressed looking like this.

He still just stands there, though, and suddenly, you wonder if he's afraid to touch. Like you're not going to want him, the way you usually do, just because you're a few more weeks pregnant than before.

"Come here," you whine.

He swallows. "Are you sure-"

"You put the baby in there, I'm just carrying it. The least you can do is reward me for it."

The expression that flits over his face at your words – though they feel a little stupid coming out of your mouth- is pure lust. You smile victoriously when Changbin sheds his button-down shirt without preamble and drops down over you, careful to keep his weight off your middle.

His fingers find their way between your legs, his lips are on your throat, trailing down your chest, and you moan at the onslaught of it, careful but not hesitant.

"Can't believe this-" he drags his mouth between your breasts, "-so pretty-" finally, finally, he kisses the crest of your stomach, still so much smaller than it'll ultimately be but a sudden and noticeable distinction that this is really happening.

"Bin!" you half-moan, half-scold, as he drags his teeth over the skin there, tickling.

"Gonna make you come like this, on my fingers," he promises, "And then I'm gonna make sure you're really taken care of, Mommy."