#i think i like him too much to have an unbiased opinion

[im-still-a-robot]

This is why god hates him. No other reason.

[beetlejuicyy]

criston cole is such a female-experience coded character and it is exactly why he is hated so much hear me out

his whole character is built around the idea that rhaenyra seduced him, had taken his dignity and made him feel like her whore. his vow and his duty are close enough to the idea of women's purity and value. you were sullied, you have to marry the man that devalued you, otherwise you are spoiled and unworthy.

on top of that, his identity as a knight, as kingsguard means he is submissive. he is not seen having a lot of opinions or plans to how things are done, the big guys in the council decide and he has to obey to their orders.

on top of that, when he does act at last, it's portrayed in the form of scheming, behind the backs of people, and it's mostly attributed to his sentimental nature, to his inability to think straight, be logical because of his personal feelings. that's how women have been portrayed for centuries.

another thing that makes his character harder to grasp is the choice to have the same actor play the pre-timeskip and past-timeskip criston. 20 years have passed and yet people see him as the same person who refused to be rhaenyra's whore but now he is hypocritical because he is alicent's whore. 20 years have passed and, even if you can't see it on his face, he's bound to have changed too.

in his relationship with alicent he doesn't talk as much. he is obedient, she's the one in charge. she gets to say when and how things happen, he is just at her service.

his entire character is build up to revolve around rhenyra, like women's lives are supposed to revolve around men. if he refuses to acknowledge his status in his youth he is no longer allowed to later (after 20 years mind you) find some sort of comfort in another master. it's like saying "if you say you hate the system why take part in it"?

his pent up rage and hatred is evil, because what happened to him was behind closed doors where no one saw or heard of it. because if they knew of it he would lose everything, exactly the way women have often refrained from talking about their condition in fear of being villainized themselves. in the meantime, the one in power will keep their dignity and spotless reputation like rhaenyra is not even held accountable for having bastards pushed forward as heirs, not to mention the fling she had with criston.

this rant is in no way trying to portray criston cole as a saint or a good guy or trying to justify his behaviour. this is actually the problem with hotd, the effort to draw a line between the good guys and bad guys. have it be either balck or white. it's not, it can't be. you either have complex, morally grey characters with flaws and mistakes or you go watch marvel or something. even there villains are more humanized than in this petty effort of righteousness.

LE: thank you everyone who mentioned the aspect of criston being a man of colour from dorne and the power dynamic between a royal and a lower born who fought his way into the world! this rant was written in a rush and while i couldn't express the latter as eloquently as most of you in the tags/comments, i completely overlooked the former. i love looking through everyone's tags and comments and seeing your takes. as @jazzyclarinet pointed out in the comments, seeing criston's character in this light does not erase or diminish the injustice other women in the story experience.

on another note, i feel like part of the blame is on the way hbo marketed the season with the pressure to pick a side. however, i think what we've been lacking as a society in the post covid years is actual unbiased analysis of art. swallowing up content without any question and making said content a personality trait is harmful. as i said, i don't like criston as a character, but i can make these points about him simply because i watch the show critically and i don't blindly defend a character while trashing another.

[lilislegacy]

The way haters just boil Annabeth's character to just insulting Percy and not seeing theres more to her really shows how much they dont get her. Honestly Percy would hate them for this...

thanks for the ask @emilia9622!

agreed completely. like if you want to dislike a character, go for it. but don’t lie to yourself. don’t base it all off of one thing or flaw and make it 100x bigger than it is.

for instance, i don’t like luke. but it’s for a multitude of reasons. he knowingly betrayed all his friends several times, fought a deadly war against them, and intentionally poisoned the camp. he was percy’s first friend at camp and was a mentor to him, but had no issues lying to him and deceiving him. he literally was fine with the idea of 12 year old little percy being dragged down to tartarus. he also let annabeth be kidnapped and forced to hold up the world. when he finally saw thalia alive, he fought her and tried to harm her. yes i know that there is very complex trauma and history that led to all his actions, and i really do feel so bad for him, but i can’t respect someone who betrays his close friends like that. no matter what. i could go on and on, and don’t get me started about him having romantic feelings for annabeth… UGH. but that said, i understand why people love his character. he’s complex and has a lot of really good history. he also has a wonderful, yet tragic, redemption at the end. he really deserved better. i don’t have love for him, but his character deserves love. i’m happy that there are people to love him so that i don’t have to, because i have personal reasons for not liking him. i think luke is an amazingly well written character and i think rick wrote him beautifully. the truth is, besides the singular part where he admitted he had feelings for annabeth, i wouldn’t change anything about him or his story. so personally, i don’t like him, but i think he’s a great character and objectively, i can see why people love him.

it’s okay to dislike a character. but don’t pick their biggest flaws, strip away all the good parts of the character, and fool yourself into believing that’s all they are. (and then continue to go on tumblr and scream about how toxic and terrible the character is 🙄)

this is what “people can’t handle complex characters” actually means. people often throw that phrase around. people say that about readers not liking jason all the time, but the truth is, people are fully entitled to not like jason. it doesn’t make sense to me, because i LOVE jason. he’s my cutie patootie. but the people who dislike him simply don’t like him. they don’t usually make him out to be someone he’s not, they just don’t like him for who he is. they often just don’t find him interesting enough to break down the more complex parts of his character. it breaks my heart, and i don’t understand, but that’s okay. they just don’t like him. there’s nothing else to it. most annabeth haters, however, make her out to be someone she’s not and then proceed to hate on that one self-generated version of her. it’s so toxic. THAT is not being able to handle a complex character

no, annabeth is not perfect. if she was, she would be unrealistic, and people would hate her for that too. yes, she has excessive pride. she tends to think herself above others, and yes that even includes percy at times. but you know what? she admitted to having that issue all the way back in book 2. she was literally 13 when she explained to percy what hubris is and how it’s her biggest downfall. she’s a self aware queen. she knows it’s an issue and she works hard to correct it in little ways and make sure the people around her, especially percy, know she values them and their opinions. anyone who read the heroes of olympus series unbiased and got to read her POV knows that annabeth holds percy in the highest regard. she respects the hell out of him. even though sometimes she says things that aren’t nice, she doesn’t truly feel that way and always corrects it in some way. she’s not selfish, she’s just tragically intelligent, and it naturally gives her a bit of a complex. it wouldn’t make sense if it didn’t.

and i love her for it. the fact that she has a real flaw that can affect relationships, but that she is self aware of and actively works on, makes her legit one of my favorite characters ever. she’s SO realistic.

but people take that one flaw and make it her whole character. they call her cold and harsh, when in reality she’s one of the most warm and sensitive people in the series. she takes care of her friends. she’s strong and she’s often the leader, but it’s because she’s so loving and kind all the time. she works hard and looks out for everyone. she makes friends fast for a reason. she’s a wonderful person. she’s so, so sweet, and it breaks my heart that people choose to take that away from her.

anyway, sorry i just word vomited so much. basically i agree 100%.

[0daylighthours0]

A Deep Dive into Milkvan and Byler's Development: If Milkvan Was Endgame All Along, Why Was it Written Like This???

SO. I've been rewatching st with my mother, who's never seen it before. And she was a fan of milkvan throughout seasons 1 and 2. Viewing those seasons again I could see why, they're cute. However, come season 3 and INSTANT distaste. And, listen, my mother is not the consciously shipping gal. She simply routes for main character pairings as writers intend, doesn't read between the lines, doesn't nothing. And she does NOT know my own opinions on the pairing. In other words, completely unbiased, uninternet drama influenced eyes. We've now reached season 3 and, after getting through a chunk of it, I asked her,

"so what do you think of Mike and El?"

and she expressed to me that they seem to be, quote:

"not very good together."

She said El's character doesn't suit the way she's acting now (in the first few episodes, concerning Mike), that Mike is more likeable and interesting when he's away from her. She doesn't like the way they ditched the party, and when it comes to their 'making out' the scenes are seen by her from Hopper's perspective (in other words, distasteful). She claimed that they'd be much better characters as friends.

And ya know what, she's right. And I mean like - duh, that's what we've been saying all this time, I'm not stating anything new here. But guys, wouldn't it be strange if the central couple of the show, pivotal that it is liked by audiences and is rooted for by them as they are THE pair, would be so dislikable like this? So uninteresting, so cliche.

I mean, okay, let's do a little mental experiment I like to do to test if I'm not just acting delulu. Let's play a game. In this game, milkvan ARE meant to be endgame. They are in love, they were all along, and they're here to draw in viewers and appease all El stans. Now, seasons 1 and 2 their relationship is honestly fine. Surface level, yeah, people will watch and appreciate them. They perfectly blend in with all the other neat pairings of the seasons, and have their own unique character traits to stand out as a main couple.

Just pretending our mate Will doesn't exist, we now get into season 3. Now, writers have nothing to lose here. If you've finished season 2, you probably like milkvan already. The issue is that they're already together now, so what's the conflict going to be? The arc? And every central couple needs that conflict to stay juicy.

Just take a look:

Jancy: quarrels, struggle to understand one another

Jopper: not yet together, one sided? will they won't they

Lumax: ...

Lumax? Lumax. Huh, guess they were simply together. Some loveable bickering, maintained a friendly dynamic while clearly in closer proximity. Well then, writers can do the same for milkvan right? Well, yes easily. But one might argue that since they are supposed to be THE pairing they need more going on between them than that. So what'll it be? Well, it seems that writers thought,

"hey, why not break them up?"

ok so.. that's a bit risky. I mean you want people to like this ship, if you break them up then that threats: 1. there being a disliking to one or both characters, 2. coming off generic if done incorrectly, 3. the break up might make no sense considering how in love they came off as just a season ago. But hey.. it could work, if done right. Some kind of misunderstanding, similar to Jancy. Maybe an argument leading to a sudden parting. I mean, yeah, Yeah! I can see that. Perhaps Mike is being too overprotective whilst El's trying to sacrifice herself for something, so she NEEDS to separate herself from him attempting to hurt him less. Or, I dunno, something akin. What's crucial is that us, AS THE AUDIENCE, still know them to be deeply in love. I mean, we have to still want them to be together. And we've seen couple trouble before. Just take a look at Lumax season 4 - did you or did you not want the best for both of them as a pair? You most likely did. See, it's doable. So did people like milkvan season 3 the same way, even after a separation plot? No.

Okay well, there are obviously those who'll always love milkvan no matter but, see, season 3 tainted it. "We need to write them like this cause it's more realistic to teenager behavior" my ars. You can make it messy without making it icky. Not only did it sour their unique dynamic, it flabbergastingly stomped on Mike as a character.

Honestly, I feel Mike has always been a mild struggle to write. Season 1 his motivations were 'find Will' (who still doesn't exist in our mind game yet shh) and 'protect El'. This worked well for him. Afterwards though, El and Will became more separate plots to him. But as a main character it remained integral that he be closely linked to them somehow. This sets him apart from Lucas and Dustin, who can easily be given any arc any season as their plots have the flexibility of a side quest nature. Since what Mike does is meant to matter more - with there probably being a better way of phrasing that but you know what I mean - it's harder knowing what he'll do when El and Will (who we'll GET to sh.) are their own separate people. And Mike is just a boy, he doesn't have super powers and he isn't a cop, which leaves there even less for him to do which is of significance. Season 2 writers decided upon having him support Will's arc, making himself of enough relevance by being able to take credit for some Will development in the story, and the plots that surrounded that, and then Mike was thrown a little bone by being the one to come up with the idea of burning those vines in the finale.

Truthfully, you don't really remember Mike's deeds much when reminiscing the series. It isn't like Dustin who's bond with Dart sticks to everyone, or Nancy and Jonathan responsible for kicking out Hawkins Lab. This is due to them, again, being able to traverse all sorts of adventures without limits. But my guy Mike can't do dat. Sadly, this kind of leads to him coming of as a little.. well... insignificant. And I know I know, the Mike truthers are gonna come at my throat. And hey! I love him too. I only want the best for my boy.

This makes season 3 a unique case cause it seems that, for the plot they decided they wanted, writers actually had to almost entirely change his character. I mean mate s2 Mike and s3 Mike are two different peoples, don't even. And I don't believe that the Duffers had their story and character turnouts completely drawn out from the very start at all. If I was to guess, I'd assume they have vague ideas of little plots they plan to include in future, but there is definitely a lot that has come unpredicted or changed throughout st's runtime. And one of those phenomenons are Michael Wheeler. So they decided to make this guy a di-

So they decided to make him more douchy, more movie typical teenage guy. It's not as if he wholly sucked, he didn't, but he didn't really do much. Whined about his girlfriend, separated the party. I mean what even was his arc? (UnLESS–)

You see, if milkvan is written to be loved, then season 3 was strike one. All of its charm was stripped away. It seems they had some cute scenes after their reconciliation, but it's not enough. It's just sort of

"oh, ok, so they're happy with eachother now. yayy."

and Stranger Things should want to be anything but boring. Sure they often enjoy indulging in tropes, but they always do something different with them. Something standoutish. And from this point on milkvan just got dull. Either writers ran out of ideas or lost interest, honestly (still with our mind game of telling ourselves they're meant to be).

But it's okay. Look, so season 3 was a bit rocky, maybe lost a couple of fans for the guys, but it is salvageable. Easily, easily. Looks like we want a plot of Mike struggling to tell El he loves her. Great! Much to work with.

So let's get into it. Season 4! Choices were... made. And, okay, now we can't go any further without bringing in our boy Will.

Mike is intrinsically tied to Will and El and has been from the start. Maybe Will was more of an accident. Maybe s1 Will was just a plot device for Mike, then s2 Will was a plot device again and Mike needed to be there as the main boy character. Come season 3 and it seems their relationship still matters. Will was sidelined - hard - so most of Mike's moments revolved around El. But as his bond with Mike is the only that's been properly built up, that's the only friend we'll get him interacting with in a way that matters. So the Mike and Will tie continues!

But that does not have to be the case for season 4. Now the writers have a chance.

They made Will gay.

Ok so.. ok so yeah that's fine. Yeah! I mean they didn't have to do that, might put them in hot water with the bylers since milkvan is their golden beauty but.. you know what no no that's okay. He's been hinted at being queer since episode 1, why not make it canon! Cool that works. Explore that, especially since we now have Vecna who can easily target Will for this. Give him a boyfriend! Or a guy crush. He's at a new school now? That's cool. Maybe we can explore some new male character Will's taken interest in. Hey maybe he meets someone who interests him which rises to surface his whole sexuality plot and-

he's in love with Mike.

Ok. No. No. What are you doing? What do you mean?? You didn't have to do that. Strike- strike EFING TWO mates! Strike. 👏 efing. 👏 2!

This was part 1. I am tired and gots to get my ars in bed. But ohohoh, do not worry. I am just getting started.

[evillemons]

JUNGKOOK’S IDEAL TYPE (JK pt. 1)

~ a manifestation of his ideal girlfriend. Continuation into part 2 and part 3. Masterlist here.

• Jungkook’s ideal type has been the hardest for me to imagine out of all the members. He is such a curious and adventurous person and seems to lack a level of certainty in his life.

• Because I can envision Jungkook with completely dichotomous types, I’m going to approach his section a little differently than the other members. Here are the two possibilities:

The bad bitch

• ABG vibes. Sexy, mischievous, and a little naughty.

• Appears intimidating on the outside (like JK) and probably also has an intimidating personality (not like JK) (looks like they could kill you, would kill you).

• A little impulsive and a high sensation-seeker.

• May come across as cold to most people, but would show vulnerability around the people she trusts.

• The creative type. They might’ve met during a dance class or photoshoot.

• MBTI: ISFP. Adventurous, artistic, bold, and expressive.

• Her and JK would have a lot in common in terms of their styles and interests, but she would be more brazen and opinionated.

• He’s probably a little intimidated by her but finds her incredibly sexy and alluring at the same time.

• Her style consists of casual streetwear that’s a little edgy, and a love for tattoos and piercings (very Gen Z).

• Leather jackets, cargo pants, chunky boots, cropped t-shirts.

• Potentially a little androgynous looking with her slim figure and dark, baggy clothes.

The good girl

• A good-natured, smart, kind, patient woman.

• Sweet inside and out (looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll).

• While not necessarily a “career woman” like Namjoon's girlfriend, she might have a more traditional 9-5 life.

• She would be very mature and maybe a little older than him.

• He would admire her wisdom and life experiences (like the way he does with RM).

• Generally confident, self-sufficient, and knows how to take care of herself.

• Someone who is friendly and easy to talk to, but not overly loud or extroverted.

• MBTI: ISTJ or ISFJ. Ambiverted, respectful, caring, trustworthy, and dependable.

• They would likely meet by chance during a normal outing or through a mutual friend.

• Feminine and petite. Maybe also elegant and well put together.

• Big, sparkly doe eyes to match his own.

• In the office she would dress modestly and professionally, but would like to wear sundresses on the weekends.

Other notes:

• Like Yoongi, Jungkook is attracted to many different types of people and wouldn’t discriminate based on Race/Ethnicity. Being the youngest, he is quite well traveled and unbiased.

• Sexual orientation wouldn’t matter too much either, but I can see him being a little jealous or insecure if she has dated women or a lot of other men in the past.

• He definitely seems to be attracted to women with some sort of sex appeal. Not too audacious in their sexuality, but not too cute or innocent either.

• He is shockingly independent, and while he would want to feel like he can take care of her, he wouldn’t want someone who is overly needy or lacks self-sufficiency.

• Equally as competitive, perfectionistic, and hardworking as him.

• I do think she would be somewhat athletic or fit, as working out seems to be a priority in his life.

• Even though I can see JK being rather experienced in casual sex, I don’t think he would take choosing a partner lightly. When it comes to a relationship, he would be very picky and want something that is real, loyal would allow him to learn and grow.

[takemebacktowheniwassane]

i've been seeing a lot of falsettos posts recently deconstructing the fandoms beliefs and firstly

holy fuck thank you, i try to steer clear of fandom (and fandom-izing thereof) drama but this is getting a lot more visible recently so here's some little tidbits for you

whizzer brown is not an unflawed character!

okay so i haven't seen enough dissecting this but!!! in the chess game!

the whole point of marvin using that game to determine the ending of their relationship is because he suspects whizzer is constantly deceiving him and wants to prove it.

whizzer LITERALLY proves him right!

he asks marvin to help him along (yes i know he says he doesn't want help, hear me out, it's a little more complex than that) and takes advantage of the fact that marvin is- like- infatuated with him.

he draws him into a sense of false security then starts throwing accusations at him ("since you need a man!" "what?" "who's 'brainy'," "or witty, move.") until hes able to win, which he does with ease because he's been using marvin having this idea that he isn't smart against him.

of course, marvin's side of this isn't the best either but honestly, for once the fandom should focus on a different character when they think 'insane asshole'. typically we should also probably change our perspectives a little to be more unbiased cuz fr guys, this is getting really.. annoying.

i understand he's the most visibly flawed but that doesn't excuse constantly picking the worst parts of this musical (without other context, btw) to use against him.

and this post certainly isn't here to excuse anyone either i've just got a lot of opinions that i wanted to share while falsettos is.. trending? right?

2. marvin's (headcanoned but still somewhat researched) autism

this one isn't brought up as much but when i do see it around, it's kind of a skewed viewpoint.

while rewatching bits of the proshot i realized a lot of different neurodivergent traits that he shows-

he's helpless during I Never Wanted to Love You and is childish and regressive when he's upset (not every autistic person is like this either, i know this is a bit of a touchy subject so i just wanted to add that).

usually when people depict it i see it either toned down or joked about which is fine when all in good fun, and when its done respectfully.

not here to attack anyone, just here to point it out and say that yes :) he most likely is neurodivergent, but despite that his actions aren't condoned. he's still kinda a dick who needs to get his shit together

3. ..the lesbians also have shit going on?

just putting this out there- I DON'T SEE ENOUGH FOR THE LESBIANS! OR TRINA!

the girls in this musical are like thoroughly neglected and i think that's kind of shitty just assuming the fact that william finn put them in to demonstrate how gender roles put people in degrading positions (and he even makes it more prevalent by showing marvin as something like a misogynistic character who forces whizzer into more feminine roles to show the audience what woman have to/had to go through in society).

anyways, the lesbians aren't just there guys. they have a plotline too. in Something Bad is Happening, you derive a lot from charlotte singing about the outbreak of HIV/AIDS and realize how she operates on a daily basis (she's passionate about her work and takes every bad day as a hit to her life and career, explaining in a way that as a black, jewish, lesbian, FEMALE doctor in this time, everything that goes wrong is immediately brought down on her so much more than it would as any straight white male pharmacist-).

cordelia on the other hand has to handle the fact that her girlfriend is so adamant about her work ethic that she can't actually be super present in their relationship at times like that.

but either way she still sticks by her and is constantly trying to be supportive and endearing despite feeling like she's not amounting to her gf who's basically a hero in her eyes.

i kinda just wanted to bring that up because they mean a lot to me and they don't get enough love from the fanbase, thank you for listening to my TED talk <3

[jeysbvck]

it always leads to you (in my hometown)

oh hi, im back after almost a year of not posting fics, and of course it's my main man who pulls me back in! this is my first jey uso fic, so pls comment & reblog & let me know what you think!! i tried to make it angsty, to fit the song more, but i guess that's not the direction my brain wanted to go!!

jey uso x afab!reader

smut, 18+, minors dni!!

word count: 2,420

some people i thought might like this (if you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!): @southerngirl41 @bebesobrielo @harmshake @afterdarkprincess @rollinsland @wrestlezaynia @crxssjae

summary: when you're in town for the holidays, it always ends up with you in jey usos bed for the weekend. this time, it isn't enough, and jey shows you why you can't leave him behind.

You stared out the window, feeling content as you watched the snow fall outside, frost gathering on the glass. You and Jey had spent all weekend in bed, sleeping half the day away and sharing body heat in more ways than one; which is how you spent all the fleeting weekends together. You had so much to do before you left in two days, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave the warm bed, especially when Jey was sleeping beside you, looking like a literal angel.

This had been happening for the last four years and you remembered it all too well; the bewildered, haunted look when Jey locked eyes with you for the first time in years, like he'd seen a ghost. You remembered the ice that ran through every vein in your body when he walked past you without acknowledging you, making you consider whether you were a ghost. You remember lying in your childhood bedroom, old photographs of you and Jey still on your walls, staring down at you, judging you. You knew you'd hurt him when you left, he didn't think your reasons were good enough; but it never crossed your mind that he'd pretend you were a stranger. But as you stared at the posters and photographs on your walls, you realised that you were a stranger now, you didn't recognise the girl in the photographs anymore.

A few days later, you bumped into Jey again, this time you were both alone, walking past the school you used to share, and things seemed different. He opened a dialogue, asked you how you'd been, asked about your life, and before you knew it, you'd been standing in the cold for half an hour. Jey offered you a ride, and you weren't ready for this to end; it felt familiar, but also new. So you accepted and you drove around the small town, commenting on how things hadn't changed. Four hours later, you were in his bed, doing things you had only dreamed about.

You thought it would be a one-off, that maybe the universe was giving you a better goodbye than the first time, a better reunion than the one in the bar. But the next holiday you were in town, he text you, and you ended up in his bed again. Then Jey started surprising you at the airport -sometimes you hadn't even told him what time your flight was- and although he dropped you off at your parents house, it wasn't long before you were spending most of the time with Jey. It was essentially a weekend-long holiday hook up, a way to make you feel less lonely during the holidays and a way to have what could've been -what should've been- if you had just stayed.

Jey stirred in his slumber, retracting his arm that was stretched over you, taking away the warmth and leaving a chill behind, as you pulled the quilt up further, you couldn't help but think of it as a metaphor for how you would feel in a couple of days when you left. You turned your back on the beautiful view outside the window to the -in your totally, unbiased opinion- the more beautiful view next to you. Even after all the years of knowing Jey, he still took your breath away, he still set your heart ablaze. Every time you were here, you took every opportunity to mentally record every detail of him to take back with you. Every new grey hair, every tattoo, every laughter line, every perfect imperfections, you took it all in. You basked in the warmth, the comfort, the happiness that you felt in this bed, knowing it would all be over in a flash.

"Mornin' babe," Jey said, with a sleepy smile, "you're watchin' me sleep, forgot you were a creep."

You hummed in response as you leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his pillow-like lips. "And I forgot you snore." You teased, and Jey scoffed, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss.

"Such a liar." He mumbled against your lips and you smiled, pulling away and finding your place on his chest. Your fingertips traced the lines of his intricate tattoo on his chest, as his stroked your back, soothingly.

The time you spent with Jey, in this bed, the room, the house; felt like a different world. Like reality as you know it didn't exist here, it was just you and Jey, and nothing else mattered. You hated leaving, you hated getting on the plane, going back to your life like you hadn't just left the warmest place you'd ever known.

"So..." Jey started, and you knew what was coming. The dreaded question that he asked every time. "How long we got? Until you-"

You cut him off, not wanting the words to be said, as if it somehow wouldn't happen if Jey didn't speak it into the universe. "I know what you mean, Jey." You sighed. "Can't we just stay in this bubble for a little longer?"

"How much longer? Like, you wanna talk later, over dinner? Or how about the mornin' of your flight so we barely get to say goodbye?" He snapped, and you scoffed at the outburst. "Ay, you're the one who-"

"Okay," you cut him off before he finished the sentence, sitting up and throwing your legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing the robe that had been thrown on the floor the night before as you stood up and pulled it over your body. "You really wanna spend the time arguing?"

"No! I jus'-" Jey groaned and turned on his side, his elbow resting on the mattress. "Okay listen, I know our whole thing; no stayin', no waitin', but-"

"No Jey, this works!" You lied. You knew you were trying to convince him more than yourself, because you knew it wasn't working. If it did, leaving him wouldn't break your heart, you wouldn't spend the year counting down to the next holiday. Nobody in your life knew you like Jey. They didn't know which smiles you were faking, or which laughs were genuine. They didn't even know your coffee order, or your favourite film.

"This works for you? This is enough for you?" Jey asked. "Because it isn't for me."

You bit your lips, you'd expected this every time, you knew it would happen eventually. Jey was always going to find someone who could give him more than you could offer.

"What are you saying?" You asked. "You don't-you wanna end this?"

Jey got his knees and shuffled towards you, leaning up and cupping your face with his hands, his eyes level with yours. "I don't wanna end this." He said. "I wanna be with you."

"Jey," you whispered, hoping he could see in your eyes how much love you have for him. "I can't- We can't-"

"Ay, just listen." Jey said. "What if I came wit' you?"

You stared at him, speechless, your face still in his hands. "That's not funny."

"It ain't supposed to be funny."

"Stop it. You can't just say stuff like this, not in here, not like this when we're all caught up in the bubble!" You said, throwing your hands around. "You have your family here, a life here, you're just gonna leave it all behind?!"

"Didn't stop you." Jey retorted, and you rolled your eyes.

"That was different! I didn't pack up my life to follow someone across the country!" He smirked at you, making you roll your eyes a second time.

"Ay, you think highly of yourself, don't ya?" He joked, but you groaned and pulled his hands away from your face, putting your own over your face. "What if I ain't doin' it for you? What if I'm doin' it for me?" He asked. He pulled your hands from your face and held them. "I know you tell me not to, but I wait, babe. I wait for you to call, to text, I ask your parents when you're comin', so I can wait at the airport for you. I don't wanna wait anymore, I wanna be wit' you, for real, and you can't stay."

You bit the inside of your cheek, refusing to let yourself smile, and you turned your back on him, sitting back down on the bed. He was saying all the right things, wearing your favourite smile, and it was hard to be logical right now. This was never an option, because what if he ended up resenting you? Having Jey sporadically in your life through the year was better than the alternative.

Jey ran his hands up and down your arms, planting little kisses on your shoulder and neck. "Jus' think about it, babe." He whispered in your ear as he kissed your neck. "We can have more than jus' weekends." His hands slid over your skin, grazing your breasts as he followed a path down to your stomach, sending shivers through your whole body. "We can do this-" His hand slipped into your underwear, teasing you. "-whenever we want."

You tilted your head back, leaning it against his shoulder as he nibbled your neck, and you hummed, bucking your hips in an attempt to get his fingers exactly where you needed them. He clicked his tongue before he dug his teeth into your neck, a moan escaping your mouth as his fingers teased your entrance.

His hard cock was pressed against your back, and as he played and teased you, you reached around and grabbed his cock. He rutted against your hand, moaning into your neck as you stroked the long length, the action making him push two fingers inside you. They moved inside you, matching the pace of your hand on his cock; when you slowed down, he did, and when you quickened the pace, he did too.

Jey upped the ante, his thumb flicking over your clit, making your hips buck, your grip on his cock tightening, making it twitch. Jey groaned into your shoulder, and when you ran your thumb over his tip, he pulled away from your hand. "Nah, you're gonna make me cum." He mumbled into your shoulder. He kissed your skin again, before pulling his fingers out of your cunt, making you whimper pathetically. You watched as he slipped off the bed and pushed you backwards on the bed before getting on his knees. "Gotta remind you what you'll be missin' if you leave without me." He smirked, burying his head in between your legs.

You moaned loudly as he flattened his tongue against your cunt, slowly licking every part of you. He quickened the pace, and just as you arched your hips, he pinned them against the bed, while pushing two fingers inside you, his tongue flicking and sucking your clit. This was euphoric, you writhed underneath him as he drove you wild. Jey knew exactly what he was doing and his plan was working, you knew that he could ask you for anything right now -doing that thing with his tongue- you'd say yes to anything and everything.

"So wet for me." He muttered against you, nibbling the inside of your thigh as he fucked you with his fingers. All you could do was gasp and moan as he didn't give you a moment to breathe, sucking your clit and fucking you with his tongue. You tried to hold out, to delay your orgasm, but it wasn't long before you let yourself go, bundling the sheets in your hands as your thighs gripped his head.

Jey pulled back and crawled up your body, his thick, hard cock grazing your cunt, making your body twitch. He grinned down at you, his beard glistening with your juices, his dark eyes full of lust and you pulled him down by the chain around his neck for a kiss, your tongues dancing with each other as you ran your hands down his toned back. He rubbed his cock against your cunt, and you bucked your hips against him. "Fuck me, Jey." You managed to gasp, and he grinned at you, his eyes darkening more. He grabbed your wrists with one hand and pinned them above your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he pushed his cock inside you, moaning with you as your cunt tightened around him.

Your moans were lost in Jeys mouth as your bodies rocked together, your kisses getting rougher and more passionate. His free hand playing with your breasts, switching between them, refusing to let your hands free. "Such a good girl, takin' my cock like this." He grunted and you threw your head back as he attacked your neck once again. Your orgasm was bubbling up inside you, your legs beginning to shake as he fucked you harder and deeper, his own orgasm imminent. He brought his lips back to yours, the kiss slower, but not less passionate, and when he let go of your hands to grip your hips, you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

"Shit, baby, I'm so close." He groaned, burying his head into the crook of your neck, his thrusts getting harder. You rolled your hips making his cock twitch inside you, and in all the bliss and passion as your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, three words slipped out of your mouth.

"Come with me." You whispered, nibbling his earlobe. "So close." He repeated, and you grabbed his head, making him look at you.

"No Jey, come with me." You said, and he looked in your eyes, he flashed you that beautiful smile -one that could light up a starless night sky. You nodded, and he kissed you, just as his own orgasm hit, and he thrusted into you a few more times, his moans being caught by your mouth.

He dropped onto you; his body like a welcome weighted blanket, and you wrapped your arms around him as he lay on your chest. "Did ya mean it?" He asked quietly. You ran your fingers through his hair, and thought about what you said. You hadn't meant to say it, especially in that moment, it had just slipped out. You also hadn't meant to confirm it was in fact, what you meant. But you meant it with your whole heart, and you knew as soon as Jey voiced it as an option, you knew you couldn't leave him behind again.

"I mean it, Jey. I've never meant anything more."

[traincat]

You know something I just noticed? I don't... actually like Peter Parker.

No, seriously, I like the CONCEPT of Spider-Man and yeah, he's funny at times, but... I can't actually get invested in his canon self. It's ridiculous, it feels less like he's an interesting character and more being a superhero is the ONLY way to make him interesting (I know that's the charm), but...

Like, his phrase, "With great power comes great responsability", it feels... I don't know, childish? I like that nobody's FORCING him to be a hero, but he ALWAYS finds a way to make himself feel guilty over something and his assholeness is funny, but... not necessarily healthy?

The only thing going for him is Spider-Man, which ALSO destroys his life and I know that's somewhat unintentional, but I'm kinda tired of him angsting all the time. For instance: him not killing is Noble, him comiting to his City is admirable. It also makes it so he doesn't really prioritize people unless they had a HUGE impact in him and him not killing, makes the WORST consequences imaginable at times.

Or his "I know better" catastrophic. He's a good character for sure, but... I wouldn't want to be him. Like at all, his powers are cool, yet... that's it. I like his concept more than his canonical self (hell, I prefer his FANON self), the only somewhat exception is his Lego version, but that's cause everyone's sillier.

It's that weird or something? 😶

Anon I sincerely mean no offense but there's two explanations for this ask and one is that you're trolling me and the other is that you haven't really read much Spider-Man. I'm going to assume it's the second to be nice and because you've kind of hit two points that bother me in this fandom and thrown them together in the wash: the first is people forcing themselves to like Spider-Man because they feel like they should and in the process forcing him into this little box of bland and inoffensive likability (fanon Peter) and the second is just. being wrong about basic facts about Spider-Man but assuming they're right because Spider-Man being one of the most popular IPs in the world means everyone thinks they know everything about Spider-Man based on one catchphrase and half a Raimi movie.

And it makes me feel like this.

Like this is not your fault! These assumptions you've brought into my inbox are not your fault. Spider-Man marketing is set up around making people feel like they know Spider-Man and it's a fucking problem because it means people come into a six decade long soap opera with hardline beliefs already stamped on them and it is really hard to get people to change their opinions. I know! I was there! I was one of those people! Every day I'm thankful I didn't post fanfiction when I was in my early Spider-Man days because it would make me look like such a hypocrite but also I didn't know Spider-Man until I committed to reading eight thousand comics.

"Him being a superhero is the only way to make him interesting" potentially yes because one thing about Peter Parker that canon makes abundantly clear is that without Spider-Man he is a miserable fucking bastard. Like he sucks so bad. Spider-Man unleashes a deep well of empathy and kindness in him that might have existed but would not have surfaced without his experiences as Spider-Man because it was locked behind a concrete wall of bitterness twelve feet thick.

(Amazing Fantasy #15/Sensational Spider-Man #41)

"Him not killing is noble but" you're thinking about Batman. You are thinking about Batman. Spider-Man "doesn't kill" the way I'm "not writing this post right now." Peter aims not to kill. Peter talks a whole big game about not killing. His track record on that goal is not great. I have a whole post about that here. (cw for discussions of suicide related to Spider-Man vs Wolverine.)

Like, the thing about Peter and I think this is actually one of the biggest things about Peter is that you can't take what he says about himself 90% of the time too seriously. He is NOT an unbiased narrator of his own life. He will say one thing in his own internal narration and then you will be shown something completely different and you need to trust what you see and not what he tells you.

"Gee whillickers I've never done any crime" says man who literally only does crime. (Web of Spider-Man #43)

Two things can be true simultaneously: Peter can have a no kill rule and Peter can be spectacularly bad at enforcing himself on this rule, because he is a giant hypocrite who believes in double standards for himself first and not for anyone else ever after. This is part of what makes him an interesting character -- it is not hard to push Peter over that no kill line. The character will go there. It's up to the writer, then, to keep Spider-Man's I would say unearned squeaky clean no murder image by throwing a wrench into his plans.

(ASM #595/ASM #637/ASM #542)

This is not the place for my unhinged powerpoint presentation about how Marvel has backed themselves into a corner on reversing One More Day because to do so with the appropriate narrative weight calls for Peter to kill the Kingpin. He SAID he was going to kill him. And he IS. (He just didn't say he would do it right now.)

"I wouldn't want to be like him" neither would I!! But I am going to argue that this is where Spider-Man marketing has failed everybody because, while there are certainly traits about Peter you're supposed to admire (for all I have been and will keep ragging on him he is without a doubt a bottomless well of goodness and he is one of the most deeply kind, if not nice, characters in the American pop culture landscape), whether or not you want to be a character is not a good litmus test for what makes a good character.

"With great power comes great responsibility is corny" is like. Did you know that the phrase doesn't originate with either Peter or Uncle Ben. The origin of the phrase is in the ending narration of Amazing Fantasy #15, after Peter stops himself from killing the burglar who killed Uncle Ben. It is literally Stan Lee and Steve Ditko making a point to the audience, and that point was later put in Uncle Ben's mouth. Is it corny because it's actually corny? Or is it corny because it has been so endlessly parodied by bad faith actors that its meaning has been diminished? Because all the phrase is doing is pointing out that people with more power (be it physical, economic, or societal) have a greater responsibility to those with less power than them. Because Peter has these gifts, he owes it to other people to act responsibility. You can sum up Spider-Man as a story about power and abuse: the villains abuse their power. Spider-Man is different than the villains because, though he has great power, he chooses not to abuse it. Spider-Man as a character is a distillation of Tikkun Olam, a Jewish principle that means "healing the world." "You do not have to finish the work, but you cannot abandon it." This is why Spider-Man is street level. He doesn't have to finish the work. He doesn't have to save the whole world. He just has to do what is in his power to do, every single day, and that's where the conflict comes in, because it would be easier for him to walk away, but because he has the power, and because he is an ethical man, he can't. And this concept was distilled down very, very well in "with great power comes great responsibility" because it's a very simple phrase that takes a complex ethical issue and makes it easy to understand.

"Ordinary. Saddest face I ever saw. He tries to smile, but I know it hurts. This is all for my benefit. He wants me to be okay, and he's giving me this." (Spectacular Spider-Man v2 #14)

Spider-Man is not a faceless cardboard cutout you're supposed to endlessly project on and the Disneyified marketing's insistence on that is what ends up with people insisting that a character who has remained popular in the culture for six decades has zero actual personality traits and is instead just some mirror to hold up against the viewer, letting them reflect whatever they want back on him. And it sucks.

And then I, as a person who loves canon 616 Peter and think he's one of the most complex and realistic characters ever written specifically because he is so flawed, end up writing these screeds even though I told myself I wasn't doing Spider-Man discourse any longer.

me @ myself.

But like here's the thing about the second point: you are not obligated to like any character. This has been bothering me about greater Spider-Man fandom (and adaptations) for years because I think there's this incredible push for people to like Peter Parker. There's this feeling like, yeah, you have to like this guy, because he's so popular, and because so much of the marketing is based upon everyone liking him. The truth of the matter is not every character is going to resonate with every fan and that's totally normal. But there's this idea that you have to like Peter Parker especially, because he's the relatable superhero, but no one character is going to be relatable to everyone, and in order to make him more relatable to the widest audience possible (the most desirable to advertisers audience possible) (white cis goyishe straight men ages 8-40) (who might buy a sportscar) his actual personality has to be watered down as much as possible so he can be used, essentially, as a mirror to reflect the audience, instead of as a fully developed character that the audience can empathize with if not relate to. This is why the MCU movies look like that. It's why the last few comic runs have looked like that. You are not obligated to like Peter Parker if he doesn't work for you. There is literally nothing wrong with that. But so much of Spider-Man fandom is built on people who don't like canon Peter and instead erode his personality in various ways to fit him into neat little boxes which is how we end up with fanon Peter, who resembles, in practice, what you're describing a lot more than canon Peter does. And if you like fanon Peter, that's fine. Lots of people like fanon Peter! That's why he's so widespread, because he's much easier for fans to project whatever they want to on him. That's not an insult, but an observation, because I think he serves a purpose. It's not canon Peter's purpose, and it's not a purpose I personally am interested in, which is also fine, because not everything works for every person.

Canon Peter is complicated, and he doesn't always do the most likable thing, and he has a lot of flaws, but that's what makes him interesting and so fully developed. And a fully developed character is one not everyone is going to like. There's literally nothing wrong with that.

(ASM #129)

[guesswhojusttt]

someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little? (love me a little?)

Ren Hana x suicidal!reader

Summary:

You work at a suicide hotline, and get a call from a boy who watches too much anime. It's all downhill from there.

Full story on AO3

Chapter 1: she's my mother, I tell him, but she has never been a mother

Summary:

“Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn.”

― Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

(Note: the text messages are formatted weird on tumblr but are coded into looking like phone texts on AO3)

You sit at your desk- a quick turn in your black spinny chair- and push on a pressure point at the meat of your thumb in a little attempt to calm down. Pull on your headset, adjust the mic, and speak as kindly as you can. “Hey, I’m right here to support you- this is a judgment-free, safe space, and everything you share is entirely confidential and anonymous. You don’t even have to share your name unless you feel comfortable. What’s on your mind?”

“Are you busy right now?” The boy- young man?- is anxious, skittish.

“No, I’m available to talk as long as you need.” 

“Okay, but when you do get busy, you’ll tell me, right? If there’s- if there's someone else waiting on the line, and all the phones are occupied so no one picks up- I’d never forgive myself for taking help away from someone who actually deserves it. So if- if someone calls in, let me know and I’ll hang up, okay?”

“Okay.” You say. You will not, of course, hang up on a suicidal caller, but the guilt of using a resource they don’t ‘deserve’ wasn’t entirely uncommon. So many had started the call with I’m not suicidal so I don't even know why I’m calling, but… or I know I’m hogging something people actually need…

“Because, you know. There’s so many poor people and I’m- not. All these horrible stories about- about a spouse who hits you or having to work two jobs just to make ends meet- but I’m not- I’m privileged. Lucky. So I don’t… I really don’t know why I feel… I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.” You imagine him pulling the hem of his sleeves over his hands, wringing them, white-knuckled.

“Well, you don’t need to compare yourself to others.” You speak slowly, calmly, doing your best to soothe him. “Death by one bullet or death by a dozen is still death, yeah? Your problem is just as important as anyone else’s.”

“But it’s… silly. There’s this guy I met and- he’s like the only one who listens to me, but I’m not sure- he’s older, you know, and I don’t- it’s not like I like him like that, but my family doesn’t care about- and it's not like I have any friends- he seems nice. I think. I’m not sure.” It's like he's typing up a message, erased the whole thing, wrote a new one, backspaced, scrapped it and started from scratch again.

“I can’t give you any advice-”

“But what would you do?”

“I’m not permitted to tell you what to do-”

“I just need a second opinion. An unbiased, third party. It’s… something feels off, but he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known.” He huffs, sheepish. “Mostly because he’s the only person who’s bothered knowing me.”

You want to point out that it sounds codependent, that the other person is taking advantage of his desperation, that isn’t this grooming, but you inject as much understanding, as much sympathy, as you can into your voice. Judgment-free, as you’d promised. “And why does something feel off?”

“It just does. But, like… who cares about being safe, you know? Isn’t it better to be loved? Not that I love him, I hardly know him. But… he listens. No one ever listens. Um- no offense. You don’t count since it’s your job.”

“I understand,” you assure gently, “I know how important it is to have a friend. It’s normal to want to connect to anyone, even if that person doesn’t feel safe, or reliable.”

He babbles without breathing, as if scared he’ll be interrupted, or shut down, if he doesn’t let it all out at once. “Exactly- see, exactly, you get it. And it’s like- if I don't do this, I don’t know what else I’ll do. I was about to kill myself, you know? Because my date didn’t show, and this was like- this was my last shot, my one chance at having someone who loves and supports me, to have a relationship and- I've been waiting three hours here, how pathetic is that? But he came and saw I’d been stood up and let me whine about my problems and- part of me wants to just keep talking to him, go with him, but the other part… but if I don’t, that’s it. He’s my last chance, and I’ll just kill myself. So I’m in the bathroom of the restaurant now and he’s out there at my table and I’m huddled in a stall like a loser and I’m still- still not sure if he’s someone I’m- so I called here instead.”

“And I’m so proud of you for doing that.” You pour your sincerity in, and you mean it. You lean forward a little, fingers idly working at your palm’s pressure point to keep yourself, and your voice, calm. “It can be incredibly hard to reach out for help, to open up to a stranger, and you’ve done such a wonderful job for me so far. This man- he’s making you uncomfortable?”

“No, no- I mean, yes, I’m uncomfortable, but it’s not his fault. He’s really kind, actually, I mean I know it sounds weird but I swear he’s a nice guy. And like, if it’s a choice between going home alone, again-" and there's so much weight in that again, the heaviness of years of frustration and isolation and raw misery, "and how many nights and months and years can one person spend alone before they just- they just need someone? So if it’s a choice between a- a sweet guy and just- just offing myself-”

“May I ask if you still intend to end your life tonight?” You wince. You're generally not supposed to interrupt, supposed to give them the space to say everything they need to, but this guy is barreling on like his words are pus, are vomit, that he just needs to hurl up.

“No. Yes. Maybe. I… it depends. On the guy I mentioned. Some part of me thinks I should cut contact, but mostly want so badly to talk to him again. I don't know how to describe it. It's not like having a crush. It’s like… I just want him to make me feel important again.”

“Your importance is unchangeable regardless of who recognizes it or not, and no one can make you important, but naturally, all humans require external love and affection to feel it.” Your finger twitches over your mouse, considering flagging your supervisor that the caller was in danger, at-risk of some- what? Attack? Criminal? An ill-thought-out one-night stand? “Of course you want him to make you feel important- but do you feel like you’re risking your safety?”

“A little. Well. A lot. But what’s life without a little risk, right?" He chuckles self-deprecatingly, dry and bitter. "I’m just- a shut-in, watching stupid anime and reading manga all day and collecting dumb figurines and- the riskiest thing I’ve done is drinking too many energy drinks so I could stay up for a Kamisama Kiss marathon. I think… isn’t it about time I step out of my comfort zone?”

You're patient, you're kind, you're not enough. “Like I mentioned, I’m in no position to provide advice. However, we can come up with a safety plan, if you'd like? If you stay alive tonight, you can sleep on it and have a clear head to decide in the morning.”

Here’s what you should’ve done.

You should’ve flagged your supervisor. Should’ve messaged her: I think the caller might be in danger of harm from others. He has repeatedly mentioned an unsafe, unreliable man. While he hasn’t provided details, he has reported feelings of unease and uncertainty. The caller is young and has stated the man is older, and I want to ensure his safety and well-being. Your supervisor would have told you what to say- maybe to steer the caller away from the strange man- and he would’ve been okay. He would’ve been fine, and you would’ve been fine, and none of this would happen.

But all you’d done is established the next steps, a “what are your physical needs? Do you feel up for food, drinking something, or taking a shower?”

“I… don’t feel like getting water. I do have some ramune I ordered though, at my table.”

“That’s great!” You encourage. Little steps should always be rewarded, you think. “Being hydrated is good; doesn’t have to be water. Is there anything you usually do to soothe yourself?”

“Well, I… watching anime is great, but if I really wanna take my mind off things, I like to..." he trails off, a little shyly. Embarrassed, even.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me, but as long as your hobby is fun for you, that's what matters." From collecting and naming rocks to editing and monitoring all the Wikipedia pages about the Odyssey, every caller- every person- had their own way of self-soothing. 

"I know it's... a moronic waste of time, but I... sketch some self-insert OCs.”

“Drawing is very creative, and I know it can take a lot of time and effort, too. Give yourself some credit. Do you feel up for that tonight?”

“Yeah. I guess. Thanks. I think it’s best to go home, now, I’ve been at the restaurant an embarrassing amount of time anyway. Um- thanks for- being cool about all this. Bye.”

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He would end up talking to the man again after all, going home with him, and wreck his life- and yours- in the process.

You jam your index finger deeper into the pressure point at the base of your thumb:

Lonely since you were a child, you filled it with what many do: video games. A hopeless romantic, you filled the need for a relationship with otome games specifically. One of them, bad boys do it better, had this scene: the strong-but-silent love interest finds the main character, the only girl at an all-boys’ school, sleepy and yawning in the classroom. He takes her hand, presses a pressure point on her palm, and she feels all invigorated and awake.

Considering you, yourself, were constantly sleep-deprived, you decided to look it up for yourself: it wasn't a fluke. Give yourself an acupressure wake-up, one article reads, 6 pressure points for falling asleep, Medical News Today lists. It becomes a hyperfixation: pressure points for period cramps, for headaches, for high blood pressure. When you’re motion sick in a car, you massage a point in your inner arm to soothe it, when the Tylenol and Advil don’t make your migraines go away, you try a pressure point between your eyes, or at the side of your brow.

Honestly, it doesn’t always work- maybe half the time?- but it’s a cool party trick. Or, would be, if you got invited to parties.

As you type up the basic information of the call (reason for calling, next steps established, suicidal risk from 1-5), you think about how everyone is suicidal, actually. There’s so many YouTube playlists- for when you want to disappear, alone… again, one more night feeling like the loneliest person in the world, when loneliness no longer a pain but a comfort, suicide at 3AM, it’s getting worse again and it’s all your fault, slowly dying- where the comment section of vent playlists and lo-fi hours are flooded with paragraphs of people either pouring out their life’s trauma or comforting words to gently encourage the reader to live another day. There’s suicide hotlines and textlines and 7 cups of tea and a steep increase in people seeking therapy this past decade, because everyone is depressed, because there’s a housing crisis and all-time highs both for poverty rates and billionaire’s incomes and and and

There isn’t really a reason to live, anymore. No dream house to look forward to, no shiny career as a writer or actor or artist or teacher when they’re so severely underpaid, no true love soulmate when there’s no third place to meet people anymore, except a bar or a club which is really just a chance to be drugged and date-raped.

So, no. You don’t think you’re depressed, you don’t think most people are depressed; rather, you think the world itself is in a very depressing state, which naturally leads to its inhabitants mirroring its circumstances.  

Well. You might be a tiny bit suicidal, but not depressed. Not really. From fantasizing about running away from home since you were eight to constantly imagining grabbing a bag and getting out of here through every single middle and high school year to the crushing disappointment of not affording a dorm and having to live with her throughout university and then, in some twisted, cruel fate, having to stay even while you work because she has chronic pain and can't work, won't work, and wouldn't you be ableist for leaving someone on so many medications to fend for themselves? 

So you work and you pay the rent and the groceries and the bills and it all goes to her bank account. Oh, sure, the account is under your name (and somehow that's worse, it's your credit score it's affecting), but it's her email and her phone number and she won't tell you the password and she's taken out some loan and your account is 4000 in debt and there's some 15% APR platinum whatever and and and 

It's not your money. You don't get to spend it, and yet you wake up and drag yourself to work even when exhausted and sit through eight grueling hours and then there’s no reward, no payoff, nothing but heading home to the same arguments and abuse and fighting and yelling and you decide, realize, in an awful epiphany, that you're not getting out. You're never getting out. 

Because it’ll only get worse. She'll grow older, and even if there's no Alzheimer's or dementia, aging will hit her- maybe she'll need a walking stick (she already uses one sometimes), or a wheelchair, or you'll need to be the one feeding her, and you'll only have to do more, more, more-

You're never going to be free. You'll be shackled to your abuser from womb to tomb.

You’re never getting out. The only solution- the quickest, easiest solution- is to kill yourself. Except that’s a sin, so you can’t. It doesn’t stop you from wishing for it, romanticizing it- all of which is so deeply, wickedly ironic, as your job is to keep others from fulfilling your greatest desire. Callers blur together- my dad is an alcoholic and I’ve never heard a kind word from him, my little sister’s dead and I can’t get over it, I’ll never get over it- and every day, you soothe them, help them establish a safety plan, connect them to resources for mental health- peer support groups and affordable, sliding-scale therapists and a million other ways to help them, to keep them alive, even while you so deeply ache to die, yourself.

Some never call again, and you hope that means things are better, now. That they found a reason to live. Some are regular callers- maybe you don’t speak to them every time, but it shows up on your screen- that they’ve called four times this year, that the last time they were calling it was about academic stress and this time it’s about the loneliness of summer vacation, and it- kills you, that you can’t help everyone. Can’t save everyone. Once, halfway through a conversation where the caller had been pouring her heart out- about how she’d thrown away her life, how she’d studied and worked so hard to be a doctor but then got married to a man who insisted she stay home to raise their first kid, then their third, then their fifth, and now her degree is twenty years old and she’s got this huge gap in her resume and no one wants to hire her and there’s a new baby, again, and she wishes she could just- oh, what’s the point? (And you hear a pill bottle rattling). It’s never going to get better, and there’s nothing you can tell me that’ll change anything. Sorry for wasting your time.

And she hung up, and never called again, and you can only hope, but never know, that she hadn’t taken the pills.

And though you felt like a hypocrite, the truth is, you really do believe the things you say. When you assure a caller that he’s not too demented to deserve to live, when you encourage his love for plants and say "staying alive just because no one else will love and take care of your plants the way you do isn't ridiculous, Lawrence. Tending to and watering your plants is a perfectly valid reason to live", you mean it. You do.

Somehow, none of the words you tell others seem to apply to you.

You don’t how many months or years pass like this, this blurry awful misery. The call with the anxious boy at the restaurant blends with the thousands you’ve gotten since then. You fought about- something, this morning, with your mother. Some biting remarks about you being an idiot or ungrateful, some mumbled apologies on your end, but when she calls you spoiled you remind her “you’re not doing me a favor by driving me to work- it’s not like driving me to a sleepover where I’m doing it for fun. This is our only source of income, and you can’t just not drive me, because who else is going to pay for a roof and a meal?”

Her face contorts, as it always does, to that indignant snarl. “You think I have to drive you? I don’t have to do anything. I don’t owe you anything. I’m your mother, it's your job to look after me. You can’t neglect me: that’s abuse.”

You sigh. Not mad. Not even irritated. Just... just whatever. “You do have to drop me off here, or else I miss a whole day’s pay and how am I going to cover your medical bills?” 

“Are you threatening me? How dare you?” She hisses, slamming on the pedal- to prove a point, driving past your workplace. 

“Slow down. I'm getting out.” At this point, at this age, you get fed up quickly, skipping right from fear to anger to just being done. You click open the door, scan the grey sidewalk blurring, passing by- slipping through your fingers, you think vaguely, like your life.

“Close the door, you moron, I’m not paying for your surgery if you split your skull open.”

“You couldn’t if you wanted to, but glad to know!” You gauge the ground, stick one leg out, the other one too, and-

Walk the distance left to work.

Sometimes, you can’t believe this is your life. You’d worked hard, damn it, and you’re a good person, so why isn’t the world good back to you? Why are you still stuck here, with her?

How immature, you think. How childish do you have to be to drive past your daughter's work- which you need, for money, for survial- just to spite her. And you know the moment she picks you up from work she'll be yelling through the car ride home, and then when you enter the apartment, and all through the night. Your coworkers often found working at a suicide hotline emotionally taxing, and looked forward to weekends and holidays as a break from the stress, but- for you, work was your safe haven.

As you talk down someone who's maybe ten minutes away from throwing themselves off a roof, your phone vibrates. Again. And again.

000-000-0000 Yesterday 10:15 PM if you go to sleep and die tonight, you're going to Hell Today 9:05 AM Why? Why are you doing this to me? Don't worry, I won't touch your money and I won't take anything from you. I won't even eat from the food we have anymore since it's all been bought with your money like you said Idk why you have been doing this You want me to stay miserable and under our control and do exactly what you want. Why are you doing this to me? Why? Why?

You don't have her saved as a contact, so you only see her phone number. It feels wrong to title her 'mom', when that word carries all these connotations of unconditional love and gently braiding your hair and a warm bowl of soup on a sick school day. She has nothing to do all day, is the thing, just rewatching Friends for the 60th time or knitting- so she texts you, and can get all worked up and have a full fight and conversation all by herself, without you needing to lift a finger. Simply existing, you think, is enough to warrant the torrent of abuse.

You get a call and shut off your phone, slipping right into your sweet, soothing voice as you greet a young girl with a razor in hand. You reassure her, hear her out (no, there's nothing wrong with wanting to leave, I understand you want to help him but if he's abusing you, you need to help yourself first), and transfer her to the employment assistance department, where they can help her set up her resume and cover letter and get out of living with him. Your break is spent in the bathroom doing breathing exercises to calm down, your lunch is spent mindlessly scrolling through Dead Dove: Do Not Eat recommendations, and you almost know what you're about to read before you turn on your phone.

000-000-0000 Today 4:18 PM Don't act like you are this innocent, sweet, little wonderful person You always do horrible thing so don't play this victim role again I'm exhausted of those games you keep playing Like when you were a baby, you'd cry in your room just to manipulate me into picking you up. I didn't fall for it obviously but you're still playing the same mind games Acting so pure and innocent Stop being so cruel and get back to your senses Once you are ready to apologize, maybe I'll pick you up from work. Otherwise have fun sleeping there

It's as good a chance as any, you decide. You had a bag under your desk for precisely this chance, but always chickened out at the last minute. But this is an opportunity to not be at home without her questioning it...

So you'd done it. You'd finally done it. The good thing about not having control over your own money- not even knowing the credit card number or the password for your account- is that you don't have very many things. Oh, you have clothes and little knick-knacks, but they're easy to pack. To zip up, to stuff snacks and-

You need your IDs. Your passport, your social security. She had them just a few weeks ago, but eventually, when she was in a good mood, you'd mustered up the courage to ask for them. Why do you need them? Just need to take a picture for this one job I'm applying to. It'll pay more than this one.

You'd tucked them into your bag too, and while most people would find it safer to store their things at home than at work, the space under your desk was guaranteed to remain untouched, while your bedroom didn't have a lock.

You don't know how to drive- she never taught you, and driver's lessons cost money you don't get to control- and public transport is spotty at best. You've never been fit, getting winded after five minutes of walking and legs aching after 10, and you realize quickly that this is inefficient and you've gotta find a way to at least be out of the city so you don't risk her finding you, somehow.

Where do the homeless, the elderly, the disabled, the lost go to for resources, go to be pointed in the right direction?

Actually, it would be the masjid, but you know your mother would go there.

You go to the library, sit down in a big, drooping bean bag chair, and breathe.

It was exhilarating. Scary and risky and dumb, yes, but what a relief! Finally, what you've been dreaming every single day for two decades, finally, you're no longer collared and leashed, finally, you get to start some flimsy attempt at being an independent adult, finally-

You need to open your own bank account. You click on one of the library monitors, leaning in to the computer and Googling banks. Chase. Schwab. Wells Fargo. Credit unions. Everyone has bad experiences with every bank, based on Reddit, but then one comment points out that all banks are the same. Just a place to keep your money, as long as you don't rack up overdraft fees or debt.

You'd actually tried opening your own bank account before, back in February, because this isn't the first time you've been hard-hit with the need to run away. You'd tried to sign up for Chime, which, ironically, while supposed to be for people who need money when in a tight position, had rejected your application- possibly for not having a credit score (?). Someone online too had posted that it's ironic the very site for people in a bind still wouldn't accept those who were, you know, actually in a bind.

You'd researched on banks without interests, found someone on Reddit asking it, and someone who worked at Schwab had detailed how to call someone and ask for a certain tier and walk them through giving a no-interest account.

It had been great. You signed up. You never verified it (or did you? You don't think you did), and now, when calling, they said they had closed your account because your social security number didn't match the other information, that you would have to take a W9 to a physical location so they can confirm your social and go from there.

You try to sign up for Chase, except it needs a driver's license or state ID, and you have neither. You try to sign up for Wells Fargo, but it needs a valid phone number, and you don't have a phone plan, only e-numbers, so it doesn't accept it.

You're almost tempted to ask a librarian. You'd seen posts about librarians helping someone who's drunk or unstable or homeless, but- they're not social workers. This isn't their job, you don't want to inconvenience them and it's- embarrassing. This is all so embarrassing. You're a grown adult, why don't you have everything together by now?

Ok. No bank account. Maybe you can use PayPal? Just for now? You'll need to afford public transportation, and a deposit for a new apartment- better to be with roommate, so you don't have to pay the $300 non-refundable application fee, to have to provide a reference from your previous landlord, so a roommate is necessary, non-negotiable, because your previous apartment...

It had been under your name, of course, since it's your income. But your mother was furious at them for charging one (or five?) thousand dollars, either for moving out before the lease was over or for the security deposit or whatever, but she insisted you stop taking out the trash. When she saw you trying to take a bag, she- well, she yelled as she always does. The bathroom and kitchen and everything were trashed, and you did your best to sweep up your room, your bathroom to hallway, to clean up-

But the kitchen was a mess, and the dining area (which was just the cats' area), had an overflowing litter box and a giant pile of dozens for overflowing, near-bursting trash bags. The smell was awful, fruit flies and all sorts hovering and buzzing and oozing everywhere, but your mother in her spite insisted to leave it untouched. That they should clean it up themselves.

So. No recommendation from that landlord, which means find a roommate who already has a lease, and then that new landlord can give you a recommendation when you get your own apartment.

How to find a roommate who'd take someone with not a single dollar- unemployed, now, since you were leaving the city with your job in it- nothing to offer, except maybe cooking and cleaning, which you hated as you find chores menial and redundant- why bother making your bed or folding your clothes when they'd be unfolded, your bed unmade, just some hours later? It doesn't make sense. It's a waste of time.

Cooking, too, feels tedious and unrewarding. An hour of cooking for ten minutes of eating? No thank you.

Your best bet is to get a job, and use that to get a roof over your head. Till then, all sorts of food banks and shelter can give you enough food in your stomach to keep your back upright enough, mind alive enough, to start the job-hunting agony.

But this job requires a driver's license and a personal vehicle, and this job requires you to be physically there in person, you'd apply to jobs all over so couldn't possibly be in all places at once. You sit in the library till your leg falls asleep, foot staticky, neck hunched over, finger cramping, mindlessly applying for 100 jobs, 200 jobs. Something has to give. Just statistically speaking, one of them has to respond.

Right? Right?

But the library closes too early, and cafes and restaurants close down too, and you can't exactly take refuge in a 24-7 convenience or grocery store.

You could try a fast food place, then? A bar?

Not a bar. Never a bar. Way too many stories about what happens to dumb, defenseless girls in a bar too late at night.

It's your first night out alone and you need a place to sleep, but the nearest shelter is an hour and a half of walking and you're just- you need to rest your eyes and wrists from hours of staring at the computer screen, need to sit down and eat and you're entering the first fast food restaurant you find. Electric blue and neon orange lights dazzle the windows and invite you in, a cracked black leather bench in the corner your beloved refuge. It's a little maddening, a little torturous, to sit and smell the grease and that fat and hear the sizzles and hisses but be unable to do a thing about the saliva pooling your mouth, coating your tongue. Your stomach grumbles, a dying whale, the aroma of cheap burgers and oily fries flooding your nostrils.

You're this close to burying your head in your hands and sobbing. Yes, you have snacks in your bag, but you'd grazed on them absently while running your job application marathon.

You've never been very good with hunger. While others around you can have just breakfast, lunch, and dinner- while they can sit at their 8-and-a-half-hour shift at work and eat only during the 30 minute lunch break, you were always eating at your desk. Answering emails, in between phone calls, you're always, constantly hungry. Nothing you eat ever seems to be enough- maybe because you don't actually eat sufficiently, don't eat enough in a day adequate enough to fulfill your needs- so your stomach always feels empty.

But now, it actually is empty, and the void makes it impossible to focus on anything but the hunger. To think rationally. To consider maybe shoplifting, and at least if they arrest you there'll be food in prison, right?

Right?

Your stomach groans again, as frustrated with your situation as you are, and you think you really will cry. The smell of the cheese, the meat, the cheap beer-

You didn't know this place sold beer.

It doesn't. You've seen the menu a million times. You lift your hand, eyes darting to catch the culprit-

The only other customer this late at night is a man seated at the bench before yours. You see him hunched over a gloriously loaded double-burger- the colors of pale green lettuce and bright red tomatoes enchant you, and a dollop of thick mayo dribbles down the flaky sesame-seed bun, splatting onto the crinkly paper wrapper on the shiny black table.

A slash of envy sears through you. You need that burger more than he does, need that large Styrofoam cup of soda with the cold condensation along its sides infinitely more than him, and you're hit with a desire to snatch it. You know, logically, you can't take him in a fight, but like. What do you have to lose?

He catches you staring.

If you weren't so hungry, you'd be embarrassed, even apologize, but as it is your eyes linger on the grease shining on his thick fingers, on the smear of too-orange cheese dashed along the corner of his lip.

He raises a slightly bushy, brown eyebrow. It's the same cheap beer brown of his eyes, which are a little wide, a little giddy. 

You squirm, uncomfortable, pinned by his gaze like a butterfly- a moth- to a corkboard. "You wan' some?" His mouth is a little full, but even so you catch the lilt of a German accent just beneath his voice.

"Oh, no, I-" heat smarts your face, but he interrupts you, jovial and inviting,

"Your stomach, I'm sure, begs to differ. Come on, I can order you whatever you like, bud."

Bud was... less harassing, less off-putting, than sweetheart or baby or the assorted nicknames drunken men hollered at anything with a rack and two legs. if you ignore his too-cheerful grin, the little manic glint and gleam of his eyes, the use of bud would put you at ease.

But you can't ignore it, and it doesn't, and you get to your feet to leave. "Thanks, but I'm okay. I'll just make some dinner at home."

"No need to be shy! It's okay to rely on the kindness of strangers," he stands up too, already ambling to the counter to order for you, "large fries, a vanilla shake, and a hearty double bacon cheeseburger for my new friend."

"Oh, um, I prefer chocolate, actually." You felt half-guilty for being picky, and half-incensed that he ordered for you without consulting. You don't even eat bacon. 

The cashier- her dreads tied back in a loose ponytail, her red shirt uniform with a crooked name tag- clicks her tongue. "So is it vanilla or chocolate?"

"Vanilla. Right, buddy?'' His grin is big and cheerful and encouraging, nudging, nagging. Almost instinctively, you find your shoulders rounding tighter, find your body curling to make yourself smaller. 

"Right."

He's- satisfied? Almost proud with the way he pats your shoulder, like you passed some unspoken test by deferring to his choice, rather than holding your ground. 

(Maybe it would've been better to fail it).

She rings up your (his, really) order, nails click-clacking as she types, Strade ripping the small slip of receipt and- it really is tiny, in his large palm, all thick fingers and brown hair curling over the back of his hand. When he crumples the paper, his veins sort of- do a kind of pulsing thing you think you like.

But you still don't like how he ordered for you, how he insisted on a flavor you don't prefer. You know it was intentional.

You just can't figure out why.

He picks up the navy tray for you, and that irks you, too: why don't you get to carry your own food? What, is he going to hand-feed you too?

You sit across from him, and when you unwrap the yellow-and-white checkered paper, scrunching it up- the combined scent of the fat and oil and meat is enough to haze over any apprehension, any irritation you might have had, quelled by knowing this sandwich- large enough you pick it up with both hands- is for you. 

You pluck out a strip of crispy bacon and offer it to him, a sort of olive branch. He takes it- thumb and forefinger pinching it, and smiles lazily.

"I haven't seen you here before."

"Yeah." You bite into the sandwich, not elaborating. No need to. If you could, you'd maybe nick his credit card- it wouldn't be nice considering he just fed you for the night, but you could stick it in an ATM, get the cash out before he calls the bank to close the card, and- he'd be fine. He'll be fine. You need the money more than he does. But how to pickpocket without him noticing-?

"Something bothering you?" He asks, dipping a long, limp fry into a shallow well of thick ranch. "It's easier to talk about it to a stranger, you know? That way you don't have to worry about it changing your relationship with them, or their judgment, because you won't see them again."

"Hm." It was a good point. But if you've never told anyone else about it, were you really about to trauma dump to some eccentric stranger? 

"I don't mind, really, and I can tell you need it."

"Oh, yeah? How?"

"Something about it in the eyes."

"You really wanna know?"

"Of course, buddy, I'm all ears. I love helping people!"

"Fine." You smack your hands flat on the table, get up, and sit next to him. Up close, the musk of cheap beer mixes with sweat and grease in the world's strangest cologne.

You glare at your phone, click it on, and let him read over your shoulder.

000-000-0000 Today 2:04 AM It's all about you and if something doesn't go like how your majesty wants or likes then it's all bad I'm not a fan of drama and I can't tolerate entitled brats like you who thinks the world owes them something just for breathing Guess what? You are the abusive one and always have been. From this point on I will not take orders from you You have no idea how hard it is to be your mother. I sacrificed my LIFE for you. Do you know how painful it is to give birth? Every day I was pregnant with you was torture, and it as even worse when you were born. I had to stay up all day feeding you and all night putting you to sleep. You were a NIGHTMARE. I thought you'd grow out of it but I guess you're still a baby I have done so much for you and I have been through so much and you have no idea

He reads quietly- thinking, analyzing- and breaks into a positively delighted smile. You can't tell if it's the grin a groom dons on his wedding day or the grin a dog bares before cornering its prey. "Oh, mein schätzelein. You're perfect."

You eat in amicable company, and it's- nice. It is lovely, actually, to have dinner with someone you're not scared of, someone you don't have to worry about setting off or angering or harming you. Strade is- a little weird, sure, but a nice guy. You give him your bacon, he gives you a ketchup packet to squeeze onto your fries, and you let him scroll through days and weeks of your mother's texts and felt a twinge of validation every time he said something like "can't blame you for running away", a rush of satisfaction, of vindication, of it's not just me, I'm not crazy, she really is abusive, it wasn't just me being entitled after all. You find yourself inching a little closer to him every time he makes a remark like, "isn't she aware it's her job to take care of you, not the other way around?"

Something incredible blooms between your rib cage and behind it, making your cheeks flush and your fingertips tingle and your eyes sting just a bit. No one had ever bothered to hear you out, to just sit there and make biting, almost cruel comments about your mother with every text he read, to make you feel so important. You half-wish you could work up the courage, could be bold enough to tell him that you didn't have a place to put your head down tonight, just so he could offer, just so you could have an excuse to spend more time with him.

You sweep up the trash and crumpled straw wrappers while he returns his tray and yours and it's wonderful. Even if you can't go home with him, you almost want to make this a routine, make it so you can meet up every week, on a melancholy evening like this, and exchange bad food while he listens and provides a (strong, broad) shoulder.

He's just such a good listener.

~~~~

Author's notes:

Mein Schätzelein = My little treasure The parallel of the chapter starting with Ren thinking and feeling the exact same way MC does at the end of the chapter,,, buckle in folks Look, basically I want 1) to torture strade and 2) to save ren. However there's pretty much zero (0) fics about it so that means rolling up my sleeves, learning how to do the work skin that lets me insert phone-texting into the chapter, and doing it myself. Comment whatever thoughts you have and thanks for reading <33 ~~~ Also, while we're all little freaks that might enjoy a bit of horror, a quick reminder that in real life there's actual horrors going in the world- specifically, the genocide Palestine. Please take a moment to email and/or call your representatives , click-to-donate (free, donation revenue via ads), check out the boycott list, do what little things you can to help.

[momokarp]

Heyyyy I saw your Danny Phantom comic about him reading the Great Gatsby during the fight with Vlad (great art btw), and I was wondering if u could give a long-suffering student a rundown of the themes?

I’m gonna cover the themes I can think of off the top of my head and if you really need me to go into more details, I CAN??? But this is just a quick “it’s 7 in the morning for me and I’m actually gonna hyperfixate real quick” kinda moment.

Yes, there are two kinds of rich people, and yes, one side really doesn’t like the other. It’s apparent in Tom and all of his opinions of Gatsby are later on in the book when he finally attends one of his fancy parties.

Old money gets their opinions and styles and tastes from their parents who got it from their parents. It’s a boys club, if you’re in? You’re in, and it’s hard to get in unless you’re of a certain pedigree.

New money? Loud. Outrageous. Doesn’t even know what to do with all that money and everyone is welcome to enjoy it. Gatsby owns a BRIGHT ASS YELLOW CAR not because it’s of a certain model but because it screams loud and expensive and “look at me” and it’s not just cause he’s trying to get with your wife. He knows how to ACT like old money, to a certain degree, but at the end of the day, he can’t hide that he wasn’t born into it.

An unreliable narrator is usually a story told from a first person point of view and their own biases can often warp the reader’s perspective on the events unfolding. Nick even tries to clarify that he doesn’t judge people. Yeah, OUT LOUD, but he’s judging internally. Which is making you, the reader, judge. Tom has an affair with Myrtle Wilson. Nick IS quietly judging them although he tries not to and how could he not? Daisy is his cousin, and he sees the man she’s married make her move away from Chicago and Tom is not hiding his affair very well, she clearly knows about it and hates it.

Oh but here comes Gatsby, with this beautiful story of how he fell in love and went to war and couldn’t be with her and came back and she’s MARRIED and now he’s trying to win her back- and Nick HELPS HIM. THAT’S NOT UNBIASED. HE IS SWAYED. He sides with Gatsby through and through, even when he starts to see the flaws in Gatsby’s vision, he wants to cheer for him.

We’re going back to the green light here for a minute. Gatsby gets a house DIRECTLY ACROSS the lake from where Daisy’s is. There’s the green light at the end of her dock that flashes, that’s a reminder to Gatsby when he looks out that his dream is just over there. Daisy, the perfect gal, along with acceptance into the fancy rich lifestyle. He wants to meet her parents, he wants to have kids with her, he wants to be a somebody, an established respectable person.

But he’s kind of fooling himself too. He wants too much. It’s not enough to have Daisy, she needs to RENOUNCE her ever loving Tom and then properly marry him. He wants to be a part of the boy’s club, but Tom finds out that he has gained his wealth through the mafia and that’s not very respectable! He wants Daisy to call him in the morning, a call that never comes because she won’t cast aside her lifestyle for him. She was raised to trust and live in the sheltered life she was brought up in, even if she’s unhappy. It’s safer than the unknown. She chooses to stay with Tom, as even she realizes she can’t live up to Gatsby’s ideals.

It’s ironic cause this is the Oxford English Dictionary definition and Gatsby is an “Oxford Man!” Not only has Gatsby idealized on the American Dream, but it’s a dream that was never real. Yes, he did get rich, but not because he had equal opportunities. He got lucky to help out an old rich man on his boat (WHICH HE DIDNT EVEN GET ANY MONEY FROM) to learn the rich social skills, and he worked with the mafia to get all his wealth. Yes, he got Daisy, but not REALLY. He had an affair with her. They didn’t marry properly, didn’t have kids, didn’t move in together. And Daisy never intended on doing any of these things. She wanted to run away.

And Gatsby was never going to get these things because he wasn’t BORN rich. Tom represents the concept of Old Money so well not only in how he lacks any genuine character that isn’t inherited from his father, but how protective he is of keeping the status quo, so that he remains in power and no one who doesn’t fit the club can come in.

And Gatsby pays the price of his affair while Tom gets away with everything. How is this the American Dream? It isn’t.

Okay, that’s my stuff. I can go into symbolism on the yellow car and big billboard and all that other stuff if this was helpful at all. I hope it is helpful???

[gaywriterthings]

SquidBob Master List: Your SpongeBob SquarePants Guide to SquidBob Episodes

NOTE: Some episodes that focus on Squidward and SpongeBob's relationship are not counted either because of there being other characters directly involved too* (like "Naughty Nautical Neighbors"), Squidward is only shown to dislike/strongly hate SpongeBob or their relationship is not painted in a very positive light (like "Restraining SpongeBob" or "Employee of the Month"), their relationship is painted in a pretty neutral light/there's nothing special to note there** (like "Just One Bite"), the episode is focused mainly on Squidward (like "Squid's Day Off"), or because of the episode just being bad/universally disliked or there being a bunch of Squidward torture (like "Smoothe Jazz In Bikini Bottom" or "Abandon Twits"). I made this list to focus on their friendship and for people who like the ship, so only episodes that actively do that a positive are going to be listed, even if they just have one notable scene.

I will also provide descriptions for those who don't just want to watch the episodes for themselves, so that means there will be spoilers ahead. The descriptions of the episodes will be focused on Squidward (with a few exceptions), as it's far, far, far more apparent in the show how much love and care comes from SpongeBob's side of the relationship. What I want to highlight here is that there's a lot of love and care coming from Squidward's side too, despite how less it's shown.

*One episode I was thinking about including, season 11's "Mustard O' Mine," was removed because it technically falls under this category. However, I will label it before we begin as an honorable mention, as it's a Krusty Krab related adventure starring SpongeBob, Squidward, and Patrick where Squidward gets along very, very well with both of his neighbors and is shown to be incredibly happy for a good chunk of the episode's time. It is very good by season 11's standards.

**Another episode I was thinking about including, season 13's "Food PBBFT! Truck," was removed because it technically falls under this category, as I surprisingly couldn't find anything special to note about it during my rewatch. I wanted to label it as another honorable mention though, since it's one of those "SpongeBob and Squidward Krusty Krab adventures," one of my favorite episode genres. It's like "SpongeBob in RandomLand," but more tame and taking place in Rock Bottom. It is pretty good by season 13's standards.

I will try my best as someone who's shipped SpongeBob and Squidward for years to remain unbiased, only stating the facts of what happens in each episode and none of my personal opinions or interpretations, other than an emoji to let you know which ones are my favorites. However, if you would like to know more about what I think of any particular episode on this list, please let me know and I will be very, very happy to talk about it.

With all that said, please enjoy!

KEY:

⭐️ - Classic Episode

🍔 - Krusty Krab Related Episode/Adventure

🩵 - Caring Squidward

💕 - My Personal Favorites/Recommendations

❣️ - Specific Notable Scene

1. ⭐️🍔🩵💕 Pizza Delivery - Season 1

As the title suggests, Squidward is thrust into a pizza delivery with SpongeBob, during which two quickly get lost, and he makes known how adamant he is of disliking the entire situation. However, in the end, when he watches a customer act terribly mean to SpongeBob for forgetting a drink he never even ordered, Squidward is immediately shown to be worried about him. Upon seeing him break, fall to the ground, and sob, Squidward becomes furious, and pays the customer his karma for what he had driven SpongeBob to by slamming his pizza in his face.

2. ⭐️🩵❣️ SB-129 - Season 1

Though this episode happened because Squidward was trying to get away from SpongeBob, in the end, when there's no way for Squidward to get back home, he realizes just how much he actually misses him. Saying so out loud is what ultimately does bring him back home, where he then tells SpongeBob (and Patrick) they don't know how happy he is to see them.

3. ⭐️🩵❣️ Fools In April - Season 1

Though Squidward pulled a horrible prank on SpongeBob in this episode that drove him to tears, he soon begins to feel very bad about it, saying he never meant to make SpongeBob cry. However, he has difficulty telling him he's sorry, but his conscience and sheer amount of guilt eventually drive him to run to SpongeBob's house and shout through the door, saying three times he's sorry and that he never meant to hurt him, but in fact likes him, likes living next door, and likes hearing his foghorn alarm in the morning and his high pitched giggling at night.

4. ⭐️🩵💕 Dying For Pie - Season 2

Once Squidward is told by Mr. Krabs that SpongeBob is going to die by the end of the day, he immediately becomes very scared and worried. He begins to freak out and cry, and tells Krabs that he's going to "make SpongeBob's final hours the best he's ever had", and that there's gonna be so much love "he's gonna drown in it". He then asks SpongeBob what the most fun thing he can think of is and spends the entire day with him doing everything on his "friendship list," a list he keeps of the fun things he likes to do. It is incredibly obvious just how much Squidward genuinely doesn't want SpongeBob to die, and when he finally thinks he has, he immediately begins to sob. He shows nothing but care for him almost the entire episode.

5. ⭐️ Squidville - Season 2

Though Squidward finally moves out of Conch Street in this episode, he's quickly shown to find his new life in Tentacle Acres boring and repetitive. SpongeBob is still on his mind, something as simple as the sound of a reef blower making Squidward think he's there. He realizes he prefers the life on Conch Street with someone like SpongeBob, as different from him he may be, rather than the life in Tentacle Acres with other octopi just like him. In the end, he becomes the "SpongeBob" of Tentacle Acres before ultimately moving back home by the next episode.

6. ⭐️🩵💕 Christmas Who? - Season 2

Despite how jerky Squidward acts towards SpongeBob in this special, once SpongeBob tells him he made something for him so he "wouldn't be left out when Santa came", his whole attitude changes. Once he opens the gift and calls it "the greatest gift he has ever gotten,” Squidward realizes how just awful he'd been acting. He realizes all SpongeBob had wanted was to spread a little joy, and despite still not liking the holiday, Squidward then dresses up as Santa to convince SpongeBob his wish really did come true. He tells him that he was the one who brought Christmas to Bikini Bottom, causing him to become so happy he faints. Squidward then keeps this Santa charade up for the rest of the episode, "giving away all his stuff just so SpongeBob wouldn't be sad." The episode ends with Squidward playing the clarinet SpongeBob had made for him.

7. ⭐️🍔💕 Graveyard Shift - Season 2

SpongeBob and Squidward are together the entire episode and get along fairly well, with Squidward teasing SpongeBob and telling him a fake story to scare him during the night shift, letting him know it was a joke when he got too scared. Later on when they believe the story had become real, Squidward holds on to SpongeBob and tells him he's "always sort of liked him."

8. ⭐️🍔💕 Krab Borg - Season 3

SpongeBob and Squidward get along very well in this episode. When SpongeBob tells Squidward he believes Mr. Krabs is a robot, Squidward, although not really believing him, keeps up conversation with him and goes along with his attempts to prove to him that Krabs is a robot. After Squidward is finally convinced, he works together with SpongeBob to interrogate who they think is Robot Krabs and get him to tell them what he did with the Real Krabs. After SpongeBob tells Squidward that the robots in the scary movie he watched that led to all this ended up being in the characters' imagination, he makes up a lie to excuse himself and leaves Squidward behind with an angry Krabs, and he doesn't even get mad at him for doing so.

9. ⭐️❣️ Born Again Krabs - Season 3

After Mr. Krabs breaks his deal with the Flying Dutchman, he angrily shows up at the Krusty Krab. After SpongeBob sticks up for him, the Flying Dutchman tells Krabs that he'll give him another chance if he helps him settle a bet. He then makes him choose between SpongeBob and all the money he has in his pocket- which ends up being 62 cents- and Krabs immediately chooses the money. After the Flying Dutchman takes SpongeBob to Davy Jones's locker, Squidward is angry at Krabs for letting it happen and stands up for SpongeBob. He tells Krabs he should be ashamed of himself for what he had done, and makes him feel remorse for his actions.

10. ⭐️💕 The Two Faces of Squidward - Season 5

SpongeBob and Squidward get along very, very well the whole episode. Though Squidward is initially angry at SpongeBob for hitting him with a door and landing him in the hospital, once he realizes he has become handsome, he leaves the hospital with SpongeBob and hangs out with him for the rest of the day. Squidward is smiling the entire time, not once finding SpongeBob's presence annoying or getting angry at him. The next day, when Squidward realizes the Bikini Bottomites adore him too much, he runs to SpongeBob's house to get away from them and ask him for help.

11. ❣️ Keep Bikini Bottom Beautiful - Season 7

When SpongeBob offers to help Squidward with his community service, he cleans up every single piece of trash in town for him. Squidward is shown to be very shocked and grateful and tells SpongeBob he "hates him a little less now," to which SpongeBob tears up at and tells him it was a "beautiful thing to say". Even after Squidward finds out what he had done with all the trash, in the end, when he sees it had caused Squilliam's statue to melt, he thanks SpongeBob a third time.

12. 🩵❣️ Sponge-Cano! - Season 7

After SpongeBob sings a song to Squidward all about being grateful for the life he is living, Squidward tells him that "being his neighbor leaves him with nothing to be grateful for." He soon tells him he doesn't want his help ever again, and SpongeBob obeys his wishes. However, as the episode nears its end and Squidward is about to fall into a volcano and SpongeBob is the only one who can help him out, he lets him know that he does appreciate his friendship and he is grateful, even quoting his song and saying "I am grateful for the life I am living, who knows how long I will have it?" and reminding him that he learned that from him. After SpongeBob pulls Squidward to safety, he tells him he always knew he felt that way and thanks him for opening up to them.

13. Love That Squid - Season 7

This episode is all about Squidward crushing on a sophisticated female octopus named Squilvia. SpongeBob offers to help him when he has difficulty asking her out, and he lists to Squilvia all the reasons why one should want to date Squidward, concluding with the fact that he knows "anyone who is lucky enough to go on a romantical date with him would get to experience things on a whole 'nother and very special level". After this gets Squilvia to agree to go on a date with Squidward, SpongeBob puts on a wig and a dress and takes Squidward on a "practice date" to prepare him for his real one. Squidward goes along with this, and stays fairly calm throughout the whole date. Though he does get angry at SpongeBob at the end, when he realizes Squilvia had overheard his outburst and finds him dreamy because of it, his anger immediately fades and he gushes to SpongeBob about it, leaving him happy for him.

14. Are You Happy Now? - Season 8

SpongeBob acts nothing but nice, caring, calm, and patient towards Squidward in this episode, more so than he has in any other. Concerned after Squidward tells him he doesn't have a happiest memory, the two cry together before SpongeBob offers to help him create one, which Squidward accepts. With each try, something goes wrong the second Squidward begins to feel happy that instantly crushes his mood, but nothing that happens is SpongeBob's fault in any way. When the two return to Conch Street, Squidward concludes that he will never have a happiest memory and retreats into his house for two weeks. Not once during those two weeks does SpongeBob invade Squidward's personal space or try to check up on him like he would in any other situation. He lets him have that time to himself because he understands he needs to leave him alone, and only tries to get a hold of him once he becomes concerned and fears the worst.

15. 💕 Hello Bikini Bottom! - Season 8

In this special, SpongeBob and Squidward go on tour with Mr. Krabs as their cheap manager and Patrick as their dimwitted roadie. Though there are a lot of things in this episode that don't necessarily go Squidward's way and he was shown to complain a lot, he got along fairly well with SpongeBob almost the entire time. It was evident in his face how happy he was during his first gig when he was duetting with him in the supermarket. More and more things begin to go wrong on their tour, however, and after their tour bus drives off a cliff suffering a flat tire with no spares available, Squidward finally decides he's had enough and begins to walk back home to Bikini Bottom. Saddened after his failed attempts at getting him to stay, SpongeBob hops up onto the top of the bus with his ukulele and begins singing a song directed at Squidward with a self-explanatory title of "Never Give Up." About 40 seconds in, the song turns into a duet between the two of them, during which Squidward decides to turn around and head back to SpongeBob. The song ends with the two of them playing their instruments together, and comes to a close after Squidward joins SpongeBob on the top of the tour bus. Squidward is pleasantly surprised at the way their duet sounded, telling SpongeBob "that was actually kind of good", before the two raise their hands to high five.

16. 🍔 The Sewers of Bikini Bottom - Season 9

SpongeBob and Squidward get along pretty well basically right from the start of the episode. Almost immediately, they begin to have a sort of childlike fun together flushing random stuff down the toilet in the Krusty Krab's bathroom, smiling wide and laughing. When they accidentally flush Mr. Krabs' safe containing the secret formula, however, they begin to freak out and Squidward tells SpongeBob to go retrieve it. After he steps into the toilet and flushes himself, Squidward realizes the severity of what he had done, and tells himself that flushing SpongeBob down the toilet was "despicable, even for him," and then flushes himself to go after him. As the two of them begin to make their way through the sewers, they continue to get along well, and Squidward goes along with every little thing that happens without question, remaining fairly chill about his situation right up to the end of the episode.

17. ❣️ The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge Out of Water

Whenever SpongeBob and Squidward are together in this movie, they get along pretty well. After SpongeBob turns them all into superheroes, Squidward loves how buff he becomes, and is very upset to lose all that muscle when they return home to Bikini Bottom. Back there, however, SpongeBob tells him not to be sad and that he left him a little surprise under his shirt. After Squidward lifts his shirt to reveal rock hard abs, he smiles wide and playfully punches SpongeBob on the shoulder, telling him he's "okay in his book."

18. Out of the Picture - Season 10

SpongeBob is the only one in this episode to show genuine interest in and love of Squidward's art, both convincing Mr. Krabs to hold Squidward's art show at his restaurant and buying one of his paintings because "he loves it". Despite the things Mr. Krabs puts Squidward through in this episode, he doesn't catch on to the fact that Krabs is trying to get him killed and remains pretty chill about it all. That is, until Krabs gives up and just starts chasing him with a mallet, during which SpongeBob is on Squidward's side and is determined to keep him safe no matter what. All in all, the two get along very well the entire episode.

19. 🍔 The Check-Up - Season 11

In this episode, SpongeBob and Squidward work together to give Mr. Krabs his physical without his knowledge because of his fear of check-ups. While working together, the two get along well, and Squidward never really gets mad at SpongeBob at any point in the episode.

20. 💕 Squid Noir - Season 11

SpongeBob and Squidward become hard- boiled detectives in this episode, getting along fairly well the entire time. They work together, side by side the whole episode, to solve the mystery of who stole Squidward's clarinet after it goes missing.

21. 🍔 Bottle Burglars - Season 11

SpongeBob and Squidward get along pretty well the entire episode. After they accidentally throw away the secret formula and Plankton finds it, they work together to sneak into the Chum Bucket to steal it back. Though they fail, Squidward goes basically the entire episode without complaining or getting mad at SpongeBob, simply just working with him to accomplish what they need to.

22. 🍔 Sanitation Insanity - Season 11

After a trash problem at the Krusty Krab, Mr. Krabs is sentenced to pick up all of the trash around Bikini Bottom. Instead of doing so himself, he orders SpongeBob and Squidward to do it for him. Though Squidward makes it known that he doesn't want to do that job, he gets along well with SpongeBob the entire time, simply going along with everything that comes his way.

23. 🩵❣️ Appointment TV - Season 11

In this episode, SpongeBob is in a rush to get home after a long day at work to watch a never before seen episode of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy that is airing on TV that night. However, he is constantly stopped by people asking for his help, and by the time he finally gets home, he has missed the airing and finds that his VCR had gone haywire, causing things to burst into flames and rendering him unable to watch the episode. He begins to cry loudly and says his life now has no meaning, and all of his friends- including Squidward- immediately begin to feel guilty for taking advantage of him and his kindness. They then work together to create a live performance of the episode for him, Squidward reprising his role of Dr. Negative from the season 10 episode "Mermaid Pants," and SpongeBob, in tears by the time the show is over, tells them he "loved the love they showed him."

24. 🩵❣️ Pineapple RV - Season 12

Although Squidward is mad with SpongeBob (and Patrick) almost the entire episode, near the end when he leaves them in the woods and starts to drive back home without them, he immediately begins to worry about their safety. Quickly, he turns around and drives back to frantically search for them, only to be met with the sounds of their screams from inside of a nearby cave. He then runs into the cave, delivering a karate chop to one of the sea bears inside- despite the fact that he is terrified of them, shown in the season 3 episode "The Camping Episode"- and shouts "Don't you dare eat those morons!"

25. 🍔 SpongeBob In RandomLand - Season 12

Despite how many weird and random things happen to SpongeBob and Squidward in this episode, Squidward goes along with every single thing like they're common occurrences, barely ever complaining and simply just working with SpongeBob to accomplish what they're in RandomLand to do. The two get along well the entire adventure.

26. Pat Hearts Squid - Season 12

Though this episode is focused on Squidward and Patrick's relationship, when Squidward is enraged after Patrick becomes "a better Squidward," SpongeBob is on his next door neighbor's side. He gives him good advice on how to deal with his situation, Squidward is very grateful (showing so by picking SpongeBob up and air-kissing him), and he gladly hangs out with SpongeBob as he follows his advice.

27. 🍔💕 Bubble Bass's Tab - Season 12

In this episode, Mr. Krabs sends SpongeBob and Squidward to Bubble Bass's house to collect his tab after he refuses to pay it. Squidward is the most determined to complete this task, starting off by kicking down the door to his house- which SpongeBob calls "masculine," and Squidward briefly gets flustered at. Once they're inside, Bubble Bass tells them he'll pay the money he owes if they play a board game called the Three Deadly Challenges with him. SpongeBob, who loves the game, immediately agrees, but Squidward doesn't want to go along with it, questioning why SpongeBob is giving Bubble Bass the upper hand while he's the one that owes them money. He gives in, however, when he sees how much SpongeBob really wants to play. He then plays alongside him in a life size version of the Three Deadly Challenges, going along with each one and eventually actually getting really into it with the help of SpongeBob's imagination, defeating Bubble Bass at last. The episode ends back at the Krusty Krab with SpongeBob and Squidward happily dancing the tango together.

28. 🩵💕❣️ The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge on the Run

After Mr. Krabs, Plankton, Sandy, and Squidward find out that SpongeBob and Patrick are going to be executed in the Lost City of Atlantic City, they rush over to save them. Even though Squidward says he's just going to see Kelpy G, he says his piece to Poseidon and his audience to try and convince them to save SpongeBob's life when they arrive. He says that even though he can't stand him, he loves him. Though he calls him annoying, he also calls him sweet and nice. Finally, he concludes by calling him his friend, and saying that he doesn't deserve to die. This brings the audience to tears and makes SpongeBob incredibly happy.

29. Squidferatu - Season 13

After SpongeBob finds out that Squidward has been getting Nosferatu's mail for years, he lets him know he needs to deliver it to him and Squidward tells him to come along. Once they finally arrive at Nosferatu's castle, Slappy tells them that they need to spend the night due to "inclement weather." However, the two soon believe that Nosferatu is trying to attack them, and they run through the castle, working together to figure out how to stay safe. They get along pretty well the entire episode.

30. Mandatory Music - Season 13

In this episode, Squidward lands himself in a court ordered music class for his poor clarinet playing. SpongeBob ends up being in the class as well, wanting to practice playing his nose, and nearing the end of the episode, Squidward has shown no improvement and his clarinet is forcibly destroyed. SpongeBob comforts him when he is crying, offering him a tissue, and once he blows his nose, it is found to create trumpet noises. SpongeBob starts cheering him on, telling him he's "finally found his instrument." After Squidward is declared the "most improved student in the class", he smiles, and the episode transitions to him giving a public performance with his nose playing. SpongeBob continues to cheer him on the loudest, and the episode ends with Squidward wiping a tear from his eye and happily continuing on playing.

31. ❣️ Swimming Fools - Season 13

Though Squidward was mad at and rude to SpongeBob at a couple points in this episode, near the end he calms down and becomes soft and apologetic. He comes clean to SpongeBob about using his pool without his permission, admitting to him how jealous he was of it. SpongeBob then comforts a crying Squidward and lets him know that they're "best neighbors", and that he can use his pool "any time, day or night". Squidward then smiles and thanks him.

[pocketramblr]

AU where students from the same middle school aren't placed in the same class at UA

I guess it's a good thing that no middle schools get more than two kids into the hero track then...

1- Sorry Bakugou and Mina, you're getting put in 1B to separate you from people you know. (This has got to be a weird social experiment for Nedzu, giving his students "fresher" starts maybe? He did that to poor Tamaki and Mirio too huh) In their place are Ibara and Awase. (It should probably be Ibara and Nirengeki but 💙 Awase is a favorite 💙)

2- Mina and Itsuka are the Big Sisters team of Class 1B, the vice and class representative respectively. Mina is the cool big sister who lends you makeup and cheers you up, and Itsuka is the big sister who fixes your haircut and covers for you from Mom. Anyone in class 1B would kill for either of them. The reverse is also true. Well...... Almost anyone in 1B would kill for them... Mina is also going to make sure that 1B has the most fabulous culture festival on record for UA, ever.

3- Bakugou considers his class a bunch of extras and dislikes how him being the entrance exam winner did not win him the class election automatically, nor how Monoma pivots to being open about disliking him after a few hours of knowing him. ("It's tragic, but better one bad member of a class than twenty of them, 1A. Well, one bad member and a TRAITOR, MINA, I SEE YOU HANGING OUT WITH DISCOUNT TETSUTETSU."). That said, he slowly begins to respect some of his classmates: Itsuka (for controlling Monoma), Shishida and Honenuki (raw power + composure), and Setsuna (good test of power.) He thinks Vlad is an ok teacher, and he does excell at increasing the raw damage his students deal on the battlefield.

4- Ibara, in contrast, gets more training from Aizawa about dext and using minimal vines for the max purpose, rather than as much as possible. She has tea with Tokoyami and Momo often, and Momo reports that she isn't sure if the other two are on the same page or not, because their speech is very dramatic and they're either portending doom or debating spiritualism. But either way they keep meeting so?? Friendship I guess?? She and Sato bake for the dorm every week, and Izuku goes to her for help with Black Whip (she only tries an exorcism once)

5- Awase is just so cool so everyone in 1A loves him too I think this is a very unbiased opinion for me to have. He's got a friendly rivalry with Sero, likes to spar with Ojiro, and has the most incomprehensible arguments with Kaminari when they should be going to bed. Izuku gets excited to work with him and his quirk in groups, (his sharp language is familiar, but warm, and there's something else about him that's familiar, at the back of Izuku's mind, where he can't quite reach... ) and Awase appreciates him.

[jellycreamjammedart]

This might be a risky hot take but

Some of you "Gregory Defenders" are starting to annoy the absolute hell out of me

And this isn't about the "whether Gregory is innocent or guilty" side of the argument you're on, but about how obnoxious and unhinged some of y'all are about it regardless of the "side" you're on.

Not everyone in the fandom is going to like Gregory, nor will everyone see him as innocent. Some may even say he's a cold and manipulative backstabber, or that he's only popular because of "male protag privilege". And you know what, that's actually all okay and valid. And you know why?

Because Gregory is not real.

"He's only like 12!!!!" he's not real.

"He's just a child!!!" he's not real.

"He's not guilty he was brainwashed!!" he's not real.

"He's only trying to protect himself he doesn't deserve hate!!!" Let people dislike/hate him if they want, it won't affect Gregory at all because he's not real.

It's not like people are bullying a real child. He's a fictional character, in case y'all ever forgot that detail.

Actually no, I am SURE y'all forgot that detail, with how you treat people who dislike him as if it was an actual moral issue and paint them as evil for not sharing your image of your perfect cinnamon roll gremlin boy.

"How DARE you say Gregory's not innocent? How can you HATE him he's just a kid!!! It's not his fault STOP punishing him!!! How evil do you have to be to blame a literal child!!!? You're disgusting!!!" HE'S NOT FUCKING REAL.

Where in the fucking hell is it okay to label a person as evil or bully them for like, liking Cassie (another fictional character in case you also forgot) over Gregory??

Yes this also goes to y'all who approach people unprompted to tell them like a lawyer why Gregory is not to blame, especially with how condescending and obnoxious you are about it, pretty much reeking the vibe of "I'm telling you how wrong you are for blaming Gregory because you're clearly stupid for not believing otherwise, here's why I'm right and why my vision of this character is the correct one."

I'm sick of "Gregory defense lawyers" coming to my inbox after my ramblings about Cassie blaming Gregory for the elevator drop all condenscendingly like "Ummm actually you can't do that because Gregory is innocent it was all the Mimic in case you missed the details blah blah-" did I fucking ask???

(Unless people seem confused or are new to the fandom and they ask, then you may be entitled to tell them... but I still suggest being unbiased and focusing on canon aspects only rather than your personal opinion about it.)

Don't even get me started on y'all's flat out hostility towards people who don't like Gregory

"If you think Gregory did anything wrong ever I'LL FUCKING FIGHT YOU" is this really all that necessary to protect a kid that doesn't even exist??? Is it worth ending friendships or snuffing out potential new friendships with other real people over??? Worth bullying and witch-hunting other real people whose only apparent crime was loving the same franchise as you? How can you be proud of that?

(Unless you mean you will fight people in that memey or shitpost way then idc keep being a silly little guy actually)

"But I adore Gregory, and he's my favorite character!! It makes me really upset when people hate him/make art/write about him being guilty or blamed, or say Cassie is better! I don't agree with it!!" ... then why are you making yourself upset by checking out content about Gregory that you don't like? Like... dude.

People are going to create stuff about Gregory (or any other fictional character really,) that won't always align with you. And they're entitled to do it, no matter how wrong you think they are! Instead of policing what other people create about your blorbo, just look away and seek content about them that you actually like. If a particular creator's vision on Gregory is too much of a deal-breaker for you, just block and blacklist and move on. Or create the content you want yourself instead of badgering other people.

Also keep in mind that Gregory being antagonized in a fic/art/etc doesn't always translate to the authors hating him, chances are they're just writting it from other characters' perspectives who may have whatever beef with him in the given setting, so don't go jumping to conclusions either. And even if the antagonism does come from the author's personal bias, that still gives you no right to harrass them anyways.

I will continue liking Cassie over Gregory and I do think she's better and I will continue rambling about Cassie hating Gregory for believing he betrayed her even if it was the Mimic, because it is an interesting scenario, and I personally think the whole GGY thing was dumb and unnecessary (he could still have been an interesting character as just an unlucky homeless boy without any sinister plot-twist.) That's it; There's no fucking need to make it about morality, ffs. If you don't like that, ignore it, or unfollow me if it's that much of a deal-breaker for you.

All y'all are doing is giving reasonable Gregory fans a bad name, and actually making people dislike him further by oversaturating him and forcing him into a source of stress and disdain rather than enjoyment for them, where people start actually getting sick of seeing him around (and I feel that myself already.)

Let people dislike Gregory for whatever reason.

By the way...

You "Gregory Haters" are annoying me as well

As entitled as you are to your opinion about this annoying manipulative liar of a brat, there are people who share a different sentiment about him. Let them.

You don't have to reblog or comment on someone's post how much they adore Gregory to tell why you hate him, or go to the spaces of Gregory fans to spew why you hate so much this little guy they like. That's just fucking mean and rude. Make your own post, or go to the spaces that share your opinion.

Quit making people feel bad for liking a character you dislike. If you don't like Gregory, why are you even bothering to check out content about him, then? Check out content about characters you LIKE. I bet that'd make you much happier than spending your time regurgitating your hate over someone's creation about a character they like but you don't and unsurprisingly start an argument about it. Look for things you like, block and blacklist stuff and people about your hated character if you gotta but leave them alone

Let people like Gregory for whatever reason, too.

Let people see Gregory however way they see fit.

Because this bears repeating: He's not real. He's a fictional character. He's a tool. Let people use him however way they see fit to drive a story or scenario; that's his purpose, as a fictional character.

[moonshynecybin]

oh vale fucking marc in phillip island ‘15 for the first time, promptly freaking out, and latching onto uccio’s bullshit conspiracy just to find a way to drive marc away from himself… phew. you’re a genius i lovee the threesome au..

how would reconciliation work in that universe? would vale see marc getting cozy with an older man at the gala or someplace else and lose his mind? esp if the man has a girl w him who’s eyeing marc up and down? would marc think vale initially wants to go back to the first arrangement instead of just the two of them?

so many of my rosquez aus hinge on the beautiful race that is PI 2015. one of the sexiest races of all time and one where vale decided that marc was actually and genuinely EVIL based on uccio's extremely unbiased and not jealous at all opinion. BUT. uccio has never liked marc. has ALWAYS been suspicious of his and vale's relationship. and i think he would frankly have a LOT more of a leg to stand on if he had tried to break them up after assen 2015 instead imo... which makes me wonderrrr how long the uccio hate campaign had been germinating... whispering in vale's ear... turning the tides... moments in iago history.... etc. and i mean a BIG part of the reason vale's breaking point IS phillip island is because losing that title seemed a lot more realistic (three races left the pressure is ON. and marc is healthy so the field is more competitive) AND it was one of the greatest races of all time (WATCH ITTTT) and marc fucking WON it. vale used to be the kind of bitch who won that sort of thing. so its digging at his ego in lots of little ways that EYE imagine would be hard to swallow, and uccio identifies the chink in vale's armor here and exploits the FUCK out of it.

so i think. if im narrativizing this for gay sex reason which you KNOWWWW i am. that this is kind of the ideal point in a story to have vale flip out as much as possible. really dig into his neuroses. and one of the crazy parts of rosquez isnt JUST that vale is having an ego crisis its that hes having a crisis about CARING ABOUT MARC (also part of the reason it takes as long as it does for the paranoia to set in). thats why it suck so much! marc was his FRIEND ! (and he isnt friends with his rivals !!! think of that video where hes talking about bezz and pecco like. affectionately baffled about why theyre still friends?? this has never happened to him before!!! hes wigging out !!!) and so vale is ALSO heartbroken hereeeeee and thats part of why he gets as fucking mean as he does.

so in THIS au its them finally acknowledging that its not the girls that makes them keep fucking. its THEM. its EARNESTLY wanting each other outside of the heterosexual coolguy masculine just buddies threesomes that theyve been pretending are normal. pretending they havent been engineering them as social acceptable ways to get closer 2 each other. and once they break that seal and theres no more excuses. thats just too close for vale to keep a rival. and he implodes it.

[mazuwii]

Would AOT men support Andrew Tate??

I'm bored so why not (unbiased headcannons, feel free to add your opinion)

Levi:

•doesn't even know how to use electronics, in fact he doesn't even know who Andrew Tate is. He overhears everyone talking about him and how outrageous or "masculine" he is. He pictures this huge scary man with millions of scars, Dutch Van Der Linde history and that.

•when he finally hears an explanation from  Gabi's phone, he tries to peek over from his wheelchair. Let's just say, he was disappointed. His imagination was crushed at the sight of what seemed like a gay porn actor that talks too much.

Eren:

•At one point in his life, Eren Sasha and Connie cosplayed pitbull at a pitbull convention (cult) , what makes you think he wouldn't use the bald hats again?

•of course he thinks Andrew Tate is a dumb ass but a little bit of trolling never hurt anyone.

•No he doesn't like him but he does quote him ironically

Bertholdt:

•Bertholdt scrolls on tiktok only for gardening and gaming content, and anything that doesn't fit into those genres, he instantly clicks 'not interested', he doesn't even bother listening. At some point the amount of Andrew Tate videos on his fyp began to piss him off so bad he blocked the hashtag, and even that didn't work 💀💀💀

Reiner:

•Reiner throwing on his dad glasses and squinting at he screen, "who's this?"

"Andrew Tate,"

He listens for a few seconds, but the words just aren't wording,"Just block him babe,"

No but seriously he finds the redpill community embarrassing af, especially with the hatred they have for single mothers, since he came from one and his respect for them

Jean:

•Jean would agree with a few points, but will happily take pleasure by trolling his fans with Connie and Sasha

Connie:

•If you ever see Bottom G edits, of random bald men twerking or dancing in an odd manner, labelled "top G spotted at an orgie" that was Connie and Sasha

Armin:

•He’s a literal feminist, with receipts, try him.

Erwin:

•could not give less of a shit, his tiktok is full of those flowery 'goodmorning🌹🌸💐😘’ edits that he downloads and sends to people on WhatsApp

Zeke:

•This is tricky, on one hand he looks like the type of man that redpillers would make an edit of, on the other he looks like he'd bully them

Porco:

•I'm sorry to my Porco stans, as much as I love him he would say "free top G" and no one even knows if he's being serious or not- like if you made fun of him, he’d laugh with you, so maybe not idk

Miche:

•He thinks they're pathetic little boys

Floch:

•Very proud of his mysoginistic beliefs, would defend Andrew to his death , and unlike Porco, very much goes on protests to "free Top G"

[camels-pen]

You Are Not Immune to Saltwater

Summary:

One moment, Vlad was sipping tea at his desk. The next, he was surrounded by circus performers with a sword at his throat.

He blamed Daniel.

-

HEY GUYS GUESS WHO'S POSTING THEIR BANG FIC TODAY!!! i'll be linking my lovely partners', Bib & Skittles (@bibliophilea & @skittlespoxum), music and illustrations here soon!! i had so much fun writing pathetic Vlad and my partners' works are amazing so i think you all should read and look and listen to our stuff and enjoy! this is a completely unbiased opinion :]

also a note: this takes place during the East Blue Saga, the first arc of One Piece.

Ao3 Link | Skittles' Illustrations | Bib's Music

—

Vlad was in his office.

Vlad was in his office a moment ago.

Vlad was in his office a moment ago and then he blinked. And now he wasn’t.

“Captain Buggy!” The man—one who looked like a minimum wage theatre student working at a theme park and getting far too into their role—held a sword to his throat. “There’s an intruder on deck!”

“Cheese and crackers, Daniel, if you drugged my tea or what have you…” he mumbled under his breath.

“Intruder?!” came a muffled yell. A man in an oddly colourful outfit and clown makeup, complete with a round red nose, stomped through a door leading into what Vlad can only assume is a cabin. “You mean a stowaway!”

“No, an intruder.” The man kept his sword steady even as he looked back at his ‘captain’. “He just appeared on deck out of thin air.”

“A devil fruit user, then?” Maybe Daniel did drug his tea. He’d have to get back at him somehow. Hmm. Maybe adjusting all the security in his home to be extra sensitive to ectoplasm would be appropriate.

“Possibly.” The sword shifted closer to Vlad’s neck. “Should I kill him and be done with it?”

“Now, now,”—Vlad pressed the tip of his finger to the side of the sword—“Figments of my drug induced hallucination or not, I’d rather not have you threaten my life like this, thank you.” He pushed against the sword, expecting it to yield easily.

It did not.

“Ah, this is one of those hallucinations. The ones where everything goes wrong no matter what would happen in reality.” Vlad sighed. “I do rather dislike those ones.”

“Why’s he talking gibberish, Cabaji?”

Vlad clapped his hands. “Oh good, you can’t understand me. I can insult your outfits all I like.”

“We can understand you just fine, intruder,” the ‘Cabaji’ fellow spat. “What are you, some kind of noble? A king’s advisor?”

“As flattered as I am that you’d think me adjacent to royalty, no. I’m a simple, hardworking businessman.”

Cabaji narrowed his eyes. “So a merchant? Food vendor? Store owner?”

“No—well, I suppose merchant would be closest.”

“How does a supposed merchant end up all the way out here? Without a single ship in sight?” The cold steel dragged along Vlad’s finger as it touched his throat. “Answer carefully.”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “I’m fairly certain my nephew is pulling a rather cruel prank on me. I should be out of your hair in a few hours. A day, at most.” Though it would be rather annoying if he was drugged out of his mind for the entire day. He had an important product pitch meeting to attend tomorrow morning.

“So your nephew is the devil fruit user?” ‘Captain Buggy’ said, glaring. “I don’t buy it.”

“Considering I don’t really care what you ‘buy’ or not, that is completely useless information to me.” He sighed. Rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What am I doing chatting with hallucinations?” 

“We’re real!” the supposed ‘captain’ yelled. “And answer the damn question!”

“I don’t know what kind of drug ‘devil fruit’ is slang for, but my stupid straight-laced nephew likely doesn’t touch the stuff.” Whether he would slip it into Vlad’s drink was another question entirely. He’d left ‘weed’ brownies in Vlad’s office once; Vlad didn’t know what levels that boy would stoop to for revenge.

“Well, it is East Blue. Don’t get many devil fruit users around here,” said a man in a fur vest. “If his nephew hated him and became a user, then it’s possible he really doesn’t know shit.” The large white lion next to him nodded its head.

“Right, well, now that that’s sorted, I’ll just be on my way—”

“Oh no you’re not!” Captain Buggy laughed. “If you value your life, you’ll hand over all your beri! And maybe if you play nice, we’ll even see you home. Of course, you’ll have to fork over all your valuables when we get there.”

“Oh joy.” 

The empty threats on his life were nothing new, neither were thieves after his money. He was impressed by the creativity behind the scenario; he wasn’t quite sure he’d ever imagine such a… fantastical ship of clown pirates and a possibly sentient lion in his right mind. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had hallucinations this out of the box either. Whatever Daniel slipped in his drink must have been something quite strong.

What to do, what to do…

Well. He was in his office last he remembered. The room was empty save himself. And he always locked the door before getting to work to avoid distractions.

Vlad shrugged. He couldn’t see any real consequences, as long as he kept the damage minimal.

With that, he walked forward through Cabaji’s sword. Then the man himself, ignoring his startled breath and Buggy’s yelling about crazy stuck-up men. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be finding the closest thing to a bed around here and sleeping off my… whatever is happening to my body—”

A whip wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his side. 

The man in the fur vest glared at him—were those animal ears on his head? “I don’t know how you got around Cabaji’s sword, but you’re not getting out of that.”

It wasn’t wrapped around his legs, he should still be fine. Intangibility spread out from his torso, and the whip fell to the ground. Vlad stepped over it as he continued to the nearest door. As much as he wanted to blast the man for wrinkling his suit, he would have to refrain to avoid damaging anything in his office.

A shadow appeared over Vlad’s head and he preemptively turned everything above his waist intangible. He watched, bored, as massive jaws swiftly went through him, meeting with an audible clack of teeth and a whine.

Vlad sighed, walking through the foul smelling maw. “Are you done?” 

“Not yet!” Vlad felt something grab his ankles and looked down. The captain’s hands were holding onto them. 

Just his hands.

“Can’t move now, can you?” Buggy laughed, his handless-arms crossed over each other. 

He could, but it was always a hassle to turn just his ankles intangible. If he wasn’t careful, his shoes would go through the floor and he’d scare some poor soul in the break room below his office.

Well, nothing some good old fashioned ghostly strength couldn’t fix. Just one smooth tug and then—

Vlad paused. His ankles didn’t move.

He tugged again. And again. Each time he was met with resistance—real resistance. Almost as if another ghost was holding onto him.

“Well, this is rather troubling.” Vlad tapped his chin. “I don’t know any ghosts strong enough to restrain me. Maybe ghost hunters? No, no; none of them have any subtlety. Though Fright—”

Buggy gestured with his head. “Do it.”

Vlad furrowed his brow. “Do what?”

His vision went black.

—

Vlad groaned as he awoke, a throbbing pain at his temple. He couldn’t decide whether coffee would be better or worse, but it’d be different and the promise of it could entice him from his bed—

He tried to pull off the covers, only to find his arms restrained. With ropes. Real, actual, brown ropes. They smelled like his cat’s morning breath.

“Captain,”—Vlad looked up from where he’d been staring incredulously at the ropes, coming face-to-face with the lion—“he’s awake.”

“Good. Mohji, call off Richie.”

There was a quick whistle and the lion turned and walked away, padding around the man in the fur vest. It was the same colour as the lion’s fur. So were the ears.

The man—Mohji, he assumed—rested his arm on the lion’s mane without hesitation, like Miranda with her disgusting, slobbering mastiff on bring your pet to work day. Wonderful. He’d probably assure everyone his little angel wouldn’t even think of chewing on the furniture. And suddenly he’s blubbering in Vlad’s office giving apologies and asking for exceptions and that this has never happened before sir, I swear!

Buggy crouched in front of Vlad. Right. Clown pirates. “Now that you’re all nice and comfy.” He brandished a knife from somewhere. “Your wallet just had some stupid looking cards, so you’re gonna tell us where your business is and—”

“What is it with you hallucinations and your fixation on blades?” Vlad grumbled.

The blade pressed closer. Vlad raised an eyebrow, but stayed still. He wanted to see where the clown was going with this. 

The tip of Buggy’s knife pricked his lower eyelid. 

“I’ve been pretty generous, pretty lenient you know? But even the great Buggy has limits to his kindness.” 

Vlad would argue Buggy wouldn’t know kindness if it shot him in the face.

The blade pressed deeper. “Tell me what I want to know, now.”

Well, Vlad hoped he was aiming at his desk. He was due for a new one anyway.

“Employees can always be paid off, employees can always be paid off—” Vlad mumbled to himself.

“Huh? What was that?” Buggy put his free hand to his ear. “That doesn’t sound like—GYAHH!”

Vlad shot Buggy with his eye blasts. He phased out of his restraints while Buggy was screaming and clutching his face. It would be a shame if the skin melted off—Vlad always hated the stench of burning flesh—but small sacrifices and all that.

He ran through the rest of the thugs waiting around and headed for the door. Loathe as he was to leave his office, this was getting ridiculous and he was getting thirsty—

Suddenly, freezing liquid was dumped over him and he felt all the strength in his body fading. He tripped over his own feet and tumbled face first into the wood. 

“W-What in the world…?”

“Good thinking with the bucket, Cabaji,” said Mohji. 

There was an answering grunt. “Wasn’t me. Captain had a hunch.”

“And what a hunch it was!” Buggy said, laughing. Vlad slowly lifted his head to see Buggy smirking down at him. There was hardly a scratch on him besides a ring of red skin around his eyes.

What?

“Y-You should be… your face should be…”

Buggy laughed again. “What, that wimpy thing? The worst part was how bright the light was!”

“It was essentially a laser beam, how could you possibly—?!” Vlad was cutoff as Buggy stomped on the back of his head, digging his face into the woodgrain. He groaned and made to get up when he felt something sharp pressed against his nape.

“Now, I’ve heard enough of your prattling and you still haven’t answered two very simple questions,” Buggy said, voice quieter and deeper, a menacing undertone to it. “Who are you and how did you get on my ship?”

He should just ignore this ‘captain’—maybe grab the empty bucket and bang it against his head to get enough clarity to fly himself home too—but something about how the water weighed him down, how he found it a challenge just to lift his fingers, stopped him. 

Surely by now, the illusory ‘Buggy’ fellow would know that Vlad was incapable of being restrained, much less threatened with non-ghost hunter gear. And yet the blade against his neck didn’t waver—in fact Buggy himself wasn’t even putting much weight on his foot. Vlad would only need give a little push to dislodge it, something even Daniel’s little friends would surely be capable of. 

And yet he couldn’t do it.

There was something in the water, he thought. Maybe a muscle relaxant? Must have been something strong for him to be affected this quickly. Or perhaps a poison of some sort.

Buggy increased the pressure on his foot. Vlad started to struggle pulling in breath.

Ugh, Vlad was really hoping no one was right outside his office. 

“My name is Vlad Masters,” he said, voice raspy. Buggy eased up and Vlad coughed. “I don’t know how I got here, but it was likely my nephew’s fault as I said earlier.”

“And as I said earlier, I don’t buy it.”

The pressure increased, harder than before.

“W-Wait, I can—” 

“There’s nothing to prove. You’ve got devil fruit powers yourself, we all saw it.” That ‘devil fruit’ nonsense again. What in the world were they talking about? 

“It’s true: I can’t prove it.” Well, he could fake it, but at this point these fools would probably skewer him even if he knew the truth. “But I’m clearly at your mercy, and I’m no fighter. How about I pay you for escorting me back to my home?”

“Uh huh, how stupid do you think I am? For all I know, you could be leading us to a Marine base!”

“You’re pirates; don’t you have maps?”

“I don’t know how fucking rich you are, but we don’t have maps for the entire fucking East Blue.” The prick at the back of Vlad’s neck disappeared. “But considering how you’re acting like you’ve never stepped foot outdoors, you’re probably some stuck up rich merchant like you said. Either that or you’re a pretty flashy actor.”

Flashy? “Er, thank you, I suppose.”

“We’ll take your offer.” Protests sprouted up, but Buggy shouted over them. “Shut up, you idiots! You chose to follow me, didn’t you? We’ll take this rich moron home and get some… fair compensation.” He said ‘fair compensation’ like they were dirty words. The protests died down—some of them even started laughing and eyeing Vlad like a piece of meat. How flattering. 

If this was supposed to be some kind of subconscious guilt about cancelling the sensitivity training at the office this month, Vlad wasn’t listening.

“Excellent. You can untie me now.”

“Captain, let me watch him for the night.” Cabaji narrowed his eyes. “For my own peace of mind.”

“Yeah yeah, do what you want. I’m going to the galley. Hey, one of you buffoons put on some grub!” Buggy and the few others present filed out of the cabin, leaving Vlad prone in front of a man with two swords and a glare sharper than both of them. 

“Oh joy, I’ve always wanted a sleepover.” 

—

Vlad didn’t sleep a wink.

Cabaji took his self-assigned job very seriously and the thought of closing his eyes around this man sounded like something stupid enough that even Daniel wouldn’t attempt it.

Vlad sat himself atop a box pushed up against the side wall, keeping an eye on Cabaji from his peripheral. The man was behind him, leaning against the back wall. The white of his eyes had stayed visible the whole night so Vlad hadn’t let himself nod off.

Vlad startled as the door burst open, slamming against the wall with a big BANG. 

“Rise and shine, breakfast’s on!” Mohji said, setting down his foot. Was it really necessary to kick the door open? “Hey, Cabaji, I’m talking to you. Quit the circus act and get up already! Also, merchant, what are you doing?”

“What?” Vlad looked down. His hand was raised, palm facing Mohji. He could feel the ectoplasm in his palm, but it thankfully wasn’t enough to start glowing. Vlad quickly tucked his arm behind his back. “Oh nothing, just a… greeting? Yes, it’s a particular greeting where I’m from.” He gave his best press smile to really sell it.

Mohji’s face scrunched up. “Ugh, don’t smile at me like that. It’s creepy.” He turned and leaned out of the doorway. “Oi Richie, I don’t wanna get stabbed so give him a morning call for me.”

There was a rumbling growl followed by the lion taking his owner’s place in front of the door. It took a comically large breath in and let out an earthshattering ROAR into the room.

Vlad tried to cover his ears, but it was like putting a kitchen sponge in the ocean. Absolutely useless. 

There was movement in the corner of his eye and Vlad turned, getting a good look at Cabaji for the first time since yesterday. The man was hunched over a bit, rubbing his eyes. The half of his hair that wasn’t shaved with those ridiculous stripes hid his face. 

“Richie,” he said, tone dangerously low yet somehow loud enough to be heard over the lion. “If you don’t shut up right this second, I’ll skin you alive.”

The lion immediately quieted, shaking and quickly backing away. What an oddly intelligent animal.

Cabaji looked up, adding, “Mohji, how many times have I told you never to make Richie wake me up?” The scowl on his face was slightly terrifying. Only slightly though; Vlad was far better at it. It was more impressive how he wasn’t as jumpy as Vlad was after a sleepless night.

He seemed sluggish and less tense than yesterday, actually, with the way he was pushing himself off the wall. There was something smudged on his face and hands. It was a slightly off-white colour—

Vlad froze.

He. painted. his eyelids. 

“What is wrong with you?” Vlad said, without thinking. 

Cabaji’s gaze turned on him. He smirked. “I said I was going to watch you. I didn’t say I was going to stay awake.”

“Not very bright of you.” Vlad should probably stop talking, but to hell with it. “And here I thought you were the cautious one.”

“I am the cautious one,” Cabaji said. He walked up to Vlad, his sheathed swords bumping against his hips. “Your type never looks back.”

Vlad felt his face heat up as Cabaji grabbed the back of his blazer and dragged him out of the room.

—

Breakfast was… disgusting. Even Jack had better table manners than these barbarians. And Jack had very little table manners to speak of. 

He was deposited back into that same room, this time by Richie, but Vlad was starting to get tired of waiting for whatever hallucinogen he’d ingested to wear off. 

Richie’s ear flicked as Vlad started to move towards the door. The lion’s eyes opened to slits and it lifted its head to growl at him. Not wanting to alert anyone else, he held up his hands and backed up to the wall furthest from the door. Richie huffed and settled back down. Within a few moments, its eyes were closed too.

Vlad tried over and over again; different plank, same result. He tried longer and shorter strides, using his tip toes, taking off his shoes, then his socks. Nothing worked. It was infuriating.

If a single step was enough to alert Richie, then what about opening the door? The knob and hinges wouldn’t be an issue since he could just pass through the whole thing instead of opening it. No, the problem wasn’t the door, it was the distance.

If only he could soundlessly make it to the door in the first place—

Oh.

Vlad floated a few inches off the ground. He made it to the door within moments. Richie didn’t move, snoring lightly. 

Vlad would blame this on the lack of sleep.

He phased through the wall, turning invisible as he passed through the wood. He’d already given up at this point; if someone had come into his office, he’d just have to deal with it when he had his mental faculties returned to him. 

The sunlight passed through him, its warmth missing him entirely just like the sea breeze. He slowly circled the ship from above, taking in the layout of the ship and noting the groups of pirates milling about. He paused by the crow’s nest, snatching a leftover spyglass for his own use.

Honestly, he was hoping this was one of those frivolous toys with the swirling colours in it rather than a real functioning spyglass. He always got a bit queasy looking at them so maybe he could make himself throw up whatever Daniel tricked him into taking. Not really something his employees would leave lying around, but one could hope.

Vlad put the spyglass up to his eye. It seemed like an ordinary one, but looks were deceiving. It could be the stupid toy he needed in real life and a few more moments would—

Was that another ship?

“Captain!” a distant voice yelled below. “Enemy ship spotted! It’s the Marines!”

Sure enough, painted on some of the sails was the word MARINE in big bold letters. The other sails had a blue symbol on it—Vlad’s best guess was a bird with a a wrench. 

“Alright you blockheads, get ready for battle!” Buggy shouted. “And make sure to be flashy about it.” There was a collective “Yes, captain!” followed by stomping feet and banging doors, bringing out swords and guns and cannonballs to dump on deck. Others ran for the cannons lining the side of the ship.

Enemies of Buggy and called the ‘Marines’ of all things? Vlad breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, his subconscious was giving him a real break.

Vlad quickly landed at a good spot behind a group of barrels, right by the ship’s railing. Just as he was about to try and catch the attention of the marines, there was a startled roar and the lion burst out of the storage room Vlad so brilliantly escaped.

“Richie! It’s just Marines, you’re supposed to be guarding the creepy merchant!” Mohji shouted. Richie was shaking its head and using one paw to gesture at the room it ran out of. 

On the Marine ship, a man with a white coat draped around his shoulders shouted over the din of people in eye-searing colours running around with guns. “Buggy the Clown, in accordance with Marine law, we are here to arrest you. Do not resist or we will show no mercy.”

Buggy laughed, loud and barely a few feet from Vlad’s hiding place. “You heard ‘em men! Show no mercy!” The crew roared as one and began their assault.

Gunshots and cannonfire. The whistle and shink of thrown knives hitting their targets. Cursing and grunting and yelling and, of all things, laughing. One of his employees might call it ‘brutal’, but Vlad called it a mess.

The Marines, in a far more organized and proper fashion, fired their own cannons in sync at the call of the man with the coat. Buggy’s ship rocked rather dramatically and sent a good chunk of the crew reaching for something to brace themselves. Then, moments later, everyone on the Marine ship swung over on ropes to take the fight to the pirates.

Vlad watched the man with the coat land aboard Buggy’s ship, cutting down those idiotic pirates left and right. Maybe that man was the captain of the ship? The way he was barking orders while fighting pointed to a yes. Vlad needed to make his way to him ASAP.

The ship swayed underneath him, still rocking from the cannonfire. He grabbed the bar of the railing in a death grip—who knew what kind of rusty nails or broken glass were littered about? He couldn’t afford to fall over. It was out of the question.

He started to pull himself up as the ship started to settle. Then a large wave of water splashed over the railing, soaking him completely and sapping his strength.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” Vlad hissed, glaring at his visible hand and the ocean beyond it. Leaning his whole weight on the barrels, he tried to push himself up. His hand slipped and he landed ungracefully on the deck.

He couldn’t wait for his strength to come back; the sooner those Marines got a hold of him and the sooner he could sober up, the better. Plus, he didn’t want to chance that his hallucination wouldn’t make something up for the Marines to suddenly leave or get beaten by such a disorganized crew. Then he would be left to Buggy’s clutches for however long it took for him to become sober naturally!

Vlad scowled in disgust at the damp wood probably oozing tetanus. He slowly shifted to his elbows. “Crawling it is.”

He was lucky the only thing he had to worry about was unknown janitorial standards. His powers would take care of the rest.

—

Vlad spoke too soon.

As soon as he’d remembered the little detail about this not-real seawater turning off his very-real powers, he was already too far to turn around and dry off.

Guns were going off all around him—at first he’d ducked his head, but now he could only afford to flinch as he continued forward, the constant movement of feet and swords deterring him from pausing for even a second.

Thuds and thumps and slashes and cracks and the BOOM of cannon fire. There was no respite for his poor heart. 

One elbow at a time, Vlad, just one elbow at a time.

The Marine captain was blessedly keeping himself to just one corner of the ship, but Vlad wasn’t sure if he’d make it to that corner in one piece.

The scrape of his blazer against the deck grated at him like the rough wood under his hands. He spent not a small sum on this suit and it was getting sullied all for the sake of some stupid teenage boredom. When Vlad saw Daniel again, he was going to—

A sword impaled itself into the deck, a barely an inch from Vlad’s arm.

A cold sweat broke out all over his body and he kept himself as still as he possibly could. He heard the smack of flesh on flesh directly above him followed by a loud thud. Then a series of stomps and the distinct sound of clothes dragging on wood. 

He heard the tear in his suit before he’d even realized he’d jerked his arm free.

Vlad kept his gaze only on his goal, ignoring the jagged cut in his blazer and the not-so-distant splash that echoed over the rest of the battlefield.

He navigated around broken weapons, splintered holes, and still bodies, all while keeping down his breakfast. He nearly didn’t manage it when he realized the only way forward was through a blood splatter almost as big as Vlad himself.

He did make it, though the less said the better. 

Finally, he’d made it to the mast, not far from the captain of the Marines, but not as close as he’d like either. He sat up against it, thankful his suit was black and hiding the dark stains that he could still, unfortunately, smell. The man who made a fool out of him all night was providing quite the distraction though.

Cabaji was smiling like a cat that caught the canary, engaged in a swordfight with one of the Marine soldiers. And he was riding a unicycle of all things. On a swaying ship. Not far off, he saw Buggy’s legs running around, and Buggy himself laughing somewhere behind Vlad.

That grating laugh spurred him on and before Vlad knew it, he was already at his goal.

“We’re pushing them back, don’t falter!” the Marine Captain yelled.

“Excuse me.” The captain looked down to where Vlad was tapping his shoe. He quickly dispatched the closest pirates before pointing his sword downward. “Ah, I see you’re quick to make assumptions, but I am no mere pirate—”

“Uh huh, you’re ‘one of the best’?” The captain glared at him. “Heard it a thousand times. How about you get up from where you’re scuttling around down there and prove it?”

“No no, there’s a misunderstanding here—you see, I’m a hostage, not a pirate.” He glanced a look back at the carnage around them. “Hence the… scuttling, as you put it.” He clasped his hands. “Please, I really do need some protection. I’m a simple” —ugh— “merchant, you see, and this band of pirates kidnapped me for my wealth!” 

“That so? Well then, allow me to correct myself.” Vlad sighed, relieved. Of course, there was no reason to worry. A smart fellow like this would know the difference between an upstanding citizen and a group of horrendous criminals.

The captain reached down with his free hand. “Oh, thank you—” 

He yanked Vlad up by his shirt collar. “You’re one of the worst.”  

“I don’t know what you mean,” Vlad rasped, clutching at the arm currently choking him out.

“You’re soaking wet, roaming freely above deck, and none of the pirates have done anything to stop you—in fact, they’re getting out of your way.”

What? That was preposterous. Vlad was just exceptionally observant and aware of his surroundings. Why would these pirates bother to avoid him at any point when they’ve made his life so miserable already?

Buggy caught his eye. He broke into a wide smile. 

He rubbed his thumb against his index and middle fingers.

Vlad scowled. That stupid clown planned this. All for the sake of getting his money! 

Why couldn’t that buffoon act like any other security detail he’d ever contracted and be just as incompetent and mediocre as he thought they’d be?!

“I know your type,” the captain hissed, cutting down another pirate without looking. 

“M-My type?” Vlad laughed. Or at least he attempted. “I’m flattered, but I’ve already got someone—”

“You’re the type that throws away their pride, their dignity. Quivers and grovels at your enemies feet until they can’t help but believe you. Pity you. Hesitate. And just as they let their guard down,”—the grip around his neck got tighter; Vlad desperately scrabbled at it—“you stab them in the back. Gloating and mocking them before they take their last breaths in front of their—!”

Just as Vlad was starting to black out, the captain screamed and Vlad dropped to the ground. As he coughed up half a lung trying to catch his breath, he noticed a different captain’s legs in front of him.

“Aww,” Buggy said in mocking sympathy, “did your daddy get duped by a poor little pirate?” He laughed. “What’d he fucking expect? A thank you card?”

“He was a good man, but he was naive.” The Marine captain gripped a bloodied dagger lodged in his shoulder. “I won’t make the same mistake. 

“Fire on me!”

What?

Cannons sounded to the left without a moment’s hesitation. 

“You maniac, you’ll get yourself killed with us!” Vlad shouted.

The captain grinned, sweat running down his face. “If I can take down even one of you disgusting pirates, then my life is a small price to pay.”

The screech of metal on wood echoed in Vlad’s ears as he watched marines heave and shift their cannons to point at their own captain. Men rushed about and moments later there were several booms and Vlad was still damp, he couldn’t manage total intangibility much less—

“We’re running, you shady bastard!”

Something grabbed the back of his jacket and hoisted him up. And up and up and up.

Flying. 

He was flying!

The wind on his wet clothes made him shiver.

He was flying?

“Hey, hold these.” A pair of boots—severed feet in boots—were thrust into his hands. “You drop them, I drop you. Got it?”

He nodded, a little dumbfounded and a lot relieved.

“A little fight is all it takes to shut you up?” Buggy laughed. “If I knew that I would’ve beat you up when you first got here.”

“I’m just impressed a simpleton like yourself managed to find a way to make yourself fly with your limited abilities.”

“Shut up! I could drop you in the ocean, you know!”

“I’m well aware, thank you.”

Buggy continued on with some inane drivel about respect for the strong, but Vlad tuned him out as he kept his attention on the mess below. 

Seeing the deck from high above was nothing like before. The bodies alone were disturbing enough, but the spilled blood, the open flesh—the gore—it was almost too much for Vlad. Plotting murder was one thing, but seeing it first hand…

“Alright, I’m dropping you. Don’t bite your tongue.” Vlad jerked, desperately gripping Buggy’s arm. “Get a good hit in or whatever. Doesn’t matter as long as you distract him.”

“Are you insane? I’m not letting—” His hands held tight, but Vlad lowered slightly. He looked up and noticed Buggy’s arm separate from his shoulder. 

Then it turned into pieces.

Vlad dropped to the deck, screaming the whole time. He was about to die a terrible death and for what? A stupid no good pirate clown and what sense did that even make, just pick one—!

His wildly flailing feet connected with something hard and meaty. The lumpy ground he landed on miraculously broke his fall, leaving him with only a racing heart and aching legs. 

“Hey, you actually landed on him!” Buggy laughed, floating right above him. “Nice one, priss!”

Vlad scrambled up off the Marine captain he just landed on. The blood seeping into the cracked wood did not bode well for his chances of being believed. Something wiggled in his arms and he startled, letting Buggy’s feet fall to the deck.

“You—You dropped me!” He jabbed a finger in Buggy’s chest. “I didn’t meant to fall on him; that was all you!”

“I can’t fly around while carrying someone for that long, dumbass.” Buggy looked past Vlad. “Now, how about you make use of your useless devil fruit and get outta the way.”

Vlad followed his gaze to the Marine captain pushing himself up, a gash on his forehead bleeding profusely over his snarling face. “All troops!” he yelled. “Ignore the man in the suit!”

A swell of hope filled Vlad’s chest. Maybe the man somehow knew this was all Buggy’s doing? Or he’d decided to give Vlad another chance of proving his innocence? Either way, as long as he deduced this was one big misunderstanding, Vlad could finally be taken somewhere civilized! 

The man looked Vlad dead in the eyes. “He’s mine.”

“Oops, forgot about killing him when he was distracted,” Buggy said, pulling out almost enough knives to match his fingers. “Well Shady, time for you to leave.”

“No.”

“There water in your ears? I told you to beat it!”

Vlad clenched and unclenched his fist. He felt ectoplasm gather in his palm, pink fire condensed in the centre. Good.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, priss!”

“Do you seriously expect me to just sit back and let you handle this, like some damsel in distress?” Vlad asked.

“Cut the crap, you’re weak as shit. Even a cadet could take you out.”

A red glow lit up Buggy’s face. “Where I’m from, I am the being that everyone fears.” Vlad hovered over Buggy. “Disregarding you and your crewmates’ abnormal strength, I am no pushover.”

“Making yourself taller doesn’t change anything.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Vlad hissed. “I defeat this fool of a soldier and show him the staggering difference between us.” The glow grew brighter. “Then, once you are sufficiently afraid of me, you will start treating me like a real guest.” He floated closer, practically nose to nose. “You will escort me home and, as a courtesy, I will actually pay you for your services. Then you never bother me again. The. End.”

Buggy laughed, long and loud. “Shady, I think you’re the stupidest man I’ve ever met! And I’ve met tons of stupid men!” 

“My name is Vlad.” The red glow shifted to pink. “And unless you want another blast to the face, I suggest you beat it.”

“Fine fine, no need to be cranky.” Buggy threw up his hands in one swift movement, his knives disappearing somewhere. Great, a clown magician. 

Something swung towards Vlad from the corner of his eye and he turned intangible with hardly a thought. “Finally, I can beat some manners and common sense into your dense skull. Tell me, what kind of pirate wears a hand-tailored cashmere suit?”

“The kind that tries to bait you!” the captain said, hardly pausing before drawing back for another swing. Vlad shot his eyeblasts—perfect aim as per usual—before flying a good distance away. The man cried out, covering his eyes. It didn’t stop him as long as Buggy, hardly a few seconds before he was glaring at Vlad again.

Vlad spread his hand out, firing a blast at his chest. The shot bounced off, seemingly harmless as the Marine captain stalked towards him.

Okay, that wasn’t supposed to happen.

He tried again, aiming higher. The man hardly flinched, a small, easily missed burn on his forehead. Then Vlad’s flying suddenly cut out and he was stumbling on deck. Shoes on wood. 

The ship swayed again, maybe a wave or the fighting was getting too rowdy on the other side of the deck. Something wet trickled down from his hair. 

Sea spray. Or maybe even rain. Well, wasn’t he lucky.

“More of your tricks?” the captain asked, pulling a sword sticking out of the deck. Two swords now, dragging against the floorboards. Vlad started to back away. “Trying to distract me again before your captain delivers an ambush?”

No, those were attacks that would leave Daniel—and any other ghost, for that matter—groaning in the dirt. A human would have to seek immediate medical attention. Or a morgue.

This man walked it off like it was a pesky bug flying into him. Less than a bug; there was no notice of danger, no fear of injury.

“Of course someone like you would resort to party tricks. Considering the circus crew you’ve aligned yourself with. And considering your lack of fighting skills, you’re either a disposable pawn or you’re the captain’s boytoy.” The man scoffed. “Must be a good fuck if none of this is a trick.”

“I generally abhor getting my own hands dirty—save for one very special case—so congratulations! You’ve made my list.” Vlad held his hands close together, drawing as much ectoplasm as possible into a single point between his palms. “Have fun in the afterlife. I’ll be sure to send an orange coloured buffoon after you soon.”

He let the ectoplasm explode from his palms, creating a massive ectoblast well over the size of the Marine captain. Smoke burst from one of the barrels—perhaps ignited gunpowder—covering half the deck and obscuring his view. Probably for the best, he didn’t care for seeing the messy aftermath.

Mohji whistled a ways behind Vlad. “Some light show. Did you blind him?”

“It wasn’t a mere light show. It was a highly destructive laser made of a corrosive energy source I can create and use at will.” Vlad dusted off what he could of his suit, grimacing at the sticky blood covered in dust and dirt. “That man is most certainly dead. I guarantee it.”

“Just like you were ‘certain’ you’d injured Captain Buggy yesterday?” Cabaji asked, arms crossed and glaring. The whole thing was undercut by the ridiculous unicycle he was riding back and forth in place.

“That was a fluke. Your captain is abnormally strong,”—and so was Cabaji for that matter, but Vlad wasn’t going to admit it to his face—“but this soldier is human. And every one of my abilities is lethal to—”

“You…” came a deep, rasping voice from the smoke. “Are going to die. By my hand.”

Vlad froze. Somewhere behind him Richie growled.

“You think you can get away without taking me seriously?!”

Out from the smoke emerged the Marine captain, covered in dust, lightly singed, and the picture of rage.

“I’m done doing this by the book.” The man dropped his sword. “I’m going to beat you until your crew can’t even recognize you anymore.” He stalked toward Vlad. “Then I’ll choke you out, tie you to an anchor, and throw you over the edge.”

He loomed over Vlad. “Maybe then you’ll regret the lives you’ve ruined.”

Vlad laughed stiffly. “Well, there’s no need for all that. I’m already regretting my life choices as we speak. You see it all started—” He threw a swift punch to the captain’s gut. There, that should solve that.

Where he was expecting a groan of pain and the man falling over, all he heard was a low, “Did you really think that would work?”

The man reached for Vlad’s wrist, but he turned intangible and quickly flew back. “Listen, I’m not really in the habit of fighting people I don’t have life long revenge plots against,”—and annoying teenagers who try to foil said plots—“so how about you accept your defeat now and I’ll graciously accept your surrender.” He shook out his hand behind his back, trying to subtly relieve the smarting pain in his knuckles.

“I’m done talking.” 

The Marine captain rushed Vlad, throwing punches left and right that Vlad was just barely able to dodge. Or rather, phase through. His intangibility had started to flicker between punches and he couldn’t figure out why.

Something sparkled off the captain’s arm, reflected by the sun. Water. Seawater.

“When did you even—” Vlad was cut off as his intangibility dropped completely and he had to dive for the deck to avoid an armbar. “Sugar and cream, can you just hold your horses for a one blasted moment?!”

Vlad tried to swing out a leg to trip him, but it was like slamming his shin into a tree trunk. He pulled back his leg with a hiss. “Cheese logs, what are you people made of?!”

Mohji and Richie, the useless oafs, had the gall to laugh at him while he was fighting for his life. Vlad even caught a glimpse of Cabaji with a smirk on his face. He shouldn’t have expected less from pirates of all people, but what happened to Buggy’s ridiculous order of keeping him safe to humiliate him?

He hastily turned himself invisible and scrambled away as the man was about to stomp on him. Then he found his invisibility had stopped working the moment another kick landed right on his back.

“Sir, really, I’m not part of this little group of—”

“My name,” —the captain said, cutting him off—“is Desta Abebe. I’m the 83rd division captain of the Marines.” Vlad felt a prick at his neck. A sword. “In the name of the Marines, you are hereby to be executed. Right here, right now.”

“Hey now, what happened to breaking the rules—?”

Desta leaned down, whispering with blood on his breath, “I will use any means necessary to kill a pirate.”

Vlad’s intangibility. He needed to strain himself, pull on it as much as possible and phase through the man. No, not even the man, just the sword. If he could go through the sword then he could bluff the man, he just needed a second—half a second. A millisecond even—anything!

A loud, grating laugh echoed from above. “Now isn’t this a familiar sight?”

The sound of metal slicing into flesh and finally, finally the painful noises from the captain that Vlad had been waiting for.

Desta didn’t move, but Vlad could feel the blood seeping into the back of his suit. More metal slicing into flesh, accompanied by Buggy’s laughter, and at last, the man stumbled back. 

Vlad tripped his way to his feet as Buggy’s legs walked up to him. Buggy’s torso and head floated above, his hands missing. He grinned down at Vlad. “I saw those flashy lights of yours! You should’ve said you had something that big and bright; I would’ve treated you better!” He laughed, floating down to slap Vlad’s back and send him stumbling. 

Vlad rubbed his back as he asked, “Really?”

“No, but I would’ve considered it.”

“You f-filthy—” Captain Desta dropped to one knee, bent over to reveal the dozen or so knives lodged into his back, a dark red stain rapidly growing on his white coat. He coughed, leaving a splatter of blood on the deck. 

Two Marine soldiers came up on either side of him, lifting him to his feet. “Sir, we need to retreat,” the woman with purple hair said. Imagine that, a member of law enforcement with dyed hair. Vlad would be bemoaning what the world had come to, but… well.

“You should listen to your cadet, Captain,” Buggy said, a toothy grin on his face. He brandished another handful of knives with a cackle. “Unless you’d like your front to match your back!”

The man tried to push himself up. “No, I’m going to—”

“Captain Desta. With all due respect, even if you could win we would not.” The captain’s brow furrowed and for the first time since the battle started, Vlad took a a look around the ship. A good look.

There were countless injured and dead Marines. Meanwhile, Buggy’s crew watched with wide, bloodthirsty smiles. If it weren’t for Buggy and his trusted aides between them and Captain Desta, he didn’t think they would’ve hesitated to continue the carnage.

Desta snarled, ceasing his struggles. “All troops, retreat!”

“Alright you all!” Buggy shouted. “Give them a flashy farewell!”

Buggy’s crew responded in kind, a loud deafening roar as the crowd ran past Vlad, swords in the air and guns at the ready. The remaining marines fled as fast as they could, the ones first to their ship trying to give some kind of cover fire. The Marine gunmen were picked off, falling like dead flies one after another as the cacophony of laughing pirates chased after their allies.

“Barbarians,” Vlad muttered, turning away from the sight.

“You’ll get used to it,” Buggy said, finally connecting his body together. “They’re like dogs with their favourite treat.”

“Like K-9 units I suppose.” He rolled his eyes as he patted himself down. Relatively dry again, likely enough to avoid a repeat of earlier. “How very charming. And would this mean you’re calling yourself a mutt?” 

“Watch it, Shady.” Buggy pointed one of his knives at him. “I don’t like you that much.”

“I don’t recall saying that with the intention of you liking—” 

A searing, mind-numbing pain erupted from Vlad’s thigh and he fell to his knees. He was so startled he didn’t even try to hold back his scream.

There was blood seeping from the hole in his suit. He put a hand over it, then immediately yanked it back. He turned over his palm, staring at the liquid staining his skin. It was warm.

The thumping, aching pain, the red-green colour trickling from his leg, it—

Hastily, he tore away at his suit. Because it couldn’t be his blood. It couldn’t be. That was impossible, completely and utterly so. This was all a hallucination, a stupid prank from Daniel that had gone much too far and really he needed to have a talk with his mother about the dangers of slipping people unknown substances in their drinks and—

A hole in his leg, a little bigger than the width of his finger. Still trickling blood.

Index finger hovering over it, he stared at the hole. Willing himself to take the final step. To find out once and for all that this wasn’t real. That he’d just banged his leg into a desk or a wall or the edge of his car.

Something grabbed at his hand, but he phased through it with hardly a thought. He took the plunge.

His throat hurt, but he could hardly hear his own voice. The pain in his leg was nothing compared to the harrowing realization that washed over him.

This world was real. 

This world was real.

There he sat, finger jammed in his actual real live bullet wound, the sounds of battle hungry, village pillaging, in-the-flesh pirates ringing in his ears like a death knell. 

How—How did this even happen? How did he get here?

More importantly, how was he supposed to get home?

…Could he even return home?

What if this was it? What if whatever put him here left him stranded? Unable to call for help or aid—though he didn’t even know who he’d call—and left to wander this world for the rest of his natural life. How long would that even last? He aged like any other human, but being part ghost must have some affect on his lifespan. And he was more likely than the average human to become a full ghost, so would that mean he’d be stuck in this world for the rest of his existence? Cursed to roam unfamiliar waters and lands until he had the courage to—

Something slapped the back of his head. “Oh man up, it was just one bullet.”

Vlad grunted as he fell forward, reaching back to rub the tender spot.

“I’ve been shot at dozens of times and you don’t see me whining about it.” Light blue hair tickled the side of Vlad’s cheek and Buggy’s voice sounded closer. “Oh eugh, you actually got shot. You should work on not letting that happen.”

“You—” Vlad cut himself off with a shriek as his hand was pulled from the wound.

“What is wrong with you? Why would you just stick your finger in there?” Mohji said. “They teach you that in high society or something? Fucking idiot.” He turned to call out to one of the pirates lingering at the edge of the fighting. “Hey, toss me a bottle!”

Buggy’s feet stepped around them, his floating body reclined with his hands behind his back and following until he was behind Mohji. “Thought you liked your eyes?”

“I’ve got it covered. Richie.”The lion sat itself next to Mohji. It placed a paw on Vlad’s face the same moment Mohji grabbed a unmarked bottle out of the air. Vlad heard the cork pop and Mohji’s condescending voice. “Trying to die of an infection before you hand over your estate isn’t very smart of you, Merchant.”

Offput by the smelly, sticky paw in his face, he managed a muffled, “It’s Vlad, and I wasn’t—” Their odd conversation finally clicked. “Wait, no you don’t need to—!” A string of cheese and cookies ripped from Vlad’s croaky throat as Mohji proceeded to dump alcohol on the wound. 

“Was that really necessary?” Vlad asked as Richie pulled his paw away. Mohji was covered in a red glow.

Mohji rolled his eyes and grabbed a roll of bandages from somewhere. “Put that away, you’re not scaring anyone.” He noticeably didn’t answer Vlad’s question. He didn’t ask before roughly wrapping up Vlad’s leg. “Our doctor’s probably performing some generous amputations on our unannounced guests, so you’ll have to wait until later for someone to take a proper look at it.” He tied off the bandage to the point Vlad thought it would cut off circulation. Probably did it that way on purpose, the sadist.

Mohji pushed himself up and walked off with Richie, probably to join the others as they shot canons off at the fleeing Marine ship. The moment he moved, Buggy laughed. “Hey look! You look right at home!” 

Buggy pulled out a small mirror and Vlad took a look at his reflection. The blood from Richie’s paw had smeared on his face in a way that wasn’t unlike Buggy’s own clown makeup. 

It should’ve been terrifying.

Instead, it gave him an idea.

“If—” he started, breathing heavy and voice shaky. “If I wanted to join your crew. Would you let me?” 

Buggy’s brows raised. “Oh, what’s this? Had a taste for battle and now you want more?” He dropped the mirror, leaning in until he was nose to nose with Vlad. Unblinking, he dropped into a low whisper, “Or are you pulling my leg to steal my treasure?”

“Y-Yes.” Vlad gulped. “Er, no I don’t want your treasure. I’m… I’m already wealthy, as you well know. Uh, but my days have always been… mundane so to say. Confined to a boring routine that hardly changes. But this—” The best lies are centred in truth, the best lies are centred in truth. “I always saw more for myself than what my life has come to. I imagined being with the girl of my dreams, and that didn’t happen. I imagined making scientific discoveries and being famous for my work, and instead I sit behind a desk all day doing—doing nothing.

“This is the first time I’ve felt a sense of adventure—a sense of living by your own rules and not caught up in stupid paperwork and… well I suppose I want to chase that feeling as long as I can.”

Buggy continued to stare silently. It dragged on uncomfortably long. Vlad would loosen his tie, but he didn’t think that would help the choking fear in his throat.

Just as he was going to continue his rambling, Buggy laughed.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so!” He put an arm around Vlad. “Welcome to the crew, Shady!”

Relief blew through him, culminating in a, “Thank goodness.” He scrambled to correct himself. “I mean, thank goodness! I was worried you’d refuse and throw me overboard.”

“Don’t be silly!” Buggy’s grip grew tighter. “If we threw you overboard, we would’ve never got the escort money.” His grip loosened. “Which we’re still getting by the way. Think of it as a flashy entrance fee.”

“Did your other crewmembers have to pay an entrance fee?”

“No, but you’re stinking rich and I recently had all my treasure stolen.”

Vlad sighed. “Right.” Something he’d have to figure out an excuse for sooner or later. 

“Of course, we’ll be stopping by Loguetown first; I have a dirty thief and a stupid rubber boy to catch and kill. Roronoa Zoro too while we’re at it.”

A small mercy. Vlad could figure out an excuse once they finally reached a town and he could acquire some books and maps on this world. 

“We’ll keep your fee on pause until after me and my crew get our revenge. Then we’ll settle things and you’ll officially be one of us.” Buggy grinned. “Maybe I’ll even let you borrow some makeup since it seems you like it so much.” He gave a final laugh and slapped Vlad’s back before floating off to adress his crew.

Vlad roughly scrubbed the blood from his face with his sleeve. If he took a few more moments than necessary, his arm covering his face and shoulders shaking, that was his business.

“Hey Shady! Come and introduce yourself proper so these layabouts know who’s paying for our future feasts!”

Vlad would return home one day. To his loving cats and future wife.

He’d make sure of it.

Vlad put a hand on his knee and pushed himself up, taking the first step to—

He screamed.

“SON OF A BITCH.”