#this is the best thing I've ever drawn period

[rius-cave]

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[avian-hearts]

i can't stop looking at my recent selfship ship drawing with dark cacao IT'S JUST SO CUTE!!!!!!!!! AND THE WAY I DREW BOTH OF US IS CUTE

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured IX

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: Things get worse before they can get better

Two days after you and Jaume are admitted into hospital, several different things happen.

One: Jenni's manager calls and tells her that she can only take a maximum of two more weeks leave and that she needs to return to Mexico within the month.

Two: Jaume gets much better, very quickly. He's practically good as new and he's allowed out of his room for short periods of time.

Three: The pottery place lets Alexia know that her mug and your train are ready so she goes to pick them up.

Four: She comes back with your ceramic train and drops it on the floor in horror when she sees you being intubated.

'She took a turn for the worse' they tell her. 'We've upped her medication and she should be fine in a few days', they say but all Alexia can think about is the shattered train on the floor and how tiny you look in your bed.

You're moved to the ICU and remain motionless and asleep for days on end. Therein lies the second problem.

The ICU nurses are stricter than the nurses in the peds wing. They say only the legal guardians can go into your room.

You have no father. You had no other mother either, not legally anyway.

You have just Alexia. Just Alexia who can sign off on treatment plans. Just Alexia who can sign you out and be given updates about your condition.

Just Alexia who can go and sit by your bedside and sob.

It was supposed to be a good day. Jaume was better. You were going to get your train.

It's all ruined now and all Alexia can do is sob.

Jenni sobs too.

She can't see you. She can't even enter the ICU. She can do nothing but loiter in the waiting room.

She had nowhere else to go.

Eli and Alba can go and see Jaume but Jenni has nothing to do with Jaume. She just has you.

You who is intubated and asleep in the ICU. You who she had pinned down and so cruelly not explained anything to. You who was still so small and scared and stuck in hospital while Jenni would have to return to Mexico very, very soon.

"How is she?"

Jenni's ex looks away. Alexia looks exhausted, worse than Jenni's ever seen her before. There are bags under her eyes. Her hair looks unbrushed. Her clothes are crumpled.

"The doctors are optimistic," Is Alexia's answer," They think she's fighting really well. They..." Alexia's throat bobs. "They think she'll be strong enough to come off it in a day or two."

"And she can have visitors again?"

"Maybe not as quickly," Alexia explains," I think we should be conservative. Maybe not even until she's fully healthy again. I think-"

"Alexia, I have to leave soon."

Alexia breaks off. "What?"

"Back to Mexico. I've delayed it as long as I can. By the end of the month, I need to be gone again."

"What are you talking about?" Alexia still can't wrap her mind around it. "Back to Mexico? Bambi's still sick."

"I know!" Jenni snaps. "I know, Alexia. And you need to make a decision."

"A decision? Jenni, what are you talking about?"

"You need to put someone else on her papers. You've seen those doctors. We don't get told anything. It's dangerous."

"Jenni-"

"What if Bambi breaks her arm? Me or Olga bring her to hospital and they can't do anything because we're not legal guardians. What would have happened if they couldn't get a hold of you after they intubated her? They can't change treatment plans without parental consent."

"I-"

Jenni sighs, long and drawn out. "I know you have a lot on your plate, Alexia. I know, I do but this is about Bambi and what she deserves and she deserves two people on that birth certificate."

Jenni doesn't say what she wants to say. She doesn't say that she desperately wants you as her own. She doesn't say that she thinks in the deepest, most malicious part of her brain that Alexia has already ruined whatever relationship you had beyond repair. She doesn't say that she thinks a new start in Mexico would be best for you.

She doesn't say that she's already looked at a ballet academy near her apartment and that her club has some of the best childcare options she's seen in a long time.

Jenni doesn't say anything more.

She just turns on her heel and walks out.

Out of Alexia's company, out of the waiting room, out of the hospital.

She doesn't say anything until she's in her car and sobbing into her steering wheel.

Her words float through Alexia's brain even as she sits in Jaume's room with him.

He looks much better than before. The rash is gone. He's moving around again.

The only evidence that he was ever sick at all is the IV still attached to his hand, feeding antibiotics into his body to make sure it's fully gone.

"Something funny, little man?" Alexia coos as he giggles uncontrollably," What so funny, huh? What so funny?" She bounces him gently at each word and Jaume giggles even more.

"The little man's happy he's getting out of here in a few days," Olga says, hooking her chin over Alexia's shoulder," Isn't that right, Jaume? Is that why you're so giggly today?"

Jaume giggle in answer, kicking his feet out.

"Look at these kicks," Alexia coos," My little footballer, huh? Are you going to captain Spain? I think you are!"

"Your Mama and sister went home," Olga says," They'll be here early tomorrow, like always."

"Jenni went as well."

Olga goes to sit in the chair next to Alexia's, frowning. "That's unlike her. I swear, I thought she was going to sneak into the ICU yesterday."

"She told me that she needs to go back to Mexico soon," Alexia says," She's delaying it for as long as possible."

"All for our Bambi?" Olga hums," She really loves her."

"Yeah," Alexia says," She does."

Alexia is in awe of Jenni sometimes. Jenni has always loved you, Alexia thinks. Jenni's always been a part of your life even when Alexia didn't have the energy to care for herself. Jenni had always been there.

Alexia doesn't think she'll ever understand just how much Jenni adores you. You make the planets spin for Jenni. You hang the stars and the moon and sometimes, like now, Alexia wonders if she'll ever be able to live up to that.

If she'll ever be able to give you the life you deserve.

She doesn't want to give you up. Selfishly, she wants a life where she can hold both you and Jaume in bed with her. She wants a life where she can go to Jaume's football matches and your ballet recitals. She wants a life where she can win a Champion's League and see you running onto the pitch to celebrate with her.

But she doesn't know if that's the life you want.

She doesn't know if that's the life you deserve, constantly being shepherded from one thing to another, constantly living in fear that you'll be left behind again.

Alexia knows a life with Jenni, where you're the centre of her world, would be good for you too. But, still, Alexia can't help but let her heart flutter at hearing Olga call you 'our Bambi'.

'Our Bambi'.

Hers and Alexia's.

If you went with Jenni then you would be just Jenni's, no matter if Alexia kept her name on your birth certificate. You would be half a world away. She would see you when Jenni returned for international duty. She would see you a few weeks every year and Alexia doesn't know how she could cope with that.

Alexia doesn't know how she would explain to Jaume about the sister he never sees.

Alexia is your mother and she needs to do what is best for you, despite how selfish she wants to be.

She needs to decide if she can still give you the best life possible or if letting Jenni raise you is truly what will give you the best chance possible.

"Ale?" Olga asks softly, shaking her," You're crying."

Alexia swipes the tears away. "I was just thinking about Bambi. I should probably get back to her. The doctors keep saying that she won't even notice but-"

"But you should still sit with her," Olga says," She deserves to have some company. Here." Olga reaches into her bag.

She pulls out your ceramic train, the one Alexia shattered on the floor after seeing you with a tube down your throat.

"It's still missing a few pieces," Olga explains," But I tried my best. I thought you could put it at her bedside."

Alexia takes it gently, cradling it in her hands. Olga's right. There's still little chips and Alexia can very clearly see where Olga has glued the broken pieces together.

It's still fractured and broken but it's perfect.

"I love you," Alexia chokes out," I love you."

"I love you too," Olga says," Just as I love our kids. Go, Ale. Sit with her. Me and the little man will be right here."

The sun glints on your ceramic train for nearly a week until you wake up.

The doctors keep you asleep until they're certain that the meningitis is gone.

Jaume gets to go home with Olga the day before you get woken up.

There's a crowd outside your room early the next day and Alexia is the only one allowed in.

"We've taken the tube out," The doctors explain," And she'll be coming out of the anaesthesia soon. She'll be a little disorientated and emotional but once she's up, give it an hour or two, we'll check her hearing and her strength and if it all goes well then she should be out of here by late afternoon."

"How likely is it that her hearing's being affected?"

"Meningitis is known to cause hearing loss but I'm optimistic. Despite what's happened, she's fought it every step of the way. There's a good chance she comes out of this without any lasting effects."

"And once she's up? I can let people in?"

The doctor glances over at the assembled crowd. "Only one or two in the room at a time. We don't want to overwhelm her."

"Thank you."

"I'll be back soon."

Alexia retakes her seat at your side, holding your hand gently in her own. Your little hands are perfect to hold in her own. You could probably hold just a finger and it would still be bigger than your whole hand.

"I love you," Alexia whispers as she presses a soft kiss to your forehead," I love you so, so much, Bambi. You're all better now. You just need to wake up."

You don't come to for another thirty minutes or so and, when you finally do, it's slowly.

"Mami," You say," My throat hurts."

Alexia can't help the worried laughter that bubbles out of her throat. It's half in relief and half in how disgruntled you look.

"Mami?"

"Here, Bambi," She says," Sit up. Let's have a little drink."

She holds the glass as you sip the water. You lean easily into the comfort Alexia's offering, your head resting on her shoulder

"Wha's goin' on, Mami?"

"You were sick," Alexia says," But you're better now and you get to leave if everything's okay."

Your brow wrinkles. "I..." Your eyes dart around and Alexia suddenly realises what the doctor meant by you being emotional. "I want Mama! Mama! Want-Want Mama!"

Tears spill down your cheeks and Alexia knows exactly who you want.

She shouldn't take it personally. She knows you're sad and overwhelmed and you're reaching out for comfort for the person that you can't see.

Alexia knows this is normal. She's been told this is normal and yet-

Alexia pushes away her feelings, tucking you into the blankets and pressing a kiss to your cheek that you clearly welcome. "I'll get you Jenni," She promises," Just give me a second."

She pokes her head out of the door.

"Jenni," Alexia says, voice emotionless," She needs you."

Jenni's looking more relieved than Alexia's ever seen her before as she rushes into the room.

"Mama," You say, brow wrinkled and looking up at her with wet, puppy dog eyes," You hurt me."

"I hurt you?" Jenni echoes as she takes Alexia's seat," When did I hurt you, Bambi?"

"When the bad man touched my back and you held my legs."

"I'm sorry, Bambi," Jenni says gently," That was wrong of me. I'm very, very sorry."

You're still confused. Your brain feels like it's full of cotton, all fuzzy and weird like that time the tv made that weird noise and went all staticky.

You lay back down. Your head bounces a little from the force you've thrown it back into your pillow with.

Everything's all jumbled and confused and you gently take Ma-Jenni's hand in your own. She's got big hands with fingers you can wrap your whole hand around and still have your hand be too small.

You know someone else like that, you think and your brain strains to think of who it is.

You get glimpses.

Big hands. A Barcelona kit. Gentle strokes down your back and kisses on your forehead when you're sad.

"Mami," You croak out even as Ma-Jenni climbs into bed with you and cradles you against her body.

Mami was with you earlier. You can remember that. You lift your head to see where she's gone but you can't see her anywhere.

"Mama," You say, tugging on Ma-Jenni's shirt as tears still drip down your cheeks," Mami's gone! Mami's gone again!"

You don't know that Alexia's crying too.

In the bathroom down the hall, staring at herself in the mirror and only seeing your own tearful face reflected back at her.

[dearest-nell]

homebrew.

j. potter x reader, 3.6k

summary: james wants to do something nice for the reader. best friends to lovers, mentions of reader menstruating, james being a big softie

a/n: this is the first time i've written in a long while, so hi there! nice to be back

It was safe to say that today was somewhat of a write off, at least in your own humble opinion. The familiar blunt pains of your period shook you from an already groggy, restless slumber, cyclically pressing somewhere deep inside you until you were drawn into a terrible state of nausea. You could feel the deep bruised marks hanging low beneath your eyes, hard earned and unwelcome, marring your already paler than usual complexion. You had avoided the mirror entirely, knowing something sallow would be the only reflection waiting. 

It was battle enough to make your way down the stairs from your dorm, your head hanging low as you ghosted your way towards an already raucous common room. Heavy eyes landed on the two familiar figures seated in the corner, and even in your dreary state, you couldn’t keep the small smile that tugged on the corners of your lips. James sat comfortably, splayed across the couch in his usual unapologetic stature, arm hanging heavy across the back, legs parted wide, head tipped back in laughter at something Sirius had surely uttered before your arrival. Sirius seemed much the same in his own right, though you took less pains to notice. James always seemed to snatch your attention, after all. It was his effect. 

You felt no need to greet the boys as you settled slowly beside James, slouching into the crook of his arm with entirely too little consideration, dropping your head to his shoulder with a distracted sigh. It was normal, after all, this kind of thing. James had always been affectionate by nature, and you craved the intimacy he had to offer more than you would ever admit. 

James moved in an automatic response, his arm swiping to encase you in his hold as if that was how it was always meant to be. He couldn’t see the little furrow on your brow, not properly, but he could feel the tension that held each and every muscle in you tighter than a bowstring. 

“Mornin’ there, sweetheart.” He chuckled, squeezing at your side affectionately only to receive a mumbled reply in turn. His brow rose towards Sirius, a silent conversation passing between them over your head. 

Sirius cocked his head. “Didn’t sleep well then, I take it.” 

You shook your head, closing your eyes to block out the light. Migraines were easily built when you were already in such a delicate state, and the widely opened windows of the tower had played the villain on you this morning. Ordinarily, the sunlight would have been worth a warm welcome, but this morning you had only wished for rain. 

James tutted beside you, his free hand inching to brush back the hair that had crowded your face, the back of it pressing gently against your forehead. James didn’t need to excel in divination to know that something was off with you, you certainly weren’t trying to hide it, but it now had become his own little mystery to solve — a distraction from the rest of his day. There was no temperature, though, so he hoped he could at least rule out a trip to Pompfrey.  “You feelin’ alright there?” 

You breathed out a soft yeah, though neither of the boys were too convinced by the answer.  

“You’re really gonna make us jump through hoops for it, aren’t ya.” Sirius teased, earning a narrowed, piercing glare from your tired eyes. 

“You don’t want to know, Pads.” 

Sirius shrugged, unphased by the response, and leaned back in his arm chair with his usual sort of smugness. 

James tried again a little softer, resting his cheek on the crown of your head. “Try me, then. You wouldn’t keep a secret from me, would you, love?” 

You were sure James couldn’t have known the effect that little nickname had on you, and you felt the familiar warm tug of your affection towards him slowly water down your reluctance to share. 

“It’s not a secret, Jamie. It’s just that time, y’know? I usually make a stock of potions and I just forgot, so I’m feelin’ a bit…” you trailed off, angling your face up slightly so he could see your queasy expression. “It’s nothing to write home about.” 

“Well in that case,” Sirius emphasised, pushing broad palms into the plush  arms of his chair to hoist himself up, “I’m going to go track down our other little monthly invalid. I’d rather face Moons than this one.” 

Sirius didn’t need to look back to see the vulgar motion you tossed his way, though James couldn’t help the chuckle that rippled from him as he watched you burrow in deeper after. 

“Can I do anything, then?” James queried, rubbing circles into your side with the warmth of his palm. “You look like you really ought to go back to bed.” 

“Can’t.” You grumbled, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder. “I promised Dorcus I’d help her with her essay.” 

Besides, you knew this was par for the course. How many people in the world faced the same battle as you and soldiered on — you didn’t feel like it was enough of an excuse when a third of Gryffindor tower was likely menstruating right along with you. Communal living, what a gem… 

“I’m sure she’d understand.” James offered, furrowing his own brow in thought. He didn’t  like there being a problem he couldn’t fix, and more so, he didn’t like you having a problem that he couldn’t fix. You were his little love, after all, his very best friend, it was his job to take care of you whether you wanted it or not. 

How the two of you weren’t in a relationship was anyone’s guess, and a frustration that plagued all of your friends and acquaintances to no end. You never sat like this with the others, never used such darling terms of endearment for the rest of the gang. Yours and James dynamic was something entirely of its own; too sweet and tender to be just friends, and yet never classified as anything more. You wouldn’t argue it, though, not when it allowed you this kind of closeness with him. If this was all you would ever get, then you would take it gladly. 

“She would, but I’m going anyways.” There was a decided tone to your voice that James knew would be a losing battle to argue with, so with a gentle sort of sigh, he focused his attention on a new objective. 

“So what’s the potion, then? Can I go buy you some?” 

You wrinkled your nose at the question, well aware that James was a dog with a bone at the best of times. It was sweet of him to offer, but the last thing you wanted was to feel helpless. You’d survived this long, after all, and the idea of you putting James out of his way was one you wished to avoid.  “It’s okay, Jamie. I’ll make up a batch tonight or tomorrow, or somethin’. You don’t need to do anything.” 

James would’ve knocked your martyr complex right out of you if he could, but that wasn’t his way. Besides, your stubbornness made up a part of you, and he loved all of you too much to ever want to change that, even if it was a pain in the neck. 

“You know I’m useless on my own. Maybe I’m bored and want something to do, hm? You don’t know.” 

He was being cheeky, and he had the shit eating grin to match it. That sort of energy always seemed to ripple off of him, settling a warmth into your bones that eased you somewhat. 

You managed a small, amused chuckle. “Then I’m sure the boys’ll have plenty to keep you busy today. I just wanted a hug before I was on my way.” 

“Oh yeah?” James’ voice was delighted as he circled his arms tighter around you, pressing you against the heat of his body with expert hands, fingertips massaging into your back and waist with reverent touches. “James hugs makes it all better, don't it.” 

With a scoff at his ego, you allowed yourself a moment to soak it all in – this closeness and intimacy that you wished you could bottle. James was the perfect boyfriend, after all, even if he didn’t belong to anyone. There was never a day where his friends did not feel the weight of his love, of his affection and regard. It felt almost greedy to want more from the man who gave so freely. 

But you did. You always wanted more of him. 

“Yeah they do, you smug bastard.” The teasing lilt was not lost upon him, and it only made James squeeze you tighter. 

“Y’know, I figure maybe I just won’t let you go. Then you’d have to rest right here where I can make sure.” 

You thought about biting him – you really did – just because it was cheeky and you knew it would make him laugh. Your restraint, however, could only be considered admirable, and instead you moved to pinch at his side with a sneaky manoeuvre, one that would unfortunately cut this perfect moment short. 

He yelped in surprise, his grip loosening enough for you to begrudgingly slip out of. It ached a little to see the way he was still reaching for you, trying to pull you back down to his side. Your traitorous, bleeding heart couldn’t help but hope that maybe he craved your touch as much as you craved his. But once again, James had nothing but adoring smiles for you, feeling all too bested in his own game. 

“Careful, love – if they see you moving that quick, I might have competition on the Quidditch team.” 

You shrugged, smiling a little coyly. “It won’t be my fault if they put you out of business, James.” 

He huffed out a laugh, clutching at his chest with enough melodramatics to level the castle. “You’re breakin’ my heart.” 

You tilted your head softly. “Don’t miss me too much. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

His soft okay was enough for you to be on your way, though if you had heard his little, woefully mumbled I miss you already, then maybe you’d have turned back around. 

-------✿-------

Dorcus had been supportive enough during your studies, much to no one's surprise, but even she could tell that this round of pains seemed far more severe than usual. You spent the better part of the session hunched over your library desk, legs curled up beneath you in some feeble attempt to ease the pain. The heated pillow behind you helped somewhat, but by the mid afternoon, it was starting to feel like a losing battle. 

Once the bulk of the work was over, you resigned to give in, sending yourself back to the common room with a huff, energy far too spent for you to even consider making another round of potions. Pomfrey tried her best to keep a steady stock at all times, but between unsure first years whose potion making skills were not refined enough for such delicate casting and older students who were lazy enough not to bother, her supplies had once again been depleted, much to your chagrin. 

It left you with nothing to do but burrow deep down into the warmth of your duvet, hooking the blanket over your head as you drifted into another groggy, all too short sleep. Even with noise muffling and light repellant spells, your body could not seem to comply, and within the hour you were back on your feet again, lazily pulling together something warm and cosy to wear down to the common room once more. 

It was only when you opened your door that you noticed the small package at your feet, wrapped up prettily in a crimson ribbon that felt far too festive for something so mysterious. 

There was no note attached, no sign of where the gift had come from, but with a steady hand you unravelled the packaging, opening your gift to discover twelve identical potion bottles stacked neatly in rows, a small card tucked carefully in between that read your name in a scrawled writing. By sight you could identify the contents – the familiar purple tinge was one you had learned to identify from Pomfrey herself – though you were sure she wouldn’t have had the time to brew a new batch from when you last saw her only an hour beforehand. 

Chewing your lip, you pondered the possibilities, hooking the gift under your arm as you slowly descended the stairs to find the culprit. Of course, you were certain there was only one person who might have been responsible. James had been all too eager to help, after all, and far too free on his Saturday to be left to his own devices. The handwriting was unfamiliar, sure, but it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d attempted to throw someone off his trail that way; he was a prankster at heart. 

Even now you found him perched happily by the fire, wrapped up in his favourite armchair, eyes drifting lazily across the pages of a book in hand.Coming up from behind, you leaned yourself over the back of the chair, elbows holding you up as you watched him examine the box now resting in his lap.

 “So you’ve been busy today.”

Without missing a beat, James rated his head back onto the plush back behind him, smiling up at you with an innocence that seemed all for show. “Me? Well I’ve been trying to read, yes, though I wouldn’t call that busy.” 

“Oh? So you’ve got no idea what these are, then?” Your tone was nothing if not incredulous, but what was the harm in humouring him in something like this. 

James shrugged, passing a quick glance over the box in question before turning his eyes back to you. “Potions? Are they more of the ones you need?” 

Your lips curved as he feigned his innocence, though the smugness that seemed to tug at the corner of his lips betrayed him. He’d never been a good liar, after all. James was earnest to the bone. 

“You know, it’s funny, I couldn’t really say. There’s no labels, you see, and no note, so who is to say what they are.” You paused, gasping softly for a sort of dramatic effect, cupping your cheek with one hand as your eyes widened comically. “Oh no! They could be a nasty prank, now that I think about it. Probably best not to drink them…” 

You watched it live, that flash of regret that passed before his eyes as he realised his mistake. He tried his best to cover it, clearing his throat and adjusting in his seat, eyes blinking up at you nervously. 

“Or it’s just… I mean it doesn’t look all that harmful, does it? Who’d wanna give you a rotten potion anyways.” 

You levelled your gaze at him. “Literally anyone that you share a room with, Jamie. I don’t need my hair falling out or my words coming out in Pig Latin, so I think I’ll pass.” 

James reached up for you on instinct, his fingers curling around the meat of your forearm with a tender sort of touch, his gaze somewhat imploring now. 

“Or you could just drink it, for… fun.” 

“Fun?” You quirked a brow, smile widening at this little game that you were sure to win. “Why would I do that?” 

James huffed. “Yeah, fun. I think they look fine, so maybe you should just—” 

“James.” 

He’d been backed into a corner and he knew it, though his little sigh of defeat did nothing for him to remove his touch from your arm. He spoke with a gentle whine, frustrated that the game was now at an end. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh.” 

“I don’t know why you don’t want to. It’s really sweet of you to find me some, though I don’t know how you managed twelve; the school seems tapped.” 

You shrugged your arm gently, enough to shake him from his grip so that your fingers could settle between his own, locking into place with such ease and familiarity. James’ gaze followed suit, watching the way his hand seemed to dwarf your own. 

“It is. Pomfrey’s out and the girls didn’t have any to spare, so I just made ‘em instead.” 

Your brows furrowed in surprise. “You made them? How?” 

James surely would not have had access to the recipe, and you knew that it wasn’t a quick potion to make. He must have spent hours on it, and the thought made your heart squeeze with affection inside your chest. 

Perhaps your affections were written right across your face, because you watched as his own expression softened to something equally adoring, his smile brightening at your astonishment. 

“I got Mary to show me. Or really she just talked at me for a bit, but I took heaps of notes, and she checked at the end to make sure I’d done it right. Figured killing you with the wrong mix would’ve done nothing to cheer you up.” 

You laughed at that, shaking your head in disbelief. Your breath felt caught in your throat, something large and unavoidable stuck and ready to spill out. “You didn’t have to.” 

James shrugged. “I wanted to. I just didn’t want to make a fuss is all. Didn’t want you feeling like you’d owe me anything.” 

You felt your lip catch between your teeth, already feeling that sense of obligation starting to pool in your gut. You had never been good at accepting gifts, after all, nor compliments – you always wanted to pay things back. James, however, was as stubborn as you were, and the resolve in his gaze was enough to show you that he was unflinching on this notion. 

“Well I… I want to say thanks somehow. This was really kind, Jamie. Too kind.” 

He shook his head, squeezing your hand in his. “You don’t even need to say the thanks part. Just take the potion and I’ll be happy. I hate seeing you hurt, love, I really do.” 

It was an impulse that had you moving, your body bending at the waist until you were lowered down just enough, James’ face angling to meet yours. You stayed like that for a moment, a blip in time spent with the two of you just watching one another, breaths evening out until you moved in sync, a pattern that only you two could follow. You nudged your face slightly, lips brushing tenderly against the scruff of an unshaved cheek, pressing there far longer than ordinarily you might have ever dared. 

You heard the shudder in his breath, felt the way his hand gripped yours as you pulled back, gaze meeting his own in an unavoidable stare. 

“Thank you, James. I really mean it.” 

You watched as he swallowed, that same sort of lump caught in his own throat as he tried to find the words, tried to make himself speak in a way that you would understand. How could he make you see that he would do anything for you, anything at all, whether you asked or not. 

He settled on the one thing he knew he needed, using his grip on your hand to urge you out from behind the couch – behind the wall between you two – guiding you until you settled comfortably in his lap, curled up and safe, just as you ought to be. You didn’t question the movement, just tilting your head curiously at the intense way he seemed to be watching you, tugging your entwined hands into your lap, cocooning his within your own, rubbing circles into the back of his hand. 

James reached for your face with his other hand, deft fingers hooking your loose strands of hair behind your ear, circling at the softness of your cheek and jaw with newfound tenderness. 

“If you want to thank me next time, then you can just let me look after you. It’s all I want to do.” 

His kiss was quick as he pressed his lips to your own, somehow so casual for something so foreign between you both. You’d have almost believed you’d made the whole thing up if you couldn’t feel the electricity it left behind, feel the way such a small thing had awakened so much inside of you. 

“Okay.” 

You could see it in his stare, the way he was reading you, trying to understand if you wanted this as badly as he did. Your soft sigh as you nuzzled into the warmth of his palm was all the reassurance he needed, nodding to himself as he processed the lines he had just crossed. 

“Okay.” He breathed, angling your face to kiss your brow, his touch reverent as he lingered far longer this time, unable to bring himself to pull away until the very last second, that teasing, boyish grin now spread across his features. “Take your potion, then, and sit with me a little while. I wanna make sure it works.” 

It was hard to tell what was changed between you two, but all you knew was that whatever had occurred here in this armchair would linger in the back of your mind for days to come. There was a new intimacy here, one far deeper than had ever been explored between the two of you before, and even without words, you knew James felt it too. 

Maybe it didn’t need words. Maybe it was enough for you to drink the potion and settle against him, your nose pressed against the pulse beating steadily at the crook of his neck, his hand pressing soft circles into the dip of your back. Maybe that was the only step that needed taking, for now. Something felt all too assured in that moment that this was just the beginning, and that was all the both of you needed to know.

[eddiesxangel]

Me and You? Together? | Eddie Munson x Best friend Reader

Eddie Munson + You = BFFLS that’s all you’ll ever be… unless?

Cw: Angst? Small fluff, Queer!Eddie, reader uses she/her pronouns, open ending? One mention of the upside down (ikr who am I?)

wc:1.7k

I think the story needs more pages, yes I've been in love with her for ages 🎶

"Oh, you two are just the cutest couple in here." the older waitress with the retro yellow diner dress and apron with a name tag that read Judy, fawned over you and Eddie. However, you were quick to correct her.

"Oh no, no, just best friends," you lightheartedly giggle.

This stung Eddie. Friends. Best Friends. Two decades worth of friendship, and it haunts Eddie. That is all you'll ever be... Best Friends.

Not once had you shown an ounce of interest in being anything more, but Eddie, on the other hand, fell in love with you in stages throughout his life.

When you were three years old, you moved to the trailer park where Eddie and his family lived. Being the only two kids, you were immediately drawn to one another. Eddie remembers that summer, the scorching summer sun beat down mercilessly on the trailer park as you both ran around in your underwear, laughing and shrieking, under the cool spray of the garden hose.

When you were both five, you had a "wedding" and promised one another vows. Eddie always remembered his promise to be your best friend and to always be your best friend. He told you he loved you, and you told him you loved him and sealed it with a small kiss and a slew of giggles. Your parents gushed about how adorable it was and how they couldn't wait for the real thing. Too bad Eddie's parents never would make it to the real thing.

As you both got a little older, around ten years old, you huddled together in your sleeping bags, whispering secrets and sharing stories that only best friends could tell. The sound of your laughter would fill the air, mingling with the chirping of the crickets and the rustling of the leaves. Your makeshift tent made out of bed sheets and sticks would only last so long as a barrier before you got scared of bats and earwigs, but Eddie promised to never let anything hurt you. He held your hand until you fell asleep.

When you and Eddie were twelve, and he struggled with his parents, you lent him your unwavering support and helped him weather the storm. You were his rock, his confidant, his best friend.

Eddie's world had begun to feel unfamiliar and uncertain during that period. Puberty had started to alter his body and yours, for that matter. Eddie saw the changes happening within you and within himself... He noticed how you got more attention from boys as your chest started blossoming and how he also longed for that attention. An ugly feeling would bloom in Eddie's gut and he hated it when the boys would stare at you or talk to you.

But you would never stray too far. Even with your first boyfriend, Eddie didn't understand why he hated the guy so much. He was a nice boy and never picked on Eddie like the others, but for the life of him, Eddie hated his guts. Especially when he would watch him hold your hand or kiss you on the cheek. He wanted that with you, but he also wanted to be you? He was so confused. He, too, wanted to hold your boyfriend’s hand and have him kiss him on the cheek, and that scared him.

Both your emotions lead to changes in the dynamics of your friendship, such as sleepovers. Previously, a fun and carefree activity had become different since it was now mandatory to sleep in separate rooms, a rule both your parents and Eddie's Uncle Wayne agreed upon. Yet, through the difficult times of teenage angst, you both powered through and came out stronger than ever.

When all the shit happened with the upsidedown a little over two years ago, you were at his bedside every day until the visiting hours were over, and the hospital had to physically kick you out; you would be back the second they started up again the next day. That was the last straw for Eddie. He could no longer deny his feelings for you anymore. He was in love with his best friend.

"Oh well, that's too bad; if you ever change your mind, invite me to the wedding, okay?" She smiles and takes your orders to the kitchen.

When the waitress left, Eddie saw his window of opportunity.

"Hey, uh, what if I took you out?" Eddie fiddles with the paper straw wrapper.

"We are out, Stupid." You laugh.

"No, no, I mean, can I take you for a drink?" Eddie was never this anxious around you, and you noticed. Like something in the air had shifted.

"Like a drink?" you raise your brows.

"Uh... yeah." You had never seen Eddie so nervous with you before. Where was this coming from?

"Oh God, I'll have to think... We're friends, Eddie, I don't know? It-it doesn't feel right." This had caught you so off guard.

"It's cool... no, yeah,- I-I was just messin'," he waves off, and your heart alleviates.

"God Eddie! You really had me there." you laugh and Eddie's heart sinks, and you can see him slouch back into the booth. His body language completely shifted.

Fuck, how he hated this; you were the only one who ever made him feel right. You were it for him.

No matter how hard he tried, his mind would always wander back to the same vision of a future with you. He saw the two of you building a beautiful life together in his dreams. He imagined the joy of raising children with you, cooking together in the kitchen, and sharing parenting responsibilities. He could picture himself changing their diapers while you watched with a warm smile.

Visions of you going to the Winter Fair, which was not the most exciting event; he envisioned you, him and your hypothetical child going there every year, enjoying the festivities and watching the colourful lights glow in your eyes. These thoughts filled him with happiness, and he couldn't wait for them to become a reality.

Unfortunately, you have shot down any possibility of being more than friends with Eddie, not to hurt him but because you only see him as a friend. Never once had it ever crossed your mind to see Eddie as anything more. Honestly, you questioned his sexuality over the years.

One memory, in particular, flashed in your brain as you pondered on the possibility of Eddie being serious or just taking the piss?

"Eddie, what are you doing?" You walked into your bedroom to see Eddie standing in the middle of your room, facing your full-length mirror.

"Oh, me? I liked your dress and wanted to see what it would look like on me? Kinda badass, no? Some may even say... metal?"

You can't help but laugh.

“Ed’s, you can’t even do it up; you’re going to rip it!”

“You’re being a hater… Imagine! Me on stage shredding to Ozzy in this?" He gestures to your floral church dress, which he’s paired with his black Converse all-stars. He’s always been flamboyant.

You can't help but roll your eyes. Your mom just bought you this dress.

“What, Sunshine?” He smirks.

“Ed’s, are you?-Is there something you want to tell me?” You bite your lip, not wanting him to freak out.

“You know me, sunshine! I’m just me,” he twirled and showed off his boxers.

“Okay, but if you ever wanna tell me anything, I’ll be here for you.”

“I know.” He smiled.

Sometimes, you wondered about Eddie... He never fully came out to you, and you never pressured him to do so because you loved him regardless. You wouldn’t ever have a chance with him; he’s your platonic soul mate. Sure, he’s handsome if you like that bad boy-leather-metalhead thing, but who’s to say you were even his type? You were a girl.

When Eddie asked you out just now, you had no idea how to take it? He’s him, and you are you… you’ve been attached at the hip forever, but never did you think you’d cross the threshold? Did he want to cross it? Did you want to cross it?

He was so nervous as he asked you. His hands wouldn’t stop fiddling, and he fumbled his words. His breath got all gaspy, like when he was trying to brush off something that bothered him. Maybe he was being serious?

“Ed’s?”

“Yea?” You saw a glimmer of hope behind his eyes.

“Don’t you like… boys? I’ve never seen you-“

“It’s okay- lots of people think I’m gay, but it’s cool, right? We’re friends! Why would it not be?”

“No, no, of course, but you’ve-you’ve never been with a girl or at least that I know of? So I never thought… Really? Me and you? Together?”

“No, you wouldn’t have thought.” He bit back bitterly. “I know, I’m queer; you know I’ve always been different.”

“Ed’s, I’m sorry I just- I never thought of you like that because I’m a girl…”

“Ask me, Sunshine.”

“Ask you what?”

“You know.”

“Do you like girls?” You spit out.

“No, sunshine, I like you.”

“But you-"

“I know how I am!” He raised his voice. He never raised his voice. Not at you. “I don’t like conformity and social norms, and sure, I like men, and sure, I like to dress up in your clothes and like to put on your makeup, but fuck, I especially like it because that stuff belongs to you, I do it because I love you.” There he said it, finally he felt like the 100lb weight had been lifted off of his chest.

“Ed’s-“

“No! I love you, and I do it because I like it and to be close to you because you’re my whole world, sunshine, and if I can’t have you, I don’t know what I will do.” He reached out for your hand across the table, and you let him take it. Your fingers intertwine.

It was quiet for a moment. You needed to process. Things between you won’t be the same after this.

“Talk to me, Sunshine?”

“I just never thought this was an option between us, Eddie. I need time.

“I’ll wait for you; I’ve waited this long.”

You only stay in silence for a moment before Judy comes back around.

“Okay, kiddos, 2 burgers and fries, enjoy.” The waitress smiles and places your meal in front of you.

“Excuse me, Judy?” you call out.

“Yes, darling?” She turns back with a smile

“Can we see the drink menu?” You chide

“Coming right up”

[alpacaroni-and-cheese]

Leah, Fatin and Choice.

Not to wax lyrical about a TV show that was cancelled over two years ago, but The Wilds is pretty good, actually.

All 8 of the main characters (yes, eight, the boys don't count) are some of the most complex, layered and interesting characters I've ever seen. Each of them, on a surface level, seem to be one-dimensional.

Shelby, for example, is the goody-two shoes Christian flawless pageant queen. But she isn't, not really. She's a closeted, anxious mess, who is about one or two mental breakdowns away from shaving her head at any given time. She cares far too deeply, leaving her heart exposed and vulnerable.

Or take Rachel; on the outside, she's hard on everyone, angry and resentful, and bound for diving for America in the next Olympics. But in reality, she's burnt out. She might be hard on everyone around her, but she's hardest on herself. She suffers from bulimia, brought on by a few ill-advised words from her diving coach, and isn't even on the team anymore. She is angry, and she is resentful, but I think she has good reason to be. So when she does release that anger, it's an inspiration for us all.

You can do this kind of analysis with all of the characters, but the two I want to focus on in particular are Leah and Fatin.

Leah, the boring, ordinary, average girl from the Bay, who thinks too much and leaps before she looks.

That doesn't even scratch the surface of who Leah is.

She's whip-smart, and not in the "knows the first 20 digits of pi" Hollywood style of smart. She notices things and tucks them away in her brain until she has a moment to herself where she can ruminate, drawing connections where maybe there aren't any, and draw conclusions based partly on evidence and partly on a near-infallible trust for her gut.

She analyses. Not in the (BBC) Sherlock kind of way where she just magics up the answer out of thin air, but in her own way. She sees something is out of place, and digs around in the rocks and dirt, bloodying her fingers and knees until she can figure out what's wrong.

She gets taken advantage of by a man far older than her, and lies about her age so he'd sleep with her. She's hopelessly, helplessly tied to this pathetic man, every aspect of her life tethered to him. So when he finds out the truth and removes every part of her from his life, she is left drowning in his wake. She clings to the book he wrote and the sick annotations he left for her like it's a lifeline, when it's actually pulling her further beneath the waves.

Leah broods, she ruminates and she analyses, until something gives way.

She runs headlong into walls until either they break, or she does.

Next, let's talk about Fatin.

Promiscuous, princess-y Fatin, who's never done a day's hard work in her life.

In 1x05, Fatin runs away from the group. In 1x04, she was (metaphorically and a little bit physically, albeit accidentally) mauled by Leah. Her soft underbelly exposed and prodded. The others have all made judgements on her character, and in their eyes she has come up short. So, she chooses to remove herself from the equation, and runs away, like a thief in the night.

She finds a waterfall, practically saving all of them from dying slowly of thirst. And Leah, who pushed her, shoved her, rejected her last episode, spearheads the campaign to find her, after a little encouragement and wake-up call from Dot.

Fatin is not used to forgiveness. We see her mother let things go, but her mistakes are not forgiven, and most certainly not forgotten. Her hurt is minimised and dismissed by her mother, so she turns to her father for support. He is her best friend and confidant. He always has her side.

But then she discovers the photos. Her father has been cheating with lots of women over a long period of time. He has been lying to and betraying their family for years. She lashes out and chooses to send his nudes to everyone in his contact list, not thinking it through properly. When this is inevitably drawn back to her, her father turns on her, and her mother just sits and watches.

She isn't familiar with forgiveness, so when Leah offers it to her the first time she chooses to willingly accept it, offering it back in turn.

Leah makes the choice to burn Jeff's book, severing the tether holding her beneath the water. She's free, and can breathe.

Fatin becomes her confidant, listening to Leah's theories about the island and offering reasonable explanations for what's going on, and it works for a while.

But Leah becomes obsessed with the island. She's convinced something is wrong, and works herself to the bone to discover the truth, at the expense of her own safety and sanity.

Fatin reaches out to her, tries to wade through the darkness clouding Leah's thoughts and pull her back into the light.

But she fails.

When Leah runs into the ocean, desperate to find a way out, Fatin can do nothing but watch. Rachel overcomes her fear of the water and drags Leah back to the beach. Dot wants to sedate her, just to be safe, but Fatin refuses. Leah's had enough choices taken away from her, so she lets Leah choose.

Fatin, who knows how damaging it is to have your autonomy stolen, gives Leah this choice. Fatin, who knows Leah had many decisions made for her in the past, lets her decide for herself. She lets Leah make the choice to live.

[rhiafayee]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write some form of our Captain coming home unannounced after a long stint in the field? (Take creative liberties). Reader doesn't know that he's coming back, but she's been on tenterhooks the entire time throughout, wondering when he will, so it's a massive surprise when he does (dare I say it's mostly horny Price?)

If this doesn't work for you, please let me know! Thank you :) 🧡

OMG my first ask 🥹 this literally means the world to me you don't understand, I appreciate you so much for being here 🫶

I know I've said i'm an NSFW blog, but just incase anybody here just wants to read good ol' fluff, I did label in this fic where it becomes NSFW! The last thing I want to do is make anyone uncomfortable or left out because they don't care to read smut! Reader has female anatomy but I did my best to not include pronouns just incase! I really hope you like it 🫶

Pairings: Husband!John Price x AFAB!Reader

Summary: After a long, dreadful period of time awaiting your husband's return from deployment, he shows up when you least expect it.

Warnings: Blood mentioned, non-severe injuries, afab, p in v, unprotected sex, just your casual smutty fic!

Thick, whitish-grayish clouds blanketed the sky, rain falling heavily from the base, an ombre effect forming as you viewed farther into the distance, watching the sky go from a shade of slate to a hue of black. The sound of the rain against the window caused you to curl up on the couch, a movie on in the background with the volume low enough to the point that you can hear the chatter of voices, but not enough to make out what is going on, and your favorite book seated comfortably in your hands. Next to you on the coffee table stands a hot mug, filled to the top, with only a quarter of an inch of space left to avoid any overflowing, of earl grey. A comforting blend that you find yourself pouring on rainy days like this. Adjacent to the mug was a picture frame, of you and your husband on your wedding day. Picking it up, you start to reminisce on the memories of your beloved, who is somewhere a thousand miles away right now.

He's been gone for what felt like years, but has really only been 4 months. The marriage was hard, to say the least. Drawn out periods of time where you aren't sure if he's even going to come home to you anymore, late nights arguing about how he's never here to spend time with you, thoughts of separation swarming your head at the lowest of points during your relationship. But every time he sees the doubt in your eyes, the realization that his work takes priority, he manages to ground you, tell you that one day he'll be home for good, and that he's never leaving again. The words start to feel empty after hearing them one too many times, now simply used as a way to comfort you; an empty promise. At least, that's what you've concluded as shortly after you make up from said arguments he's leaving you again. Missed birthdays, anniversaries, valentines day, Christmas, any calendar holiday you could think of, were rarely ever spent with your partner.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you put your book down, running your thumb across the glass of the picture frame where the polaroid of you in his arms, a white gown adorning your body, his ceremonial dress uniform on his, your lips attached together, just like your souls. A warmth overcomes you, a fuzzy feeling when you think of everything you've been through together. The late nights slow dancing in the kitchen, baking pastries together in the morning, attacking each other with the dry ingredients, making a mess of the floor and counters, as well as each other, everything now coated in flour. The small moments like this is what makes every argument and make-up worth it, knowing that the love you harbor for each other is inseparable, no matter the distance between you two.

Glancing at the clock, it reads 1406, 24-hour time becoming a usual part of your life, living with a military man. Taking out your grocery list, you figure now is a good time to knock out some errands to prepare for the upcoming week. After getting dressed and applying some of your make-up, you slip your shoes on and head out the door. The drive to the store is calm, the rain pattering against the roof of the car, the refraction caused by the rain water making the headlights in the distance slightly blurred.

Walking through the store, shopping cart in front of you, list in your left hand, your pen in the other, you slowly make your way through each aisle, scratching a line through each word in the list as the corresponding item makes its way into your cart. Strolling the cart to the front of the store and making your way through the checkout line, you grab your bags, pay the amount ringed out by the cashier, and make your way out. Upon placing all of your grocery bags in the car, you make your way towards the cart return. Glancing down to your phone to recheck the time, you feel a change in the texture of the ground below you, before you get the chance to process the difference, you feel a sharp pain in your ankle, jolting up your calf into your hip, and then a wave of agony hits you when your head eventually makes its way onto the pavement as well. Sitting up on your knees, you grab your nose. Blood. A lot of it. Pouring out as your eyes tear up and your ankle becomes numb.

Slowly making your way back into your car, you assess the damage. One, you're now soaking wet, and so is your car seat now, two, you seem to have sprained your ankle and broke your nose. Great. Right when you need your husband to take care of you, he's nowhere near to take action. Though your head feels dizzy, and you probably shouldn't be driving in your state, you realize that you need to get home to patch yourself up. As you start the ignition to your car, a check light comes up. Of course it does, you think. Low tire pressure. Just what you need right now on top of everything else. Taking a deep breath, you pull out of the parking lot and pray you make it home safe.

Limping your way into the house, not caring about the groceries now sitting in the car, an overwhelming feeling of dread and pain comes over you. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, everything hits you at once. The searing pain in your lower leg makes it hard to stand, and the dizziness in your head makes it hard to fight the pain off to at least limp your way to the couch. Letting your back hit the- now closed- front door, you sink to the ground, a fit of tears and sobs erupting from your body.

"Y/n?" A familiar gruff voice echos off the walls of the house. At first, you think it might just be your delusions from the injury and yearning, and then you feel a pair of warm hands on both sides of your face. Shooting your eyes open, you see the face of your husband, kneeling down to your level to look directly into your eyes. "Sweetheart, what happened?" John calmly spoke, wrapping his arms around you as to not panic you even more. A sentence of broken words and mumbles leaving your mouth, the struggle to breath growing. John doesn't speak, rather he comforts you by increasing the strength of the embrace, running his hands through your hair, soft "shhh's" leave his lips. Finally catching your breath, you feel your heart rate slowing down, but the pounding in your head getting more prominent. You look up to him, a defeated look in your eyes that breaks his heart into pieces, "I didn't think you were coming home." Your broken, hoarse voice breaks the silence. He feels his heart drop again at those words. "I'll always come home to you. You know that." He gives you a soft smile, kissing your forehead. "Now, why don't you explain to me what happened while I patch you up, yeah?" A soft smile forms on your lips, slowly nodding as to not aggravate your headache even more.

Picking you up, Price sets you down on the kitchen counter to grab some medical supplies, as well as pain medicine to soothe the pounding in your leg and your head. Filling up a small glass of water, he lifts you up once again and takes you to the bathroom to get some better lighting to patch you up.

-NSFW below-

Soft laughter fills the bathroom as Price listens to the day you've had. "So you're gonna tell me you let a puddle of mud ruin your day?" He chuckles lowly. You glare at him before sending him a cheeky smirk. Lifting you up carefully as to avoid hurting you, he lays you down on the bed. "You wait here while I go get everything from the car. Why don't you get yourself ready for me, love?" He finished his sentence with a wink that made your abdomen flutter. Months of being away from him, months without the ache in your nether regions being resolved, only relying on a couple videos shot by the two of you while you had the chance. Nothing you've tried could compare to him, though. Stripping down to nothing but your panties, you hear his loud, heavy footsteps booming through the hallway. Nervousness fills your body, the hairs on the nape of your neck standing at attention due to the anticipation of what was to come next.

You feel your clit throb, your subconscious becoming aware of the situation. His tall, broad figure enters through the doorway. Flicking the light switch down, the only light in the room coming from the storm still going outside, the gray tones flooding into the room and making your body look euphoric. The little light that is reflected into the room makes your eyes appear darker, the curves in your body more defined, the perkiness of your tits more delicious. Price feels his body relax at the site of you, his bright blue eyes turn into a shade of navy, making him appear more dominant and full of lust. Stripping his shirt off and disregarding it on the hardwood below him, you take in the sight of his hardened body, extra buff from the recent deployment, demanding strength for months on end. Stopping at the edge of the bed, above where you lay, you can make out the bulge in his jeans more clearly, your pussy throbbing with need as you realize just how long it's been since he's been inside of you.

"You're more gorgeous than the last time I saw you, you know that? You just keep getting prettier and prettier with time, darling." His voice laced with desire and need, thick like honey, his accent more prominent. You sit up, shifting your weight on your arm, as he leans down, meeting you in the middle to connect your lips together. The feeling of your tongues dancing together, the mixture of your saliva, his hand hard around your throat, it feels better than ever. Your sure your panties are soaked, you can feel your inner thighs get coated with your slick, your body preparing for him. Disconnecting your lips, you lean back down, mouthing his cock through his jeans, running your teeth across the outline. He groans, tangling his fingers through your hair with just enough pressure that you can feel it, but not enough to bring back any pain from earlier. After a long, hot make-out session, Price pulls away from you, a trail of saliva leaving the two of you connected.

Untangling his hand from your hair, he slowly repositions himself on top of you, kissing your neck, down your body until he reaches the elastic of your panties. He takes the band in his mouth, his teeth slowly taking them off of your body. You stare at him, your mouth agape in shock and need. After discarding your undergarments to somewhere on the floor, he spreads your legs, leaving a trail of kisses on your calf, up to your inner knee, when he reaches your inner thigh he becomes more rough, sucking and biting at the skin there, leaving purple bruises along your flesh. Keeping eye contact with you, he lays a light, feather-like kiss on your clit, making you gasp with pleasure, but not enough. Interlacing your fingers in his hair, you push his head down, an unspoken way of asking for more. "Greedy, are we love?" Price chuckles, now licking your clit. Rolling your eyes with a small giggle, "It's been 4 months, John, can you blame me?" Your voice is laced with desire and impatience as you speak. After what felt like an eternity of teasing, Price brings up two of his thick fingers, circling your entrance with them, his middle finger catching on your labia. Inserting them in, the stretch making you arch your back in pleasure and slight discomfort, "You're so tight baby, seems you haven't been takin' care of yourself down here." His fingers start moving in and out at a slightly faster pace, but not too much to make you fall apart already. He moves his mouth back to your clit, continuing his actions from earlier. With a loud moan and your back arching even more, you cover Price's fingers in your come, making him groan at the sight, his cock growing even harder.

Sitting up, the unbuckling of his jeans sparks a nervousness and excitement in your lower abdomen, a feeling you haven't felt in a long time. You stare as he unzips his jeans, taking them off along with his boxers. His thick cock bounces as it's freed from confinement, the heaviness of it making it droop down. You take it into your hand, slowly stroking him before taking it to your entrance. Price looks into your eyes as he slips it into your hole, making the both of you gasp at the intrusion. As he buries himself as deep as he can go, John waits for a moment to take in the feeling of you after such a long time, and to stop himself from coming too soon. The feeling of him stretching you open and the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix puts you in a state of nirvana. Circling your hips a little to create some sort of pleasure on your end, Price decides he won't make you wait any longer.

Slowly pulling his cock out until just the tip is inside, he smiles at you before slamming his length all the way back in. The feeling catching you off guard, you roll your eyes to the back of your head, letting out a loud moan "Oh my- fuckk." "You didn't think I was gonna be gentle did you?" Price lets out a low chuckle before repeating the same action. Lifting your legs up so your ankles are adjacent to his head, he goes faster, pounding into the back of your pussy like his life depends on it, hitting the same soft spot that you're convinced nobody else could reach. Reaching his hand down, John starts to rub your clit at the same pace as his hips, making you moan louder and louder. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, don't stop doing that" you whine out, making Price's lips curl up in a cheeky smile. "Yeah, you like that? Am I gonna make you come, baby?" He teases you, letting out a low groan. Nodding your head, Price feels your walls tighten around him, making his hips stutter and his moans slightly louder. "Oh shit baby, fuck you're so tight. You like coming 'round my cock, love?" You don't respond- you can't- not in the state you're in right now. You just hold eye contact with him while nodding your head.

Price's hips falter as you feel something warm inside of you all of a sudden. He stays there, his cock acting like a plug to keep his come pushed inside of you. Coming down towards you, Price leaves a kiss on your forehead before slowly pulling out, watching some of his come leak out of you. Looking up at your worn-out figure, he gets up to start a bath for you. Slowly unwrapping the bandage he skillfully placed on your ankle to prevent any unwanted movement, he places you in the warm body of water, making your eyes slowly close. The smell of lavender and vanilla fills your senses, the only light in the bathroom being from your favorite candle. Price cleans you up, making sure to be careful around your nose and your ankle, before picking you up gently to wrap your body in a towel.

He takes you back to the bed, which is now covered in a fresh pair of sheets, he lays you down gently before getting you dressed. Going to the bathroom to clean himself up, he decides now is a good time to tell you the news. Moments later he comes out, preparing himself for any reaction that may come out of you. Before he can speak, he hears your soft snores and sees your eyes glued shut, overtaken by a deep sleep. His lips form a soft smile, a feeling of warmth filling his body, feeling his heart skip a beat. He guesses he'll just have to tell you about his retirement in the morning.

[labyrinthofsphinx]

With all this talk of moral codes and all I've just got to ask- what moral codes do the three of you follow? I mean obviously neither Vox or Al want to hurt kids but Drift absolutely seems down to throw hands with them lol. But what other lines in the sand have been drawn?

Also, what are your favorite books? Vox, have you ever read The Sea-Wolf by Jack London?

So....this one will be getting into some story bits, just by the nature of what was asked:

The kid's code was kinda touched upon here a little and shown in Something Wicked, but generally...he's not a killer. He can and will scrap with anyone, if he decides there's a just reason, which can be as simple as a harsh enough insult. But he doesn't care who they are, men, women, or children. If he thinks you've earned it, one way or another, he doesn't mind teaching a lesson, best he can at his small size and stature. He will lie, steal, and cheat...so long as nobody gets seriously hurt. But to anyone that hasn't earned it, he's very empathetic. It would hurt him to hurt someone else, even on accident, if they didn't do anything to deserve it.

Vox's 'code' is a little harder to pin down, namely because he doesn't have as set or strict 'rules' as Al. His 'reason' for violence is because it's what gets him to his goal, what 'removes the obstacle' shall we say. If he can use other methods, great! Less cleanup. But he's not afraid to 'pull the trigger' either. Also, similar to the kid, Vox does not care about who his targets are. He's not going to hesitate if its a woman. Almost nobody in his circles are entirely innocent either...but he really wouldn't flip about having to take an innocent life, if he deemed it necessary. Though, you won't find him doing it for fun. He doesn't get a kick out of it. It's just 'part of the job' in a sense. Kids are the only exception to this because, well, they're kids. They're never in his way, too young to understand anything, and too innocent for all that nonsense. Also, deep down, he really does have a special tender spot for them. Blame it on the expectations of the time, or having too much experience working with scared kids on Hollywood sets, but he likes kids.

Al is an entirely different case altogether because, here's the thing: he both cares the most and the least about his targets. Emotionally, he couldn't care less. He honestly, truly loves to do it. And if he ever did take a wholly innocent life, he wouldn't normally lose sleep over it, might even delight in it...except for his code. We're going to get into more specifics later as to how and why Al got his code, but just be aware that he swore to himself that he would only kill those he thinks deserved to rot in hell. He has a very, very strong bias against killing women because most women he's met, even the bad ones, were victims of circumstances beyond their control. He's much more apt to blame a man for a woman's mistakes than giving her the entire blame...something he will have to contend with Vox about further along the line. He refuses to kill children, period. In his eyes, they're all innocent and are therefore excluded. Even when they aren't innocent, they are. As for what, exactly, gets you on his list...it's a difficult line to define exactly. Things that will obviously get you on the list: murder, arson, any kind of sexual violence, harming kids in any way, so on and so forth. Basically, he decided that he's judge, jury, and executioner of the people who slipped through the cracks in the justice system. He does, however, need the conformation of the crime, which used to be harder in the days before Vox became his partner.

As for where the lines are drawn...that's going to be a plot point later on. Because these guys are going to pushing and prodding that line the whole time. Al and Vox already kinda had because, I mean, they have a witness to the crime that's certainly a problem...but he's a kid. That threw their 'go to' plan out the window. Alastor also had his line pushed with Vox himself, just because he's Vox. In any other situation, Vox would be a perfect candidate for his list: a murderer, a cheat, a greedy slime, etc. However, Vox was useful...then he was a friend...now he's kinda more than that. Now he doesn't count for the list because he's attached to him. But, in the back of Al's head, in a nebulous sort of way, he knows Vox still checks all his boxes, even in ways that Rosie and Mimzy couldn't because, again, they're girls. It isn't lost on Vox either. He's just decided that if Al wasn't going to off him when they first became partners, then he never was going to.

I kinda sum it up like this: The kid is in survival mode, any extreme will only be even considered if it's do or die. Vox is opportunistic, and he's doesn't care about violence either way. And Alastor is the genuine article, the real hunter here, and the only one who actually, really enjoys and craves violence.

On a less dark note, the kid loves comic books, detective stories, and travel journals. He's also a big fan of old stories of heroes doing great and crazy things. Vox is a 'modern' story enthusiast, things like The Great Gatsby are his go tos, though he does like Jules Verne a lot too (also secretly loves old romance stories and poems but he will go to his grave denying it). Alastor loves ghost stories. He also doesn't mind the occasional thriller and horror genres, particularly gothic or eldritch horror.

And, yes, at some point, Vox probably would've read The Sea-Wolf.

Thanks for the ask!

[haliteatiger]

I’m only just now seeing the dogblud stuff so I’m a bit late, but I just wanted to say that WOW firstly I am so sorry you went through that. And secondly I am autistic + ADHD and struggle with very severe meltdowns at times. I also have other mental stuff goin on that worsens them. but not even in my worst episodes or meltdowns have i EVER felt like it’s been ok or appropriate to speak to someone the way dogblud spoke to you, threatening suicide and so totally demeaning and subduing you. Actually appalling. Being autistic never gives us the right to treat someone like that. damn. I hope you have much better and more positive, healing, and enjoyable collaborative experiences going forward ❤️

Thank you so much for the reassurances, I really appreciate it!! I'm already well on my way to healing thanks to the new friends I've made through this, which I'm only sorry had to be through *this* at all. At the same time it's also making me realize the true extent of the damage as, despite my best efforts, I've been very anxious about collaborating with anyone, especially with regard to werewolves. I'm trying my best to avoid expectations of failure, disappointment, or worries of deceit, and carry on like I might have otherwise, but it's a struggle some days and carries a very similar tone to an earlier period in my life, so at least I know I will eventually grow beyond it provided I don't allow myself to be drawn into a similar situation. Healing, learning to function again in a similar space after what happened, isn't supposed to be easy, I suppose. For now, I'm more than happy to support and elaborate on others' projects and characters, and I know that, in the end, the biggest fuck you I can offer to Dog would be to complete and publish something. Bonus points if it's anything like what we had been working on together at the time. As it is, I can hardly bring myself to draw my own OCs from that period any more. I'll know I'll have made it when I can. In the meantime, I'm very grateful for the support folks like yourself have shown me after posting my story. It makes me physically ill looking at those screenshots. At one point in time, I would have become more angry than scared. I really, really wish I had just gone with my first impulse and pushed back a lot harder than what I did. All I kept thinking at the time, however, was "This is bad. Don't make it worse". lol I think Jackal and Rex handled things so much better than what I did, and admire their strength. I'm incredibly flattered that Jackal has asked to collaborate with me whenever I'm ready, too. I think, together, we'll make something wonderful that will more than make up for whatever we might have lost beforehand.

[fake-sturniolos]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬

pt2

SYNOPSIS:  a hopeless romantic teen attempts to secure a happily-ever-after moment with her forever crush, but finds herself reluctantly drawn to the boy next door.

WARNING: none!

word count: 1,722

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 'ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ'

I've wanted love since I was old enough to spell the word 'love', probably because of my mom's obsession with romcoms. I would watch romcoms with my mom all the time; it was our thing. We would get snacks, snuggle up on the couch, and binge all of her favorites. When she passed away, what I inherited was the knowledge that love is perpetually present, always a potentiality, and eternally worthwhile.

I walked out of my house in a relatively good mood, only to be met with the sight of the person who annoys me most in this world, Matt Sturniolo. He was standing in front of my car with a grin on his face. Well, that couldn’t be good. I shut the door behind me and pretty much ran at him. “What are you doing near my car.”

Matt just shrugged, giving me a smirk.

"What's in your hand?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, putting his hand behind his back.

i rolling my eyes at him. "What did you do to my car?"

“technically i didn't do anything to your car”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He gave me a grin before saying, "Well, this has been fun, but I've gotta run.”

"Matt—" I began, but he turned around and walked back to his house as if our conversation hadn't just happened. I sighed and turned back to my car to see what he could have done to it.

Matt and I have an ongoing battle over who gets the parking spot, though he typically wins because he cheats. It's become a game of wits between us, each of us trying to outsmart the other in our quest for the coveted spot. But no matter how hard I try, it seems like Matt always has the upper hand.

I sighed and got into my car, only to find a parking ticket taped to the middle my windshield. Great.

I walked into school with 'Florida Kilos' playing in my headphones. I entered my first-period class and took the only available seat next to Lacy Johnson. Lacy is a high-class bitch, but there's no denying that she's gorgeous. We both grew up in the same neighborhood and hung out with the same kids. And every time we were together, she would find some way to call me weird or insult me in any way possible. It was like she had a radar for my insecurities and took pleasure in poking at them

“Nice dress, y/n," Lacy said, looking over at me.

I gave her a fake smile. "Thanks."

I pulled my phone out of my bag to see a text from my best friend, Audrina.

From Audrina:

You will not believe what I found out

To Audrina:

Spill

From Audrina:

You're not gonna want to be in class when I tell you, so meet me after

The bell rang, and I rushed out of class to our lockers. Audrina showed up right as I did.

"Okay, before I tell you, promise me you won’t freak out," she said.

"I can’t promise anything."

Before she could say anything, I glanced behind her and saw no one other than Tristan Parker walking in my direction. Audrina noticed the look on my face and turned around.

"Well, there it is," she said.

Tristan Parker was my childhood crush. He lived in my neighborhood and hung out with me and the few other kids on our block (Me, Matt, Audrina, Lacy, and a few other kids.) Till one day he moved to South Carolina. I never thought I would see him again but here he is.

“Y/N?” Tristan's voice jolted me out of my daydream, his gentle tone drawing me back to reality.

“Tristan?” I responded, my lips curling into a smile as I met his gaze.

In a heartbeat, he closed the distance between us, enveloping me in a warm embrace that felt like home. I felt my stomach flip. Oh my God.

All of a sudden, I feel someone bump into me, and I turn around to see Matt. Of course, if anyone was going to ruin this moment, it would be him.

“Matt!” I exclaimed, turning to face him. “You should really watch where you're going,” I said with a fake smile.

"‘Yeah, so sorry.” he said sarcastically, then turned to look at Tristan.

“Tristan!” he exclaimed, reaching out to dab him up.

“You were right about the biology teacher.” Tristan said.

“Yeah, she's a real bitch.” Matt grinned.

I watched as Tristan laughed. I tried to contain my smile, but it was useless.

“Relax, you're drooling all over yourself” Audrina whispered to me. I had pretty much forgotten she was standing there.

“You know Michael White, right?” Matt asked Tristan.

“Of course.”

“Well, he's having a party tonight. Would you be down to go?”

“Yeah, sounds good” Tristan replied.

“Alright, cool. I'll text you the details. But I gotta go. If I'm late one more time, I'm cooked.” he said, then turned and walked the other direction.

Tristan turned his attention back to me “I've gotta go too” he said “But we'll catch up later?”

I nodded eagerly, feeling a sense of anticipation bubbling within me. “Definitely” I replied, my heart skipping a beat as he flashed me a brief but warm smile before walking off.

Audrina sighed. “Don’t get too excited. I heard he's been talking to Lacy Johnson.”

I felt like someone had just punched me in the face. Why her? I didn’t get it. I couldn’t comprehend how someone like Lacy, who seemed to effortlessly have everything handed to her, could possibly be vying for the attention of the same guy I wanted. I couldn’t bear the idea of seeing the perfect guy for me end up with someone like her.

"I mean, they aren't official. I still have a shot,” I said, trying to reassure myself.

“Please don’t be that girl,” she said, giving me a pleading look.

Her words struck a chord within me, a reminder of the line I was treading. Did I really want to be that girl, the one who clung onto hope despite the odds?

I swallowed hard, the weight of my indecision heavy in my chest. "I won’t." I promised, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears.

Matt had beaten me to the parking spot, leaving me no choice but to park around the block and trek home through the pouring rain. As I reached my doorstep, a sudden realization struck me. If I could persuade Matt to take me to the party, it could be my ticket to getting closer to Tristan. I turned on my heel and headed next door, where I knocked on Matt's door. After a few moments, he opened it slightly, a bemused grin on his face.

“Well, well, well,” he chuckled, taking in my drenched appearance. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

I rolled my eyes, feeling the chill of the rain lingering on my skin. “I need to talk to you.”

His eyebrows raised in mock suspicion. “Why? Planning to exact your revenge?”

“Matt, just let me in,” I pleaded, my patience wearing thin.

From behind him, I heard his mother's voice. “Matt, stop teasing and let the poor girl in.”

“I think she's here to assassinate me,” Matt joked

“Hi, Mary Lou.” I said smiling at her.

“Hello, y/n. Come inside before you catch a cold,” she said kindly, ushering me into the warmth of their home.

“Thanks, Mary Lou,” I said gratefully

Mary Lou smiled warmly. “Of course, dear. Let me grab you a towel to dry off,” she said before disappearing into another room.

Left alone with Matt, I couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness creeping over me. What if he refused to help me? What if my plan to get to the party and see Tristan up close fell apart before it even began?

Mary Lou returned with a fluffy towel, and with a grateful smile, I accepted it, quickly drying myself off as best as I could. Matt gestured for me to follow him, we made our way to the cozy living room, where the soft glow of lamps cast a warm, inviting ambiance.

As we settled onto the comfortable couch, I couldn't shake the nervous flutter in my stomach. Matt leaned back, his expression curious yet attentive. “So, spill it,” he prompted, his eyes fixed on mine.

“okay so I need your help.” I said meeting his gaze

he smiled “and why would I help you?”

“i have an offer for you.” I said clearing my throat “you will get full access to the parking spot for the duration of our deal.”

he looked back at me with a shocked expression “your giving me THE parking spot?”

I sat back and nodded.

“Deal.”

“What? You don't even know what I want you to do yet.”

“Whatever it takes, I'll do it.”

“Okay, but you have to swear that you won’t tell anyone or give up halfway. If you do, the deal is off.”

“I swear. Now, tell me.”

I looked at something other than his face. “I want to get close with Tristan.”

“And you want me to help with that how?”

“Well, since he's going to the party, I was hoping you could take me with you, so I could talk to him.”

He nodded. “So you want to get with Tristan, and you want me to take you with me to the party so you can get him to like you?” he said, scanning my face.

“Pretty much.”

“Isn’t he interested in Lacy?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry about that.”

He smiled. “How scandalous of you, Buxbaum.”

“Shut up.” I said smiling back "Alright, so here's the plan," leaning in closer to Matt. "You'll invite me to the party as your plus one, and once we're there, you'll introduce me to Tristan. From there, I'll work my magic."

Matt raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Your magic, huh? Should I be worried?"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help but laugh. "Just trust me, okay? I'll handle it."

After exchanging numbers to discuss Tristan after, we agreed that he would pick me up at 7.

"Alright, you've got yourself a deal."

ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ɪᴛ! ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ʟᴀᴜɴᴀ

[justzawe]

Zawe Ashton reveals she got into the 'best shape' of her life in The Marvels but had to reshoot the film after becoming pregnant

Zawe Ashton has revealed she got into 'the best shape' of her life while filming The Marvels but ended up having to reshoot the film after becoming pregnant.

The actress, 39, portrays the warrior Dar-Benn in the film opposite stars, Brie Larson, Teyonah Parris and Iman Vellani.

Zawe, who admitted to being 'traumatized' from working in Hollywood, felt the grueling training regime required for the blockbuster 'empowered' her.

Speaking at the Bazaar At Work Summitt 2023, she said: 'There was this opportunity for me to get in the best shape in my life [with The Marvels] which I really hadn't been in – getting fit and in shape, but strong and eating well, was a massive part of this journey for me. 

'And then the process of learning stunts and fighting is probably one of the most empowering things that I've ever done.'

Zawe welcomed her first child with her partner Tom Hiddleston last October, with the pregnancy interfering with the shoot.

She said: 'I thought the film was finished, and I got pregnant and had my baby. And then they told me to come back and reshoot basically the whole movie. 

'That, to me, has been the biggest journey with this movie: my physical wellness, my ability to endure, to mentally switch back into that place, postpartum, and come back, and try and kick some ass again. That's really what the landmark of the film is to me now.'

Zawe also spoke about working in the film industry as a young actress and how there were not many measures in place to protect performers from exploitation.

She said: 'I'm probably deeply traumatised! I was working at a point in our industry that is so different from industry that we are working on making for ourselves now. There were no safety protocols. 

'There were no conscious ways that we were thinking about protecting young women. I sort of wipe my brow sometimes, thinking: 'Wow, I actually emerged quite unscathed.' 

'There are so many different ways that we're thinking consciously about protecting the people who are working in front of and behind the camera now.' 

Zawe elaborated on sexism in the industry, saying she felt 'fatigued' from spending so much time worried about her looks.

She said: 'I realised that I'd spent nearly 30 years as an actor, but I'd also sort of spent 30 years performing as a woman, and I felt suddenly so tired.'

'That kind of patriarchal eye, that just gazes on you since birth, it suddenly felt really like that had depleted me in a very deep way.'

'I was suddenly hit with this fatigue, where I didn't want to think about my face, or about my hair and my looks. I didn't want to think about how I could keep presenting myself for a camera or a lens that basically represents this very, very problematic gaze.'

'Where do we draw the line? This is all part of the same spectrum. If you're not seeing women's humanity, if you're not seeing a full human life when you're thinking about the ways that you're putting these kinds of [character breakdown] descriptions together, then the extreme end of the spectrum is you're not valuing women, and that's a much bigger conversation than my industry.'

The actress, who was born to a Ugandan mother and an English father, also spoke about representation on screen.

She said: 'When I starred in period drama, Mr. Malcom's List, there was suddenly this healing moment. I had never ever seen any actor who looked like me invited to the table to perform these entertainment pieces. 

'I hadn't known necessarily that I was hurting so much, until I saw that representation happen, and the success of it take everyone by storm.'

'Growing up as a young biracial girl in Hackney, I was really drawn to the left-field, drawn to the alternative. And part of the bullying I encountered in my teens was because of that. 

'There weren't really any people of colour who were representing this alternative landscape. When I got the part of Vod in Fresh Meat, I thought: 'This is now my opportunity to be that for someone else who didn't maybe have it.' 

'I was willing to do whatever it took to make that character as edgy and authentic as I felt she could be, so that it would invite that person who is not seeing that kind of representation on screen, to really feel seen.'

 Zawe, who has not revealed the name or sex of her child, told how she feels like she is 'growing up' with her baby.

She said: 'The most surprising thing for me has been how quiet I feel like I've gone in motherhood.'

'Right now, it's been really about collecting women's stories. For some reason, we don't value ageing in our society. And there are women who have given me nuggets of wisdom that I literally could not live without. And they are all over the age of 60.

'Why we're not opening a platform and listening to women who have actually lived life is crazy to me. I'm a new mum. I know so little. I'm growing with my child… the child is going to teach you and lead you if you're open to it, and that's the moment to enjoy so much.'

(x)

[percheduphere]

How do you think Mobius will live his life in the timeline? Many theorize that something happens to Don and Mobius takes his identity so his sons live with a father. I prefer that Mobius reflects on his old life, realizes he can’t live it, and creates his own life.

Oh, boy, Anon. I have a lot of fanfic ideas for this, but let's get into the meta-analysis side of this before we get into the rabbit hole that is my washer-dryer machine of an imagination.

Mobius is not doing well. He is going through the stages of grief. I've written an extensive meta here regarding the darker aspects of his character and how he's at risk by the end of the series. I also wrote a brief meta here regarding how his grief might manifest.

With this in mind, I actively HATE the idea of Mobius spiraling to the point he becomes "corrupted". I don't what Michael Waldron did to Wanda. I guess you could make the argument that it would be interesting to see a man emotionally unravel in such a way, but I hold Mobius's unshakable kindness dear in my heart. I don't ever want him to lose it because it is essentially his superpower.

[Sidebar: comics canon House of M notwithstanding; Marvel and DC comics canon are consistently horrible in their characterization of exceptionally powerful women: Wanda Maximoff Jean Grey/Phoenix; Carol Danvers/then Ms. Marvel; Rogue; on and on; I'll throw Sylvie in here, too, because why not, it's true.]

I see Mobius mourning Loki for two years. Two years because, statistically, that is how long it takes for most people who've lost an intimate loved one to get out of clinical depression. During this period, I see him losing weight, wandering aimlessly between timelines, trying and failing to copy Don's life by taking a job that involves jet skis or aquatics more generally. B-15 would make a point to check-in on him and know he's not doing well, but Mobius, because he does not want anyone to worry about him, because he is used to being the person who keeps people together, insists he's fine.

MY FANFIC IDEA

I see Mobius eventually recognizing he needs a therapist, which he will find ironic and deeply troubling, but he's not about to give up on trying to live for Loki's sake.

And in his conversations with his therapist and B-15, Mobius will come to realize that he can still use his key strengths outside of the TVA: analyzing people, deconstructing what makes them tick, using that knowledge to help the other person, similar to a therapist but more active in support. Mobius is very well-suited to become a social worker of troubled and at-risk youth. I think he should pursue this and ...

Mobius will choose a branched timeline in the late 90s/early 2000s. There, he will meet a war-orphaned, thirteen year-old Wanda Maximoff, who is friendless and struggling to understand the nature of her powers (magic). Mobius is drawn to her right away. It takes time, but he eventually gains Wanda's trust.

Red. Red is Wanda's color. It's in her hair, her cheeks, her magic. Now that red reaches Wanda's eyes, filled with tears her anger stoppers. "You saw what I can do. What I did. The other kids call me a 'witch' 'cause that's what I am. A witch. A monster."

Mobius sits next to the young girl on the stoop. The sun winks at them through the green tree boughs, and he wonders, for a moment, what Loki might think of him now, finding solace in a child who needs solace.

"That's not true. You're not a monster, but I tell you what: witches are pretty cool." Mobius grins, knocking his knee against hers. The fabric of his slacks shakes, still too loose. "Y'know, my best friend has magic just like yours, except it's green instead of red."

Wanda peers at him, hopeful and dubious. "Really?"

"Yup. He had a tough time, too, being different." He leans closer to her, sharing a secret. "But things got better. You should've seen him. He was--is-- magnificent. You're magnificent."

Her lips purse into an embarrassed smile. She drops her head, thoughtful, and tucks her hands beneath the fold of her knees. "Where is he now? Do you still see him?"

The question is innocent, as all things are with a soul of thirteen. She doesn't mean to hurt him. Mobius knows this. So he takes the thorn of her words and presses it against his ribcage. His throat works. The ache comes and goes but never fully abates.

"Well," Mobius sighs. "He had to move on. Life is like that sometimes. People come and go. Things happen and ... there's not much you can do except hope they're okay. That they're happy and safe."

He can't look up. Not at the tree or the sun. He worries if he does, he'll start to cry, and that won't do when this girl who reminds him so much of his wily god has finally cracked a smile.

"C'mon," he says, rising to his feet. "Let's get you something to eat."

"McDonald's?" Wanda brightens.

Another thorn. He takes that one too and thinks of pretty roses.

"Whatever you want, kiddo."

[oneluckygoose]

O'Knutzy Week Day 5

Yooo, we've made it to the end!! (Of creating at least, still two more days left but I didn't have time to make anything. Also still written in advance to the actual week.)

Anyway, I figured for the last day I would share the songs on my O'Knutzy playlist I listened to while writing my stories (+ the characters they remind me of and why they did)

Credit of this beautiful thing we call Logan Tremblay, Finn O'Hara, and Leo Knut to @lumosinlove , and thanks to @oknutzy-week-2024 for also just being amazing.

Anyway songs under cut :)

shhh its a shit ton of Hozier

Line Without a Hook, Rick Montgomery - Ok look at me and tell me this isn't Harvard Era Finnlo. "You can hold my hand if no ones there" LOGAN! "All my emotions feel like explosions when you're around" FINN! Nuff' said.

Wish You Were Sober, Conan Gray - I only need one word to explain this one. Harvard. Next!

Sun, Two Door Cinema Club - Mainly reminds me of Finn, especially when he's in Gryfindor and Logan's still at Harvard. But also like listen to it, literally the entire song is just them.

Young In America, Barnes Courtney - Just gives me that Harvard vibe yk, Finn and Logan being best friends and then being drawn apart, it just fits them Imo. ALSO THAT LAST FUCKING VERSE IS SO UGH FINNLO (Also happens to be my favorite song rn so that may be part of it but like it's still them)

Running In Circles, Dead Poet Society - LOGAN. Specifically Logan his last year of college without Finn and him being in pain. Him having to hide it as well, and pretending he's not completely fucking devastated without Finn. Just the angst.

Atlantis, Seafret - Makes me think of Logan being scared and constantly telling Finn they can't and pretty much everything after the night Finn leaves Harvard. The feeling of helpless and inevitable heartbreak is very in line with that period of time.

Mind Over Matter, Young The Giant - Very Logan coded. Kinda how I imagined him with Leo and Finn before they got together. Also, "Cause' I'm a young man built to fall" is just something I think Logan would have told himself on why he couldn't tell Finn or Leo.

To Someone From A Warm Climate, Hozier - Also very Logan coded, I imagine him just quietly singing this into Leo's ear in the dark of a winter night, which are cold in Gryfindor which Leo is NOT used to.

Francesca, Hozier - Ahem, "the entire fucking song". Finn. This song = Finn. More exactly reflecting back on all of the hurt he and Logan went through together and knowing he would do it again. And again. And again. Especially when he's a Lion and O'Knutzy isn't a thing yet.

Home, Good Neighbours - Leo's homesickness, Logan missing Gryfindor in NY, Finn wanting to go back to Logan at Harvard. All of it. Though it did mainly make me think of Leo going home for a little bit after the Rangers knocked the Lions out of the playoffs in Vaincre.

TIMEZONE, Maneskin - Let me take you back to a lovely place called Logan fully ditching all-stars to see Leo and Finn in Vaincre. If this isn't the most Logan song I've ever heard, I don't even know. Also could be Logan in NY, or even Finn in Gryf while Logan's at Harvard.

Heaven Must Have Sent You, The Elgins - Leo. Just the way Leo tends to think about Finn and Logan, and he's definitely played this while dinner was cooking and the three of them danced in the kitchen.

Can't Take My Eye's Off You, Frankie Valli - Leo sings this at karaoke night constantly and you cannot tell me otherwise. Anyway, self explanatory, moving on.

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene, Hozier - Finn and the way he thinks of Leo and Logan. I think that's enough.

From Eden, Hozier - Yk, I don't actually have a clear explination for this one, it just gives me those O'Knutzy vibes.

Somewhere Only We Know, Keane - Reminds me of Harvard and the Roof, but also just a very O'Knutzy and FinLo song that makes me want to reread Coast to Coast.

Ditmas, Mumford and Sons - FinLo falling apart after Finn graduates. The angst is very appropriate and obviously it doesn't last but this is how I imagine it was back then.

i wanna be your girlfriend, girl in red - Very self explanatory, we don't need to dwell on it.

Figure You Out, VOILA - Hey remember when Logan freaked out when he though Finn got a girlfriend? This, it's this. Every time one little romantic interest and Logan just turns into the embodiment of this song.

Mercy, Shawn Mendes - Ok yes Ik it's basic but this is totally how Finn felt when him and Logan were doing their little dance around each other and it was absolutely Killing Finn.

Thinking Out Loud, Ed Sheeran - OK I GET IT ALSO BASIC but it does genuinely make me think of an older O'Knutzy, one that will love each other for a very long time and will love each other no matter what happens and how they change.

High, Stephen Sanchez - Sorry this song is so Finn being fucking horny over Logan in college and thinking about all the things he would do to him given the chance.

Beautiful Things, Benson Boone - SHUT UP I KNOW BASIC, but anyway this is Logan thinking over the last few years and how things have gotten so much better but also being so so so scared he could lose it all in a moment. His beautiful things are Finn and Leo.

Supernatural, Barnes Courtney - Finn constantly at Harvard. Logan and him are dancing around each other and Logan keeps fucking touching him and being so close and it drives him insane. And just a very Harvard Era song.

Like Real People Do, Hozier - Not Finn saying "can we for once not kiss while we're both crying" and that's literally just this song in different words, ok?

If She's Anything Like Me, MALINDA - Logan with every single girl Finn talks about or even looks at. Finn is genuinely the most perfect and lovable person in his eyes, so why wouldn't everyone else love him, too? And just because he doesn't have the guts to say it, that doesn't mean they won't.

Heat Waves, Glass Animals - Ok ok ok ok ok hear me out..... Actually I don't have much to defend this so Ig it's just all of them staying up late at night just thinking about each other.

Home, Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros - A very FinLo coded song, especially with the "Jade...Alexander....I was falling deep deep deeply in love with you," part because tell me that didn't happen. Also Leo works in here too because home is with his boys and their home will always be with him, too.

When He Sees Me, Kimiko Glenn & co - Definitely what Leo came into his Rookie season thinking. Especially once he met Finn and Logan knowing he'd be head over heels if he wasn't careful. Just very Leo as well because ofc he's fucking defensive of his heart right after Jack bitchass Archer.

She, Foxy Venus - Guess, take a wild guess. Did you guess Harvard Era Finlo because yeah, that's it. More specifically I think Finn and trying to get Logan out of his mind and move on and that not working whatsoever.

Can't Help Falling in Love, Elvis Presley - This took me an embarrassingly long time to add but yeah Very much Leo with his boys and then Logan and Finn with Leo.

Can't Pretend, Tom Odell - Also took me an embarrassingly long time to add considering it HAS THE SAME TITLE AS ONE OF MY FUCKING WORKS but we don't need to dwell on it. Anyway, FinLo again, especially canonically when they have their little talks about loving each other and not admitting it.

This playlist will probably grow but y'all ain't getting my Spotify so it's just a list rn, might add onto it, idk. Anyway, hope this was suitable for a final O'Knutzy week post and figured it be fun to show you what I was listening to while writing all this. Genuinely I had To Someone From A Warm Climate on repeat while writing the first half of With a Straight Face because if y'all we're confused about the vibe, it's that (especially the beginning). Also Supernatural was on repeat for the first part of When We Can't Pretend (Oh and High was on repeat during the Kiss in the second half, lol).

Ok peace I genuinely can't wait to see everything when I get back in August!

[devotioncrater]

ed/stede + edizzy + edward's bipolar

oh man the first three episodes of season 2 are. wow. okay. much to unpack. more fuel for my Edward Has Bipolar Theory.

DISCLAIMER: i am not a clinician, nor do i hold any degree in the psychology field. this meta is purely drawn from my own experience with diagnosed bipolar i, alongside what i've learnt in years of therapy as well as reading bipolar books/articles and peer-reviewed research papers. above all, this meta is for fun; please do not use this as a self-diagnostic.

this meta is broken up into sections:

the intro section

the bipolar section

the codependency section

the season 2 speculation section

The Intro Section

right away, the admittance of edward hating himself & feeling unloveable recontextualizes everything. his dynamic with stede & the crew, his dynamic with his own crew, his dynamic with izzy.

because like. hi hello?? when izzy says "you know me better than anyone else, and i daresay the same is true for me to you" it's just. a nail in the coffin. one of many nails. here's why.

it took an insane amount of vulnerability for edward to open himself up to stede in season 1. it took a lot out of him to even accept stede's love, and then believe it to be real. he believed that just for one moment in his scarred life, he was someone worth loving, baggage and all. as he himself was. for who he was. stede saw him and loved him and accepted him. if edward had been there to hear when lucius said to stede that the time edward spent with stede was the best it'll ever be for him, edward probably would've agreed.

which is. oh man. it would be a bit of a thin ice situation, wouldn't it? that's fucking bleak.

before we get into that, we need to dissect the dysfunction in the edizzy dynamic. i mean it's all tragic, all toxicated, especially with the downward spiral edward's on. so why examine it? what is there to examine?

the downward spiral began in season 1, became abated by stede & the crew, only to jumpstart at the end thanks in part to izzy. so we need to examine why, because edizzy's dysfunction plays a role in all of this mess.

it's undeniable izzy triggered edward, yes, but look a little further. edward's irritability, his emptiness, his substance abuse, the sudden shift in gears between his erratic moods. the crew walk on eggshells around him, because his behavior in season 2 so far is reckless, dangerous, and suicidal. there's pressurized speech patterns and racing thoughts present and they intermingle alongside low-energetic periods when he isolates. above all, he feels hopeless. overwhelmed by a sea of loneliness. fang starts the season off being unable to recognize him.

on the flipside, in season 1, he's on the tail-end of a low when we meet him. listless, bored, passively suicidal before he swings the other way. with stede & the crew he's up in the clouds. he's affable, he's happy, he's social. there's hope for change. he tries new things, laughs, even falls in love. he imagines a life for himself outside of piracy. there's impulsive actions such as the act of grace and impulsive thoughts like sailing to china. even when stede leaves him, edward grieves at a healthy-looking level. in episode 5, when edward's mood first shifts, fang doesn't recognize him in the elevated state.

the point is, edward feels things in the extreme. he lacks emotional regulation. "uncharacteristic" high highs and low lows.

how he reacted to izzy's trigger — "this is blackbeard" — is disproportionate until you piece together two puzzle pieces:

edward likely has bipolar + his core beliefs (self-loathing/feeling unloveable) throw oxygen into the flame of his relationships.

The Bipolar Section

to get on the same page here, let me provide a few Basic Oversimplified Definitions (here is a pdf of the DSM-5 for a scientific understanding, scroll to page 168. please do not use this PDF or meta as a self-diagnostic. contact a clinician/psychiatrist if you have questions or feel you need an evaluation):

bipolar disorder: a chronic, lifelong mood disorder characterized by manic highs and depressive lows. fluctuations in moods are extreme and, depending on subtype, can inhibit functionality. it can be managed today with medication and psychotherapy.

manic episode: lasting one week or more, this is the high highs. the mood is elevated or irritable. if severe, it can include psychosis/psychotic features such as hallucinations, paranoia, and/or delusions. mania belongs to subtype Bipolar I.

hypomanic episode: lasting at minimum four days straight, this is a lesser high than manic. it does not include psychosis/psychotic features, nor does it inhibit functionality. hypomania belongs to subtypes Bipolar I and Bipolar II.

depressive episode: lasting two weeks or more, this is the low lows. anhedonia and major depression are hallmarks of a depressive episode. depression belongs to all three subtypes of bipolar (the third subtype being cyclothymia).

mixed episode: best of both worlds. a person experiencing one may possess high levels of energy — such as pressurized speech — while simultaneously feeling overwhelmingly low and suicidal. a mood may flip from elated to hopeless on a dime.

euthymia: a mood state that is stable, without (hypo)mania or depression. it is a neutral baseline which occurs between episodes.

IMPORTANT NOTE: bipolar disorder is more complex than "just a mood swing". mood swings are situational, while bipolar presents even without situational factors. think about how, in season 2, edward has got his hair in a messy updo, cleans his cabin, swears off drinking & drugs, and is smiling. he explains to frenchie that he's decided to change after a rough night. then it cuts to a flashback of him the night before lying on the floor bawling his eyes out. the scene is played for laughs, however that is a textbook bipolar mood fluctuation. you go to bed hopeless and you wake up on top of the world, or vice versa. edward's situation hadn't changed in the hours between him crying and his conversation with frenchie.

(it can be argued that he thought izzy had died, but i don't think he believed frenchie had truly finished the job. why else had he grilled frenchie? he was sweating frenchie out, testing frenchie's loyalty. "you don't think i know the smell of my rotting former first mate?" edward knew izzy was alive the entire time).

like with almost every disorder, bipolar disorder presents itself differently in different people. in my experience, when i am in either a depressive or manic episode, two different outlooks may occur:

it becomes hard to remember what life was like on the other emotional end. (i.e. when manic, i tend to downplay my prior depressive episode).

i become hyperaware of the other emotional end, so i try to either get it to happen or prevent it from happening. (i.e. not wanting to become depressed, so i'll do XYZ).

i mention these outlooks because they're common. when you're in it, you're in it; when you're out, you're out. the first outlook is something edward's actions point to him experiencing, too, as evidenced in season 2 with his extreme suicidal behavior. he's in it in it.

the ups and downs in bipolar are difficult for the person struggling with the disorder. often, it feels uncontrollable. the symptoms — especially the ones which risk becoming severe like hopelessness or distractibility — are a challenge to cope with. during the high highs, your brain feels like it's frying. during the low lows, your brain feels like dense fog. therefore it's common for people to turn to substances to help alleviate what they're experiencing, and/or they partake on an impulsive whim. drastic life changes also may occur in an attempt to "fix" or "control" the disorder. severe episodes, when left untreated, may ruin or end people's lives. people with bipolar disorder are 15x more likely to commit suicide than the general population.

people who do not have bipolar themselves yet are close to someone with bipolar may also experience related difficulty. it may feel overwhelming to witness episodes occur with little to no understanding or tools on how to help. it may also feel stressful to try and gauge what state the other person is in. "walking on eggshells" is a common descriptor for the experience when the bipolar is unmanaged. that does not mean the person with bipolar disorder is automatically bad/abusive/harmful, it just means the disorder is a disorder. it interferes with daily functioning, causes distress, and impacts interpersonal relationships.

at the end of season 1, izzy hit edward where it hurts (edward's self-loathing, intertwined with the role of blackbeard) while edward was in what i believe to be a euthymic state (calm). now with their recontextualized relationship, we also see the underlying message of: "i serve blackbeard, he is my captain." -> "edward isn't good enough for my love".

izzy loves edward, but he's made it clear in season 1 it was for edward's blackbeard persona. or was it? you see, i don't believe that claim to be entirely true anymore, not after the first three episodes of season 2.

i believe a more accurate reading would be that in season 1, izzy was concerned, jealous, and vindictive. all in that order. the above underlying message weaponizes edward's separation of Edward and Blackbeard against edward. more on this later.

in season 2, izzy is just plain concerned ("we're worried for you"). he tries a different approach at managing edward's unstable mood. he goes for a softer attempt ("i have...love for you") because maybe, maybe it could work. it worked with stede. when it backfires, he ditches it and goes right back to bluntness ("the atmosphere's fucked!"). he also refuses to kill edward despite everything edward's put him through.

both seasons' motives were not for blackbeard, but for edward.

when we meet them in season 1, their relationship is dysfunctional at best. their baseline dynamic before stede is best depicted during episode 4.

in the model ship scene, edward's excited about stede's stuff, restlessly moving, unable to focus, appearing happy even though he's a hair-trigger away from irritability. he purposefully avoids or dismisses izzy's concerns about dying. he feels bored and trapped ("is this all there is?"), then feels frustration over feeling trapped, citing that he's blackbeard and blackbeard shouldn't feel trapped.

later in the episode, izzy frustratingly points out that edward's moods are "increasingly erratic" and something that izzy himself has had to manage. izzy also states that he's followed edward's every whim for years, and smoothed over their crew for him. edward, again dismissive, says "sounds stressful, izzy". izzy says it is but he felt honored to do it all for blackbeard, who is the greatest sailor he's ever known. this ties into their codependency, which i'll go over later on.

at this point in time, "edward" and "blackbeard" are synonymous, the names are just different titles reserved for different settings. edward himself doesn't see a distinction until stede — a person he respects — consistently treats him like Edward and not like Blackbeard. edward's identity to Blackbeard separates because he opens himself up to the possibility that Edward is someone worth knowing. Blackbeard, once a healthy coping mechanism created to survive in the pirating world, had soured somewhere along the way into an unhealthy coping mechanism. it became more of a cage than a home.

but to izzy, "blackbeard" is a good thing to be because it's an accomplishment of edward's. they built their whole careers and lives around it. when izzy says he's honored to sail with blackbeard, the greatest sailor out there, he says it to try and bring edward back to himself. it's his botched attempt at grounding/helping edward. if edward can be reminded of how great he is, reinforced by his accomplishments under the name blackbeard, maybe he'll snap out of his funk. if edward values izzy, loves izzy how izzy thinks edward does, he'd see the weight behind the compliment. izzy doesn't sail for just anybody.

it's botched entirely because any time edward tries to voice how "blackbeard" really makes him feel, izzy dismisses/minimizes/mocks it. he isn't supportive to edward because he feels threatened in two parts: that edward finds stede fascinating, and that edward is making a drastic life change for both of them based on yet another mood whim.

to izzy, edward becoming Edward and ditching Blackbeard would mean izzy's lost control of the situation, which means izzy's lost control of edward, which means no one will have control of edward. not even edward himself. this is yet another facet of izzy's codependency.

side note: speaking of names, in the calico jack episode, we know "ed" is a nickname edward doesn't allow people to call him. the only two people who call him "ed" are stede and izzy.

so that begs the question: why did izzy call edward "eddy" in season 2? where the hell does that nickname come from? why does edward use it on himself when he was struggling in purgatory?

based on these two conversations in episode 4, we can glean both sides of the situation. on one side is edward, who is struggling mentally and whose work is deteriorating because of it. on the other side is izzy, who is equal parts concerned about edward and frustrated at him because he isn't functioning as well as he used to, leaving izzy to clean up his messes. since this has been a years-long tension point, they are both at the end of their ropes. about to snap.

that is how we meet them.

from then on, edward begins falling for stede, and his mood shifts. he begins functioning better. stede is genuinely good for him. stede, with his different view on life, provides emotional balance and radical acceptance and a general softness that edward's been missing. he is supportive, he is kind, and he treats edward like edward isn't broken.

but stede is not accustomed to pirate life or its reality. he's naive to the point of foolish. foolish to the point of fatality. and izzy sees those flaw points right away. it's a red flag to him because how can edward — passively suicidal edward — be trusted to not take advantage of stede's naivety and steer them all into a doomed situation?

edward's relationship with stede is also where izzy's jealousy kicks into gear, clouds his judgement.

i mean, shit, wouldn't anyone feel slighted? if you devote your life to a man, stick with him through thick & thin, feel responsible for both of your lives, go above and beyond, worry over his wellbeing, put him before yourself....just for him to run off with a wannabe pirate.

a wannabe pirate who has only known your man for a fraction of the time you and your man have been together. his weeks compared to your years. yet somehow he gets your man's good side, gets the love you desperately want.

of course izzy's seething. wouldn't anyone?

it makes sense for izzy to sell edward and stede out to the british navy. he's spiteful, vindictive. bet there's a bit of hurt pride to it, too. it's fucked! it's a terrible thing to do!

his motive here boils down to, once again, keeping edward alive. cleaning up what he perceives to be another mess. sell stede out, keep edward where he can see him. izzy hates spanish jackie's, he hates the navy, he doesn't enjoy any of it. this is his hail mary, his last ditch effort.

of course it backfires. royally. no one expected edward to call for an act of grace. to sign away his life. izzy tries to stop him, but edward goes where stede goes. and soon after that, edward returns without stede.

and soon after that, the situation deteriorates. edward's launched into a severe mixed episode, triggered by the compounded stress of stede leaving and izzy's rejection of Edward. pressurized speech, emptiness, irritability, suicidal behavior, increased goal-directed activity...he ping-pongs between mania and severe depression. this is more than a break-up.

edward struggles with emotional impermanence. when stede's right in front of him, kissing him, edward feels secure that stede loves him. but when stede doesn't meet him at the dock? Stede Never Loved Me.

another example: izzy. when izzy obeys edward's orders, edward feels secure that izzy loves him. but when izzy speaks up or disagrees? Izzy Never Loved Me.

"he was your friend," jim tells edward, in reference to edward's awful treatment of izzy. but edward, at this intersection of a severe mixed episode + emotional impermanence, can't see that.

he burns his bridges left and right. destroys everything because he's lashing out in pain and he doesn't think he deserves anything good. Blackbeard? sure, he'll be Blackbeard. Blackbeard is all he'll ever be anyways. a killer, a pirate, a crazy captain who does too much rhino horn.

edward hates himself so fiercely that he only finds relief during the storm, right before he believes he's going to die. "finally."

The Codependency Section

edward's relationship with izzy was always going to end in destruction.

they both love each other, we have canon confirmation of this. "i have...love for you" and "i loved you best i could".

edward's confession is critical here, because he did love izzy as best as he could. there exist moments between them that shine light into possible happier times. the way edward talks to izzy to placate him in season 1 when izzy packs a dinghy, even if manipulative at the time, requires intimate knowledge on what izzy would be receptive to. david jenkins mentioned that it was izzy who helped doll edward up for the season 1 ball, an offscreen act of intimacy. edward tries unsuccessfully to connect with izzy over stede's model ship and the clouds. the casual way edward says "i had a dream about you last night."

"best i could." if edward hated himself less, he could have loved izzy more. if he believed he was deserving of love, he could have accepted the fact izzy loves him.

so they both love each other, but love is not enough to combat self-hate. it just isn't. the only opponent to self-hate is self-compassion.

self-compassion is a process you have to choose for yourself. you must work on it yourself, hopefully with the aid of an external support system. self-compassion is separate from self-love and other forms of love because, oftentimes, people who operate under the core belief of Being Unloveable also operate under an assumption that love is conditional. "i'm not enough" / "i'll never be enough" / "i don't deserve love" / "i'm too much". it's unrealistic for someone to jump headfirst into healing when that healing is programmed with restrictions. we are our own worst critic. so to practice self-compassion is to soothe that inner, hater critic until we heal ourselves enough to get to a place where we can practice unconditional love on the neglected self.

the conditional love aspect is one that is modeled. edward grew up in an abusive household. abusers hold their victims out on a string of conditions. furthermore, his mother rejected his interest in fine things by saying that it's not "for people like us". it makes sense for edward to internalize an "i'm not [rich/nice/good/etc] enough" message, thereby shutting himself out.

he continues to shut himself out in the aftermath of killing his alcoholic father. he doesn't tell anyone about the traumatic event — an oscillation into "i'm too much" — until he opens up to stede.

so here you have an unloveable boy, the victim of domestic violence and the killer of his own father, going into the chaotic world of pirating. a world — put so eloquently by calico jack in season 1 — where everyone fucks each other over. where trust is a prized, rare currency.

and somewhere along the way, he and izzy find each other. and they stick together for years.

both edward and izzy bottle their emotions up and then blow up on each other. it's so completely different to how stede & the revenge crew operate. it's years of miscommunication and mutual resentment between them, caused in part due to their pirate enviornment. their pattern is hot and cold. reactive.

izzy smooths over things with the crew -> edward is dismissive of izzy -> izzy blows up on edward and resigns -> edward convinces izzy to stay -> edward begins falling for stede -> izzy and stede fight over edward's heart -> izzy gets exiled for losing, edward says nothing -> izzy goes vindictive mode and sells edward/stede out to the navy -> edward hates izzy's guts -> edward comes back without stede, depressed -> izzy smooths over things with the crew -> edward is dismissive of izzy -> izzy blows up on edward and triggers him -> edward convinces izzy to stay through violence

it's that one friend who keeps returning to their shitty partner — on again/off again —, only here they both are the shitty partner.

the thing about unhealthy relationships is that they provide a layer of comfort. it's known territory. which is why, when an unhealthy relationship morphs into a codependent one, it is incredibly difficult to break out of them.

codependency definition: excessive emotional or psychological reliance on a partner, typically one who requires support on account of an illness or addiction.

like conditional love, codependency is learned/modeled inside of a dysfunctional family setting.

it works a bit like an ouroboros in that it's an infinite loop. the codependent partner compulsively takes care of their struggling partner in the hopes they get better. this role of "caretaker" makes them feel needed/wanted, ergo filling their own low self-esteem void. however, all the rescuing does is enable the struggling partner further into self-destruction.

sound familiar?

izzy is edward's caretaker. izzy is codependent.

important note: no one feels good inside of a codependent relationship. there may be positive periods, yes, but codependency is primarily stressful for both parties involved.

in order to blossom, codependency relies on low self-esteem.

we know edward oscillates with his self-esteem, but we don't talk about how low izzy's self-esteem is.

izzy doesn't have an identity outside of edward, with the exception of being one of the best swordsmen in the pirating world. of course, this exception is taken from him when edward cuts his toes off.

izzy is high-strung with a compulsive need for control. things must be done when he orders them to, to the high standards he creates. do not question his authority. this compulsion is exasperated by edward's uncontrollable mood shifts.

izzy rolls with the punches, metaphorically and literally. he shuts down attempts at comfort, evidenced by his knee jerk reaction when fang hugs him in season 2. "i'm fine. unhand me. unhand me!" he doesn't allow himself to fully break down and cry. the tears only appear in this scene, and when edward attempts to get izzy to kill him.

loyal to a fault, izzy threatens to leave, goes to leave, but never leaves. he gets casted out, so he devises a plan to return instead of, i don't know, creating a new life for himself. even when edward maims him, he stays.

so is this loyalty? or is this a belief that this is what he deserves? or maybe it's loyalty born from the belief that this is all he's deserving of.

a hit dog will holler, and boy does izzy holler when questioned. about his role, about himself, about who he is to edward.

so who is izzy without edward?

"you know me better than anyone else and i daresay the same applies with me to you." is an insane thing to say because izzy does know edward, but only the version of edward he stitched his skin to. the unstable, erratic version that needs help, and who he subconsciously sabotages with enablement.

and edward does know izzy better than anyone else because izzy's consumed by him.

if edward could not accept izzy's love in a direct form, then the roles izzy inhabits are his only outlet. Caretaker, Punching Bag, First Mate. 50 ways to say I Love You and none of them are healthy.

they both are violent with each other, drag each other down, but can't quit even when they know that they function better separated. codependency is an addiction, and like an addiction, the only way for this to end was in rockbottom or death.

The S2 Speculation Section

going back to the very top, here's why i say this thing with ed/stede is on thin ice right now: without edward working on his self-compassion, their relationship runs the risk of devolving into yet another unhealthy dynamic.

stede has decent self-esteem, an identity outside of edward, so i don't think they'll ever become codependent. stede also doesn't try to fix or enable edward. again, stede is genuinely good for edward.

i think the Mer!Stede scene was amazing, vital in balancing the heavy topic of suicide/death with the overarching comedy genre of the show. love saves lives, without love the world is bleak. who are we as humans without connection?

that being said, i personally want to see edward heal before jumping into a full-blown romantic/sexual relationship with stede. he deserves to choose himself, nurture Edward, and figure out how to manage his moods. especially since his last relationship with izzy was so tumultuous.

speaking of izzy, i also want to see izzy find himself and heal, too. he needs to learn how to let go. i'm hoping he'll build up his self-esteem in his own way, doing something he's good at (maybe as a sword-fighting instructor?).

either way, i trust the direction this show will go in. they've done well so far in their depictions of mental health and the impact of mental health. it'll be interesting to see the rest unfold.

[genericpuff]

Let me preface this: I'm an architecture major

I used to be a big LO fan but obviously fell out of love of it like a lot of us did, and I know LO uses SketchUp for backgrounds. That is not an issue I have with the comic or any comic, I want artists to have an easier time in any way they can. I was always under the impression Rachel imported the models into Photoshop and drew over them like you can see in the early episodes with the sketchy lines. Well, school just started recently for me and I now have access to SketchUp for my coursework, and I made a few discoveries: 1. Photoshop cannot read SketchUp files, and while you can import them into Clip Studio through some configuring, they can be finicky and will lose parts in the importing process, so they are best used into the original SketchUp program to export as PNGs. 2. Many of the models Rachel uses are incredibly easy to find, especially if you put "modern", "luxury", or "classy" before the main part of the search. Many of the houses and rooms for example are first page results. 3. The biggest discovery: You know how we all assumed Rachel was hand-drawing all the lines over the SketchUp models and how she gave up the longer LO went on? Well, it's actually worse. It turns out SketchUp has a thing called "Styles" in it, which means you can mess with the lines and look of the model, such as making it look more like a blueprint or playing with the colors. Well, they have a lot of styles on SketchUp known as "sketchy lines", which are the exact ones Rachel used early in the comic to fit with her style, and it takes a literal click of a button to do. All she would do is pose the model, click the sketchy line style, and export the PNG. That's it. So, yeah, Rachel is so checked out of the comic that she can't even bother to click a single button to make the models fit into the comic's style anymore. Use that information however you like.

Ouhhh sorry OP, I'm about to like, undo all the work you just put into that ask. We've already known about the 3D background problem for a long while now.

First off, it's more likely LO doesn't use SketchUp but actually Acon3D, which is a website that offers 3D models both for free and at cost, which are actually compatible with software like Clip Studio. As soon as you open it up you'll likely see a lot of very familiar backgrounds that are often used in romances, isekais, and period pieces. It's literally the go-to spot for Webtoon Originals creators. Like, to the point that I wouldn't be surprised if Naver was partnered with them because of how many of their creators use it.

Second, there's plenty of up-to-date evidence to support the fact that Rachel doesn't exclusively stick to one software, sometimes she's drawing in Photoshop, sometimes she's drawing in Clip Studio Paint, sometimes she's drawing in Procreate. She's undoubtedly using Clip Studio for her paneling, speech bubbles, and backgrounds, as there are built in tools to utilize and convert 3D materials into lineart, among other features that are recognizable as coming from CSP because they're not available in PS or Procreate.

Third, yes, she just uses filters to turn her backgrounds into lineart, this has been apparent since S1. The only backgrounds she's ever 'hand drawn' were the ones involving lots of nature and even those are mostly just Photoshop brushes stamped on.

Like I realize I'm probably bursting your bubble here and I apologize for that lmao but these buildings were never hand-drawn, this is not new information (￣﹏￣；) I appreciate you mentioning your own experiences with it as you're learning it though, I find once you start to learn the process yourself you really start to notice what others are doing. Even I've gone through that over the past couple years as I started to use 3D models and more advanced tools specifically for drawing webtoons.

I will mention btw, there's nothing wrong with using 3D models for your character drawing and backgrounds. The only time it tends to get frustrating is when you're reading a comic that isn't making any attempts to blend the background in with the art style.

Like, The Kiss Bet probably uses 3D models to help with perspective and laying out scenes quickly without second-guessing, but you can tell they still hand-draw over the models because they look natural and like they belong to the comic's stylization. The characters don't look out of place sitting in a living room and the living room doesn't look distracting.

But then you get stuff like Lore Olympus, Let's Play, and Midnight Poppy Land, and it becomes a bit more obvious they're not giving a shit about backgrounds lmao

I get it, WT's deadlines are cutthroat as fuck, but if it's getting to the point that you have an entire team behind you and you're literally just copy pasting video game models from Phantom Hourglass, then it's probably time to re-focus your priorities a bit. There are comics with as few as 1-2 assistants (and even in some cases no assistants at all!!) pulling off backgrounds better than this, even when they're taking shortcuts.

(Nevermore and City of Blank)

But a lot of that does come down to how WT manages its expectations as well as support for their creators. The deadlines and requirements WT puts their creators under are insane and awful in the long-term, and they're not acting with the amount of professionalism they ought to be for a platform that's trying to breakout as a major publisher here in the West. I feel like it comes down to WT loosening the choke chain around their creators, but also creating a standardized level of quality to ensure it's not suffering for the sake of quantity. The traditional literature industry has real editors and stages of quality control for a reason, whereas WT is more interested in just throwing as many series at the wall and dumping all their stock into the ones that stick.

[torterrachampion]

Because I haven't said anything insane in a while I'm sharing one of my most absurd theories. I've shared it before (just never on tumblr) and I'm not even sure I believe it. Nonetheless we proceed.

The basic gist is this is not Faustina in the tank but Jeanne.

We know that after the original Gévaudan incident Jeanne was placed into an induced slumber by Ruthven and now ~100 years later she's allegedly been reawakened.

When Ruthven put Jeanne into slumber he said he would wake her after the war was over. And the funny thing about that is... the war was already over when he put her to sleep. The war ended in 1702 by Chloé's recount, long before the original Beast incident. Meanwhile Jeanne's slumber started sometime around 1767 if we use the actual historical Beast of Gévaudan incident as a landmark.

By this we can assume when Ruthven mentions war he doesn't mean the one between humans and vampires that he helped end. So either the "war" he's referring to only ended recently or, potentially, it's still being fought. Within the past few years the only major events that I can think of that could have signalled an end to Ruthven's war would be Luna or Faustina's deaths (if what happened to Faustina even counts as a death or was recent to begin with). But for my purposes continuing this post I'm working under the assumption his war isn't over.

At the very least Ruthven isn't acting as though he's content and they're living in peacetimes with all the scheming he's doing behind the scenes. My main point is we have reason to doubt Ruthven's criteria for awakening Jeanne have been met, and because speculating about his motivations is too difficult I will say no more about him.

Moving on, if I may invoke Occam's razor the simplest explanation for who is in the tank would be that it's the only character we know has been tanked. Assuming it's Faustina makes things more confusing not less. We already have two competing explanations of what happened to her body with Loki saying it was smashed contradicting the apparently intact body in the bed.

As for physical evidence of my claims my kind of silly argument is the hair. It looks more similar in texture to Jeanne's than Faustina's in my opinion, and almost identical to how baby Jeanne's was drawn when she started out in her tank. Tank girl's hair just doesn't look as wavy as Faustina's. While it does look longer than Jeanne's I'm willing to argue it could've grown during her sleep. It's certainly not the most insane thing I'm arguing here today.

In the below images I've marked pictures of Jeanne with pink dots, Faustina with red dots and mysterious tank girl with blue dots for ease of comparison.

Additionally, the depiction of Jeanne from memoire 4 when Vanitas talks about her induced slumber shows her hair as incredibly long. Longer than we've ever seen it. During her Hellfire Witch days it came down the length of her back but this single panel shows it reaching down past her knees. Perhaps the inconsistency is because Mochijun had not yet fully settled her character design for that time period but what if we entertain the idea that it's intentional? It looks about the right length to match the girl in the tank.

Looking at hand sizes it's hard to say but I'm willing to concede that tank girl's hands look a little smaller than Jeanne's. It's not so different that I can claim they're 100% not Jeanne's but it's worth pointing out. Ruthven's hand can kind of help scale but it's not super clear how big his hand is compared to Jeanne's in any panels I can find so it's hard to make an accurate comparison.

And I'll admit there is good evidence that tank girl is indeed Faustina. Most notably she reacts when Noé yells at Naenia in Gévaudan. Indeed my own arguments against this are at best wild speculation and grasping at straws. But grasp I will.

We know there is some relationship between Jeanne and Naenia so perhaps it isn't so unusual. Naenia was with Jeanne in Gévaudan just before Ruthven came and subsequently put her to sleep. It's possible she did something to Jeanne/her body in that time and that some connection between them now exists.

It is mentioned that Jeanne is a 'vessel' and one would assume her body has the potential to be both filled and emptied of consciousness if we take it literally.

Although, whatever else I may say, our current Jeanne definitely doesn't have any mental differences from pre-sleep Jeanne. She has all of her memories as far as I can tell, besides a few that have been tampered with. So even if I claim Jeanne's body is in that tank I'm not sure I can say the same of her consciousness. And I don't exactly have an explanation for who/what our Jeanne is if I'm working under the assumption any of my claims are true. Really any belief in this nonsense creates more questions than it answers. Yet it compels me.

Look, my main point is the person in the tank does not look like Faustina to me and I'm suspicious of the gap in time wherein Jeanne was asleep.

I know I wanted to say more but I forgot and I'll probably only remember after I post this so... Thanks for coming to my crack theory. Don't take it too seriously orz