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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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arguments + genshin guys

prompt: anon requested “how do you feel about your favourite genshin boy(s) getting into an argument with their s/o?? :0’’ characters: kaeya, childe/tartaglia, diluc, zhongli, xiao, and albedo w/ a gender-neutral reader word count: ~1.3k warnings: arguing (duh), sfw, headcanons-ish style?

a/n: hope you don’t mind this style, anon! i felt like it could suit your request well and works far better than a full story (imo). still haven’t written much at all for albedo, i hope this works well!

albedo

albedo argues with disinterest, unsure as to why you’re acting so irrational about such a topic. his voice reeks with condescension, remaining eerily calm as he sidelines your concerns. it isn’t until you storm out of his lab, irate due to the alchemist talking down to you, that seeds of doubt plant themselves within albedo’s heart. when he arrives home far later than expected to your shared bedroom, only to find the bed empty, the slowly growing saplings erupt into trees.

their leaves clog up his lungs and the branches twist around his heart and up his throat as albedo tries not to panic over your absence. when you return the next morning, expecting albedo to be at work, you’re met with an uncharacteristically clingy hug from the blonde-haired man. his arms encircle around your waist as he apologizes, truly and genuinely. you murmur a soft apology in turn and hold him close to you, brushing away the leaves and trimming back the branches of anxiety within him.

childe/tartaglia

childe loves a fight, slamming the sharpened dagger of his words into any tense conversation, looking to cut. for the man that thrives on battle, the realm of verbal debate quenches the bloodlust that runs through his veins, albeit only temporarily. his inflection raises with ease and he looks to snip, slice, and annihilate his opponent, no matter who it is or what repercussions it may have. his methods are crude and brash in comparison to the graceful dance of water and electricity seen within the trenches of war and the fulfillment of his harbinger duties.

but as tears begin to fall, tartaglia sheathes his weapons and becomes the ajax you’re all too familiar with once more. “fuck you,” you scream at him, tears dripping down your face, but like the waters of the oceans he harnesses, your words stream right past him, evaporating on his skin with little to no effect. he’s wrapping you up in a hug, pressing kisses to your forehead as you shakily cry into his arms. in between the warm touches of his lips upon your skin, he sings sweet nothings and whispers soft apologies, letting the his weapons of words be cast out to sea as he emerges from the waters of war to rest on the beaches of your love. he rocks the two of you back and forth in a soothing motion, regretful of his earlier actions, realizing that the entire time, he had been seeking to destroy his most steadfast ally and not an almighty foe. there is no glory in a fight in which one betrays those who placed their trust within them.

diluc

an argument with diluc is like catching lightning in a bottle. the wine tycoon much prefers to hash out your relationship troubles in a more dignified manner than exchanging heated words with the one he loves most. however, if the circumstances are just right, the smoldering fields of diluc’s temper can reignite, leaving nothing behind but scorched terrain and ashes of what once was. unlike a blazing inferno, diluc’s words are crafted of cold steel, foreboding and akin to those of a hungry tiger, freshly awoken from a deep sleep.

however, diluc does not roar but instead struggles to keep his composure. the anger that churns within the oceans of his mind combats with the high heavens of his rationality. when ares and athena clash within diluc’s mind, both seeking victory but viewing the means to an end in different ethical lenses, emotional turmoil erupts and diluc flees the scene, evacuating before he can cause irreparable damage. he’ll return before you sleep with a bouquet of mondstadt’s finest cecelias and a bashful, nervous smile as he hopes you accept his pleas for forgiveness, for both ares and athena are swayed by the powers of aphrodite and eros, who command his heart when it comes to you.

kaeya

kaeya shrouds his words in secrecy, like all other aspects of his life. arguments emerge from the icy depths of his mind, fueled by his desire for you to view him as no less than perfect. they settle on the short-lived cryo platforms that float on the dark recesses of his mind, shielding you from the inner turmoil that lies within. his negative thoughts showcase themselves in bitter words, only emerging when provoked. kaeya much prefers to live in a blissful lie than facing the reality that you wish to know more about him and wish to see him in a vulnerable manner.

he doesn’t let you in for a reason and fails to understand why you can’t accept this. the cavalry captain is baffled when you beg him for more information on who he is, when you plead for him to just let you in and to let you love him. his frustration emerges, not knowing why you can’t realize that kaeya’s trying to protect you from his past. he selfishly keeps you close, not wanting to let you in, not wanting to lose you like the family he loved in the past, but fails to realize such a combative reaction to love will only result in the death of romance all the same.

xiao

xiao finds himself arguing with you when you put yourself in harms way. the adeptus is far, far too aware that he only has limited time with you and wishes to have every moment with you be a positive one. like a slippery eel, xiao navigates with ease past the treacherous threats of dissonance that threaten to upend the calming melody of your relationship. in xiao’s eyes, you are his refuge, his home, his oasis from the pain and realities of life that afflict him every day.

therefore, the amber-eyed yaksha’s anger only truly appears when something threatens to take you from him prematurely, especially when you put yourself at risk unnecessarily. his lover might have a penchant for swinging their sword in the rendezvous of war with a dangerous opponent, but if xiao even smells a hint of danger on your head, he’s quick to use the powers of wind bestowed to him by barbatos to separate the two of you and challenge your foe himself, before rearing the ugly head of his anger upon you. xiao loves you, he truly does, but he wants to be able to love you for as long as your lifespan determines him to be capable of doing, not based upon the decisions of someone else’s blade.

zhongli

zhongli is a composed, refined man who much prefers the warmth of a soothing tea than the heat from bitterly exchanged words. his attitude is that of stone, reliable and calming, a steady structure that one can build a foundation upon. however, even the tallest of mountains will inevitably fall to the forces of erosion. such a temper arises from zhongli’s unhealthy desire to shed his former mantle of being the god of war and to walk among his people, but zhongli has yet to learn that to anger is to be human.

therefore he lets the mountains of his resolve wither away until there is none left, revealing the boiling magma of his temper within. his words are uttered in a low, steady tone, seething with anger at your actions as he struggles to navigate through such human feelings, for he cannot drive spears of earth into the fragile tapestries of love without decimating everything he’s worked so hard for in the process. zhongli’s words are terse, but, like all magma, zhongli’s temper rapidly cools into a new layer of firm stone, in which he bases his apologies upon.

he’s unsure of how to navigate the humanities of aggravation, but if you’ll indulge him, maybe the two of you can work it out over a nice, calm cup of tea.

3K notes · View notes

op-jessie · 4 years

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Part 2 for the blank eyes scenario please???

(Part 1 here. I don’t know how to feel about this second part but I hope you enjoy it regardless. Law’s kicked my ass as I tried to finish this up and my document on this was 12 pages so this is a long boi! But it’s done!)

Chief of Staff Sabo:

It had been 5 days since the incident. The longest he’s been without you since he’s met you. Even when he was away for missions for the revolution, he thrived on hearing your voice over the den den mushi. Those lonely nights didn’t compare to now. You were next to him but you weren’t truly there.

The doctor had informed him that you were given a high dose of an already strong sedative so all she could do was give you liquids to hydrate you and your body had to basically fix itself

She was clear that she didn’t know how long it would take and that she would let him know when you woke up but, no matter how many times she assured him, he still sat by your side

He felt like he didn’t deserve to touch you, even sitting in the chair next to your bed was too much of a privilege. But it was agony to just sit there.

Anytime your body twitched or a whimper erupted from your throat, he stood from his seat and pressed his hands against the bed, leaning close. It would only be a brief moment of pain before you were back to breathing heavily. The pain didn’t last long for you but it stuck with him for a couple of hours afterward.

He found himself unable to control his tears. He would rub his eyes from being tired but then find that they were wet. Once he was aware of it, the sniffles came and he would have to look away from you to try and stop crying.

It was a constant feeling of pain that became numbness. It was as if he was shutting down more and more with every day you didn’t wake up.

Koala and/or Hack tried to get him to leave the room but eventually had to resort to physically picking him so he could get his basic necessities met, like eating.

He played with his food more than actually ate it. The only way the others could get him to eat was when you were mentioned.

“They would be upset that you’re not eating because of them.”

It was hard to eat when he had no appetite but he would eat as much as he could stomach before pushing his plate to Koala. Once he got her approval, he would go straight back to the infirmary.

It was uncomfortable sleeping in the chair but he wouldn’t even notice when he fell asleep until the pain in his neck roused him back to consciousness.

The doctor would frequently wake him up, worried for his health, and urge him that she would get him when you showed any sign of waking up

He refused every time. He needed to be here with you. Especially since he led you to this state.

It was the early morning of the sixth day when dread and hopelessness hit him.

He had a nightmare so horrendous that he woke up gasping and trembling as his watery eyes looked at your form.

Dozens and dozens of voices, including Ace’s, tormenting him and blaming him for your state, as if he didn’t already do that to himself. Then you were there standing in the darkness, bruised and broken with those blank eyes. Those blank eyes that he had never wanted to see again.

A choked out sob left his lips and, despite feeling like he didn’t deserve it, he reached over and clasped your hand in both of his, your warmth immediately causing him to let out another sob.

A couple hours later, when the sun had actually risen, the doctor found him with his chair pulled up close to your bed (closer than it's ever been in the past couple of days) and his head resting on your stomach, clasping your hand still and breathing softly. Despite how uncomfortable he looked, his breathing was the calmest it had been since you entered the infirmary.

When he woke up, he didn’t move from his position, instead nuzzling against your belly. Your warmth was so comforting. It meant you were alive. That was relieving. He stared at your face, soft mumbles leaving his lips on how he would apologize and never treat you in such a way again.

It was on the seventh day, a week after the incident, that he felt something in his hair. He had fallen asleep against your stomach again when he came back from Koala’s daily meal check, hand intertwined with yours.

He groaned, cracking his eyes open slightly. He felt a movement in his hair and it made his eyes snap open the rest of the way. His hair was being stroked with.

He stood up in his chair so quickly that it even startled him with how it crashed on the ground but all he could focus on was your eyes. Your droopy yet surprised eyes.

He felt the dam burst as tears flowed down his cheeks and sobs ripped through his throat, lifting his free hand to his mouth to muffle them.

“Dear… you’re crying… Why?” Even hoarse and broken, your voice sounded like it came from the angels themselves, making him dizzy and light-headed. So much so that he fell to his knees by your bed and clutched your hand to his cheek, soft mumbles of apologies leaving his lips against your palm.

Your hand went limp in his grip and he turned his attention back to your face, his breath hitching, until he noticed that you had fallen asleep again.

For the first time in a week, he voluntarily left the infirmary to sprint to the doctor’s room and wake her up.

She took you off of the painkillers and told him that the next time you woke up, you should be more cohesive and aware.

He was sitting in the chair by your bed again, staring at you and gripping at his shirt to ground him. He didn’t have to wait for long.

You woke up an hour or so later and he had to keep himself restrained as the doctor went over to you and helped you sit up.

She did a couple of tests on your reflexes and consciousness. She sent him to get you food and water and it was the fastest he’s ever moved.

Once she was satisfied, the doctor left the two of you alone. There was a tangible and suffocating tension as you refused to look at him.

He stood up from his chair and moved to sit next to you on the bed. Your eyes finally met his, sad and confused but not blank. It was a strange mixture of hope and despair that hit him when he saw that.

He took your hands in his and held them close together, his eyes never leaving yours as his welled up with tears.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything I said to you. I was irrational, inconsiderate, and… and… a jerk for lack of a better term.” He could see the way your lip twitched and you tilted your head at his words. “You have every right to never forgive or believe me but I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you.”

He lifted one of your hands to press your palm against his cheek, eyes boring into your own. “Words are nothing. I can only show you my remorse and love with actions. I don’t even deserve a second chance, I know that, but if you blessed me with one, I won’t take advantage of it.”

He closed his eyes when you didn’t say anything and he released a shaky breath, barely able to keep his tears back. He was about to move your hand away from his cheek but you lifted your other hand to cup his face properly He opened his eyes again and a few tears trickled down when he saw the cute pout on your lips but you still had a twinkle in your eye.

“You were really mean to me…” You murmured, your thumbs rubbing against his skin contrary to your words. He let out a soft whimper at that and nuzzled against your palm.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t-” You cut him off with a small kiss, his lips as equally chapped as yours but it was enough to send more tears to fall. It was short but it was enough to make him dizzy.

“I’m tired… Take a nap with me…” You murmured, letting his face go to lean forward and rest your forehead against his collarbone and your hands were on his chest.

He was pretty sure that you could feel his heart racing under your fingertips but he pressed his lips to the top of your head instead of addressing it. It wasn’t long before he was laying down with you, cradling you close to him and pressing kisses over and over on the top of your head and tilting your head back slightly to press endless kisses against your face.

The relief that washed over him when you nuzzled against his neck was enough to drown away the guilt for now, murmuring in your ear as you giggled tiredly and dozed off in his arms.

You had a puppy following you for the next couple of days. His affection was turned up a couple of notches but no one had the heart to tease him after seeing how much pain he was in in the last week.

Of course, you’re not entirely yourself so you have to visit the doctor to work on the trauma but he accompanies you, whether you want him in the room or out in the hall.

Even after you fully forgave him, it would take a while for him to forgive himself. It’s very obvious when he’s thinking about it because he’ll come up to you at random times and hug you tightly or he’ll cup your face and look into your eyes.

When you tilt your head and smile at him, the panic leaves his chest and he’s relieved again.

Even arguments have changed. Due to fear that you could be taken from him again, he makes sure that there is some type of resolution. If either of you need space from being too heated, he initiates a moment of silence between the two of you before embracing, murmuring something about talking later

He knows that there are arguments that cannot be solved in the moment so the one thing he wants to make the clearest in the fog of anger is that he loves you.

Arguments are bound to happen but having that embrace helps in the cooling down process.

He never wants to make you cry again, and he definitely doesn’t want to see you go through a horrendous experience like that again.

Monkey D. Luffy:

You had opened your eyes later that night but before Luffy could even start yelling, Chopper had shoved him out (with the help of Zoro) and you were checked over

He slipped out the infirmary after your checkout and immediately locked the door before his rubber captain launched in, obviously making Luffy upset.

“Hey! What’s the big idea?! Let me-!”

“Luffy, listen!” Chopper sighed as his captain only pouted before he continued. “Look, (Y/N)... Went through a really… horrifying trauma, okay? They only told me a little of what happened and it…” He shook his head and rubbed his hooves over his eyes. “... You’re not the person they want to be around right now.”

Luffy could only stare at the doctor, his heartbeat deafening in his ears. You… You didn’t want to see him?

He puffed his cheeks out, hating the pain in his chest as he looked at Chopper. “When can I see them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I’ll wait here.” He plopped down against the door, crossing his arms over his chest and a pout on his lips.

It didn’t matter how much Chopper tried to convince him to leave the infirmary and do something else, Luffy didn’t move the whole day, even when he whined to himself on how hungry he was getting.

Even though you didn’t want to see the captain, Chopper was worried about your state, especially your blank eyes. So he made a decision. Out of everyone, Luffy would be the person to spark something in you again.

You best believe that Luffy sprinted in after Chopper made him promise to not touch you if he let him in.

He almost immediately forgot but stopped himself before he jumped on top of you, the sting in his chest bubbled into anger at seeing you bandaged up

The pain from before was ten times worse when he noticed your eyes were staring at him, as blank as when he first found you.

He silently sat on the end of the bed next to your legs (with his own crossed on top of the covers) as he stared at you back.

“Stop that.” You didn’t respond as you continued staring. He reached over and poked your cheek. “Those aren’t your eyes.”

He puffed his cheeks out when you were once again silent and you moved your gaze to your lap.

He moved his fingers to spread his face as far as he could and made silly expressions and noises, yet you only stared.

He hated it. He hated the silence that came from you. The blankness in your eyes. He wanted to see you laugh at him and smile, how your eyes crinkled at the corners and you would clutch your stomach from laughing too hard.

He didn’t give up though. He was Monkey D. Luffy. He would get you back to yourself.

He filled the silence with anything and everything that was in his mind, updating you on what the crew was up to when he went out to get your serving of food.

Despite you not answering, he filled the silence. He didn’t like the silence. When he was at your side before, there was never silence. The two of you with silence only fit when you went to bed together. It had only been 2 days but he missed doing everything with you, even the most mundane of tasks.

He ran out of things to talk about fairly quickly, his plate of meat that was sitting next to yours on the nightstand was unappetizing, and he couldn’t bear to stare at your emotionless eyes any longer.

What else could he do? You weren’t you right now. He tried talking and feeding you. What else could there- and then it hit him like a pile of bricks. He really sucked at all of this.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” He murmured, noticing how your body flinched before he ducked his head.

He gripped at his ankles and stared at his lap, surprising himself as he started to tremble. His throat felt tight and there was a stinging in his eyes.

“I… I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend. Chopper told me that I hurt your feelings and I didn’t get it. I should have followed you and protected you. I’m not good with these feelings. I know that when I’m with you, I’m happy. When you smile and hug me, my heart beats like crazy. When you cry, everything hurts. All I know is that I love you and you love me… Right?” He gripped his ankles tighter, feeling tears against his eyelashes. “And… I know that I hate seeing you like this. I’m sorry I made you cry and that I hurt your feelings. I’ll take it more seriously next time when you tell me that I’m making you sad. I don’t get it but, if you tell me, I won’t do it again. I’ll try my hardest to get how you’re feeling from now on.”

Despite the deal he made to the ship’s doctor, he let his ankles go, the skin there turning red from his grip, and crawled over your sitting form. He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, making sure that was the only spot that was actually touching.

“I’ll be better… I need your help to do that… But I’ll be better and… make sure that I won’t make you cry again.” He nearly whimpered, annoyed at how he had to press his eyes against your shoulder more to stop from crying.

He flinched when he felt your hands on his biceps. He stayed frozen as your hands moved up to his shoulders before they went in opposite directions, one hand on the back of his neck and the other resting just under his shoulder blade. He felt the slight scratch of your nails against his neck

The small gesture was enough for him to fully wrap himself around you and nuzzle against your chest, murmuring his apology over and over again

After a while, the room became quiet except for the small sniffles that still escaped him. He kept his pout on his lips, even as he was pressed completely against you, and your fingers stroked through his dark hair. He closed his eyes with his ear against your chest, finding solace in your heartbeat. The occasional rub against his shoulder blade or scratch on his neck made him continue to hold you tight, moving occasionally to nuzzle against your neck before moving back to listen to your heartbeat again.

He was, of course, yelled at when Chopper came in the next morning and saw him lying on top of you still. What he didn’t know, as he was pretending to play dumb at the scolding, was the slight twitch of your lips at the two of them.

You had eventually moved your arms to fully hug him later in the day and his grin was wider than it’s been in days when you murmured a soft “I’m hungry”

Holding your hand tight in his, he led you to the kitchen, enjoying a meal with the crew for the first time since the incident.

He shocked everyone when he slid some of his food onto your plate. Since he didn’t have as much food, he clung onto your arm and endured the teasing from his friends. He was just beyond happy that you were coming back.

Despite your physical injuries healing nicely, the psychological ones were something he wasn’t ready for. It didn’t matter to him though. You were strong and he would help you through it when you couldn’t find that strength.

He would sleep in the infirmary with you when you were afraid to go to bed or let you rest on top of him in his hammock when you woke up from a nightmare

Chopper helped you find ways for your anxiety and PTSD so Luffy would try and remember your coping skills too.

When he sees you upset, he’ll become clingier than usual. He’ll try to make you laugh or, at the very least, smile. If he notices you haven’t eaten, he’ll carry you (most likely piggyback because he loves having you wrapped around him) to the kitchen and ask Sanji for food.

Sanji at first thought it was a ruse for Luffy to get an extra meal but, when he saw how your face was pressed against the captain’s neck or hair, he realized that it wasn’t the case

Luffy sits with you and actually keeps his hands away from your plate. But… if you do give him pieces, he will be a very happy boy.

He tries his best, he really does, but emotions still confuse him. He goes back to that day when he recognizes any of your distressed features. He’ll straight out ask you what your feelings are and if he did anything to make you feel that way. He wants to understand so he can be better.

Red Hair Shanks:

Despite Shanks and the crew’s desire to not stay in the same place, he made it understood that no one was leaving until you healed… and woke up.

It had been about two weeks since you were swept into darkness and he felt helpless sitting next to your form.

The doctor had given you a strong dose of medicine that would keep you unconscious so that your wounds would heal without disturbance. He was the only one that Shanks trusted around you while you were so fragile

The rest of the crew, growing restless, decided to find things to do in town. They mostly found themselves defending the small businesses. No one realized how criminal ridden the town you lived in was until they explored, but they found their entertainment in the thugs and bars.

He would sit on the bed next to your sleeping form and hold your hand in his. He would only leave when Benn told him to eat or the doctor kicked him out. He wanted to be there when you woke up.

The one time he left your side was when the crew had tracked down the ones that abducted you. They had fled once they woke up from Shanks’ haki and hid in the mountains

His crew was bored and still seething so he would be the last person to stop them but he also wanted to be there. Even to a low tier thug leader, he would prove why he has the Yonko title.

When he got back, the doctor met him at the door and told him you were awake.

Despite the speed he had when he got to your bedroom, he hesitated on knocking. He had already decided that once he apologized, he would take whatever “punishment” you deemed fit

… Even if it meant you never wanted to see him again.

He finally willed himself to open the door and enter your room.

He shut the door behind him but kept his back to the wooden surface. Whatever you were feeling, he would wait until you gave him your consent to get closer. He noticed that you were sitting up, your eyes wide while looking at him and he didn’t miss the way your lip trembled.

Immediately, apologies erupted from him, everything he was rehearsing since your argument out the window.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). Gods, I’m so sorry. I should have taken you seriously then maybe this would have never happened. I can’t take back what happened, despite how much I want to, I love you and I always assume that you know that but it’s not fair to you, especially when I pull stunts like I did to make you upset in the first place. You’re my important person, (Y/N), but if you… if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I understand and it’s something I deserve. I just-”

“Shanks…”

He stopped at your shaky voice and lifted his head to face you. You were crying. With your tears falling and your bottom lip between your teeth, you released your tight grip on the blanket and stretched out to him

He was quick to close the distance between the two of you, wrapping his arm around you and holding you close so his face was pressed into your neck. He swallowed the lump in his throat as your one hand found home in his hair and the other gripped the back of his cloak.

Your broken sobs and tears made his chest hurt. He covered your neck with soft kisses before pulling back and doing the same to your face, murmuring apologies and affirmations in between.

When you calmed down, he pressed a long kiss against your mouth, sighing against your lips when your hands cupped his face.

You were still shaking like a leaf when he changed your resting position so you could snuggle against his side with your head using his bicep as a pillow.

All he could do was curl his arm to have you close to him as you cling onto him.

Everything must have been too much too soon because he felt your staggering breaths even out against his chest and your shaking had stopped. Despite your loose grip, he stayed with you, smoothing your hair out when you would whimper or a tremor went through you.

The doctor had to convince him to leave your side a couple times to see the extent of your psychological state and that was tough for the captain. He would have to take your hand off of him so he could leave the room. He hated the panicked look in your eyes and the way your hand was still in the air, reaching for him, but he knew it was necessary

The doctor warned him of the possible reactions you would have after such an event, reactions from dissociating to violent outbursts

He was no stranger to outbursts such as that. Years on the sea, meeting hundreds of people, he was actually very skilled with handling most of the outbursts that you exhibited

Despite your reassurance, he decided to stay for a while longer (the crew knew better than to complain, especially under Benn’s supervision).

On one of your more coherent and calmer days, he’d bring up the conversation from before because he honestly cares more about your wellbeing than his own feelings.

If you still want to be with him, then he’d do what he can so you don’t have to ever go through something like that again.

Leaving with him is the most ideal situation in his mind. The two of you can be together (no one would mess with you when he’s by your side) and you’ll be seen by the doctor that he trusts the most.

After a long talk, even if you think it’s best to break apart, he still stays for a while. He’s still your friend and he cares about you and your emotional wellbeing.

Being with him on the sea, you get to enjoy the aloofness that is the Red-Haired pirates but your lover knows when to pull you away and get you to calm down.

He takes what the doctor tells him seriously. Whether you need medication, company, or just space, he doesn’t hesitate to do it.

What happened to you keeps him up at night with a bunch of “what if’s” but he knows you’re struggling more. When it’s just the two of you at night, he stays up talking with you or drinking with you until you doze off

He’ll spend a couple moments after you fall asleep to admire you before he falls asleep too

He knows that adjusting can be difficult, not only to ocean life but to the mental adjustments after your trauma, but he’s your number one supporter. You’ve got the rest of the crew to support you as well when he can’t be there, which is rare.

He doesn’t expect everything to go back to normal. But he’s willing and ready to accept this new scenario as normal. Especially if it’s for you.

Trafalgar Law:

It was unbearable. The role of being a doctor was too much on his shoulders sometimes. This was one of those times.

With your injuries, he had to induce a coma. Not only that, from the way your skin looked, your blood wasn’t circulating as normal as it should.

He then came to the horrifying realization that you have been poisoned.

Now, he had to find a cure for the poison that coursed through your veins, unknown of how long you’ve been like this or how long ago they administered the poison. He was racing against the clock.

Despite how much he hated it, he left your side to reappear at the facility. To say that the room’s temperature shifted would be an understatement.

As he stepped towards the leader of the criminals that took you, his footsteps echoing, the leader would soon see why he was considered the “Surgeon of Death”

The man before him was far too stupid to know how the poison worked so he demanded wherein the facility the posion was made

Even his own crew had to look away as he got the answers out of the man.

After getting what he wanted, he sent the crew back to the sub while he went to the room that was acting as a makeshift laboratory.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, skimming through books to look for the name of the poison, trying and failing to keep you off his mind.

When he finally found a book on the poison, he had to keep reminding himself to breathe as he frantically read through the pages

His hands were tight on the pages as he read the effects of the poison:

Phase one: numbing of the body

Phase two: numbing of the soul

Phase three: numbing of the mind

Phase four: desensitized state for four hours

Phase five: toxin invades the bloodstream

It had been three hours already since he found your frozen state. He didn’t have much time left.

He flipped frantically through the pages, finding the antitoxin page and scanning over it. He “room”-ed himself back to the sub and flung the book to his desk as he began working.

He couldn’t look at you. Otherwise, he would lose his focus, his sense, and his patience. He needed to treat you like a patient; not his lover.

The antitoxin was administered through a syringe and all he could do now… was hope and wait.

He slumped next to the chair by your bed, staring at you with his usually stoic expression while his nerve endings went insane.

Did he make it? Was it enough antitoxin? Would it even work? Were you… already gone?

He reached over and held your hand in his before putting his other hand over the top. He held your hand up to his mouth while looking at you. The coldness in your hand did nothing to ease his anxiety.

Your form was making his heartache. Why did the two of you have to be so stubborn? Why did he always look for a fight when it wasn’t necessary? With you of all people? His eyes shut as he squeezed your hand

“I’m sorry.” He said into the room, unsure if you’d even be able to hear him in such a state. “I shouldn’t have started that stupid fight. I’m sorry…” He stopped himself, looking to the side.

It just didn’t feel right. Saying his apology to your comatose form wasn’t right and he was being a coward

Despite being your lover and doctor, he was still the captain. He still had the others that he was responsible for.

The crew couldn’t bear watching his tired form roam around the submarine, looking like a phantom as he walked and checked things off in his mental checklist

He was a perpetually tired man but the reason this time was upsetting to them.

Their clumsiness had decreased as everyone tried their hardest to have the ship in tip-top shape to ease at least some of the captain’s worries. Even Bepo complained less when his captain came up to him and just rested his forehead against the bear’s stomach

He’s used to exhaustion, but this was worse. Sleep called to him but only tortured him when he beckoned to its call.

He’d get about an hour of sleep before the nightmares startled him awake

He sleeps in the infirmary just in case so, when he wakes up, he immediately goes to your side and holds your hand to his lips

After 24 hours, he feels like collapsing from finally seeing your vitals rise to normal. Your steady breathing and the warmth that returned to your fingertips made him have to leave the room for a moment to compose himself.

It eases his mind enough that he takes you off the medicine that kept your body comatose. Hopefully… you would wake up soon.

It was another waiting game. He couldn’t just stare at you all night in the hopes of you waking up so he went to patrol the submarine. It might have been the middle of the night but it was the only thing to calm his nerves and distract him.

After triple checking that the submarine was on the correct course, he made his way back to the infirmary to check on you when a sudden scream of his name echoed in the hall

He sprinted down the hall, ignoring how his crew members peeked out from their rooms, and slammed against the door to the infirmary, swinging it open.

You were sitting up, grasping your blanket and tears streaming down your face. Even from the doorway, he could see how much your body was shaking and the hiccups spasmed your chest.

He knew that a person of trauma might be psychologically suffering so he should be cautious with touch but, the way you hiccuped his name again and reached for him, looking as if you were going to climb out of bed, he hesitated no longer.

He closed the distance and brought you into his arms, one knee on the bed so he was impossibly close as you clawed at his back. Your sobs and cries were so raw and primal that he had to grit his teeth to hold his own tears back.

His lips were against your ear, whispering instructions for you to calm down. He directed your breathing and he was able to relax once you caught your breath.

Your breaths were still shaky but you were no longer hyperventilating. Your grip on his back loosened and you shifted in your spot. Law pulled his arms back, panic fluttering in his veins as the doctor's side of him came back full force.

Before he could even scold himself, your arms wrapped around his neck and brought him close to you again. This embrace was different. The first one was primal and a way for you to ground yourself. This one was desperate still but intimate. His arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you just as tightly, wanting to feel the warmth of your body against his. He buried his face in your neck and mumbled apologies and thanked whatever power there was that you were awake.

It could have been seconds or hours by the time he could feel your trembling calm down but that’s when the doctor part of him came back out. He checked your vitals, asked you about your pain, and gave you painkillers, for both your soreness and headache.

If you try to bring up the argument, he’ll urge you to get some proper rest. If you insist that you talk about it, he’ll press a soft kiss on your forehead. He promises that you will talk about it when you recover a bit more.

He lets the crew see you once he deems you in acceptable condition; which is good because you were immediately engulfed by the crew, many in tears.

Even when he knew that you both were going to have a serious talk in a matter of moments, he couldn’t help but feel relieved as you smiled and cooed at the members that had been worried about you.

The talk over the fight is hard and painful as the memories are difficult to go through, the guilt weighing heavily on his soul when he sees the slight tremor in your hands. It’s hard but necessary to move on.

The relationship has obviously changed because of what happened.

Dumb arguments still happen but there’s no more wandering off to cool down. Any anger will leave him if he sees that you’re about to break off to cool down because of how much worry that fills him.

Even when you’re both pouting, he’ll still kiss your forehead and grumble that you’ll finish the argument later. Sometimes, the anxiety of what happened before comes back up and the pride is finally deflated enough for the “argument” to be solved before any real problems show up

He’s become protective of you despite knowing your strength. It’s just better for his sanity that you are with someone, especially when you’re on an island infamous for crime.

The relationship isn’t the same but he loves you too much to give up on the bond you two share. Whatever trauma came from the situation that you suffer from, he becomes stronger to carry both of you over the bad moments.

Want to support me? Likes are appreciated and reblogs are great. ko-fi here if you want to go above and beyond. I hope you enjoyed!

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years

Note

Sorry I know you want to play with our imagination and limits, I really like that btw 💕 but can you do... like headcanons or a list about what kind of punishments would Midoriya and Todoroki (separately) do to "help" their darling to become used to their *love*??? Great blog btw, I wish I could just drop the anon but heeey guilty pleasures be guilty

You might as well be proud of your pleasures. I mean, I made a blog out of mine.

Todoroki Shoto;

~Shoto isn’t what you would call ‘patiant’. He doesn’t think things through, nor does he wait for you to adjust to your new lifestyle. I’d say he’s the worst to misbehave around, but to be honest, you probably won’t need to break any rules before the punishments start.

~The first few weeks will absolutely be the worst. Shoto doesn’t expect you to reject him, he isn’t prepared for it. Initial fits (asking him to give you space, bargaining, etc…) will earn you a glare, and any suggestion that you aren’t happy to be with him will end with you face-down on the floor, with Shoto staddling your waist and forcing you to take it back. It’s quick, unpredictable, and brutal. You’ll be left bruised and shaking, while Shoto just smiles, mumbling apologies as he patches you up. On the bright side, as long as you learn to keep your mouth shut, this behavior should subside.

~From there on, he’s much more… spontaneous. If things are going well, he’ll be more tolerant. On good days, your outbursts will be met with a cold scowl and a short ‘Are you done?’. But, if you do something that really hits a nerve, he won’t be as forgiving. He likes to use his quirk on you, there’s just something so satisfying about seeing his burns covering your body, but he can work with anything. Knives, riding crops, fire-pokers… he’s versatile, at least.

~Trying to call for help is probably the worst offense, to Shoto. You shouldn’t need anyone else, and he’ll show you that! He’s responsible for you, and if he wants you to suffer, you will. If you want to be happy, you’ll have to be happy with him. If he catches you, there won’t be a punishment, not exactly. It’s more of a temper tantrum, really. He’ll throw furniture, make threats, and ensure that you never pull that little stunt again. Even if it means coming up with a more permanent solution.

~He won’t ‘teach’ you to love him, but you’ll learn to. It’s either play-nice, or learn how to stitch-up your own wounds.

Midoriya Izuku;

~ Unlike his temperamental counter-part, Izuku is more… measured. He’s self-aware, and he knows you won’t want to be with him voluntarily. Due to this, it’s safe to assume that he has quite a few counter-measures. You know, just in case.

~He’ll go easy on you, at first. Izuku will try to show you how much he cares, how happy you’ll be with him! He tries to keep ‘punishments’ to a minimum, only insisting on a few restraints and a shock-collar. During your ‘adjustment period’, he’ll only take action when you do something really wrong. Try yelling at him, or calling him a villain. I’m sure counting how many hours he makes you starve for will be a great way to pass time.

~He has a schedule laid out for you, one that he takes very seriously. Izuku took so much care in figuring out what you should eat, when you should exercise, how many hours you should sleep, etc… Seeing you disregard his care is probably the only thing that will throw him into an automatic, irrational rage. He’s not above breaking your legs, even if he regrets it later-on.

~Normally, though, he’ll just revoke your privileges. Are you refusing to eat? Fine, hope you like not drinking too. Do you not want to sleep in the same bed as him? Don’t sleep in a bed at all, then. Are you insisting that his actions are ‘wrong’ again? He’ll just kidnap one of your friends and set an example. But, keeping your arms completely restrained is his favorite option. You’ll have to let him take care of you, and you can’t push him away! You might be a little sore, but he’ll make it up to you… in a few days. For now, just try to smile and stop yourself from flinching.

~Izuku doesn’t like to hurt you, but he certainly enjoys the results. If it’s any comfort, he hurts just as much whenever you reject him.

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hollenka99 · 5 years

Text

A Growing Family

Summary: In the aftermath of the war, Jameson is still struggling. Not only that but there is more bad news on Siobhan's side of the family. So he focuses on his family and attempts to be happy with what he's got. As such, the Jackson family grows by four new members.

February 23, 1919 Dear Mother,

I hope 1919 has been treating you well thus far. Siobhan and I have some news.

Our fourth child should arrive sometime in the fall, likely September or early October. I am secretly hoping for another daughter. Not only to achieve an oddly satisfying symmetry. This child will be less than 18 months younger than Sophia. I do enjoy entertaining the idea of the two girls sharing a close sisterhood due to the short gap between their ages.

Do not be mistaken, a son would be equally welcome. After all, I gain more experience with raising boys with every day that passes. Despite their difficult beginnings, Anthony and Ollie are rather good friends now. It was Anthony, after all, who dubbed his little brother 'Ollie' in the first place.

Speaking of Oliver, I caught him playing around with his mother's piano the other day. When I asked him what he was doing, he told me Anthony was only better at playing the instrument because he was bigger. He insists he'll be bigger than Anthony one day. When that happens, he'll be the one who is better at playing piano. It does make me laugh how a child's logic works.

Yours. Jameson

April 30, 1919 Dear Mother,

Now that we have celebrated Sophia's first year of life, I feel I may be able to relax slightly. She's certainly not invulnerable but she's more so than last April. She's still not able to stand independently but I have been assured that this developmental delay is common in children who were born prematurely. For us, we see no need for her to be rushed. After all, a crawling child is easier to grab before they do themselves harm as opposed to one who can run.

Anthony enjoyed his time on set last year so I'm planning to work out how to incorporate a first grader into one of our movies. Four years have passed since he made a cameo appearance in The Puppet Man. I've asked Ollie if he's interested but he declined the offer. I suppose you can't win them all.

I am working on a second project as of right now, not related to the pictures. You should be able to see the results later this year.

Yours, Jameson

June 27, 1919 Dear all,

Those Europeans scare me. They all must be mad. I thought the war ended in November. Yet here we are in June, with the Allies threatening to resume the conflict if Germany don't sign that peace treaty in Versailles. I was under the impression it was all a formality to officially document peace. They can't just order their men to return to the trenches after all this time, can they? People have been spending these past seven months attempting to rebuild their lives.

I don't know what conditions Germany is agreeing to. However, I do know the terms should be reasonable. They may be forced to play the scapegoat but placing the blame too harshly could trigger a resentment amongst the German people. God knows how dangerous that could be if taken advantage of.

This League of Nations that Wilson proposed could work. If a number of countries allied themselves together, it might prevent another Great War. Although, it hasn't escaped my notice that it was close alliances that caused the domino effect during the July Crisis of 1914. I suppose all we can do is have faith the politicians know what is best for their respective countries and for the world in general.

Yours, Jameson

August 2, 1919 Dear Jameson,

You have to stop doing this. By all means, use writing as a creative outlet. I don't mind you attempting to work through all of this mess. That said, I wish you would be sensible. If you're going to write an anthology full of anti-war poems, keep it to yourself. At least you had the sense to publish them under an alias.

I'll admit it took me a few minutes to understand your pseudonym. Laurence Wilson is quite a clever disguise. I suppose you chose it so nobody outside of our family would recognise you. I tried to explain it to Mother but she argues you should have used Silas instead. It makes sense, masquerading with the name of our other grandfather, but I'm sure it wouldn't have quite fit with what you were going for.

I worry about you, Jameson. My biggest concern, other than you ruining your reputation, is that this is still an issue. October will be here soon and with it, the second anniversary of Harvey's death. You must let go, if not for your sake then for your family's. You both made mistakes that you weren't able to rectify. Sometimes that is the cruel way the world works. The two of you simply drew the short straw.

We all miss Harvey dearly. It is not only you who wishes he were still here. I hope you understand we were all affected. As for your irrational decisions, you cannot keep doing this to us. You know how much of a worrier Mother is.

Yours, Mabel

August 15, 1919 Dear Mabel,

This has never been about who misses him more or can grieve the hardest. Please don't speak as though I have turned bereavement into a competition. I never made just the one mistake. I made several major ones that lead to countless smaller actions I regret.

I was so close to resolving the feud between us. I received his final letter and set down to write my reply. I remember still writing when Pearl and Clifford came to share the contents of Mother's letter. It frustrates me to no end that he was able to apologise but he would never see my apology.

It wasn't only Harvey I wronged. I ruined my friendship with the person closest to me outside of our family. There were times when I felt closer to David than my own brothers. If it were not for Clifford and Harvey, I would have made him my best man without a second thought. I had hoped he would have chosen me to perform that duty when the time came for him to marry, seeing as he was brotherless. That shall never happen now. His son will have to be raised on mere stories passed down from his mother and grandparents.

All of this is because I am a fierce pacifist. Why has not wanting the world to descend into bloodshed and violence cost me so much? Answer me that, Mabel. I didn't want either of them to contribute to the fighting, especially as they would be risking their lives by getting involved. I went about it the wrong way, I know that. I expected it of Harvey but certainly couldn't foresee David choosing to enlist. I don't know to whom I was harsher. My hand moved before my head could contemplate the repercussions. You have no idea how cautious I am when writing to my loved ones nowadays. Placing letters in envelopes fills me with paranoia. I may read through this letter when it is done and decide it will never be sent.

I can never forgive myself. Never. During the Advent of 1914, I went to confession as I tend to do in preparation for Christmas. When I leave, I usually feel freer. I'm sure you understand what I mean. By admitting your faults to God and saying a prayer or two, you are supposedly cleansed until the next time you commit a sin. Yet, in 1914, I failed to have that sense of peace within me. At the time, I assumed it was because I still held on to resentment and was somewhat privately wrathful. The Advent following Harvey's death, once more I asked to be forgiven. And, once more, I felt as if it failed to be effective. This whole process feels more like a formality to satisfy those around me than something that benefits my soul.

I believe that upon my death, hopefully decades from now, I will finally be able to speak to Harvey and David, face to face as we should have done years ago. Maybe then I can make peace with all of this. Until then, I can't do much except for take each day as it comes.

Yours, Jameson

Henry Robert Jackson Male September 15, 1919 Los Angeles Siobhan O'Hara Jameson Jackson

September 15, 1919 Dear all,

Our third son, whom we have named Henry, arrived in the early hours of this morning. Needless to say, his entrance into the world was far less stressful than his sister's. He is still technically early too but what is one day in the general scheme of things?

The boys are very pleased to have another brother. Anthony is bound to be telling his friends at elementary school tomorrow. Oliver has been fussing over our latest addition. As for Sophia, I feel she is a little too young to particularly care about the new baby the same way her brothers do. That doesn't stop her from checking in on Henry every so often with curiosity.

The most humourous reaction to the baby is courtesy of Lyra. She has found herself hovering around Siobhan all day so she can get a good whiff of Henry. Siobhan cannot take a step in any direction without being cautious of the Dalmatian who is potentially under the feet.

Yours, Jameson

October 1, 1919 Dear Jameson,

Two sons, a daughter then another son? I dare say you're copying me.

Congratulations on the birth of your fourth child, Jem. Give Siobhan my love too. You know, it's a shame we live so far apart. Arthur and Henry could have grown up good friends, given there is only three months between them. That's not to say they can't be playmates whenever you visit us.

Yours, Mabel

February 9, 1920 Dear Mother,

Yesterday, the three of us drank together to commemorate what should have been Harvey's 40th birthday. We talked about him freely. After a while, I felt comfortable enough to join without restricting myself. I even laughed once more at the story of him introducing Edith to us. Pearl still swears she didn't intend to immediately spill wine on her at the table. The whole session has made me thoughtful though. This could potentially be the first time since before the war that I've be able to reflect on my memories of Harvey fondly. Since then, those memories seemed too bitter to remember.

Perhaps this is what I have been lacking, a chance to speak without fear of being misunderstood. I knew Clifford and Pearl were willing to listen. I've known this entire time but, in a strange way, I have failed to internalise that information. I have subjected myself to dealing with everything alone. I am a fool for doing so. I have spent the majority of the past decade being a halfwit.

At the end of December, I promised myself I'd endeavour to have a fresh start this decade. At the time, I wasn't completely sure how I would go about that goal. Other than being more cautious about the what I write, of course. I'm glad it only took me 5 weeks to receive this epiphany. It certainly saved me some time.

Tell Edith and the girls that I say hello, Jameson

May 22, 1920 Dear Jameson,

Forgive me if I'm intruding on matters that you want to remain private but I am worried about your wife. She didn't seem herself at the reception last week. I could sense something was wrong when you visited for Christmas too. At the time, I assumed there had been some dispute between you so I didn't interfere. I am guessing it is the same issue bothering her as five months ago.

Is she alright? I hope whatever it is can be resolved soon.

Wishing your family well, Your mother

June 3, 1920 Dear Mother,

It is a family matter that is worrying her. Do you recall me telling you about Huntington's Chorea when we announced her pregnancy with Anthony? The disease has made itself known in our generation. Her brother has begun to exhibit symptoms. At the moment, it is mainly mood swings and clumsiness. It will only get worse from here on in.

As to be expected, this development has greatly affected Siobhan. Not only is her brother sick, she may be next. It may be fairly likely that by 1930, she could be inflicted with Huntington's Chorea as well. This reality is weighing heavily on all of us. We had desperately hoped we could go without this worry.

Of course, Michael being affected is not proof in itself Siobhan will suffer the same fate. It simply brings the matter close to home again. With the topic so relevant once more, the two of us have spoken and mutually agreed Henry will be our last. We knew having children was akin to playing Russian roulette, long before we entertained the idea of starting a family. If the disease runs through Siobhan and her line, we could have subjected four individuals to potentially inheriting the condition and watching their mother suffer through it.

We both secretly wish we could have given Sophia a little sister. Neither of us admit it, as doing so would be actively insulting to our three sons. We have four loving children. We must learn to admire what we already have.

Yours, Jameson

August 19, 1920 Dear all,

Yesterday brought good prospects to Sophia's future, even if she won't feel its effects until she is 18. They have ratified the 19th Amendment so voters cannot be denied their right on the basis of their sex. Which means, come 1936, she will be able to cast her first vote. Thinking about it, I believe an election is due that year. So there, she will turn 18 at the end of that April and some six months later she can choose which man she trusts more to avoid leading the USA astray.

Technically, women of California gained their right to vote around the same time we moved here. In the very least, I understand that to be true. Unless she moves to another state as an adult, it is the Californian regulations she must pay attention to. Despite being of Irish and Canadian descent, she is still a citizen of the United States of America thanks to jus soli.

Britain and Ireland have only granted partial voting rights to their women. I am told that only those who are over 30 years of age are eligible. I suppose there is more work to be done across the water. While Siobhan has never been the type to tie herself to railings or starve herself in protest, she has been eagerly supportive of the cause.

What are the laws in Canada now? Having lived in America for so long, I realise I've found myself somewhat out of the loop.

Yours, Jameson

September 3, 1920 Dear Jameson,

It's a good thing the world is progressing like this. Judith and Sophia won't have to worry about not having their voices heard. It's exciting to think how differently they will stand among their male peers as they grow up compared to our generation. Honestly, I'm surprised it has taken this long for politicians to realise that they were restricting half the potential voters.

Here in New Brunswick, we were granted the right to vote last year. We still can't run for office but neither myself nor Mother are particularly affected by that. Several provinces preceded us in legislation changes. I think Quebec is yet to catch up with all this.

As for the British Isles, let's hope they lower the age limit soon so that women will have to be 21 like men to vote. The women have really made their case. If they're not throwing themselves in front of the King's horse, they're starving themselves to the point the government introduces a law to stop them.

Yours, Mabel

September 26, 1920 Dear Mother,

I have been debating whether to join you next month for Thanksgiving. When Anthony and Oliver were younger, I wasn't so worried about leaving California. Now that Anthony is in third grade and Ollie will begin Kindergarten next year, bringing them to Canada is proving trickier. In the coming years, when Sophia and Henry become old enough to be sent to school, visiting Saint John will be even more difficult.

The third Monday of October will fall on the 18th this year. Of course, Oliver's 5th birthday is that Thursday. My intention is to stay a little longer than I normally would so you can celebrate it with us. However, in doing so, I would be keeping Anthony from his classes for up to two weeks. You can tell why Siobhan and I are of two minds about Thanksgiving. You could always come in November so we could celebrate it the same time as the Americans. That said, papers are always a hassle and November here is as warm as summer for you. A warm Thanksgiving has never felt right to me.

I will certainly be there at the end of February for your 70th birthday. There is no way I would miss such a special celebration. You'd better be prepared because all of us are coming. You'll have find the space for six adults and five children. We're not trying to cause tedium, I swear.

Yours, Jameson

March 6, 1921 Dear Jameson,

It was such a pleasure to have you back home for my birthday. I particularly love the necklace you bought me. However, by a large margin, my favourite treat was to see your children again. They are all growing so quickly. When Anthony was telling me about 'Peter Pan and Wendy', I nearly had to remind myself that he is already eight years old and literate. What did you do to the boy who was struggling through written words the last time I saw him?

It was especially sweet to watch Sophia and Henry discover snow and frost. I have never seen a child so confused by it. You can assure them I believe their attempt to help their big brothers build a snowman was commendable. I have never met a snowman with such low arms though. I suppose they were unable to reach the torso.

I think you made the right decision by keeping the little ones inside during the snowball fight. Being so small, they would have probably received an accidental snowball to the face in the heat of the moment. These things happen. You fell victim to it a number of times when you were their age.

It is a shame they aren't able to experience winter the same way you did. Maybe we could compromise and agree you will travel to Saint John every Christmas? Either way, thank you for visiting me and I hope you had a smooth journey back to Los Angeles.

Missing you already, Your mother

May 3, 1921 Dear all,

Clifford presented me with a script earlier this week. He wrote the whole thing himself. It's a decent story but he's assigned me the task of improving it. I'll admit, he needs to work on visualising stage directions and how characters will move about the setting. The screenplay has a disproportional quantity of dialogue compared to the action. If we can find a better balance, this will be his first production as the writer. I'm looking forward to discovering how the public enjoys the picture.

My biggest concern is the subject matter. This was clearly inspired by the situation with his children. I know, after spending so long negotiating with Elizabeth to receive them, he feels their letters to him are merely a formality. Lord knows he can't picture Clara as any older than two years old. He's only met Daniel the once, immediately after his birth.

He was so happy last August to be given a second chance with Louise. He deserves the opportunity to prove himself now that he doesn't act so frivolously. I remember how ecstatic he was to receive his first correspondence from Clara herself, as illegible as her childish scrawl was.

Things will be different with Louise. He's not going to be some distant figure like he is to her half-siblings. Even so, he makes a good uncle to his nephews and Sophia.

Yours, Jameson

May 17, 1921 Dear Jameson,

It's good that he wants to branch out. Just be careful. You never know, he may surpass you in the future if you teach him your methods too thoroughly.

Why don't the two of you visit New York again? It could be a nostalgic vacation for the two of you. Not only that, you can bring your children and show them the city. Wouldn't it be nice to show them sentimental places from your time there? Children enjoy learning how their parents' relationship came to be.

Yours, Your mother

May 30, 1921 Dear Mother,

Ah yes, Lady Liberty. It has been a while since I saw her. However, it is slightly absurd to suggest we should go to New York just because his children are there. I will probably take my children to see how the city has changed one day but not to sneak around like some ne'er-do-well.

Yours, Jameson

September 3, 1921 Dear Mother,

This week, Oliver began Kindergarten. Obviously, this is an important moment for him. No-one was more excited to see him attend Selma Avenue than Anthony. I have heard from Ollie himself that his brother keeps him company during recess. While Siobhan and I agree this is a caring gesture, we have privately suggested to Anthony that it may be beneficial to leave his little brother to make friends on his own. As soon as we were done speaking to him, he nodded and promptly went to explain to Oliver he'd be left to deal with the school yard alone. Ollie looked so crestfallen to learn the first week was a trial period. I will never understand my eldest son or his ability to turn on a dime.

However, the beginning of the academic year is not the true reason I am writing. Siobhan is nearly four months along. I have tried to dissuade her from a fifth pregnancy. I eventually didn't have the heart to argue with her. I have always wanted to grant our children a better start than either of us got. She simply wants to give Sophia the sister she never received in her youth. After all our discussions concluding with a decision to leave our family at four children, my will should have been sturdier. If this child is a girl, my resolve will be stronger should she ask again.

In any case, I am happy. I don't wish to be misconstrued. This was as much of my choice as it was hers. Plus, I have always loved seeing how the children interact with their siblings. Our home is a lively one and I am enjoying it being so. It's the kind of household I was accustomed to in Saint John.

Yours, Jameson

February 19, 1922 Dear all,

Did you hear about William Desmond Taylor's murder at the start of the month? It's a terrible thing. I hope they find whoever shot him quickly. Although I never met the man, I did admire his work. Cliff, Pearl and I were discussing him after the news of his death broke. He was a good director from what I've seen.

His final resting place not far from where we live. I decided to pay him a visit. I wanted to tip my hat to him, so to speak. It's Clifford who wants to pay his respects, in my opinion. He is Jackson Trinity's main director, after all. I think he may have taken slight inspiration from Taylor at times.

Yours, Jameson

Theodore Stanley Jackson Male March 2, 1922 Los Angeles Siobhan O'Hara Jameson Jackson

May 24, 1922 Dear all,

The Veterans of Foreign Wars have been selling poppies in the lead up to Memorial Day next Monday. I took the liberty of purchasing a few for you in case you would like to find comfort in them. Or you can leave them be until November, if that suits you.

All the best, Jameson

June 6, 1922 Dear Jameson,

Thank you for thinking of us. Your gesture was greatly appreciated. Unfortunately, you are a little late to this poppy scheme. They began doing the same thing here in Canada last November.

I've returned some of them so you can have some spares. I know how easily young children tend to misplace or lose things. I'm glad you chose to buy some of those poppies. I did not think you would do something meant to support those who fought.

With love, Mabel

August 7, 1922 Dear all,

It is hard to believe that a full decade has passed since I became a father. Hints of regret for missing Anthony's birth do still appear each year. Although, by now, it is so inconsequential. Why fret about one when I've managed to be around for the subsequent four? If he ever becomes upset by it, I can always blame his Aunt Pearl for not running fast enough to fetch me. Not only that, he is at fault too. I could have made it if he weren't so eager to meet us. Still, as I stated before, it's become trivial over the years.

We bought him 'The Story of Doctor Dolittle' and its sequel 'The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle' by Hugh Lofting for his birthday. It's about a doctor who can converse with animals and prefers their company to that of human patients. He has begun reading the first book in our sitting room. I suspect he is trying to get through as many pages as possible before Siobhan finishes preparing the cake. Ollie supposedly left the house to play with Lyra in our front yard. It is very peculiar that Lyra is lying on my bed while Anthony's new bicycle has mysteriously vanished from the hallway. I will be sure to discuss the strange happenings with him, whenever he chooses to return. Do you think I should deny him a slice? At least Sophia and Henry are entertaining themselves quietly inside which makes a change for once.

I am being called for cake so I will end my letter here. It is a jelly roll with strawberry jam so I am looking forward to taking a bite.

Yours, Jameson

November 3, 1922 Dear Mother,

Sophia does not act the way you would expect a little girl should. She enjoys straying from us, usually taking Henry with her, to explore her surroundings. All children accumulate dirty laundry but she may be eligible to set a record. She is hardly rolling in the dirt like some feral creature but, without fail, she will always return to us with some dirt on her person. It doesn't matter if it is soil on her hands or grass stains on her tights. I blame the fact she has nothing but brothers. They indirectly encourage her to play rough by doing so themselves. What's worse is that Henry follows her lead. If she were able to climb partway up a tree, he would surely imitate her. One of these days, one or both of them will harm themselves. It is tiring attempting to keep up with the duo.

What I can see in Sophia is that she finds great joy in using her hands to create. At her age, she does not possess the right amount of dexterity to be presented with the opportunities to truly show this off. She may be slightly too young to be introduced to sewing or knitting. Although, she does show interest in it. Perhaps in a year or two I could leave her in Pearl's care so she could be taught. Unlike Pearl, I may have lost some of my abilities thanks to neglecting the activity.

It is odd that she has little interest in playing an instrument, even a piano. In no way am I expecting every child of ours to be virtuosos simply because of their mother. Besides, Oliver has enough enthusiasm for the five of them. I only feel that it would be a worthy pastime while she grows enough to explore other hobbies.

On a completely unrelated note, have you ever tasted a cake with a pumpkin filling? No, I hadn't either. That is until my birthday on Tuesday. Seeing as I was to become 35 years old and my birthday happens to fall on Halloween, Siobhan thought it would be a clever idea to do something special this year. If pumpkin is an acquired taste, it is not one I have acquired. Not that I would ever admit that to her. She put so much effort to please me that I could never break her heart her like that.

I can never escape pumpkins whenever my birthday approaches. The children love preparing several of the fruit to leave outside our home on the 31st. Oliver even asked to receive one for his birthday two weeks ago. I had to remind him that it would be thoroughly rotted by the time the holiday arrived 10 days later. Maybe I should film a short based on carving pumpkins one October. It would have to be a short. If any man can create a decent script for a full length feature inspired solely on carving pumpkins, I'd like to meet him.

Yours, Jameson

January 18, 1923 Dear all,

Germany's economy appears to be worthy of living among the trash. Their prices are so inflated that I wouldn't be surprised if a loaf of bread cost me millions of marks. Didn't they attempt to fix their financial troubles by simply printing the money at one point?

See, I can't understand why Germany were made the scapegoats. They came to the aid of their allies the same way the British Empire and United States helped ours. If any country should be blamed, it should be Serbia for the assassination and Austria-Hungary for declaring war on them in response. I suppose it could be easier to point fingers at the country who have been at the forefront of Prussia for centuries. Of course, despite the books I've read on the subject, I could be talking nonsense. They do say you should never discuss politics in polite conversation.

I also hear they are growing increasingly anti-Semitic. You're likely to find that sentiment anywhere you go. However, it is unnerving to hear they are naming scapegoats within their own country. Anti-Semitism amongst Christians has always confused me. Yes, the Jews chose to persecute Jesus. Was that not the whole point? I wouldn't say the population of Jerusalem were possessed. A higher power possessing you, now that is a scary notion. No, influenced is a better term. The Jews were influenced to play their part in a plan that had been centuries, no millennia, in the making. For Christ's sake, Mary herself was Jewish. You don't see anyone condemning her, do you?

Long story short, I have yet another script idea brewing. Something along the lines of a man being able to conjure surplus amounts of money at will. Originally, I planned to make the protagonist's powers akin to that that of Midas but with dollar bills. I'm unsure what the end product will look like.

Yours, Jameson

April 25, 1923 Dear all,

We have added a couple of new members to our family. They are two Jack Russell Terriers, a brother and sister, whom we have named Woodrow and Holly.

No, we did not name one of our pets after the last President. We were inspired by the Hollywoodland sign they're constructing near our area. It's meant to draw potential homebuyers to this part of Los Angeles.

I have heard some advice that siblings should not be brought home together. It is related to their pack dynamics, one must be dominant no matter what. It can also negatively influence the way they interact with humans and other animals. However, I believe with the correct training, all this can be avoided.

The children adore them and Lyra seems to tolerate the puppies. With five children and three dogs, we appear to have made quite the family.

Yours, Jameson

#the life of jameson jackson #tlojj #jameson jackson #jacksepticeye #writersofjack #my writing #crosspost #originally posted on Quotev and AO3 on Dec 9th 2018

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slow-roam · 6 years

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messy and confusing

there is nothing worse than being told someone isn’t interested in you anymore. than someone saying there isn’t a connection with you anymore. because you spent the last ten months trying to form a romantic connection with this person, so hearing that is a gut punch. it takes the wind out of you.

you cry. hard. for the time you wasted, for the feelings you wasted, for this person, your best friend, who is staring at you, and you can’t even meet his eyes but when you catch glances he looks older and tired, and he hasn’t shaved in days. and you figure you should’ve known something was fucking wrong. and you feel blindsided and betrayed. and he’s sitting on his bed, a place youre now not welcome, telling you he doesn’t feel it in his heart anymore and you fucking sob until your throat hurts. and later on, you’re disgusted that you let him hug you- but at least you don’t hug back.

you think “someone else is leaving me.” not a boyfriend, no, but a friend, someone you trusted, because face it, that’s really all it was, a friendship that turned romantic that turned into a friendship again though neither wanted to really admit it. you didn’t even know if you wanted romance in the first place and you wonder, not for the first time if this was a convenience thing for him but you don’t say that. instead you hate yourself as you ask “we’re fucking done? for good? this isn’t just a phase? you don’t just need space?” and you plead with him to give you another chance, like it’s your fault, like you aren’t a good person.

you should’ve known something was wrong, and you tell him that too, and he agrees- more friends than lovers in the end, and he agrees and you regret saying anything because it feels like a betrayal. you don’t know how you can seamlessly switch between “i’m hurting” and “oh well!” so seamlessly because if you’re feeling both, are you feeling either at all? did you ever feel anything? did he?

you tell yourself you didn’t even want a relationship again, but it’s easy to convince yourself of that as you’re driving down the road, lights blurring through the tears. you call every number you can think of, hoping to talk to someone, anyone, and you get voicemail after voicemail. and those that do answer don’t really know what to say. and you’re not sure you want them to say anything, you just don’t want to be alone.

you cry in your bed until your throat hurts, but that’s okay, because you’re not eating anyways. that’s the good thing about a break up, you lose all of the weight you gained in the relationship. you can’t call the person you want to talk to the most because he dumped your pathetic ass two days ago.

and then things get really bad. you figure, i can’t be upset at him for this- he’s just doing what’s best for himself. i didn’t even fucking want a relationship! which, again, was true at first, but then you fell- maybe not fully in love, but if it’s not in love why does it hurt so badly? something like it. close enough.

and right around the 12th, time your period starts- you don’t bleed anymore the pills make sure of that. but goddamn do your hormones fucking surge. you start spiraling. it’s another night with no one around and you start thinking “everyone is better off without me” and it’s something you think every single day, and you think of how long you’ve been thinking this and maybe it’s really fucking time to die. pills, a gun, a noose? you imagine all the ways but have an excuse for each. not guaranteed, too messy, too scary. we can’t live forever. might as well end the problem now. because you are the problem you finally realize. there is something about you that makes everyone leave.

somehow you make it through that night, but you’re scared you won’t make it through many more. and you spend day after day texting him, apologizing. for what? for not being good enough, for being irrational. he says you did nothing wrong, it was all him. youre a little thankful he takes the blame but it still doesn’t help assuage your fucked up thoughts.

you don’t understand why sometimes you hurt and sometimes you think “it’s for the best, we wouldn’t have lasted.” and sometimes you think “i could’ve spent my life- i would’ve gotten married, became a mom, or at least a kickass step mom- done the shit i didn’t want to do. for him.”

and, even when you were together, you can’t quite stop comparing yourself to his ex. you don’t know why. you’ve never met her. but the jealous feelings are there. you don’t mention it to him. you wonder they’d still be together had the lack of protection not decided their fate. it bums you out to think about. you wonder if he’ll go back to her now that your time is up.

you stop showering and you don’t know if it’s the depression or if you just don’t want anyone to find you attractive anymore. you swear by dry shampoo and baby wipes. you cry at work. a lot. people notice. you get sent home.

and you just feel pathetic. you start self medicating with alcohol. first at a show, and he’s there. and his best friend tells you she doesn’t want to hear anything about him when you go up to say hi, and you feel kicked to the curb. so you end up in a corner and cry, and you cry on your friends shoulders, but they were his friends first and you feel like a fucking interloper. not welcome. and people ask about him because he hasn’t told anyone about the break up.

and every time you drive, even before all of this. every. time. you want to drive your car into the median. you remember hearing about a girl from high school texting and driving and hitting the median head on and since then you’ve thought, that’s how i want to go. but not because of some fucking boy. no. but because you realize there is something wrong with you, mentally. chemically.

and people tell you “you don’t have to be this way! you can be happy!” and you don’t know how you feel about that because sad and less-sad is all you’ve ever felt. and you never felt like your pain is valid so you’ve never told anyone because people have it worse off than you. you should be fucking lucky you have food and a place to sleep.

but you make an appointment and get on medication. and of course you tell him, because after being so intertwined with someone, it’s hard to let go, even if it was easy for them. he’s supportive in his own way. and you can’t stop yourself form wondering if things would have been different had you done this years ago. but it doesn’t matter now.

and you give him a christmas present you ordered for him before the break up, and he gives you one he ordered after. and you’re mad that it’s your favorite movie on blu-ray. you try not to read into his actions or words in the weeks since you left his house crying but you can’t help but agonize over the “what ifs” and “maybes…” you tell yourself youre being stupid and you need to listen to your friends.

they tel you to move on and that he’s an asshole and you embarrass yourself further by asking him to give you a heads up when he brings another girl around. he doesn’t say anything. and he doesn’t owe you anything. but you feel bad, and you feel worse for immersing yourself in his world, in his friends his friends who are so kind and wonderful and sweet. you want to shut them out because you feel like you don’t fucking deserve friendship.

you spend your christmas eve letting your phone die because you don’t have work the next day and you know he won’t text you because he didn’t text you on thanksgiving, and you were together then.

and the next day, you start writing. the days are short and cold and your fingernails are long and hard which isn’t ideal for food service and they dig into your palm as you write this on the back of six recipe cards. your words jump around, your handwriting is messy and confusing.

but that’s what life is, messy and confusing.

and you think of that song by the format.

but now it’s time to get out of the desert and into the sun, even if it’s alone.

and you know it’s not exactly for you. but for the first time you feel a little bit of hope.

#personal #writing #relationship #break up #medication #depression #feels

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my-nameless-bliss · 7 years

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I just saw your answer to the ask about Magnus saying he's a lot to get used to and I just want to say how much I loved it, because it's completely true. I also wanted to add how much I loved that even though Magnus' first reaction was to blame himself, he later stands up for himself and calls Alec out on everything. I feel like he has to be aware of and actively fight how much he habitually takes responsibility or blame for others' feelings or problems, and I'm glad that he does do that.

Alright, I know this happens a lot, but I’m once again going to take the opportunity to turn an ask into “Reasons Why the Show is Good and the Books are Garbage”.

Because this ask is exactly one of those reasons.

Seeing Magnus blatantly call out Alec for his crappy behavior is so fucking important, and after those goddamn books, such a relief. Because in the books, Alec is infinitely worse to Magnus than he is in that episode. He says things that are truly awful, and good god, his actions are even worse. And Magnus just… looks sadly at him. Silently. In the corner. And it’s never brought up again. Alec blatantly mistreats Magnus in the books, and Magnus doesn’t do a goddamn thing about it. Hell, even when Alec crosses literally every line in existence and fucks up more than any person has ever fucked up in a relationship before, Magnus only breaks up with him for a short period of time before taking him back like it’s no big deal. Magnus puts up with a ridiculous amount of bullshit in the books, and even if he genuinely seems hurt by it, he doesn’t stand up for himself. He doesn’t say that Alec’s wrong. He doesn’t say that he deserves better. And it’s fucking infuriating.

And then the show came along and just killed that entire concept. Killed it dead. Alec says some shit that’s out of line, Magnus immediately says that he’s out of line, and he doesn’t put up with it. Even once Alec apologizes, Magnus still holds out and makes Alec actually admit what he’s apologizing for before he’ll accept it. Not only does he stand up for himself, he actually makes sure Alec understands why he was in the wrong. It’s amazing, and such a good and important precedent to set for their relationship.

And then there’s probably my favorite part of the whole thing: Alec gives a genuine apology, and Magnus forgives him. And that’s it. It’s not drawn out. Yes, they’re stubborn and salty, but only before they actually talk it out. They don’t hold onto this and make it more difficult than it has to be or blow anything out of proportion. Because yes, Alec fucked up. He said things that were out of line and entirely unfair. He snapped. But also… that’s it??? He was stressed out, he snapped, he took it out on someone who didn’t deserve it, he said some bad things. Yeah, it’s still a fuck-up. But it’s not the end of the world. And it’s not treated like it’s the end of the world. He acknowledges that he fucked up, he apologizes, and Magnus forgives him. That’s all it is. And that’s all it should be. A lot of fiction takes what should rationally be a small argument for a relationship and turns it into a season-long arc of irrational fighting just for the sake of drama. But this was treated realistically.

We got to see Magnus stand up for himself. We got to see him call Alec out when he deserved it. And also, we got to see him forgive Alec when Alec apologized. All of that is so important and healthy and honest and this entire relationship is a blessing, okay???

#i pulled this in too many directions #sorry about that #i just REALLY wanted to talk about the way this argument was handled #BECAUSE I LOVE EVERY MOMENT OF IT #realistic treatment of arguments is realsitic #and we are all blessed #i am SO GRATEFUL TO SEE MANGUS STAND UP FOR HIMSELF #THIS ONE SCENE KILLED CC'S INTERPRETATION OF MAGNUS BANE FOREVER #BLESS #nykeigh answers #anon #hc meme #sh #shs2 #magnus carl bane #malec #anti-cc

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alvarezcharles · 4 years

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How Win Ex Boyfriend Back Astonishing Cool Ideas

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How To Get Your Ex To Want U Back

#How Win Ex Boyfriend Back Astonishing Cool Ideas #Can I Ever Get My Ex Boyfriend Back

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catboyfeli · 7 years

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COPY PASTING SOME YOUTUBE COMMENTS BC ALL THIS MABEL HATE MAKES ME MAD

ShadowRevya91 week ago "He wasn't lying in that regard as to just casually mocking her." Bill wasn't just casually mocking her. In context, he was trying to create a rift between the twins because at the time Dipper wasn't yet willing to make a deal with him for so much of a stitch of one of Mabel's puppets.

"Makes Mabel seem like a Mary Sue." I don't follow, what is it that makes Mabel seem like a Mary Sue? I thought a Mary Sue was a character without flaws, but your issue here seems to be based in Mabel being deeply, brokenly flawed.

"Dipper is shown to constantly give something up for Mabel" Dipper willingly giving things up for Mabel—in circumstances where it is clearly established as the decent course of action, with Dipper learning a lesson in doing so—does not mean Mabel is selfish. Ex. Dipper learning that it's creepy to be so controlling over another person's life choices and choosing to give up his hard work for his sister the moment he sees for himself that losing her pig would genuinely hurt her means that Dipper grew as a person and cares about his twin respectively, not that Mabel somehow got away with something to his detriment. For comparison, in Carpet Diem, the moment Dipper explains to Mabel why it is he wants his own room, she gives up the key and tells him she won't fight him for it. This obviously isn't an example of Dipper being selfish, it's just that Mabel understands and cares about her twin. And as you say, the lessons Dipper learned in his eps and his ultimately being able to forge a genuine friendship with Wendy are positives, not losses, and certainly not losses "because of Mabel's selfishness".

"Everything (in her mind) has to be about her." Mabel is portrayed as constantly trying to help other people. As shown in The Last Mabelcorn, other peoples' happiness is what she stakes her own happiness on. She says as much in The Love God when Dipper and the teens ditch a suffering Robbie: "How can I be happy if I know someone else is sad?" In contrast, Dipper holds grudges; he isn't invested in the well-being of people he doesn't know or people who have crossed him/his sister in the past (Robbie, Pacifica, the gnomes, etc.). Mabel's so concerned about Gideon's happiness in The Hand that Rocks the Mabel that she can't bring herself to turn him down even when it distresses her. She tries to help Dipper along in his crush on Wendy and in building confidence, and when it doesn't work out offers to make him a list of rebound crushes. She tries to play matchmaker between Lazy Susan and Stan when she finds out he wants her to like him. When she finds out Stan has a fear of heights, she spends the episode trying to help him move past it. I could go on, but seriously she does these things for the entire length of the show; it's her 'thing'. Ford, Dipper, and Wendy agree in Mabelcorn that Mabel's the most pure-of-heart, well-meaning person they know.

"she is shown to constantly take advantage of his dedication and/or belittle his ambitions" When is she ever shown to consciously take advantage of Dipper or hurt his feelings? She makes fun of his voice, lack of manliness, and love of nerd things, but only playfully and she's definitely not the sole character to do so (see Stan, Wendy, and Soos) (Stan is so hard on Dipper that it becomes a major plot point near the end of season one). In Bottomless Pit, Mabel, Soos, and Wendy all express how much they think Dipper's voice is perfect at the end of their mixtape. Mabel realizes in DD & More D that Dipper's actually been taking a lot of their teasing to heart and feels bad about this because it was not her intention. This isn't a realization specific to Mabel either. In Little Dipper, Dipper realizes that he's unintentionally been rubbing his success in Mabel's face, that she feels inferior to him because "you're better than me at like everything", and that her teasing is her attempt to feel better about what few victories over him she has.

"And she never really "pays" for it" Mabel is punished while learning lessons, same as Dipper. As I said before, it's just easier for the audience to brush off. Ex. Mabel gets multiple attempts to kickstart the summer romance that is her central desire for the summer; every single one goes down in flames (literally, in Sock Opera) and we see in Society of the Blind Eye how much those failures weigh on her and how difficult it can be for her to remain confident in the face of them. Like Dipper, we see throughout season 2 that Mabel makes an effort to move past this and comes out better for it.

"Is she at least sorry for nearly getting her brother and close friend killed simply to teach them a lesson? It was an accident, yeah, but it was a result of how short-sighted she is." Maybe it's just me, but Mabel... pushing Wendy and Dipper into a closet together... falls a bit short of consideration as a heinous crime. Besides, Mabel 1) was trying to be helpful, 2) was also in danger, 3) didn't know there was a monster in the bunker. Pinning Into the Bunker on Mabel is like pinning Sock Opera on Dipper for not realizing he was about to be screwed over or pinning The Inconveniencing on Dipper for going along with the teens in an attempt to fit in or pinning Weirdmageddon on Dipper for not telling Mabel about the rift in the first place. You could pin Into the Bunker on Dipper as well while we're at it; he led the mission, the purpose of which was to benefit his summer priority, and the gang almost were crushed in the security room. Point being: The kids not being able to see the future isn't a character flaw and the others don't typically expect apologies from them in such instances. This is different from, say, when Dipper intentionally raises the dead in Scary-oke or Stan leaves Waddles outside in Land Before Swine.

"Unlike in season one where it's pretty obvious that the story is about Dipper" How is season one about Dipper? I didn't get that impression personally.

"I can only think of two episodes where she actually learns a lesson (Boy Crazy and Sock Opera)" Here's what I can remember off the top of my head: Tourist Trapped, Irrational Treasure, The Legend of the Gobblewonker, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel, Boss Mabel, The Last Mabelcorn, The Golf War, Society of the Blind Eye, Northwest Mansion Mystery, and The Love God. Not that number remotely matters (as you say, Ford's arc wrapped up neatly despite his only being present for the final 7 episodes), but hope that helps.

"She KNOWS this isn't real that Bill is gonna destroy everyone she cares about in the REAL world... but CHOOSES to stay put." This... ignores a couple things. 1) So did Wendy and Soos and nearly Dipper, only he remembered that what the bubble was showing him wasn't actually what he truly wanted, only what he thought he did (i.e. being Wendy's age). Which ties into his speech to Mabel later. 2) It's a magic prison bubble; Mabel's under a spell. She doesn't snap out of it until the sincere sibling hug. 3) This incident is parallel to the first season's penultimate episode, wherein Dipper initially decides not to save Stan and the shack because he feels Stan doesn't care enough about him to merit rescuing. Mabel is similarly hurting because she believes Dipper has decided to ditch her. This is part of the reason she creates a false Dipper; she thought the real Dipper meant to abandon her and couldn't accept a reality where that could be true. Because when it comes down to it, and Dipper spells this out himself, Mabel isn't stuck in her fantasyland because she's selfish and it's giving her everything she thinks she wants; she's stuck because she's afraid of losing Dipper and "of growing up".

Throughout the series, Dipper and Mabel are both portrayed as childish. Dipper has a childish idea of what it means to be grown up and can't wait to leave his childhood behind and become the great person he imagines he will be as an adult. Mabel is a tad more mature in that she understands being afraid of being perceived as childish is itself childish and that the twins have to cherish their childhood and their time together while they have it because it won't last forever. However, faced with both the thought of her childhood ending and Dipper leaving, she can't handle both at once and instead seeks solace from reality, refusing to move forward in the process. Dipper developed as a character over the series, but like Mabel those lessons don't fully sink in until the events of Weirdmageddon, where he becomes a realist who understands he can't deal with reality by constantly living in the future. He sees Mabel struggling with the unrealistic desire to remain stuck in time as similar to his unrealistic desire to have already grown up and explains to her they can kill two birds with one stone and face reality together; the spell breaks here because Mabel no longer needs the fantasy world to deal with losing Dipper and that subsequent panic of having to grow up alone. "Man, I went nuts back there. The real world can't be that bad, right?" Show less Reply 3 ShadowRevya9 ShadowRevya91 week ago (edited) "It's sad to see that ONCE AGAIN, Dipper sacrifices his ambitions for her" "All she really learned that is if she guilt trips Dipper enough times, he'll always turn around for her." I think you're missing a critical component of Dipper's character arc here. Dipper's 'ambitions', to essentially begin a career path at friggin' 12 and skip/squander the remainder of his childhood and teenage years, are explicitly portrayed as being as delusional as Mabel's fantasyland. Dipper isn't giving up anything of value here and he isn't giving it up for Mabel's sake; it's a personal decision he's made and he's using this decision to show Mabel that he's chosen to face the music and implore her to join him in doing so. This is why when Mabel tells Dipper—immediately after they've escaped the prison bubble—that while she appreciates his speech he's free to take the apprenticeship if he wants to and she doesn't want to be responsible for holding him back, Dipper simply reiterates that he doesn't want it.

Again, Dipper letting things go of his own volition (not due to supposed emotional abuse on Mabel's part) is not somehow synonymous with him getting the short end of the stick. The only ones who try to frame it that way in-universe are Bill "literal monster" Cipher and Stanford "isn't having siblings suffocating?" Pines.

"with her... not really giving up much this time" This is what I meant when I said it's easier for the audience to value what Dipper sacrifices more. Mabel gave up the prison bubble, a world where she gets everything she wants (except Dipper, which makes the whole thing worthless). The bubble was her dream the way Ford's apprenticeship was Dipper's: unrealistic and unfulfilling. It would have been awful of her to choose to stay, the same way it would have been awful of her to give Bill the journal to keep her play; the same way it would have been awful of Dipper to keep the megaphone, the same way it would have been awful of Dipper to deny Wendy's freedom to make her own choices. These are all sacrifices, but only seem to be viewed as such when they are Dipper's, despite the fact that in each instance, 1) giving up the thing was hard for them, 2) unambiguously the right thing to do, and 3) they realize the thing being given up wasn't actually worth much at all. Show less Reply 2 jenny xu jenny xu6 days ago I'm feeling bad for jumping into this argument but at the same time...

Alright, I see a lot of what you're saying here, but my first impression agreed with Edward Gil and my reason for 'why' stands thus. Dipper, as far as I've perceived him in both season one and season two, drops everything (except for Wendy, I suppose) the moment Mable needs his help. When Waddles was taken by a pterodactyl in the Land Before Swine, Dipper dropped his attempt to photograph the pterodactyl the moment he learned that Mabel's pig was taken. Of course, he would help, but as far as I remember, it never occurred to Dipper to bring a camera 'just in case.' That's him caring for Mable and putting her above his priorities.

Later on, in the Golf War, Mable may have been the bigger person and stated that cheating was wrong while Dipper was perfectly fine with it, we have to remember that Pacifica is Mable's nemesis. Not Dipper's. The only reason Dipper would have any issue with Pacifica would be because of the way she treats Mable.

Even earlier, in the Deep End, when Mermando couldn't breathe and Mable told Dipper (as the assistant lifeguard) to give him reverse CPR, Dipper didn't hesitate. The obvious solution would have been to roll Mermando into the lake, yes, but I thought it was heartwarming that Dipper /didn't hesitate/ to give reverse mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a merman he met literally seconds earlier. He probably would have done it, Mable or no Mable, but I think the fact that his twin went through all that trouble before hand to get Mermando to the lake played a role in how quickly he conceded to the demand.

In dangerous situations, Dipper's first words are always 'let her go!' and 'her' always being Mable. Despite not being the bravest or strongest person (don't we know it), Dipper always, always, stands in front of Mable against monsters and threats to shield and protect her. Obviously, this isn't to say that Mable is less capable than anyway. If it comes down to it, I'm willing to bet that she's the more athletic one, but the fact of the matter is, Dipper is constantly proving how much he cares for his twin.

Now Mable on the other hand? Aside from how she always supports Dipper fully in his investigation of the supernatural (Mystery Twins!), it's hard to think of an example where she dropped her own priorities in order to help Dipper.

Now, in terms of 'being a good person,' I think Mable probably has Dipper beat. She goes out of her way to help others, she has a stronger sense of morals and in the Last Mablecorn, Mable outright stated that she had the purest heart and Dipper just went, 'no arguments there.' I just think, when it comes down to paying attention to each other's needs and such, Dipper is just more aware than Mable, you know? He's the analytical one, the one who's always winning at chess. So he's the one who takes more care to see things from Mable's perspective.

Meanwhile, Mable is playfully ribbing Dipper about an assortment of shortcomings, from lack of manliness to his voice to being slightly shorter to his crush on Wendy to a miscellaneous collection of other small, harmless comments that... frankly add up. It's not much of an issue considering. as you've pointed out, Wendy, Soos and Grunkle Stan do virtually the same but considering how Dipper is towards Mable, it's worse coming from her.

When things get serious, Mable is there for Dipper, but not the same drop-everything way he is for her. When it comes down to it, I think that's what rubs people the wrong way.

This is all open to discussion, of course. Show less

#long post #not hetalia #gravity falls #mabel pines #dipper pines #bill cipher

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