#My sons.. they have every fucking disease.

[graniteknight]

I miss them sm.. my sillies..

They’re so dumb and one of the biggest reasons why I’m a sucker for dynamics that follow a sort of Rivals to lovers dynamic.. (Yes I know they aren’t exactly rivals but STILL)

#coroika #coroika rider #coroika goggles #My sons.. they have every fucking disease.

[boypussydilf]

#keroro gunso #so fucking funny realizing how many Straight Up Issues they all have not just dororo #Please get ur brains checked . This is not healthy #Like just *gestures* all of it #my 5 darling sons who all have every disease #basilposting

[thebuginyourwalls]

Trying not to put sizey stuff in my non-gt project challenge: Impossible Difficulty

#It keeps happening #Although tbf Im not sure that the specific one that inspired this post...counts? #Its basically a sentient 'haunted' house (think along the lines of Anatomy by kittyhorrorshow or House of Leaves) and like #...does that count as a giant technically? Its a big house. And it does interact sapiently with the other characters #though it cant speak. It more like it moves stuff around them & changes its layout & stuff. #Idk I'll admit I'm a sucker for the sentient architecture trope even tho its such a bizarrely specific one. #Its why Micheal is my favourite avatar from TMA. Also why I enjoy Eskew sm despite the story being so miserable. #Idk. Even if this one thing doesnt count Ive got far too many other gt type stuff in this damn story #We got uhhh. Freaky little homunculus that poisoned its creator bc he was a shithead #Diety bound to a mortal body that may or may not be able to turn into a large snake man (also his two non-mortal siblings are giant) #And lastly more of a minigiant but we do have a werewolf & a vampire but like...in a fucked up speculative biology way #Like the werewolf is slightly better but the 'vampire' (for lack of a better term) is my horrible son who has every disease.

[moe-broey]

NOT a Three Houses hater for the record. More of a fake fan than anything LMFAOOOOO

#fire emblem #i just. couldn't deal w how restrictive the gameplay felt 😰 #like from academy arc to missing time sensitive supports fuck your whole life i guess #to having p much the same cast of characters start to finish w little flexibility like. hope you like your class bitch 🙄 #and like yeah they're p complex p cool. but like what do you even do one a second run. #DEFINITELY was spoiled by 3DS emblems having a wide range of characters and stupid things to do w them LMFAO #also if i can't move at my own pace or give myself little sidequests i'll die LMFAOOO #oh and calenders are my mortal enemy. the passage of time/time sensitive events. #girl i suffer from time blindness. girl this is so hostile to my psyche. girl help. i'm gonna throw up and cry about it #eventually i'm gonna just have to watch someone else play it i think LMFAOOOO #my sister most likely! but also. new emblem. won't be for a while LMFAOO i'm not pressed through bc NEW EMBLEM #one i can actually play and NOT feel like everything is a chore LMFAOOO #i owe everything to the breaks in between battles too like. it's so important to me. to my brain LMFAO #i need to pet my arcade prize dog who has every deformity and disease like pug 2 or i'll DIE and BURN in HELL #my son Bo (body oder) (stinky)

[cosmickestrels]

universe heard me contemplating whenever i have the right to call myself disabled (because of my slowly but surely deteriorating health and some other stuff) and was like ‘a chronic illness be upon ye’

#Kestrel Ramblings #my body is not a temple its a trainwreck #with every doctor visit they just find a new thing that is just fucked #at least we have free healthcare otherwise ho boi would all these visits fucking hurt #i swear i am the son with every disease

[genhenna]

HE LOOKS SO GOOD??? IT'S LIKE THEY THREW ALL OF HIS GOOD TRAITS IN HERE

#୨୧ enstars #my son crump he has every disease #thank god im in eng so i have like 3 years to save #which also brings up the issue that i have to wait 3 years for him. #fuck

[pastrydragon]

The BG3 Beef I wanna see shitpost

While I do love the idea of Tav/Astarion/Karlach/whoever getting more unique mean dialogue with Ulder Ravengard, especially when he has the audacity to take up space in your camp like that instead of someone cooler like Barcus or that one bullied hyena, I want very specific flavor text that you'd only get in the epilogue party if you pick a specific ending even more.

I think if you romance Wyll as Gale or Gale as Wyll and then you don't go to Avernus, I think it would be totally galaxy brain to have dialogue in the epilogue that reveals Ulder Ravengard and Morena Dekarios fucking DESPISE one another. Because they absolutely would.

We never get to meet Morena in game but you can tell from what Gale and Tara say about her and Gale's... Galeness that she is at least a part time passenger on the "Fuck you my child is fine" train. Her sweet little boy? Commit evil deeds? Never! There has obviously been a mistake. I mean she indulged that "Gale Of Waterdeep" nonsense and when Gale summoned a full on Tressym after being explicitly denied a kitten as a child, she just let him keep her. No repercussions.

And then her sweet boy brings home another sweet boy who is probably EXACTLY what she pictured Gale's partner should be like.(Because Wyll is the damn blueprint for "Guy you could bring home to mom") Wyll is ridiculously sweet to Gale, he's the perfect gentleman, he's very open to the idea of giving Morena the grandchildren she's been nagging Gale about in the very near future. Pinch her, she must be dreaming!

I cannot imagine her reacting to Wyll's backstory with any amount of empathy towards Ulder, obviously that man is a cruel psychopath to throw poor Wyll out like that after "a tiny misunderstanding" and Wyll is just too good of a son not to see it. Which is partially true, Wyll is definitely still in some kind of denial stage over what his father did but that's not the point of the post.

Then there's Ulder who probably thinks Gale is... Fine. He's not someone he ever would have pictured for Wyll. Gale is a babbling oddball, he has chronic foot-in-mouth disease and has only ever met the pointy end of a sword. But he can't say anything because Gale saved him, his son, and Bulder's gate, and a small army of tieflings, and apparently a bunch of mushroom people and blah blah more reasons he can never have the moral high ground blah. He's undeniably stuck with this fucking wizard, and his nightmare of a mother.

Morena firmly believes that since the Ravengard manor is technically Wyll's now, then it's also Gale's and thus is now hers as well. When I say she would walk through the doors like she owned the place I mean it very literally. Where did Ulder's old helmet display go? "They were rusty and it was ruining the wooden shelves, besides these enchanted swords go better with the new drapes we had to get, I don't know how you didn't notice how moth eaten they were getting." Everyday he wakes up and something about his own damn home has been changed to make it look more like a wizard tower. She doesn't even live here most of the time!

And it doesn't stop there, not at all. No this women has to make sure his son doesn't live there full time either. Every holiday and birthday she has to send Gale a letter about how much she misses him and you should visit so you can take a break from all that(Very important!) work and how she already has the venison just for Wyll.

And every time he's forced to interact with this harpy she looks at him with a sweet smile on her face, honey in her voice and the burning hatred of a thousand suns in her eyes then somehow managed to insult him five times in one sentence without ever explicitly insulting him. This women is a devil from Avernus sent to punish him for his sins and she's even won over the grandkids. Obviously that women is a manipulative psychopath for using her control over Gale to manipulate his son. Which, yeah Gale not being able to say no to his mom has contributed greatly to this and if Wyll knew what healthy boundaries looked like he probably wouldn't have put up with it but he doesn't so here we are.

Let these two be the Tom and Jerry style B plot to BG4 is what I'm saying.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #ulder ravengard #morena dekarios #gale x wyll #I don't know their ship name #I only ship it for the family drama #Astarion can also fill this role as Wyll's SO but this is funnier to me #bladeweave #thank you dromaeocore for telling me!

[thecoolerliauditore]

flower husbands fans be like *types up entire character analysis essay, retelling of the whole of empires s1, writes fifty angst/longing fanfics* yeah i just like them cus they're cute

ethubs fans be like clips from a collab in 2008 where everyones mic is constantly peaking, "these fucking assholes ruined my life", visceral reaction at any mention of last life, fanart is either memes or the angstiest thing you've ever seen in your life with no inbetween

ranchers fans be like they are my sons they have every disease

treebark fans be like hi im inthelittlewood also known as martyn and today we are playing mcci with

#trafficshipping #random thoughts #idk just some observations

[colonoscopys]

ch. 18

buddie I 900 words I ao3

He’s drunk.

Not the blazing, head so spinny he could hurl if he stood straight, but in the hours after drunk that comes with a dry, heavy tongue and a slurred voice he still has some sort of control over.

Buck’s in the same boat, or—he thinks he must be, he doesn’t know, sitting criss-crossed next to him outside their hotel room door because they can’t, for the life of them, figure out how to put the key card into the door.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck slurs, looking at him with slow, wide-lidded blinks. “Where’s—where’s Chimney?”

He draws out Chimney. Chim-ney.

Eddie shrugs. He can’t make his mouth work for the life of him. He’s pretty sure he saw Chimney two hours ago—before the music started? Or at least when he started singing Maneater with one of the Drag Queens.

Buck knocks a shoulder into his as he slips down the wall, the smell of his hair briefly sifting into his nose. He smells like gin and lemons, and a little bit of that fancy curl product he tresses up his hair with before every fancy event.

I know his hair product, he thinks loosely, tilting his head against the wall as he takes Buck’s weight. I know his hair product, and the way he does his hair before work. I know it all because he helps my son do his hair just the same way. I know it all because my son wants to be like him, so I have learned him, for my son. I know it all because I have learned him. I know it all because I have learned him, for me.

I have learned him. I have earned him.

“Does—” And Fuck, maybe he’s drunker than he thought. “Does Tommy know your curl?”

Buck hums, non-committedly. He hasn’t heard a word Eddie said. He tries again.

“Does,” he spits out. Doooesss. “Tommy.” Ttttommyyyy. “Know.” Know.

Buck lifts his head up and ends up tipping too much to the other side. Eddie grabs him by the forearm, tight. The action feels familiar in ways that Eddie, for the life of him, can't understand.

Buck blinks at him, bright blue eyes stupid dilated. “Does Tommy know what?” He whispers. He draws out his name, too. Tom-my.

Eddie looks at him and loves him.

He’s always known he loves Buck. For the first time in his life, though, he thinks—I love you. What does that make me?

Eddie opens his mouth. The back of his throat burns—maybe from all the tequila shots or the lemons hitting the rim of his teeth or the raw pad of his tongue from licking salt off of Buck’s warm palm.

Does he know what you look like covered in blood, Eddie wants to ask. Does he know what it looks like when you haven’t showered in three days because you’re so depressed you don’t know if water burns more than the sun. Does he know what it looks like when you’ve got ugly red eyes because you’re so sad you don’t even know how to hold it. Does he know what it looks like to see you shining, like a savior, in the worst of the worst, in the worst of your days. Does he know what it’s like to lose you, really lose you, and see you swallowed up by white sheets and a lightning scar across your chest. Does he know what it’s like to be loved by you. Does he know.

He thinks—I love you. What does that make me?

Eddie tries to take a breath but it feels like there’s something crawling up his throat, so he tilts his head back up against the wall and tries to take a breath.

“He’s coming to the wedding,” Buck continues, as Eddie stares at him.

Eddie nods. “Good,” he says. Good. Buck. “Tommy.” Tommy. Tommy.

He looks at Buck and thinks of the answer.

It makes him a dead man, this love. It’ll kill him probably. It has to kill him. It has to be like a disease you can’t hear or smell or breathe, and you have to be alone in the hospital with your blood running in circles beneath your skin. It has to be like a disease that kills you before you take your next breath. It’s killing him.

I love you. What does that make me?

It makes a fucking idiot, is what it makes him, because god he’s always too fucking late, running into stupid relationships after relationships after being too fucking late in the beginning of it all. He is too late. He is too late and he is in love and he is burning up right from the inside.

I love you. What does that make me?

He heaves. He can’t breathe. Buck puts his head back down on his shoulder, and all of a sudden Eddie has to learn how to breathe, or otherwise he’ll disrupt Buck’s rest. He can’t disrupt Buck’s rest.

“Buck,” he starts, opening his mouth. Buck sighs, half-heartedly, and tilts back. He looks at Eddie. Eddie opens his mouth.

“I love you,” he says. Nothing comes out. “What does that make me?”

Buck looks at him, confused. He blinks, like he's thinking it through.

“Eddie.” He draws out his name, slow. Eddie.

#you are allowed. to hate this #buddie fic #evan buckley #911 fic #hello 😇😁 #eddie diaz

[daytaker]

hii hellooo, may i request brothers with a clown core mc? their outfits most often being very colorful but their personality being the opposite? like somewhat cold and very blunt, not talking much and if talking then it’s about something mildly disturbing like murder investigations or an odd fascination with deadly diseases stuff like that

sorry that it’s extremely specific and thank you regardless _(┐「ε:)_

Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]

When you first arrived, no one was sure what to think. They looked you over. Your pink hair, your cyan shorts. A yellow T-shirt and rainbow suspenders. Gaudy makeup and adorable pink tennis shoes. Beaded bracelets and necklaces and colorful tights.

And a box of smokes in your back pocket.

"Welcome to the House of Lamentation," Lucifer says, gesturing grandly at the stately mansion ahead of you.

You say nothing. Instead, you pull out a cigarette and a lighter. Taking a drag, you lazily gaze at the house, then back at your host, who looks disgusted.

"Make sure you only do that outside," he says, nodding to the box of cigarettes in your hand.

You blow a puff of smoke in his face and start walking to the door, completely ignoring the sounds of Lucifer struggling to contain his rage.

"Why's it called that?" you finally ask as you stop at the front doors. "'House of Lamentation'?"

Lucifer, having composed himself by now, steps up beside you. "This is a replica of a house from the human world," he explains. "In it, an entire family was murdered; the parents, the servant, and six of their seven sons. The seventh--"

"Ohhh. This is the Sutton house," you say, nodding.

"Excuse me?"

"The Sutton house. Massachusetts, 1923. Elijah Sutton, oldest of seven sons, runs into the local tavern screaming that his servant killed the whole family and himself. Most folks today think it was Elijah who really did it. I know I do."

You take one more drag from your cigarette, then drop it on the ground and put it out with the heel of your shoe.

"So this is their house, huh? Sick."

---

It's breakfast on your second day in the Devildom. You took extra time to apply your godawful makeup this morning, and you're sure it shows, because the brothers keep glancing at you as if they're not quite sure what they should say.

"You talk to them, Mammon," mumbles Satan. "You're their babysitter."

"Ah... ahem." Mammon casts a glare at his brother, then looks at you. "So, uh... Human." You stare at him with a dead-eyed expression that seems to unnerve him even more. "...We're goin' to RAD today, and there's a couple a things you should know." You continue staring.

Mammon looks to his brothers for help, but they all avoid eye contact. "Uhhh... Just... try not to get eaten, 'kay? Lucifer'll be pissed if you die on my watch."

"Do demons eat people?" you ask. "Like, raw?"

"Sometimes! So don't mess around with 'em, got it?"

"That's gotta be messy as fuck."

"It is!"

"You got any photos?"

"....Eh?"

---

"So I get that you're the seven deadly sins," you say to Satan, sprawled out in an armchair in the library, "but like... is that all you guys got here?"

Satan, who had been minding his own business and innocently reading a book of curses, looks irritated. "Is that all of what?"

"I dunno. Bad shit shaped like people." You shrug. "Like, you got the Four Horsemen or somethin'?"

"Of course not," Satan snaps. "That would be ridiculous."

You shrug. "Embodiment of plague? Too ridiculous to believe. Embodiment of wrath? Well, obviously that's a thing."

---

"You have to make pacts with Lucifer and his brothers," Belphie urges you through the door. You stare at him, then take a drag from your cigarette. As long as Lucifer is occupied in the music room with that weird record, you're going to break every rule in this damn house.

"How am I supposed to do that? Am I gonna split up my soul Horcrux style? Give everybody a slice?"

Belphie stares at you for a few seconds. You don't realize how badly he wishes he could kill you in this moment. "Are you going to help me or not?"

You shrug. "What do I get out of it?"

He blinks at you in utter bewilderment. "You... make me happy?"

You stare at him. He stares at you. You stare at him. He continues to stare at you.

You head back down the stairs.

#clowncore #clowncore mc #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie #lucifer #satan #mammon #belphie #daytaker fanfic #obey me headcanons #dthc #hcs #ask response #anon #obey me mc #obey me writing #i hope this is what you were asking for anon #i think it's appropriately silly

[possessionisamyth]

Look, listen to me, come closer. Nope, too close, take one step back. Okay, thank you. Now open your ears and hear what I'm saying.

Whole Cake but sanuso, BUT Sanji has fully transitioned via Ivankov and her poster has not been changed from the bad drawing yet. This means when they go to pick up Sanji, the disowned son, they are meeting Sanji the trans woman who cannot marry another woman ala Pudding. Not because of the gay thing, but because Charlotte Linlin expects babies from all her married kids.

Hold on, I'm not done. There's more, but it's below the cut cause I'm nice.

Okay so clown 1 and clown 2 arrive with their convincing arguments or alternative threats ready to go only to see Sanji and immediately call Judge so they can check. Is this the right person? Judge said a son didn't he?

Vito: "You have two daughters?"

Judge: "No. One daughter."

Vito: "There is a woman here calling herself Sanji."

Judge: "Sanji is my bastard son. He has the same eyebrows as the others, and he's blonde."

Both of the retrievers look at Sanji who fits the bill except for being a pissed off looking woman.

Vito: "Uh, you know what. We'll just bring 'Sanji' to you and you can make your best judgement."

Judge: "You'd better."

Sanji arrives. Reiju is doing her absolute best to remain appearing emotionless, but the giggles are being held at bay by a thread because this was the best possible way to get out of this marriage. Sanji the escape artist wins again in her eyes. The tri color brothers? They immediately start laying on the mockery and sexist comments of which Sanji is Not A Fan, but they threatened Zeff, and she needs to see how this is going to play out before doing anything. Judge? Absolutely pissed. He cannot give any of his other sons to Charlotte Linlin because they have actual value in his eyes. He was supposed to be giving the trash away, and the one thing Linlin needs out of any marriage deal is grandchildren. Grandchildren Sanji cannot provide with the one kid Linlin planned to give up ala Pudding.

Judge will either have to figure out a magical de-transition method that is instant (not possible in the time they have left). Give up one of his valuable sons (extremely not wanted). Or lie about Sanji's gender and go through the deal hoping they can get out unscathed until this is "fixed".

They opt to lie. Sanji who kept her hair short, only because longer hair was too much of a hassle in the kitchen, doesn't even have the option to be dysphoric due to the lengths the Vinsmokes are going through to pass her off as a man. Like. It's extremely pathetic. It's sad. It's one of Usopp's "I can't do X disease" level of awful and bad except Usopp's little lies were at least coming from someone cute.

They put a fake beard on her. Reiju is responsible for her make up. Clothes are tailored to hide the obvious curves. Sanji is making every step of this process as difficult as possible. There's nothing no one can do about her voice, though it's only slightly pitched up from before her transition. They tell her not to talk and slap the exploding handcuffs on her to make sure she doesn't. They say she's half mute or something, and Linlin says something like husbands are best seen and not heard. They buy it. They fucking buy it. Sanji isn't sure who's more stupid, the Vinsmokes for putting her through this fluke, or the Charlottes because they fall for it hook line and sinker. Her beard starts to fall off halfway through a meal and they rush her back to her room.

There are multiple mishaps where she's almost "caught", and her brothers are annoyed because they have to put in effort to cover for her unless they want to be auctioned off. Reiju is putting in a lot less effort to cover for her. But Sanji is tired. She is angry. She wants to go home. The fake beard is itchy. The clothes aren't her style. She misses her cute stilettos that Usopp lovingly sharpened the heels on. She is getting some entertainment from making trouble by nearly exposing her 'secret', but it does nothing to ease her worry of the ticking time clock to this farce of a wedding.

Pudding is nice at least. A little touchy, but nice. Sanji is so tempted to compliment the young girl, but the bracelets around her wrists are a very cold reminder not to.

Usually I have more to write where I go over the whole arc with this kind of headcanon, but I don't. Have some snippet ideas.

Usopp yelling out, "What did they do to my babygirl!" in earshot and Sanji giving him the wettest most pathetic sad cat eyes because she loves when Usopp calls her that and she wants TO LEAVE.

Sanji revealing her gender at the altar, and Pudding having a lesbian awakening.

Sanji actually taunting her brothers with a reversal of the sexist commentary they were throwing at her and then saving them.

Hearing multiple Charlotte kids question why Judge lied about having another son, and that they would've accepted a daughter to marry into the family. Some even say a daughter offering might've even prevented the whole assassination attempt thing.

Usopp gently putting Sanji's spiky stilettos on her feet like Cinderella and her prince, and she gets a horrible nosebleed. This happens moments before she's being dragged off to remake the wedding cake.

Pudding is still having the split genuine thirst and fake angry reactions to Sanji where she's just like (thumbs up emoji) in response.

Multiple cut scene styled flashbacks where random Charlotte kids realize Sanji was very obviously a woman, and they'd been too stupid in the moment to pay real attention to her slip ups.

Injured Sanji giving the double middle finger to the Vinsmokes as they part ways.

Luffy seriously asking Sanji why they didn't put her in a wedding dress. Were they too stupid to see she's a girl? He could tell it was really obvious so why didn't they?

Sanji in an irritated voice explaining to Luffy what they put her through, and then placing her hands on her blushing cheeks as she explains she only wants to wear a wedding dress once. She pointedly looks at Usopp and flutters her lashes. Usopp gets all bashful and smiley and starts a whole spiel about how if they got married it'd be way grander than what the Charlottes could come up with. Sanji is swooning. Nami is moments from throwing them both overboard for being way too mushy.

You got that right? Okay, good. Have a nice evening!

#one piece #sanuso #sanji #black leg sanji #op headcanons #trans sanji #whole cake island

[krakenartificer]

Who wants a really sad Leverage headcanon?

Was re-watching the Gimme a K Street Job -- Season 5 Episode 5 -- and a couple of things stood out to me.

1) Nate says "Let's go steal some congresspeople", and then sends everyone on the team (except Parker, who's being a cheer coach) out to con one of their targets. But it feels like there's a profound mismatch in who gets which mark.

For the "not like other girls" feminist congresswoman who's inclined to dismiss cheer as worthless and demeaning, you need Eliot to come in looking like a man who very much knows what does and does not count as a sport, and be his tiny angry respect-women-juice self about how regardless of what you think of their choice of clothing they are working as hard as any other athlete and they deserve safety as much as anyone else. But instead they sent Hardison.

For the "Yes I am very busy and important; admire me" chairman, you need Sophie, who is better than anyone else on the planet at making you feel admirable when you're doing what she wants, and scummy and low when you're not doing what she wants. But instead they sent Eliot.

For the "Look I am trying, but I need corn subsidies or I won't be able to do anything else" newbie congressman, Hardison could happily have gone on an infinitely recurring series of fetch quests until he sees the place where they loop around and bottom out and every problem solves every other problem. But instead they sent Sophie.

2) Eliot struggles the most, so Nate works with him the most, but he doesn't help him out hardly at all; he just keeps saying, "So what's your next play?" and then revealing that he's already anticipated Eliot's next play and has all the materials in place to enact it. And of course, they do eventually get the dude on board, and it all works out, but afterwards, Eliot tells Nate, "I trust that some time soon you'll tell me why you had me slogging through all that when you already knew how to hook him."

And of course, knowing what we now know about how season 5 ends, it makes sense that Nate is trying to train the OT3 to work without him, looking for his replacement.

Except.

If the plan is to fuck off into the sunset with Sophie, then why did he throw Sophie into this uncomfortable not-my-wheelhouse scenario?

No, Nate's preparing the entire team to carry on without him. He's forcing them to learn how to plan, learn different ways of approaching problems, to think about bigger pictures and approach them strategically.

...

I think Nate just got the first diagnosis of the disease that's finally going to kill him. And again, we -- the audience -- now know that he's going to live for many years after that initial diagnosis. But he doesn't know that, at this point. He knows he's tested positive, and he knows it's eventually going to kill him, and he has no idea how long he has.

And in some sense, it doesn't matter how long he has. Three months or thirty years, that kind of revelation makes it stunningly clear that taking care of the people you love means making sure that they can take care of themselves.

So that's what he does: he throws them into new, uncomfortable situations where they'll have to grow and support each other without him, so that no matter what happens, they'll be able to keep going. Because he's not a nice person, Jimmy Ford's son, but by God does he know the importance of protecting your family.

#leverage #nate ford #nathan ford is not a nice man but he's the only thing standing between us and jimmy ford's son #headcanon #spoilers #leverage spoilers #leverage redemption spoilers #gimme a k street job

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Chapter 2: Serce

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader word count: 2.8k next

A couple of weeks went by without incident. You didn’t see Rosinante again, but the dreams persisted. That was about it, however. They were less frequent, much to your relief and Marco’s demise. He was still banking on fate. He teased you about it every chance he got, but as time went on it wasn’t as funny anymore.

The new interns were doing incredibly well. Law seemed to be talented with a scalpel and Robin just seemed to be everywhere all at once. She was quite knowledgeable on various diseases just as you are. There were many times that people went to train in your hospital and they either didn’t stick it out because it was too intense, or you just didn’t end up finding them useful.

That wasn’t the case for the two of them. You could see them staying even after their residency if they wanted to. Marco hardly had to keep a close eye on them, they did just fine on their own. Things also started to fall back into place. You weren’t as spacey anymore, back to your normal self. It seemed it was all just coincidence, after all.

Until today.

You were on your typical morning jog before work. You were trying to get back into being more physical and running always helped you clear your head. While you still spaced out from time to time, it wasn’t affecting your day to day anymore. Though, this morning Marco was able to sneak up on you and scare the ever living daylights out of you.

Now he was sporting a black eye.

You saw a group of people on the pathway and annoyance started to cross over you. Why did people have to stand in the middle of the goddamn path? There was literally a whole bench. Actually, there were several. They could move the fuck out of the way. 

You slowed your running pace only to end up slowing down to a walk because there were more people than you thought. That’s when you saw the vendors and made the connection that it must have been some kind of event. You rolled your eyes. “Should’ve checked the bulletin,” you mumbled to yourself as you slowly weaved your way through the crowd.

Once more that feeling overcame your body and you moved. You reached out, for the third time, catching someone by the collar. Before even looking, you knew who it was. Fate loved playing her games and you could already hear Marco’s stupid voice in your head telling you, “I told you soooo.” You grimaced before shaking it off and helping the tall man up.

He turned to look at you, his eyes widening. “You again.” You nodded and sighed. “This a habit of yours?” You recalled him being quite clumsy, it seems that much hasn’t changed.

“Ah, I suppose you could say that. My son’s always giving me shit for it.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he gave a nervous laugh.

“You have a cut on your cheek? Just how many times have you fallen today?” Not only did you notice the cut on his cheek but his hands looked rather scruffed up to. You let out a small sigh, pointing to the bench not far from the both of you. Doctors never rest, it seemed. “Sit.”

He blinked in confusion, but listened to you, sitting on a nearby bench as you rummaged around in your fanny pack. You always kept extra bandages and such, having a mini first aid kit on you at all times. Maybe it was just from being a doctor, maybe it was just because you’ve taken a tumble or two on a run. It only takes one or two scraped knees to be tired of them.

“Hands.” He held out his hands before you. They were pretty scruffed up. “This is going to sting a little, okay?” He nodded, not saying anything, just watching as you applied some disinfectant to a cotton ball.

“Do you just…carry this stuff-” His words were cut off by a hiss as you started to apply the disinfectant to his scratches. He had almost pulled his hands away, but you had a firm grip on him. “I told you,” you mused, looking at him with a smug smile only for him to pout in return. It was kind of cute, honestly.

Wait, what the fuck? Moving on.

“To answer your questions, however, yes. I do ‘just carry this stuff around’.” You began to wrap his hands in bandages, deciding to not mention the fact you were a doctor. The less he knew the better. “Never can be too careful, hm? Came in handy, didn’t it?” You looked at him for a moment, noticing his face was red. Fever?

You put the back of your hand to his forehead, making him jump and his face seemed to redden by the second. “You’re red. Are you feeling ill?” His eyes widened and he shook his head, shooing your hand away. “I’m just fine,” he mumbled. 

You frowned, shaking your head as you turned your attention to the scratch on his face. “You really should take care of your injuries. They could get infected and you could die.” You said it as if it were no big deal, but his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “From a small scratch,” he screeched.

You blinked, jumping at the sudden raise of his voice. You just stared at him as he stared right back. Right, you did just casually said he could die. Most people would freak out if you said that. It was mostly a joke. Mostly. “I mean, anything can happen, but you’re fine. I was just teasing you,” you said, rolling your eyes and taking his chin in your hand to turn him towards you. Once again, his face turned red as you tended to him.

“That wasn’t funny,” he pouted, making you roll your eyes again. “I think it was hilarious. Anyways.” You stood up straight, disposing of your used materials, putting the rest back in your pack before sanitizing your hands. “You should be all good now. Just make sure you take care of yourself.”

You put your hands on your hips and narrowed your eyes at him. “And be careful.” His eyes widened and you watched as he swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “Y-Yes.” 

He looked at you for a long moment, looking like he wanted to ask something. You raised your eyebrows at him. “Yes?”

“Are you sure we don’t know each other?” His face scrunched slightly as he tried to think really hard. 

You snorted. “Careful, I can hear your gears turning from here and I can’t fix the inside of your mind if you break that.” You shook your head. “And I’m sure. Anyways, bye!” You skittered off before he could protest, feeling your heart race.

Anymore encounters like that and he’d surely catch on, right? Just what was fate planning?

--

“So, you believe my theory now?” 

Marco was currently perched on your desk with a shit eating grin on his face as you had just told him what happened on your jog. Naturally, you immediately regretted telling him, but you also couldn’t keep anything from him. It was only a matter of time before he found out anyway. You were a terrible liar when it came to him. He always saw right through you no matter how good you were at it. 

You had your lips pursed as you looked at him, not wanting to provide an answer. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction or believe in such a childish theory. After a moment, you opened your mouth, but he interrupted you.

“I swear to god, y/n, if you say it’s another fucking coincidence, I’m going to lose it.” He narrowed his eyes at you; you mirrored him.

“C’mon! Talk of fate, Marco? That sounds absolutely outrageous!” You rolled your eyes, putting a hand on your hip. “We’re doctors not children with fantasies!”

“What the hell else would it be though! Someone you happened to see and help ten years ago suddenly appears, more than once, mind you, after you start having dreams about them when you hadn’t thought about him in years?” He shook his head, laughing at your stubbornness. “It can’t be anything except fate herself.”

“But soulmates is pushing it, Marco. Maybe we’re meant to see each other again, but I don’t think it’s as picture perfect as that. That’s too movie magic for me.” You shook your head.

“Then what else would it be?”

“Well, we’re both from rival families, maybe things are going to come to a head soon.” You shrugged.

“But neither of you have been in the scene for a long time, why would it be that?” He shook his head. 

“You never truly leave the life and all that jazz. I literally run an underground hospital, Marco. I didn’t fully leave.” You rolled your eyes, annoyed at that. You had wanted to cut off ties completely, but you also couldn’t say no to helping people. At least you were neutral. 

“Eh, I’m going with soulmates.” Another lazy smile spread across his face.

“Have fun living in whatever fantasyland you’re in. I’m going to stay in reality where everyone else is.” You snorted and he stuck his tongue out at you, making you laugh in turn. 

“What is it so awful to wish for good things to happen to my best friend, basically my sibling?” He grinned at you, shrugging.

“Oh shut up.” You laughed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “Both you and I know that I’m too busy for any kind of love life anyway. I am essentially running two hospitals. I don’t have time for anything, let alone dating.” 

“You never know. Maybe if you actually delegated your work, you could have time.” He smirked, shrugging at you as he stood up. “Anyway, weren’t you wanting to talk to the interns and check in? I’ll go grab one of them and send them your way.” He walked out of the office.

“Don’t fight fate!” he called on his way out.

“Fuck off!” you called after him, rolling your eyes. You couldn’t help but feel like he was right. There had to be some kind of reason that fate was bringing him back into your life, right? That, or she was just having fun torturing you. You were a notorious overthinker, after all. Who wouldn’t love to mess with you in that sense?

--

“You wanted to see me, doctor?”

You looked up from the papers strung out on your desk, blinking. “Oh yes! Have a seat Law. I just wanted to touch base with you. Get to know you a bit more.” You smiled at him as you put the paper down.

He walked over, sitting in the chair before you. He looked a bit tense, though it made sense. You were the big boss calling him into your office. Anyone would be scared.

“You’re not in trouble, kiddo. You can relax.” He didn’t seem to trust you as his stature stayed rigid. Alright, then.

“Anyways. How is the hospital treating you? How are you adjusting?”

“Uh, fine.” He shrugged. Great. He was such a talker. This was going along swimmingly. You weren’t really good with talking to people who gave nonanswers. Though, you supposed you could be the same way. Ah, the duality of man.

“O-kay…well, I see that you’re not from around here according to your files. What made you choose us?”

Law seemed to squirm slightly as you asked. It seemed as if he was unsure whether or not to tell you. You waited for him to respond, letting him choose whether or not to share this information with you. He could lie for all you cared. Most people just said, ‘oh you’re the best so I figured it was my best bet.’ And move on. You weren’t expecting some deep reason.

“Well, this hospital saved my life.” He shrugged, not looking at you. “Figured I could work under the person that saved me, but they’re not even here…I think.”

The pencil you had in your hand snapped in two as everything came into perspective. This was that child. The one that Rosinante had been with all those years ago, the one that you had saved, the one that made you finally make your decision to leave the messy life that you had. Shit, he saved your life probably just as much as you saved his.

Now that you thought about it, the kid was rather grumpy - even when he was getting better. It seemed that much didn’t change, but he didn’t seem to hate the world as much, so there was that.

“My old man and I moved back to the area so I could work here. I’ll say, it’s a lot different than I remember.” He didn’t seem to notice your pencil that was currently in two pieces on your desk. Good, you didn’t want to have to explain that. He seemed to distracted by thinking about his own past anyway.

“Ah, yes. This place was a shack when I started here. Pretty much built it from the ground up.”

“Did a good job.”

“...Thanks?” You really didn’t know how to take a kid complimenting you, but you were going to roll with it. Your head was still reeling from the information that he unknowingly dumped on you.

“Do you happen to know if they still work here? The one that saved me. Or where they went?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked at him. “Well, who was it?” 

Law frowned slightly. “They wouldn’t tell us their name.”

You thought for a long moment. You were weighing the pros and cons. Did you really want them to know it was you? Rosinante kept saying he recognized you but was that because of what happened or because you were your father’s child? You knew you should tread lightly. “I do happen to know they’re here.” 

Law immediately perked up, looking urgent. “You have to tell-”

You held up a hand, shaking your head. “They wish to remain anonymous.”

“But why? Don’t they save people all the time? They’re a doctor! Are they here?”

You took a deep breath, looking at the man before you. “Listen. People have their reasons. I’m going to respect their decision to remain anonymous. But, I can tell you that they’re still here and they’re very happy to see you well and thriving. And they’re very proud.” Your expression softened and you smiled warmly. Pride and happiness swelled in your chest. 

Law shifted, fidgeting. It seemed he wasn’t good with the spotlight. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

You couldn’t believe that this kid was the one from a decade ago. You couldn’t believe he came here because you had saved him.

“Can you at least thank them for me? Tell them…that I became a doctor because I wanted to help people just like they did for me. I want to save people. They…they didn’t give up on me like so many doctors did, so I want to be the same.” His own expression softened to one you hadn’t seen on his face before. 

Oh fuck, you were going to cry. Shit, shit, shit. You needed to change the subject now. You nodded, swallowing back everything. Your heart was pounding in your ears. “Ah, yeah. I’ll let them know. Maybe one day they’ll reveal themselves to you, but there’s reasons for everything, okay?”

Law sighed, nodding. “Fair enough.”

You cleared your throat, trying not to absolutely break down right now. “Well, I just wanted to call you in to talk for a moment, get to know you more. Let you know that you’re doing a great job. You keep this up and I might ask you to stay here after residency.” You smiled at him. “I know that’s years down the line, but really. Keep up the good work.”

You watched as his pale cheeks tinted and he fidgeted. Seems he didn’t do well with compliments either. “You can go back, I’ll let your savior know what you said.”

He nodded, quickly standing up. “Thank you. I look forward to the rest of my stay.” Then he basically darted out of your office.

You immediately pressed the intercom button, feeling the tears starting to fall down your face. “Marco. Code Cyan.” It wasn’t long before you started hearing crashing noises as Marco dashed towards your office After all, that was the code the two of you used for your own emergencies. It meant one of you was about to absolutely lose it. A code you hadn’t used in a very long time.

#man i really be having writers block rn #hopefully this isn't ass lmfao #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #donquixote rosinante x reader #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #rosinante corazon #corazon x reader #corazon #am fics #sc

[darubyprincx]

BEHOLD, MY SHITTY EMBROIDERED PIXANDRIAN FLAG

this is my horrible 1 by 2 inch son she has every disease and i love him to fucking pieces man. this is without a doubt the lowest quality thing i have ever made with my own two hands and it will be proudly displayed on the side of my vest

this is a success. i am very proud of myself and my creation

#ray's tag #keys' art #described #mcyt #empires smp #empires smp s1 #pixandria #pixlriffs

[necroromantics]

🔥 — TOBIN LAWSEN.

tw; dark themes (abuse, revenge, drugs) // long ramble type post

I. FATHER

"I have this dream that I am hitting my dad with a baseball bat and he is screaming and crying for help."

- dan lawsen was a bitter, mean old man. if he wasn't drunk, he was high. if he wasn't high, then he must have died.

- the man was nothing but shattered glass, booze, and rage that never settled.

- his son, tobin, was a bit too much like him. he was just as angry, just as violent. they never got along.

- the boy grew up in a warzone of a house. a dirty, tiny, broken down mobile home. a crime-ridden trailer park in rural north dakota.

- from an early age, he learned that it was every man for himself. his mother had a long list of mental illnesses, and his father hit hard. tobin spent a lot of time looking after his little sister.

- and from an early age, he learned that it was dog eat dog. it was kill or be killed. it was him against the world. him against his father. against god.

- tobin was the type to run his mouth. his father was the type to drag him out back and beat him for it.

- the boy spent so much of his life being treated like he was powerless, or a problem. and he was angry at the world for turning its back on him.

- in his early teenage years, it had gotten to the point where tobin would wonder if his father would go too far some day and end up killing him.

- and he started keeping a knife by his bed, or in his backpack.

- dan raised the boy in all the worst ways. 'drink, hit your wife, hit your son, drink some more. this is how you aim a shotgun. this is how you be a man.'

- his father would sometimes take him hunting, and tobin was something of a weapons fanatic. he could take a gun apart, and almost put it back together.

- when he'd lay in bed, sore after another fight with the older man, tobin would fall asleep imagining what it'd be like to stand over his father with one of those guns in his hands.

- he imagined that he would look his father in the eyes when he pulled the trigger.

II. PUMPED UP KICKS

"He's got a rolled cigarette hanging out his mouth, he's a cowboy kid."

- tobin was in and out of school all of his life. his parents never bothered to stay on track of his attendance. for most of his youth, he was left to his own devices.

- when he did go to school, it was as if every person he talked to had come to the same conclusion that the boy was fundamentally different from them

- a mangy mutt, a dirty dog. something diseased, or bad. an inconvenience, a problem child.

- he wore secondhand, unwashed clothes. his hair was a mess, he smelt like smoke and rot.

- this followed him into high school, and as he grew up, so did his behavioural issues.

- tobin would find himself as the butt of a joke, or being talked about behind his back, or ostracized. he would always fight back.

- he was quiet, but mouthy. aggressive. he bit, and he bit hard.

- everything was an attack to him. he was constantly on guard, constantly looking for an excuse to make an example out of somebody.

- that boy made sure that nobody fucked with him again.

- after spending a long day of being mistreated at school, only to go home and have it done to him again by his own father, he would lay down in his creaky old bed and stare up at his water damaged ceiling.

- and he would wonder if they'd still laugh at him with a barrel of a gun down their throats.

- and he would wonder if he'd ever get the balls to make it happen.

III. TEENAGERS

"You're never gonna fit in much, kid."

- tobin was a problem child, to say the least. a junkie prick, a street rat.

- everybody who knew him called him insensitive, and for good reason. he seemed to have lacked the type of empathy everybody around him had. or, as he saw it, pretended to have.

- he never cared enough to fake it. his philosophy was that there was no use trying to please a world that constantly rejected him. it was easier to be an asshole if everybody saw him as one anyways.

- the boy was alone his whole life. nobody could tolerate him. nobody wanted him around for very long, and he never wanted to stay.

- it was clear that tobin never fit in anywhere

- he was always in his own world. he did things his own way, fought his own fight.

- always had something to prove. tobin had to get the last word, had to fight bloody, had to put people under him. always fighting something.

IV. TWIN SIZED MATTRESS

"It's no big surprise you turned out this way when they closed their eyes and prayed you would change."

- he never wanted to be saved. he never wanted to be soft, or kind, or easy to swallow.

- he was uncaring, angry, hostile. that boy couldn’t be kind if he wanted to, it wasn’t written for him that way.

- everybody around him wanted him to change, he played the ‘troubled teen’ role so well, they had hope for him. they thought that maybe if they tried, if they ignored the bloody knuckles and canine teeth, then he would be better.

- but the boy had a lot of issues with authority, and being told what to do. he hated rules, a troublemaker from birth. tobin fought against change like it was his right to do so

- they wanted to love him, they did, but that boy was not built to be loved.

- at the end, he became what everybody expected him to become. a junkie, a criminal, a good-for-nothing.

- nobody was really surprised when they heard the news of what he had done. dan got what was coming to him, and tobin being the one to do it was written from the start.

- maybe he was cursed, maybe it was all the stupid things he did and said.

- maybe, it was all of the consequences catching up to him.

V. PRETTY FLY FOR A WHITE GUY

"Our subject isn't cool, but he fakes it anyway."

- from his years of not really having any friends, and being socially isolated, tobin was the definition of a socially inept loser.

- but he wouldn’t tell you that. no, he was the master of lying to himself, or maybe he just didn’t care.

- tobin was in and out of school, constantly dropping out for months just to come back. he was always bad at math and sciences, he hated all the rules. and with all of his time out of education, he didn’t know a lot. he barely knew how to read.

- tobin wasn’t braindead though, he knew he wasn’t like the people around him. but he had a knack for acting like he was. he spent a lot of time making mental notes on how people socialized, on how people interacted, on what they deemed acceptable.

- he wanted friends, he wanted to keep himself busy. tobin wanted to prove that he could make anybody like him, that he could get whatever he wanted. to him, that was power and control. that was being smart.

- outside of the violence though, tobin was a goofy kid. he liked to joke around, he was different from the other kids, but he played into it for the fun of it. almost everything he did was to entertain himself, to make himself laugh, maybe others.

- his sense of humor was mostly insulting others, or teasing, or making weird comments. he liked to banter, liked to piss people off. he never cared to be liked anyways.

- tobin talked a lot, moody, but typically full of energy. he struggled to show much emotion, but he smiled wide, and always had a joke to make.

- awkward, but a social butterfly. he never tried to please anybody, and said what he wanted, but he was funny, and he was bold, and people liked that.

- but it was his nature to crash and burn. so he hopped from friend group to friend group, leaving the last one nothing but ash, torching every bridge he had ever built. to him, everyone was replaceable.

- because behind all the jokes, and the confidence, and the entertainment, tobin wasn’t a good person.

- everything was a performance act for him.

- he couldn’t connect with people even if he tried. behind the acts, the boy was off-putting, weird. vulgar and offensive. a dumb mutt.

VI. AVOCADO

"I'm the fucking king of everything."

- tobin was an egotistical prick.

- he didn't necessarily think he was better than everyone, but he was the king of his own world, he followed his own rules, he never considered anybody but himself.

- confident, not because he thought the best of himself, but because he knew in his world, he could do whatever he wanted.

- if he wanted to have something, he’d steal it. if he wanted to say something, he’d say it. and knowing that he was capable of that, of having that freedom; he was definitely an egotistical prick.

- tobin always assumed he was above consequences, and would put blame onto anything but himself. when faced with what he had done, he would preach a gospel of excuses, or just completely brush it off.

- the boy thought that if he stayed on the move, then nothing would catch up to him.

- he never apologized. he hated saying sorry for things he wasn’t really sorry for. he hated putting himself below people for the sake of civility. the one thing nobody would catch tobin doing, is pleasing people only to cater to whats expected of him.

- tobin never felt bad for the things he did, because he could justify anything, to others, and to himself.

- he did what it took to get by, little to no moral code. morality was just another expectation to him, another rule used to control him, another norm to reject.

- prideful to a fault

VII. PINEAPPLE BOY

"I know it's bad for me, I don't want to here it."//"Told myself I'd find a limit, honest to God I'd be done with my sinning".

- that boy had a problem of destroying everything he touched. bloody knuckles, bad choices.

- tobin wasn’t built for guilt, remorse, or shame. he didn’t have any of it.

- making the same mistakes over and over again. he never learned.

- but honestly, tobin was just bored all the time. horribly bored. and he thought, that maybe, setting everything on fire was better than the cold, gaping void in his chest.

- he lived life on his own terms, reckless and wild, brushing consequences off like dirt on his shoulder.

- on the other hand, though, he was ambitious. to a fault, like everything else about him.

- tobin always needed more, he was never truly satisfied. always unimpressed.

- he didn’t need anybody to help him. he didn’t need to rely on anybody. he was going to prove to everybody who said he’d never do anything great that they were wrong, and he was going to do it all on his own.

- the boy pushed his own limits until he was kissing the pavement. busted lip, aggravated.

- he pushed himself like he pushed everyone else around him. until they snapped, until they wanted nothing more to do with him. until he was left with nothing but a shovel in his hand, and dirt on his sneakers from digging his own grave.

VIII. DEAD IN 2008

"I'm a kid with a mission so I'm getting fucked up."

- he knew he did it to himself, at the end of the day.

- but he didn’t want to think about any of that, so he’d do another line, pop another shitty pressed pill.

- he spent a lot of time replacing bike chains, getting into fights, and running from the cops.

- always smoking cigarettes or rolling joints. he liked having something to do with his hands.

- tobin was a junkie kid, he had a few bad habits to say the least.

- in his hometown, he was known as a reckless troublemaker. drinking until he blacked out, snorting coke until his nose bled. always stoned or wasted, jumping fences.

- street fights and broken noses.

- it was something he was raised into. it was all he knew.

- he didn’t know how to control his anger, but he knew that weed helped him calm down. he didn’t know how to get things done, but he knew that doing lines of ritalin helped him focus. tobin was never good at math, but he was good at selling, and good at counting wads of cash.

- he couldn’t tell you about pythagorean theorem, but he could eye a baggie of white powder and tell you how much blow it was before putting it on a scale. he didn’t know anything about physics, but he could take apart a semi-automatic pistol and tell you how to put it back together.

- tobin was a dumb kid, but he knew more about parts of the world that no other boy his age knew about.

- and maybe thats what did it, he thought. maybe knowing more about how it feels to overdose than how it feels to get along with his father, is what did it.

cr; banner of tobin drawn by @clockeyedtoy

#tomboc #tombwrites #creepedverse #creepypasta oc #creepypasta au #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta ocs #crv tobin #crp tobin #crp ocs #crp oc #creepedverse tobin #tobin lawsen #creepypasta original character

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

since ive been really obsessed with it I was thinkin about making a post thats like "Rhysand is like what if Count von Krolock of the tanz der vampire musical was a swagless cishet man with no self awareness who didnt even have a weird gay son" but then I was like, honestly how come neither Tamlin nor Rhysand ever had kids from their dillydallying before they met Feyre. yeah yeah I know bc fae are supposed to be borderline infertile but 1) thats not true, points towards Beron and Tamlin's Shit Dad 2) theyre both like 500 years old, even if the odds of having kids are astronomically low if they were just fucking around without protection, they would both atleast have one. And yeah, i know about the fuckin Safe Sex Tea too but idgaf about that, the worldbuilding of acotar is bland and unimaginative it makes me wanna cry, these fae should be like quiverfull family levels of weird about having and absolutely refuse the notion of birth control except it would be less horrible an damaging by virtue of them only having like 2 kids a century, if that. Also, even with the Safe Sex Tea I feel like if you knew that you were borderline infertile and you didnt have to worry about stds bc you lived in a world without actual disease, you would be wayyyyy less careful about protection during sex anyway

Anyway, sorry about that rant, I have terminal worldbuilders disease and it flares up when I encounter this kind of thoughtless bullshit, back to my initial thought of "how come those ancient horny bastards didnt have kids before Feyre" beyond the possible in-uinverse justifications of how they could have them despite the bullshit worldbuilding, it would just be interesting. and fun. Yknow, maybe not for the first book since that would maybe ruin the romance a little but from acomaf forward its like, why shouldnt they aside from the fact that sjm did not at any point stop to consider the implications of making her characters this fucking old

Oh man, speaking of sjm not considering the implications of things, given her track record of writing the contrasts/parellels between Rhysand and Tamlin, I feel like if she had actually done this she wouldve made Tamlin be like, not present in his children's life at all, he just pays them the fae equivalent of child support and maybe they exchange letters or some shit and Feyre would be like "thats so cruel and cold of him!!" but then Rhysand would tell her about his kids and he would be like "pshhh, I would never pay child support! But I give them positions of power in my court and take the boys (and girls hashtag feminism) out for a game of faeball every month" and Feyre would be like "oh, thats so much better my bestest and most handsomest highlord <3 <3" but all us Rhyshaters would forever make fun of him for it. Feminst King Rhysand Who Doesn't Pay Child Support 😍

#anti acotar #anti sjm #anti rhysand