#I NEED TO BE SEDATED SO BADLY FUCK

[stormyoceans]

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE BEGINNING AND THE END NOT ONLY IN THEIR EXPRESSIONS BUT ALSO IN THE COLOR GRADING OF THE SHOW FROM BLUE (STRANGERS ISOLATION COLDNESS SADNESS) TO YELLOW/ORANGE (LOVERS WARMTH HAPPINESS OPTIMISM) FUCKING TOP TIER CINEMA EXCELLENCE RIGHT HERE

[yesloulou]

THE SCHNOZ. AND THE TREMBLING CURLS. SOMEBODY FUCKING SEDATE ME

[laurrelise]

once again rambling about five and lila because i’m fucking pissed. enjoy

“five and lila were perfect for each other because they had so much in common” yet so many perfect couples have absolutely nothing in common???

they could relate to each other in ways that made them hate each other and that’s why they were SUCH good foil characters, i don’t understand why the romance had to be necessary.

there is absolutely no reason that this romance plotline should’ve been created. it was so ridiculously off-focus from what the plot was (AND should have been) and it literally only made the season so much worse.

do writers understand that not every single character has to fall in love with one another? i mean genuinely?

personally i don’t believe five is aro (though he could be ace) because i can’t help but love five’s love for delores (even if she wasn’t real) but i completely understand five aroace truthers because he truly can be independent romantically as we saw in the show.

i cannot wrap my fucking head around the fact that the writers saw two awesome, dynamic, badass characters with arcs and goals outside of love and attention and decided to turn their personalities inside out and upside down for a dumbass dead-end romance that makes zero sense.

five and lila were the only two people on god’s green earth who could understand each other and hated the other for it. why couldn’t they just be frenemies and call it a day?

god fucking damn it i’m so upset

shoutout to 13 year old 58 year old five hating lila and 29 year old lila despising the fuck out of little five !!! <3

fuck you to the worst, most nonsensical couple of all time and space ❌❌

[blessedshortcake]

Pants update

[kimikoyuko]

THEY ARE LITERALLY MARRIED, YOUR HONOR!!! THEY ARE HUSBANDS YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.

LOOK AT THEM OMFG, LOOK HOW SWEETLY SILCO LOOKS AT VANDER, HE WANTS THAT COOKIE SO FUCKING BADLY

THEY CANNOT KEEP THEIR HANDS TO THEMSELFS SOMEBODY SEDATE ME

THIS IS THE DOOMED OLD MAN YAOI THAT I WANT, I NEED A WHOLE SHOW WITH THE ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE, A WHOLE SHOW ABOUT YOUNG SILCO AND YOUNG VANDER, I NEED MORE

I NEED SOMEONE WHO LOOKS AT ME IN THE WAY THEY ARE LOOKING AT EACHOTHER

I NEED TO MAKE A WHOLE FUCKING PLAYLIST JUST FOR THEM

[disneyprincemuke]

woke up, blamed it on the vodka

max stares at the ceiling of his room, eyes narrowed into a squint as he vaguely tries to remember what had happened the night before. he refuses to move from his position — the different types of alcohol he had willingly consumed catching up to him with a nasty hangover to go with the god forsaken nausea.

then his body freezes. his heart skips a beat in his chest and he jolts to a state of woke that he wasn’t in until now.

oh, god.

someone needs to sedate him. he can remember it — the one thing he had said to you as you escorted him into his bed with his arm over your shoulder. you had pulled the blankets over his body and gave him a gentle pat on his arm.

he can remember before he closed his eyes, muttering that he loves you, and goodnight. he fell asleep the minute he closed his eyes so he doesn’t even know if you had said anything back.

he’s royally fucked up this time, for sure.

suddenly it feels like every bit of hangover has dissipated from his body. he shoots up from his position on the bed and pats around his duvet from his phone. he has to see what you said to him; if you’ve even addressed his words.

hopefully, you were just as intoxicated as he was when he blurted it out. surely you don’t remember it right?

he’s only been seeing you for about 5 weeks since lando had introduced you to him. he jumped the gun and asked you out on a date. you’ve hung out several times, seemingly in that phase of the talking stage where you simply can’t get enough of one another.

while he knows how intensely he feels for you, even he’s not quite sure that it’s love just yet. he’s smitten, yes, he admires you, yes — but that is hardly considered love at this point.

nothing from you yet. is it that you’re still deep in your hungover state or are you ghosting him from the events of last night’s party? he has never really the type of be able to read between the lines between what girls say, which has led to many several failed talking stages.

which is also why he’s completely tried to avoid dating for a while. but you made him want to dabble in the cruel games of push and pull, made him giddy with smiles after good pickup lines and hoping — badly wishing — that he doesn’t mess this one up.

yet here he is.

max should have spent the rest of his afternoon nursing his hangover. he doesn’t, though. he can’t stop thinking of you and what you’ll say to him eventually when you come over to stay the night.

he’s only ever said ‘i love you’ to one other person he’s dated. it didn’t end well, which would explain the anxiety over your inevitable presence later in the day. he can only list out your possible reactions to him.

will you call it quits the moment you come over? perhaps you’re too generous — you’ll distance yourself over time until he’s got the time to process your separation? will you even show up today?

he rolls out of bed when the doorbell rings and his heart dropping to his stomach when he looks at the time. he wraps his duvet over his shoulders, grumbling as he dragged his feet along the floor to open the door for you.

he opens the door, revealing you with a smile on your face. you’ve got your overnight bag over your shoulder and a plastic bag in your hands.

“hi!” you beam, leaning in to press a kiss on his cheek. you pull him in for a quick hug, which he reciprocates hesitantly as he wraps one arm around you.

you immediately sense the lack of energy, prompting you to pull away with an eyebrow raised as you stand out in the hallway. “is everything okay?”

he barely gets a word out before you’re speaking again. a gasp escapes your lips as you wave him off nonchalantly. “oh, how rude! of course, you must be having the worst hangover. i made you chicken soup.”

“thank you.” he watches in confusion as you walk into his apartment, as you usually would when you agree to spend the night.

he closes the door slowly and walks over to you. the apartment is silent as he watches you walk in and out of the kitchen to prepare him some food.

“um, have you got anything to say?” max asks softly as you step out of a kitchen with two glasses of water in hand.

you look at him, confused, as you walk to the table. “what do you mean?”

max presses his lips together. was he hallucinating when he said it? genuinely, he really thought he was dying after getting egged to drink more than he wanted to. he can vaguely remember the way he was barely able to stand in the elevator without leaning on you for support.

he remembers being in fits of giggles as he watched the numbers on the display change faster than he remembers it going.

“last night,” max stares at you blankly, tightening the duvet around his shoulders.

you have a small grin on your face as you look at him. he looks very cozy wrapped in the duvet, the fabric sitting on his head as he sways slowly side to side.

“what about last night?”

“i,” he trails off, looking at you with an eyebrow raised. “i told you i loved you… did i imagine that happening?”

you drop your head, your body shaking with a small grin. “oh, that.”

he furrows his eyebrows. “yeah, *that*. well, you see… i was so drunk from the vodka cranberry i drank like juice.” he watches your face contort into something indescribable: pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. “not that i don’t like you — i *do*, trust me — and i royally fucked up blurting that out. i do like you, i swear! but, god.”

“max.”

he looks at you with parted lips and raised eyebrows. “yes?”

“i knew you were drunk out of your wits last night.” you put the cups down on the table before you walk over to him. “realistically, i barely remember hearing you say it as well.”

actually, you lied. you do remember hearing max say it. as clear as the day. you stayed up all night thinking of it and hearing his voice echo in the back of your mind. you were hoping and praying that he wouldn’t bring it up at all.

while you really liked max, it’s simply too early to tell with things like these. you were afraid that he would remember and that he would double down and say that he means it.

you’re way more glad that he took it back rather than him saying he means it. you’re simply not ready and neither are you sure of your own feelings.

“oh,” max sighs exasperatedly, dropping his head with a soft laugh. he looks up when you hold the duvet and wrap it around his body slightly tighter. “so we’re okay?”

you nod. “we’re okay. now, join me for some chicken soup?”

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @namgification

[merakiui]

MERA... MERA.. I JUST read the "can't leave until you have sex" Halloween trio thoughts.... and... oh wow. oh Fellow

"lie back and let his flattery work wonders on you / please don’t be difficult and please be impressed and please genuinely cum and please tell him it felt good / don’t ask to kiss / don’t say a word when he’s sloppy and salivating all over you" OUGHHHH I'M ON MY KNEES MERA THIS IS SO... OUGH....

He's so pathetic mister Honest I need you carnally right now. Badly. He's so frustratingly pathetically sexy.... I'm shaking I keep rereading that paragraph because he's so !!!

(the way you portray him Mera you big brained amazing spectacular writer. Thank you. I hope we get more of your thoughts about him...!)

>:) hehehe thank you for enjoying my portrayal in that post!!! I love Fellow a lot, so there will definitely be plenty more thoughts about him in the future. He plays a significant role as supporting cast in Halloweenie and it's my shameless excuse to practice writing him, so there is lots of Fellow to be had in that story. He's the perfect amount of smarmy wet cat that you can love and want to shake in equal measure. <3 100% "frustratingly pathetically sexy" as you wrote!

When his special move is quite literally running away when he can no longer tolerate or go against the trouble, it sealed my affections for him. He's so loserboy.... all of the Halloween trio are in their own silly ways. orz he's so shameless when he's pushing praise after praise,,, it's a little funny that he and Rollo are so outwardly fake like that. Fellow "platitudes make me wanna puke" Honest and Rollo "he treats me in such a friendly way with nary an inkling to the thoughts in my mind" Flamme,,, versus Skully who means every sweet thing he says LOL.

But in my mind he won't outright admit to his lack of experience. He'll just dress it up a bit,,, something something he learns as he goes, he's a natural, you'll see! But then he fucks like a guy who's just bought his first onahole and can't wait to use it. >_< there's a certain charm in Fellow who is more worked up than you are, who is panting like he's in heat, and pathetically rutting into you with a half-hard dick after he's cum too many times for him to seem like the sex god he hoped to show you. T_T still fucking you even though he can't cum anymore and maybe you haven't even cum yet....... the most pathetic, but he'll make an effort for you. I like to think he tries his very best to impress you with these things,,,, trying to make up for his inexperience with his silver tongue, but also he's really bad at using that tongue if it isn't to compliment you or dirty talk you. ;;;;

I have way too many thoughts about him... someone sedate me....... orz

[k0yaz]

hey guys I decided to rewatch blue eye samurai but everyone knows I lose my shit when I see mizu and my friends are probably traumatized so like hear me out here I don’t wanna traumatize them anymore

Somebody fucking sedate me I’m gnawing at my enclosure bars I love mizu so much agaggaagaggaagagagsgsgsgsgsggsgw i said i wouldn’t write again at this time but i need to I have an urge to please i need her so badly meowiejdjdjdhd (request her now before i eat the tires)

if anyone ik irl sees this no you didn’t

No seriously someone request for her it’s not a want it’s a need I’m getting so picky I need to write for mizu so bad

[nanqmies]

Venom || Tsuchigomori

cw: cnc , biting, slight blood, predator/prey, aphrodisiac, bondage ?, manhandling, sadism, anal, masterbation, no prep or lube, hallucinations, overstim, manhandling, creampie, amab!reader, very short, i think that's all?

wc: 0.5k

a/n: i researched different spiders and their venom just for this and i hate spiders!! theres basically ZERO fics about my man so i need to fix that.. anyways i'm writing my pantalone fic and i'm finishing up a quick lil drabble for zhongli.. but please enjoy my work!~

nsfw under the cut~

Since Tsuchigomori is part spider we can assume he has spider-like tendencies too other than extra arms/teeth. Everyone knows how spiders catch their food, the insect gets trapped in the web and gets bitten and filled with venom. We don’t know what exact species Tsuchigomori is but I think he could be any different species if you write it correctly. The phoneutria spider has a hallucinogenic venom that slows their prey and causes them to hallucinate and sedate their movements, and we all know Tsuchigomori’s true nature is being very sadistic and teasing so I think that’d be a perfect spider for him.. listen…

Imagine Tsuchigomori sinking his sharp teeth into you and injecting a small amount of his venom into you, forcing you to run and escape from him, maybe in the woods or even in his huge library right, he gives you a head start to be just to make the chase more rewarding. your body is weak from the toxins in your bloodstream so you’re all dizzy and wobbly walking into walls and shelves of his boundary that he obviously knows like the back of his hand. he can hear how you pant as you run, sweat dripping down your brow while you sprint. The exit seems so close that you can feel it.. reaching out to the doorknob just for a sticky thread of web to wrap around your fingers, You’re pulling away trying to free yourself but of course, you don’t :( He knows you can barely think with the strong aphrodisiac flowing through you.

you’re stuck, tied up in a thick silk web not able to move yourself out, senses heightened at the lack of touch, your body covered in sweat. Tsuchigomori finally lining himself up at your rim, imagine him fucking you at a fast pace, the tip of his cock roughly hitting the sensitive spot inside, the harsh pleasure bringing tears to your eyes. His hand leading downwards to your abdomen to hold your throbbing length is his palm, stroking your dick to match his fast past. Sharply rutting his hips on your ass filling you with his thick sperm, your tummy feels full and warm, whining when he pulls out. tsuchigomori’s teeth sink into your shoulder, shuddering while you feel him inject you once again, the knot in your stomach finally bursting as you cum all over his thin fingers, cooing gently at the sight. ^^

he’ll keep fucking his seed into you filling your ass with his hot finish. slowly the toxins flowing through your veins are too much, you can barely move, barely able to run away til he just pins you to the hard floor and fucks you til you can't walk anymore, his name repeatedly leaving your lips. You’re too weak to push him off and you end up letting him have his fill with you until he feels you’ve taken enough.

the aftercare is amazing OBVIOUSLY!! he’ll hold your limp frame in his arms and kiss your cheek gently, whispering how good you were and that he’ll make it up to you tomorrow. For now, he’ll run you a warm bath and kiss every beautiful bruise he left on your skin, marks that show his love and adoration for you. Tsuchigomori certainly appreciates how much trust you have in him, allowing him to do such a scene that could end badly. He’ll end up putting you to bed, laying your head on his chest. He really couldn’t ask for more.

© nanqmies 2023

please do not translate, steal or repost my work.

reblogs and feedback appreciated!

[artificial-sleep]

Saw this post and had a good laugh, but I also want to break this down. Call this my Deanior thesis.

Throughout the show, we see Dean make a lot of compromised decisions and react in a lot of different ways. However, one thing remains true all of the time:

Dean is afraid.

✨ Let me elaborate.

When you really think about who Dean is fundamentally and what principles guide him in making the choices he does, you'll find that he's very transparent with his priorities. First and foremost, he wants his brother to be safe, and he will go to great lengths to achieve that (including giving his own life, sacrificing himself in some way, or even going as far as refusing Sam his bodily autonomy just to save him).

But consider it: Dean's perfect world is one where he can save lives and not have to worry about Sam. Sam is such an integral part of his personality, and the result of this is that he tanks 95% of his time into ensuring that his little brother is okay.

However, due to the nature of their job, he often fails at protecting Sam and then ends up making shit so much worse for him. The nature of the job is that Sam will never be safe, so, by proxy, Dean will never rest.

This is such an important plot point and something that reinforces some of my favorite headcanons of all time. For example, I believe that Dean doesn't actually want to hunt forever, and he'd settle down with Sam in a heartbeat if he thought that's what Sam wanted, too. Look at when he's most happy: when Sam is content and safe and has the things he wants.

I hear these questions circulate over and over: Why does Dean act the way he does? Why would he make the terrible choices he makes? The answer is that he's afraid. He's fucking terrified. There's no security in what he does. Everyday he fears losing his loved ones. He carries the literal weight of the world on his shoulders (see how he internalizes John's warning of 'People are dying' by turning it into his own slogan), and he gets no reprieve. This causes him to go to extremes to protect his support system.

All that he does, he does to bring honor and respect and safety and stability to his family (My favorite example of this being how much time he invests in his car, which was entrusted to him by John, and Dean views that vehicle as an extension of his father, like he's responsible for it in the same way he's always been responsible for his family. This is something he reverts back to in crisis.), but what holds him back time after time is crippling anxiety.

Dean functions on a spectrum of crisis at all times, whether minor or major (but always a crisis, regardless, at least for the average person). He self-medicates with liquor to numb and sedate himself after living through extreme horror and tragedy, and it's also the only time he'll indulge in pleasures for himself (women/getting laid), but other than that? He's not overly hedonistic or abrasive. He's obsessive. Like a helicopter parent. He's overbearing and fussy and needs constant reassurance, and he's in the worst possible line of work for that type of thinking. He's constantly overextended and emotional beyond belief, making any kind of discussion of his problems or feelings overwhelming and unrealistic — not because he's "too manly" (although, this is the facade he uses). He shuts down because it's the only way he can grapple with the intense trauma he goes through on a daily basis (traumas he's been enduring his entire life). He ignores it or represses it because acknowledging it only makes it all the more crippling.

Because of this and because of who Dean is, I find it endearing when Dean gets compared to his father. To me, this man is not like John at all (no matter how badly he wants to be, haha). He's nowhere near strong enough. Sam wants the entire box of Lucky Charms before Dean has had a bowl? Okay, Sammy. You can have it. Whereas John spends his time teaching Sam some hard lesson about not getting the things he wants just because he's passionate about them.

Dean, my beloved, who tightens his robe and demands to speak to Sam in the other room like he's about to bicker so hard that Sam's ears fall off. That's the Dean I know.

Now, I understand that Dean is an older brother who was made responsible for his brother at a young age WHICH HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BE PROBLEMATIC (and I do love when it is made problematic in fiction hehehe).

I see a lot of good evidence that Sam has several unhealthy coping mechanisms that revolve around him offering himself up like a punching bag, ever the Christ figure. And while, yes, I agree, I don’t think that's his goal when interacting with Dean.

People will point out how he self-sacrificially offers himself up to Dean as a means to try to get him to relax. One of the popular interpretations here is that Sam knows that Dean takes pleasure or solace in hurting him, and Sam was raised to take beatings from his big brother and has grown to like it to some extent, like a victim of Stockholm Syndrome. Although this is a unique and thought-provoking case to build, I'm not sure it fits into the way these characters are canonized.

When I see Sam tell Dean, "You want to take another swing? Go ahead if it'll help," I see his brattiness, a challenge and test. It's little brother Sam, rolling his eyes and huffing under his breath, muttering, Jfc, Dean, will you calm down? What do you need? Need to blow off some steam? Because holy shit. I can take a shiner if it means you'll STFU. This is a strong and assured Sam, a cocky and certain one that tests his brother and even mocks him to an extent, knowing Dean is blowing things out of proportion and needs to step back and do something to ground himself.

In addition to this, a lot of people note how Sam's whole demeanor changes in later seasons. As far as Sam getting more and more shy and drawn into himself and apprehensive and reclusive in later seasons, I 100% blame Lucifer and the horrors™ of the life. Dean is not part of the problem here. Sam can't always trust Dean, and there are several instances of him feeling betrayed, but the root of betrayal is hurt (not fear), and Dean has the capacity to hurt Sam unlike others can because of how deeply they rely on each other.

But Dean pointblank putting Sam in immediate danger? Purposefully going out of his way to hurt Sam? I doubt it. Dean is harmless. Sam is bigger than him, has been training with him since they were kids. Sam is not some helpless little boy. He's not distressed and abused. He challenges and mocks Dean constantly anytime he tries to bring up the fact that he has seniority or that he's better at certain things because he's older.

I consider overall how Sam treats Dean, how he talks to him. Does Sam worship the ground Dean walks on? Does he revere him and step on egg shells to appease him? LOL, NO. Sam goes away to Stanford and still cops an attitude when Dean shows back up asking for a favor (This is not to shit on Sam. We love a healthy boy setting boundaries. But. I mean, Dean had to beg him. This goes to show Sam has no problem rejecting Dean and/or standing up for himself.).

Some of the strongest evidence I see of this in the series is when Sam has a moment of maturity and gets a snippet of an idea of just how much Dean sacrificed for him.

Sam has legitimately no idea how many sacrifices Dean made for him, has no idea that Dean spent his entire childhood being solely responsible for Sam. HEAR ME OUT, GUYS: SAM IS A SPOILED LITTLE BITCH AND THIS IS GOOD! THIS IS REALLY GOOD! DEAN DID A GOOD JOB BECAUSE, OUT OF ALL THE EVIL IN THE WORLD, SAM ISN'T SCARED, AND HE DEFINITELY ISN'T SCARED OF DEAN.

So, whereas I like to explore the toxic codependency of two brothers, I struggle to see an imbalance in their dynamic. Dean and Sam are each other's safe spaces. Dean has a tendency to blow things out of proportion (see: "Red Meat" lol), and Sam keeps him tied down and sane, anchoring him. Dean is insane to Sam always, but Sam gets it. That's just his overbearing, clingy mother. 🩷

In summation, Dean would have benefitted from anxiety meds, but furthermore, he'd be a completely different character if he had a stable home and a Sammy that stayed close by to him always. Still codependent to an unreal extent but happier.

[djarinslover]

I need to be sedated, he’s so fucking babygirl

HOW did his ex wife fumble so badly??? Hugh I’ll treat you right I promise

[melikedraw]

Hong XiaoHu x gn!reader

Just some self indulgent recovery headcanons on post legs-broken-by-rei xiaohu

~~~~~

- let me catch y'all up on his injuries aight so he has NO fingernails on one hand (ripped out) and both knees badly broken

- so he can't hold your hand 🥺🥺🥺 (he also can't fucking walk but)

- bros probably learned to be ambidextrous after his main hand gets fucked up, but still uses it as an excuse to have you feed/ take care of him

- deeply regrets ripping his nails off, making it worse, because now the healing process takes even longer (he is impatient)

- since his hand is fucked, he can't braid his hair on his own

- that's where you come in. I don't care if you don't know how to braid hair, learn

- his hair is pretty long but he also hates when it gets in his face, so you're going to have to tie it up for him, or he might actually just naw it off himself

- he's kind of cocky, expects you to come in everyday to help him with basic stuff like tying his hair, feeding him, or just talking to him and makes it his mission to get you to stay for as long as possible

- you might as well bring a sleeping bag over because he'll bitch about you leaving, constantly calling you back by name when you're trying to leave, sometimes even hiding stuff so that he can be like "hey, you forgot this." And make you come back

- hates looking vulnerable in front of others, but for you? I guess he can make an exception

- always tells caretakers or nurses that he's fine, and they can leave him be because his strong, sometimes even yelling at them when they get all up in his face (bitch let them do their job😭😭)

-but once you come in, he's WHINING, asking you to do even the simplest things for him, not because he can't do it, but he likes watching you care for him

- he is sooo whiney about being in the hospital, though the complaints are never about his injuries

- rather, he's mostly like "this hospital bed is so uncomfortable, just let me go home." Or "ugh, hospital food tastes like sand."

- he's such a drama queen, my pretty, petty princess

- "I don't need that shitty morphine, fuck that shit." ← him, probably

- definitely uses his ability to to block out pain during the worst parts of the healing process, partially because he doesn't want to look weak in front of you

- downside is that that ability also makes him lose his mind a bit, since its literally secreting opioids in his brain

- the nurses probably have to sedate him once in a while bc he gets the stupid idea in his head that he's totally fine and tries to get up and leave (on his BROKEN knees, yea)

- worst part is that since he really isn't feeling the pain, he doesn't actually know when he's getting better

- plus he hates being told what to do, so doctors telling him that he still isn't ready to get back into fighting gets him pissed af

- for now, you keep him satiated by giving him compliments, the more the merrier

- it makes him feel better about his loss and he's a bit egotistical, so simple and low-key shallow compliments will do the trick

- he's pissed at himself and his inability to beat rei, but more than that he's pissed at rei himself, so y'all probably shit talk/gossip about him together, though it usually just devolves into him ranting about how shit sucks

~~~~~

I am genuinely head over heels for this little tiger... He's my baby

[begitalarcos]

Life Update

Hey Guys

I know I said I was coming back, and I fully intended to. Then I injured my back... badly

I ruptured a disc in my back on one of my lowest vertebrae and now have lost most of the feeling in my left leg :(

In the next week here I'm being scheduled for spinal surgery.

Strangely I'm doing okay. Since my last post a lot of things have gotten sorted (mostly family drama) which has taken a huge weight off of me. Then I fell on the stairs. I only fell down two steps but Ianded hard on my butt and then hit my back against the stair.

This was almost 2 months ago, and I was going to physio for it until my disability decided not to cover it. I was sent to an "Impartial" specialist who had the nerve to tell me that most of my pain was likely "Psychological" haven't had that kind of flippant disrespect about my health in awhile.

On the 30th of October I went to lay down for a nap, when I woke up just the act of sitting up left me in agony. My wonderful husband then spent the next few hours with me using hot and cold compresses and trying to help me get through the pain because the hospital said it was probably just sciatic pain... Halloween rolls around and I've lost all feeling in my left thigh.

I decided "FUCK IT" and went to emergency, where after a good 9 hours I finally saw a doctor who would take me seriously. And by that time my entire left thigh, part of my calf, and most of my back end and groin were completely numb. They took my sock off and my foot was grey. It was pretty scary.

The doctor there did a battery of tests for everthing he could think of, he did manage to get a bit of feeling back into my calf and foot with an injection. But everything else was still pins and needles. I had an MRI and well.. as you can see the lower disc was pushed so far out it was impinging on all the nerves to my left leg.

I spent Halloween and most of the next day in emergency. Had a lovely panic attack, got mildly sedated, there were no beds so I was stuck in a shitty recliner in a corner between two drug attics. One who wouldn't stop complaining and then throwing fits and the other who had some kind of blood borne illness with open sores. It was fucking terrible.

Today I had to drive almost 2 hours to another city to see a neurosurgeon who was also livid no one had done anything for me in over two months and said that even with surgery I may never get full feeling back in my leg (cries) This then followed more X-rays, blood work (7 vials taken oi vey) and an ECG.

Turns out I also have a rare heart defect - that only one other person in my family has - that causes my heart to skip a beat every third beat. They also (because I'm anemic) had to go through the process of signing a ton of forms for the possibility that I may need a transfusion during or after surgery....

This was supposed to be a short post I swear -_-

Thursday I have to go for a full physical and do even MORE paperwork, and then drive again 2 hours away to another city to have my surgery.

FML

So yeah, I still very much want to be creating and posting I just haven't been able to sit or concentrate much as I am taking pain killers (that do not want to work with my antidepressants) so I've either been completely out of it or just stuck doing one thing and one thing only (which has mostly been just riding around in RDR2 hunting, fishing and exploring) I also finished the new Zelda game cuz... well I've been laying down a lot.

Holy Jeebs have I been bored. In between that I've also been trying to keep GiraffeBarn active and get into a few local stores again.

2024 has been hectic and chaotic.

I'm hopeful that the new year will bring me some much needed peace and clarity.

So yeah, I'm not gone, I'm still lurking about and I still plan to post again (when I can)

I miss you all so very much (especially my wifey <3)

Hope you all are well

much love

B

[rvblos]

andrey’s hair is meant for tugging no one can disprove that fundamental truth 🥱

AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL fuck yeah !!!

since y’all got together he always kept his hair long for two reasons: 1. because he knew you liked it better and 2. because he also knew how badly you always wanted to tug on em on the initial thrust into you I DONT MAKE THE RULES!😙

he’d just feel his head spin just at the thought of you gripping onto his hair slightly during sex, and you love how they just fall perfectly on his face every fucking time. it’s your weakness.

(loves having them braided between cuddles and kisses !)

HES SO…. SOO….. ughh😩😩

sedate me i need professional help rn

[peachy-panic]

We Should Talk

Aaand we're back to the current timeline of Fifty-Eight Days. Thanks to Holdy for the beta read/edit :)

< PREVIOUS

WARNINGS: Post-suicide attempt, talk of sedation, past captivity, bad social anxiety, therapy, food insecurity

This was a stupid idea. 

He didn’t even know if Grayson liked flowers. Maybe he hated them. Maybe he was fucking allergic to them. But there was a woman selling bouquets with her little boy at a table down the block from the hospital, and Elijah had had a five dollar bill in his wallet. It was supposed to go toward his lunch in the cafeteria, but he got to thinking about how sterile and drab Grayson’s hospital was, and he just… he bought them. 

It seemed like a harmless enough idea at the time; Grayson was still pretty out of it most days, but maybe having something to look at besides white walls and medical equipment would be good for him anyway. But now, as he rode the elevator up to Grayson’s floor, fingers clutched tight around the paper bouquet, he had to talk himself out of throwing it in the nearest trash can. 

He was still considering it by the time he reached Grayson’s room. The door was closed, which wasn’t unusual considering how often he slept, and it was good because it gave Elijah one more chance to stall.

No. No. It wasn’t stupid. It was… It was nice. Wasn’t it? Grayson would think so. He was almost sure of it, and that was all that mattered. As long as it made Grayson a little bit happier than he was five minutes ago, Elijah could deal with the embarrassment. 

That decided, he pulled open the door. 

Elijah stopped on the threshold, squeezing so hard around the bouquet stem that he felt one of the thorns poke through the paper and dig into his palm. 

Grayson was awake and looking at him, but he was not alone. Three more heads turned at the sound of Elijah’s entrance, freezing him in place. His parents sat side-by-side to his left, and on his right was a mid-forties looking man with salt and pepper hair, wearing thick-rimmed glasses, an expensive looking sweater, and a too-friendly smile. 

He was the only one smiling. Grayson was… well, his expressions didn’t vary much these days. He greeted Elijah with the usual twitch of his lips and a small wave. But his parents were looking at Elijah like he was every bit the intruder he felt like right now. 

“I…” Elijah stuttered, already backtracking through the doorway. Absently, he shifted the flowers slightly behind him, hoping that no one saw them. “Sorry. S-Sorry, I didn’t know you—I’ll… I can come back.”

Both Grayson and the stranger to his right looked as though they might want to say something, but Elijah stumbled out of the room and down the hallway before they could get it out. 

He found his way to a waiting room at the end of the hall and planted himself in the first empty chair he saw. For a few long minutes, it was all he could do to sit still and focus on his breathing. Between his hands, the flowers quivered from the force of his shaking.  

This was ridiculous. He needed to get it together. Elijah was always anxious, but something like this never would have set him off so badly before. When shit like this happened, when his mental stability was rocked so thoroughly by the smallest interaction, it made him feel like he belonged in an institution. How was he supposed to get through life like this?

Once the embarrassment and anxiety began to subside, irritation bloomed in its place, hot and prickly. As the minutes strung together, nearing the half hour mark, Elijah wondered if anyone would even bother to come look for him when they were done with… whatever they were doing in Grayson’s room. 

His interactions with Grayson’s parents hadn’t exactly improved over the course of the hospital stay. They weren’t outright hateful, but they weren’t exactly warm and welcoming either. For the most part, they all made it a point to stay out of each other’s way, but true or not, Elijah had a hard time shaking the feeling that they didn’t want him there. He supposed he couldn’t entirely blame them; his presence was a constant reminder of what almost took their child away from them forever—twice now. 

He didn’t know what all Grayson’s parents knew about their time in captivity, but certainly they knew enough to know that Elijah was the reason their son ever crossed paths with Myles Voss. That seemed like as valid a reason as any to want him out of their lives. 

After forty-five minutes of spiraling, Elijah’s head got the best of him. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have been willing to wait—he would have waited all day if he knew Grayson wanted to see him. But he didn’t know that, so he stood, throwing his jacket hood up and heading toward the stairwell exit. At least there was a trash can by the doorway where he could lose the flowers. 

“Elijah, wait.”

The voice was not a familiar one. He turned to find Sweater-And-Glasses crossing the waiting room toward him. Instinctively, Elijah took a step back. The man came to a stop, sensing his unease.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He showed his palms in a placating gesture. “I’m Dr. Collins. You can call me Anthony, if you’d like.”

The name didn’t ring any bells, so he didn’t know what to make of this man knowing his. “Do I know you?”

He flashed that disarming smile again. “You don’t, but I know Grayson. He asked me to come and find you. There is something he would like to speak with you about, and he asked if I would sit in.”

He wants me to stay.

“Are his parents still there?” he asked. “I don’t think they really… They probably don’t want me there while they’re visiting him.”

“They’re gone now. Grayson asked them to step out so that the three of us could talk.”

Elijah shifted uneasily. “I doubt that’s going to improve their opinion of me much.”

Dr. Collins’s smile went a bit wry, like he might know a thing or two about how Grayson’s parents were. “Grayson is an adult. He is perfectly capable of making his own choices, and he has made his.”

Elijah nodded. There was something in that that he could appreciate. Anyone who advocated for giving Grayson a sense of control gained points in his book.

“Are you his doctor or something?” Elijah asked. “You’re not the one I met before.”

“I am, but not at this hospital,” he said. “Grayson has been seeing me for the past several months—don’t worry, he gave me permission to share that with you.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t really surprising. If the church was willing to shell out money for Elijah’s therapy, they definitely would have taken care of Grayson. It was somewhat comforting to know he’d had someone to talk to. Though, he bitterly wondered about this man’s abilities, given where Grayson found himself now. 

“Would you be willing to come back to the room and talk?” he asked. “If my being there makes you uncomfortable, we can—”

Elijah shook his head, cutting the doctor off. “If Grayson is more comfortable having you there, you should stay. I’ll come.”

The man hesitated, looking at him in a way that reminded him a bit of Dr. Patel. “Your comfort matters, too.”

It wasn’t worth explaining that Elijah was never going to be completely comfortable sitting in an enclosed space with a man he barely knew, whether Grayson was there or not. Or that spending every day inside a hospital since Grayson was admitted—with its antiseptic smell, its drab colors and cold air—eliminated any chance of putting him at ease. Or that being here every day was the most Elijah had left his house since returning to the States, and his skin was jumping with anxiety at any given moment. 

Instead, he said, “I’m fine.”

Dr. Collins nodded, accepting that. “Okay.” He stepped back, gesturing toward the hallway that led back to Grayson’s room. “After you.”

It was only when they were halfway down the hall that Elijah remembered the flowers. He shifted the bouquet from one sweaty hand to the other. 

“They’re pretty,” Dr. Collins said quietly, catching his show of discomfort. “I think he will appreciate them.”

****

Grayson was sitting up in bed when he walked in, looking more alert than he had in days. Elijah wondered if the sedatives were completely out of his system, and in the next breath, he was startled by the realization of what that meant. Up until now, their interactions were largely buffered by a haze of disorientation. Now, Grayson was looking him in the eye, and there was nothing left standing between them. 

After several days in the hospital, his facial hair scruff had started to fill in, which was a strange mix of familiar and unsettling. For two months straight, this was the face that Elijah saw every day. It had been strange, seeing his shaven face that first day in the hospital. Elijah hadn’t seen him that way since before the mission, back when Grayson was nothing more than the all-American golden boy who shot the occasional furtive smile at him from across the church. 

He was smiling at him now, too—or trying to. The gesture was weak, but it radiated with genuine warmth. “Hi,” he said. 

Elijah swallowed. “Hey.”

“Are those for me?” He followed Grayson’s gaze down to the bouquet, which suddenly felt like the largest thing in the room. 

“Oh. Um, yeah.” Elijah shuffled toward the bed, close enough to hand them off. Grayson took them carefully, as if handling a newborn baby. “Sorry if that’s…” He shook his head, willing himself to use his words like a fucking human being. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like them, but it was getting kind of depressing in here.”

To his relief, Grayson chuckled, casting a quick look around at the plain walls. “You’re not wrong,” he said, then looked back at Elijah. The moment of eye contact at this range was so intense it nearly hurt. “That was… really nice of you. Thank you.”

Behind him, Dr. Collins cleared his throat. They broke their gaze, turning to him. “I can find something to put those in, if you’d like?” he offered. 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks,” Grayson said, handing them off. Maybe it was wishful thinking on Elijah’s part, but he thought he clocked a beat of hesitation before he let them go.

Dr. Collins dipped into the hallway with a promise of his return, leaving the two of them to a weighty silence.  Elijah sank down into one of the plastic chairs at his bedside, previously occupied by his parents. 

“How are—” Elijah began, at the same time that Grayson said, “Sorry about—”

They stopped. 

“Go ahead,” Elijah said. 

“No, no, sorry. You first.”

Rather than continue this dance for the next ten minutes, Elijah cleared his throat and asked, “How are you feeling?”

Grayson sat up a little taller in bed, rolling his shoulders back as if to support his answer. “I’m… I’m doing okay. A little tired, I guess,” he said. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t know Dr. Collins was going to be here. It sort of felt like we chased you off.”

Elijah shook his head, because Grayson sounded genuinely guilty, which was the last thing he wanted. “You didn’t. I just didn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re weren’t,” Grayson said. “You’re not. I’m glad you stayed.”

He didn’t know what to do with the sincerity in his voice, so Elijah changed the subject. “Are your parents…?”

“They’re sorting out my discharge paperwork.”

Elijah blinked in surprise. “You’re leaving?” 

He didn’t know exactly how these things worked, but the idea of Grayson just… walking out of here at the end of his mandatory hold raised all kinds of alarm bells. Was it because they needed the bed? Was he being kicked out prematurely? Really, how much could have really changed in three days? How could they know that he wouldn’t walk right out of here and try again the first chance he got?

Suddenly, Elijah’s hands were clammy and shaking. He pressed them to his lap. 

“Yeah,” Grayson said. “My seventy-two hours are up tonight. Dr. Collins signed a statement saying he was comfortable releasing me to my parents, with increased monitoring from him. I guess that was good enough for them.”

Was it good enough? Are you okay? Are you going to try it again?

And then, more selfishly, he thought, What will this mean for us?

Elijah didn’t have time to voice any of these concerns out loud before Dr. Collins returned, holding a tall plastic cup of water. “This should do the trick,” he said. 

He set it on the windowsill, quickly unwinding the bouquet and dropping the stems in. They really were pretty, immediately livening up the space with color. Elijah wondered if Grayson would be able to take them when he left. If he would even want to. 

“Okay,” Dr. Collins said, pulling up a chair to the opposite side of the bed. “Grayson, I explained to Elijah that there was something you’d like to talk to him about, and he has allowed me to sit in. The floor is yours, whenever you’re ready.”

Elijah shifted his gaze back to him, hating the pinch of anxiety he found in Grayson’s features. It was unsettling, the realization that Grayson could be nervous about talking to him. It felt wrong. Elijah thought about the endless string of nights they spent in the solitude of the basement; how, at first, they began to talk out of a desperation to pass time, then as a distraction from their bleak reality. How, over time, so slowly they didn’t notice, that desperation turned to companionship and connection. Comfort, even on the worst nights. 

They had talked about everything. Anything. Grayson knew more about Elijah than any other person in the world. While he would never wish for the conditions that forged their bond in the first place, it was a physical ache in his chest now: the desire for Grayson to feel that comfortable talking to him again. 

“Before I say anything,” Grayson began, fidgeting with the hem of his blanket, “I want to make sure you know there is no pressure from me. You can say no, if you want. You can… you can always say no.”

That made him a little nervous, but Elijah nodded, trying to set him at ease. “Okay.”

Grayson’s eyes moved to his. “I mean it,” he repeated softly. “You don’t owe me anything, Elijah. 

I owe you everything, he didn’t say in response. You kept me sane. In the end, you kept me alive. And you never would have been there in the first place if not for me. 

“Why don’t you let Elijah decide for himself?” Dr. Collins inserted gently. Grayson looked at him, jaw locked tight, before he gradually let the expression slip. Finally, he nodded, letting out a long breath. 

“Dr. Collins suggested,” Grayson began, “and I agree, that it might be helpful for the two of us to talk about… about what happened. Everything that happened.”

Usually, Elijah’s anxiety was specially skilled at picking out every worst case scenario in the realm of possibility and preparing himself accordingly. But this was unexpected. Before he could even fully wrap his head around what Grayson was asking, his heart began to race, his lungs shrinking tighter inside his chest. 

“Together, I mean,” Grayson hastened to add. “Like, in a joint session. Or… well, maybe more than one, if you want, but he said we can start with one, you know, and just… test the waters, I guess. Only if you want to.”

He was nervous, rambling, and it broke Elijah’s heart to see how scared he was to ask this of him. How long had Grayson wanted this? Needed this? How many times had Elijah suppressed his own thoughts of what it might be like to reconcile with the one person who was there, the one person who knew what it was like?

If they had done this sooner, would Grayson have hurt himself?

Could Elijah have prevented this?

His breaths were getting away from him, so Elijah clamped his hands hard around the edges of his seat where no one could see his fingers going white. “Is that what you want?” he asked quietly. 

This, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Grayson looked crestfallen. “I don’t want you to agree for my sake.”

“No, but you… you think it’s a good idea? You think it would help you?”

Grayson’s eyes returned to his lap, one finger twisted tight in the blanket. “I’m hoping it will help us both.”

“Of course,” Dr. Collins chimed in again, “if you are already seeing someone and would feel more comfortable with your current doctor mediating the sessions, that’s something the two of you should discuss as well. But as I told Grayson, I am happy to have you in my office as well.”

Elijah swallowed, feeling the weight of the decision on his shoulders. “Can I think about it?” he asked. 

Grayson’s hand twitched on the mattress, as if he had to stop himself from reaching out and touching him. “Yes,” he said. “Of course. You should.”

After another tense silence, Dr. Collins slapped his palms softly against his legs. “Okay,” he said, standing. “I think that leaves us in a good spot. Elijah, it was nice to meet you. Grayson has my number, whenever you decide what you’d like to do.” He turned to Grayson then, his smile softening even further. “We’ll talk soon,” he said. 

Elijah got the impression he might have said more if they were alone, making him feel a bit like an intruder for the second time today, but Grayson seemed happy enough with that departure. 

“Should I stay?” Elijah asked once they had the room to themselves. “It sounds like you’ve had a lot going on today. I don’t want to…” He let the thought trail off, not wanting to sound quite as pathetic as he felt. 

“Yeah,” Grayson said without hesitation. “I wouldn’t mind the company, as long as you don’t have somewhere else to be. I can’t imagine it’s been fun hanging out at the hospital every day. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave.”

“I don’t,” Elijah said just as quickly. 

Grayson just nodded, but Elijah didn’t miss the way his shoulders relaxed against the bed.

With the stressful conversation behind them, both of them were too exhausted to have much to say. Instead, while they waited for Grayson’s parents to finish up with the paperwork, Grayson flicked on the small television in the corner of the room, and the two of them relaxed into the quiet drone of sitcom reruns. 

The growl of Elijah’s stomach was the first sound either of them made for a long time. He crossed his arms self consciously over his stomach, but Grayson already heard. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked. 

Elijah’s face warmed. He was not about to tell Grayson that he was actually starving, and that the reason he didn’t eat was because he spent his lunch money on a stupid bouquet of flowers. 

But before Elijah could respond, Grayson reached over to the bedside table and retrieved a covered tray. “I haven’t touched my lunch. Do you want some?” he asked, taking the plastic dome off the top to reveal an assortment of beige-colored foods. Grayson wrinkled his nose. “I think it’s supposed to be chicken nuggets. Allegedly.”

Even though the sight—and even the smell—wasn’t particularly appealing, Elijah’s mouth watered anyway. “I don’t want to take your food.”

“My parents smuggled me in some soup earlier. I’m really not hungry.”

He eyed the tray, then looked back at Grayson. “You sure?”

“Yeah, you’re saving me the guilt of wasting it. I mean, I can’t promise that it’s going to be all that good, but…” Here, he seemed to stumble, a tentative curl playing at the corner of his mouth. “Well, we’ve had worse, haven’t we?”

He—

Elijah was—

It was the first time either of them had directly (and lucidly) referenced something that happened at the compound. And it was… a joke? Elijah’s first instinct was to tense up, like he did every time anyone tried to bring up anything about those weeks, but with Grayson… This felt different. Because Elijah did remember the hard-earned bowls of plain, undercooked rice and spoiled meat they had once shared in a basement thousands of miles away. And he knew that Grayson remembered them, too. 

And now he had to wonder about that throwaway statement Grayson made, and if he, too, felt overwhelmingly guilty about the prospect of wasting food since he returned to the states. 

Elijah supposed that was something they could talk about in a joint session, if he agreed to it. 

Finally, Elijah reached out and accepted the tray. ‘Yeah,” he said, letting out a bitter little laugh. “I guess we have.”

***

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[milkovichrules]

sorry to come into your ask box but i just rewatched mickey’s coming out scene and i just… i get choked up every time. i love ian but i also feel like he pressured mickey into coming out. of course he had to set his own boundaries but he KNEW how badly mickey was treated when it came to his sexuality, it’s almost seemed cruel to give him that ultimatum in some way. but then mickey comes out and all he could do was look at ian and ask if he was happy!!!! like i cant even explain all the emotions noel was able to put into his voice in that moment, it literally break me just thinking about it! he knew what was coming and he still only wanted ian to be happy.. thats really just something. i dont even have words for it but i wanna let out the loudest scream about it

hello sweet thing!! you're always welcome here💕

tbh the coming out scene always reminds me of noel's fucking beautiful ig post about Ian's character but especially 'the truly remarkable thing about Ian's inner courage is that it's infectious. to put it simply, he's brave and an undeniable reminder to those around him; they can be brave too.'

I used to absolutely not be at all but I am definitely an Ian defender about this to a certain extent.

like do we enjoy ultimatums? fuck no. it's a shitty way to go about it. BUT I have to think about what's probably going through Ian's head, right? keeping in mind he's in/just coming down from what we can only assume is his first ever manic episode.

mickey came to find him, literally carried him home and protected him from creeps. gave him a place to stay and didn't just plonk him on the Gallagher's doorstep, actively chose him over his marriage. went to the Gallagher's when Svetlana kicked him out and asked him to come back, agreed to do whatever he wanted to get him to stay with him. slept next to his tiny bed on the floor.

mickey kissed him, full on made out with him in public!! that's so huge!! he accepted an invitation to a little gay party with ian's new friends. he slept in the same bed with him without fear in a house full of strangers!! he doesn't even know that mickey told that guy that they were together 😭

we all know mickey is an acts of service girlie but Ian is the kind of person that needs to hear it too. and when Ian DOES ask it's 'of course we are'. like it's a given. mickey doesn't need to have the conversation, but Ian does. and as far as mickey's concerned 'it's working out so far so good' to be a couple that hides.

there's a million reasons mickey might want to still keep them a bit of a secret (though its a pretty open secret at that point). sure I think some of it is to protect his reputation, to not have any sort of weakness, and to some extent I think he feels a lot of pressure in protecting the reputation of the Milkovich name, no matter how infamous it is. maybe because of how infamous it is.

but I also think it's because what he has with Ian is theirs. and its something in both of their lives that's genuinely really beautiful.

like not to bring up 3x666 but that's obviously the moment that the bubble really burst. he had built up this little secret life with Ian behind closed doors and he was opening up! he was falling in love! and once people (Terry) found out it was just ripped open completely. ruined. I think there's some element of mickey wanting them to be back at that place before it all went to shit. which of course, they never can be.

just like when Ian starts heading for the door in the alibi. he doesn't think mickey's going to do it. Ian's going to walk out and not see Mickey for a while and then in a few weeks it'll be 'just cuz I've got a wife and kid doesn't mean we can't still bang' like it was back then.

but now mickey knows what it's like to lose him and he doesn't ever want to do it again (which 🥲 but anyway)

the fact that when Ian tells mickey he's sick of living a lie mickey's immediate response is 'I'm not lying to you' somebody fucking sedate me

and of course Ian wants mickey to come out so that they can be together but 'you're not free' absolutely kills me because he just wants mickey to be okay with being himself openly. and 'what you and I have makes me free' and ian's FAAAACE but then Terry shows up and he has to watch mickey tear himself away and go straight back in the cage and it hurts. of course it hurts.

so Ian drinks a little and lets himself stew and shoves mickey toward the edge of the cliff.

mickey's voice when Ian tells him not to bother coming back and he says 'what the fuck are you talking about?' breaks my heart every time because they're fine, aren't they? they just have to get through this bad thing and then they can go back to their little bubble.

mickey's always in survival mode, just varying degrees of severity. you can see him, literally see it on his face, weighing the options.

what's gonna happen if he does nothing? he's going to watch Ian leave. again. he's going to get blackout drunk and go home with his wife and his son and his fucking dad and wake up like that every morning for however long he can stand it. he's going to be walking on the eggshells of his own broken heart.

what's gonna happen if he says something? he's going to be physically hurt. he's going to bleed. he's going to have to bite and scratch his way out of that bar unless he's arrested or knocked out first. there's hopefully enough people around to keep Terry from straight up killing him. and what else? Ian stays. Ian stays and they get to go home together. take care of each other. sickness, health, all that shit.

so he does it. he shouts and he bangs on that table and he says it and hes fucking brave!! because he might think he's fucked for life but he has one beautiful thing that's worth fighting for!!

oh my god and him asking 'you happy now?' I fucking knooowwwwww honestly it makes me a little bit? insane? there is SO much going on there.

fucking getting everyone's attention to announce he's fucking gay and 'I just thought everyone should know that' and then looking at the only other openly gay person in the room and going 'you happy now?' jEEEEEsus like?????????

the eyebrow raise as well like 'you know exactly what's gonna happen now' and of course it does.

but Ian absolutely no hesitation gets stuck right into the fight!! and he says 'I've wanted to do this forever' which, same babe. I too would take a chair to the back wrestlemania style to defend mickey milkovich.

all my blorbos shitty dads I would be in your walls but you're all dead so✌️