#I might rb shit but at this point I don’t even want to do that

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 8

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hi lovelies! Plz don’t forget to like & rb. It means the world to me! :)

Remy’s POV

“Look at you. You don’t even respect your fucking self, man.” Billie mumbled, barely making any sense. Her eyes looked angry, bothered, annoyed. It wasn’t her.

“Let’s go home, you’re drunk as fuck. You don’t mean that.”

She swayed to the bass in place, slightly nodding her head to the beat. I didn’t even notice how much time had passed, standing there awkwardly to the side of the dance floor. Finneas came up to us. He had probably seen her yank her arm away and wondered what was going on.

“Let’s head out. She’s had too much.” I pointed towards the exit.

He took one look at her and nodded, calling the car out to the front.

“No! Fuck it, I do mean it. You’re too fucking scared to take a risk, so you keep sitting in your fucking office hoping one day you’ll do more than shred paper.”

That stung. I ignored her as Finneas and Claudia began to walk her outside. I wasn’t much of a help since I was struggling on my feet too.

“When I get back, you’ll be right where I left you. You’re not gonna go anywhere working for a fucking pig like him.”

“Is that what you think, Billie? What else?” I knew it wasn’t a good idea to argue back, but I didn’t care what state of mind she was in. I couldn’t believe she was saying any of this to me.

“Let’s just get in the car, Rem. She’s too fucked up, she doesn’t know what-“ Claudia shook her head.

“No! I’m not! And I’d like to- I want you to know I’m so serious. You let everyone treat you like shit! Your fucking ex, your boss, your parents!” She pointed.

“Shut up, Billie! Stop talking!” I put her seatbelt on her, struggling to put the buckle in the hole the first few times as Finneas drove off.

“Who took care of you when that motherfucker left you for another bitch?! Who lived with you and held you all day and night, and fed you, and made you whole again?” She shouted, scrambling her words, closing her eyes for emphasis.

“You want to throw that in my face now?” I was pissed. How dare she bring that up. There was no need to be that petty. I didn’t understand what brought this on her. She had never said anything so mean before. I knew it was the alcohol talking, but this hurt deep.

“And now! You’re just gonna leave me!” She pointed her finger.

“Leave you? Like you said, I’m not going anywhere! You’re the one leaving me!”

“She doesn’t mean any of this Rem, just ignore her.” Finneas reassured me, trying to deescalate the situation.

“No, say how you really feel, Billie!” I looked at her, squinting.

“You don’t believe in your fucking self! You beg me to believe in you, when you won’t even give yourself a fucking chance!” Her eyes closed as she tried to be louder.

“Oh, is that why you boss me around and tell me what to do with my life? Because you think I could do so much better being your fucking groupie?” I snapped back.

“You might as well be my fucking groupie! Better than being assistant TO the groupie!”

“You wish! So I could clap for you and gas you up every night? Like everyone else does?” I shouted back.

“Well, it’d be nice to have you be there for me once in a while, instead of putting work first like you always do!” Billie crossed her arms.

“You KNOW I can’t just do that!”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. You just wanna stay there and be a martyr so you can have something to complain about!”

“OH! So now I bitch about everything! I thought I kept things to myself and didn’t accept people’s help? Which one is it, Billie?”

“Whatever dude, you wanna be a sexy little office receptionist, and bend over for some bald fuck, and write some bullshit on a magazine, when you know you want to do more with your life.” She waved her hand around, her eyeliner running a little on the corner of her eyes.

“No, that’s your girlfriend Rachel! Weren’t you the one trying to suck her dick so she’d let me hop on a damn column?”

“I was trying to help you, dumbass!”

“I was trying to hang out with my best fucking friend before she travels the world for, like, a year!”

“Right! That’s why you wanted to get fucking wasted tonight! So you wouldn’t even remember our last night together.” Billie got teary eyed, blinking away her anger. “I didn’t even want to drink tonight!”

“No one forced you! You got all weird when that guy talked to me, and you shoved 2 shots consecutively up your ass!”

Claudia looked at Finneas. They shared a look and I wondered what that was about. He turned the corner toward my apartment and turned on his hazard lights.

“No one is concerned with who you wanna make out with, Remy!” She mumbled.

“Except you, because you act like my damn mother anytime anyone even looks at me!” I pointed at her. She stared at my finger, looking nauseous.

“Maybe if you had better judgment I wouldn’t have to fucking-“

“Whatever bro! You don’t get to tell me what to do with my life! And when you get back, you’ll see how fucking wrong you are! And how shitty of a fucking friend-“

“Shitty friend?? Because I want better for you?!” She leaned forward.

“You wouldn’t even know what being wrong feels like! Everyone always tells Billie Eilish yes!” I said, immediately feeling terrible. Immediately feeling like I crossed a line. But she had crossed multiple already.

Her face turned a shade of hurt I hadn’t seen before.

“No, fuck that! Fuck you, Remy!” She yelled.

“Fuck you, too!” I open the door and slam it, walking out before the car was even in park. Finneas fully stopped the car and ran out. He walked me to the door as I keyed in the code.

“I wanna make sure you get inside safely.” He held the door open for me when it unlocked. “God, I’m sorry, that was a lot.”

I held back tears and rubbed my arms, feeling the midnight breeze give me goosebumps before quickly walking in.

“She’s definitely not in the right mindset and I really don’t think she meant to be that-“

“Honest?” I asked, tears starting to stream down my face. “I think she did.” I called the elevator, pressing the button 18 times.

“Remy, she loves you. More than you think. You’re everything to- She just-“

“It doesn’t matter, Finneas. That fucking hurt. Drunk or not.“ I stepped into the elevator as the door slid open.

“Please, Rem. Listen, I know she was pushing it. I’m not gonna make excuses-“ He was visibly frustrated, pushing his hair back as he spoke. “And trust me, she’s going to feel like such a dick tomorrow-“

“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it anymore from-“

The elevator door began to slide, when he stuck his hand in the way to stop it from closing. “Promise me you’ll see her tomorrow before she leaves for tour.” He looked serious, as if it would change anything. As if seeing her tomorrow would make it hurt any less.

I didn’t say anything. I just leaned back on the elevator wall, crossing my arms.

“Please. Think about it… I’m sorry, Remy. Have a good night.” He nodded, removing his hand and letting the door shut. My heart dropped as the elevator rose to the 5th floor.

In my apartment, I got ready for bed and threw myself into the pillows. My head spun and throbbed as the effects of alcohol slowly left my body. I knew everything would hurt tomorrow morning. I stared at my ceiling, hoping to fall asleep. I thought about Billie’s face when she said those things. When she told me I’d stay exactly where she left me. How can I give up all the hard work I’ve put in. I wonder if she was ever proud of me. I wonder if she knows how much I care about what she thinks of me. I thought about her face when I practically told her she doesn’t know what no means. I thought about her face when she told me “fuck you”. I wonder if tomorrow she’ll be hurting about all this as much as I am right now. We’d never spoken to each other like this before. It felt like she wanted to say more than she actually did…

Eventually my eyelids became heavy, and I drifted into a deep, deep sleep.

******

My eyelids slowly blinked open, staring at my wall. I groaned, stretching and turning on my other side. The light from my window was so uncalled for, causing me to squint and curl up into a ball. My head pounded, reminding me of the events last night.

“Oh shit.” I gasped, grabbing my phone faster than my brain could register. It was 1:02pm and a missed call from Billie displayed on my screen. I put my passcode in, messing up twice before finally being able to call back. The phone rang for a while. I sat up in bed, impatiently. No answer. I had overslept and didn’t have a chance to say good bye before she left on the tour bus. She was probably so angry at me. I remembered how much she hurt me last night, the words all freshly dancing around in my mind. I didn’t know what to make of it, but clearly she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I figured if she did, she’d call back.

I threw my phone at the foot of the bed and pulled the covers over my head, wishing away the awful headache. I closed my eyes and tried my best to fall back asleep so I didn’t have to think. Obviously, that didn’t work out. My brain wanted to walk me through the least blurry bits of our fight instead.

I threw the covers off and got up, going straight for the medicine cabinet and taking some Advil, dry. I rotted into the couch for the rest of the day, watching the tv show I wasn’t allowed to watch without her. I don’t know if I did it out of spite or to feel close to her. I’m sure she’ll be watching it without me anyway.

Each time I checked my phone for any calls or texts, my stomach did this weird flip thing. I waited all day to receive anything from her to no avail.

Around 8pm, I realize I haven’t had a bite to eat. As I put some almond butter toast on a plate, my phone dinged. I pulled it out of my pocket to see Billie had posted on instagram. An update to her fans letting them know she was on the road, and excited to see them in Quebec, Canada.

I made it a point to like the insta story post, so she knows that I know she’s ignoring me. This is bullshit, I thought. How petty, I thought, the irony going straight over my head.

[f0point5]

I still think it's very shitty of rbr/vcarb that they let Danny be hounded by all the media and not be able to confirm or deny anything. Especially if he himself actually knew it was gonna be his last race, and had to say he didn't know. It's just all around a shit show.

And then hiding behind the "he didn't perform" excuse when vcarb routinely fucked up his strategies week in and week out. And when they let Checo lose the constructor's for them with poor performance. I understand the money aspect but does he bring more to the table that it's worth it for them to be second or even third in the standings? But I digress.

Daniel helped develop the car (according to the team) more in a year than Yuki did in his 3? And he's right behind him in the standings. So he was an essential help in getting the team forward.

Yeah I might be biased as a fan of his, but you can't objectively say he's washed and shit when the team compromises his races with shit strategy (which is kinda swept under the rug because we rarely get coverage of Backmarkers so it's hard to follow during the race itself). Even Max can't do wonders with stupid strategy and a shit car combined. If he really was washed how come that up until his promotion to vcarb he outperformed Checo in tests and sims?

I know this is a business at the end of the day but it still doesn't make sense, and I just don't see Liam outperforming him in six races. And as much as I liked Liam last season, his entry is tainted to me the same way Oscar's first win was by the circumstances

(sorry for the long ask, I just needed to vent. All the comments I see are how it was time for Daniel to leave but no one bothers to take into account how the team failed him)

RB not announcing it or letting Daniel tell the media was fucked up. Especially when the head of VISA didn’t even know what was happening and it seemed like neither did Mekies. Whatever went on there, he shouldn’t have had to walk into the media pen not able to answer questions.

I don’t buy this “he didn’t perform” narrative. He drove the shitbox they gave him to the level it is clearly at. What could they possibly have been expecting him to pull out of that car? When frankly he’s used to driving better and had close to a year off between the hand break and everything. They 100% wanted him in that Red Bull at some point.

The keeping Checo is about more than money for Red Bull, it’s about money for the sport. I do believe the rumour that Liberty stepped in when checo was going to lose his seat because he’s the only driver in the grid from latam, my guy is carrying that whole market and that whole Mexico GP on his back. Not to mention apparently Carlos Slim is an investor in Liberty Media. It seems like Formula 1 wants to keep Checo around more than Red Bull, but he’s probably keeping RB in the black as well.

Liam won’t outperform Daniel in 6 races, but Liam has maybe a decade left of career, Daniel doesn’t.

And honestly, I don’t think Daniel wanted to sit around in TR. he was there to get back to RB, when it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, he probably would have walked at the end of the season or the next one.

I think RB did him dirty not allowing him to leave with the proper timing but I also think timing or not timing, his time was up there because of him as much as them.

But helmut hanging him out to dry about performance is so funny when the job he was auditioning for was to literally keep the car out of the wall while Max wins. Because that’s all Checo has been doing…sometimes. And I don’t believe that they didn’t think Daniel could do a better job. I know helmut isn’t keen on Daniel but I do think this is revisionist bullshit from him. He likes to make it seem like RB is still the cutthroat outfit from 2019 when in reality they’ve built their team identity around Max and beyond that everything else has gone to shit.

They binned Daniel because they have tied themselves in knots with their driver management. That’s what I think.

And yes the performance had a part to play but I don’t think it’s even top 3 in the reasons this all happened

[emmedoesntdomath]

favorite non-newsies fanfic list? (holds hands out for marvel/rw&rb crumbs)

FAVORITE NON-NEWSIES LIST LMAOOO

guys, if you want content for other fandoms besides incorrect quotes, all you got to do is ask. I just get a shit ton newsies asks.

okay, so I have a lot of favorite fics (I dare you to look at my bookmarks on ao3), but my favorites and my favorite recommendations are two VERY different things. so I’ll give you a little of both.

ALSO- I NEVER RECOMMEND WIPS. NOT BECAUSE I DON’T LIKE THEM, NOT BECAUSE SOME OF THEM AREN’T THE GREATEST THING TO GRACE THIS EARTH SINCE CHOCOLATE, BUT BECAUSE I WOULD HATE IF SOMEONE DID THAT TO ME. SORRY NOT SORRY.

WHAT I WOULD RECOMMEND OF MY FAVORITES (marvel and rw&rb edition):

it’ll be over (and I’ll still be asking when) by JBS_Forever- a literal masterpiece retelling of the typical irondad and spiderson relationship, honestly. tony’s a little ooc, but the way they wrote peter??? genius. inspired. would definitely recommend. 

it’s the thing we’re missing most by lavenade- one of my favorite depictions of parkner in the history of ever, it beautifully showcases both the friendship and the relationship. perfect for a feel-good moment. 

The Guiding of Death by RayShippouUchila- even if you’re not a winteriron fan (like, at all), it’s still very much a must-read. I make ALL of the exceptions for this one. 

you’re stuck in my head (stuck on my heart, stuck on my body) by notcaycepollard- this was my first introduction to sam/bucky, and I have no regrets. their relationship is so gorgeous in this story. an easy favorite. 

art of the game by volantium- perfection. harley is glorious, peter is anxious, and they’re perfect for each other. also, natasha. 

Words May Fail (The Body Remains) by ladyflowdi- I know this isn’t really a common ship at this point, but you HAVE to read this. non-negotiable. I will find you. you can vent to me about it afterwards. 

told you i’m on the way, i’m like an exit away by quidhitch- this might as well be canon, okay? it’s sweet, it’s angst-less, will make you grin so hard your cheeks hurt. I want to give the author a hug of gratitude. 

~~~

Faster, Higher, Stronger by everwitch- basically follows the actual plot, but make it olympics. also, it’s nice and long. I have no criticisms to give. 

Rule Number Nine by clottedcreamfudge- okay, honest moment here- I will unflinchingly recommend literally everything this author has written ever, but this is by far and away my favorite of their works. I’ve read it at least ten times. 

We’ll Invite Something In by smc_27- so good. so sweet. also, it’s a little bit fluffier than most rw&rb fics, so if you’re looking for that, this one’s your guy. 

and nowwwwww

MY FAVORITES OF ALL TIME THAT ARE JUST A LIL TOO UNHINGED TO MAKE THE FIRST REC LIST

Text Me Quarantine by ProsperDemeter- honestly, I don’t remember reading this one for the first time. it’s just a haze of pure euphoria. 

a primer for the small weird loves by babyloveparkner- feature me SOBBING my heart out in the corner. I love this fic so much. honestly, top three of all of my favorites for any fandom. (warning: your heart will hurt)

The (Not So) Great Pretender by RayShippouUchila- I’m actually not willing to apologize for putting this author on here twice. this one is hilarious. also, fluffy avengers. 

For the First Time, Eye to Eye by Sarah_Sandwich- I have never been so mad at harley keener than when I read this for the first time. one of the author’s greatest works, and so angst-ridden you’ll start seeing it in your sleep. 

Catch Your Voice by lavvyan- this one’s for after you read the first non-negotiable fic. trust me. 

~~~

A Sporting Chance by clottedcreamfudge- again, I will loudly proclaim this author’s greatness. their works make me really happy. alex is just so alex. 

Made the Right Selection by clottedcreamfudge- alex is a cheerleader. henry’s learning all about football. that’s it. 

Clue Me In by bleedingballroomfloor- you KNOW I’m here for the june/nora content. I shall never stop screaming about them. 

okay, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[thetriggeredhappy]

sorry for cloggin up your ask box, but i don’t have an ao3 account, so i hope this will do

i love the way you write the kids, especially nikki. she’s so mature, funny and polite, makes my mouth hurt from smiling hearing her and scout talk

another thing, thank you for having the kids act normal around scout and sniper being romantic‼️ they’re not homophobic, just the usual little kid “eww kissingg”

the descriptions of panic attacks are incredibly realistic

also as someone with adhd, you wrote scout SO well. i have the inattentive type and i relate so hard, despite not being hyperactive. forgetting things that i just put in my pocket, wondering if i have my phone while literally being on it, losing your train of thought, drawing constantly, and rejection sensitive dysphoria

i hope it’s okay i’m writing you fan mail in your ask box, i don’t really read fanfic but you’ve got me hooked here. i don’t even know how i started liking sniperscout, but before i read yours i read… ah what’s the name… i forget (searched ao3, it was called “somethin’ stupid, like “i love you”” by preciousposey. man that was a good fic too)

anyway uh

thank you for being a great author!! hope you sleep well and have zero writer’s block forever <3 (and i hope your living situation gets better, i’ve made it up to ch 18 so (why am i getting deja vu writing this im sorry if i did this last time))

thank you! yeah i love nikki. i used to work with kids a lot (a LOT) and they’re just hilarious dude. sometimes these kids will say some shit that’s so excellent and so fun and so entertaining and will know what’s up and she’s kind of a representation of that. kids are great.

and yeah i guess i just don’t personally see like. the value in putting overt homophobia into the tf2 universe. there’s not really the overt expectation of ‘realism’ with the tf2 canon, and while i consider grounding these characters and putting them in more normal circumstances to expand on their more human characteristics to be kind of A Thing I Often Do, i don’t think i need the blunt instrument that is Gritty Realism Through Onscreen Bigotry to make any of the points i want to make in this series. the flavor is kept intentionally lighter throughout that series so that when it gets heavy, it hits a little harder. in other things ive written, and in things i might write in the future, that might pivot, but i don’t ever see bigotry being something necessary to the plot or development of characters in the RB universe.

writing scout as adhd feels kind of inevitable at a certain point if you’re diving into his characteristics and the way he tends to behave. we don’t have a ton to work with but, c’mon. intentionally or unintentionally, he always ends up adhd. the relatable king

and no lie i’ve been listening to ‘still alive’ a LOT lately idk what happened. i listened to that song back in like 2015 a lot then didn’t again until like. three weeks ago. portal was too good for any of us

also just goddamn the fuckin horror movie violins when someone is pre-chapter 20 of taking shots. me when i’m 2/3rds of the way through “sniper dies in this”

[lestappenforever]

Quick and Weekly (or rather race week specific) kind of analysis, basically just my takes on what went on during the race.

WE NEED TO GET THE YOUNGER ROOKIES SEATS. Ollie was an absolute beast yesterday, finish p7, managing the tyres, MANAGING A 7 TIME WORLD CHAMPION BEHIND HIM, holding off the rest of the pack, close to overtaking george, just Nico with his experience was able to hold him off a bit longer. Scoring more points in F1 than F2. Scoring more points than almost half of the grid. All with just one free practice session. This kid has a future (the only driver I could actually call kid😂)

Ferrari look fast. Finally being able go see Charles’ pace yesterday, in addition to not being fucked over by strategy or any shit, they’ve done a pretty good iob on that car. I mean, a rookie scored on his debut, and so far, a Ferrari’s always been on the podium. Of course this is just the second race, but still.

Haas aren’t that shit this year. The car looks good. Kevin was an absolute MENACE yesterday. Holding off Yuki, Esteban, Zhou, Valtteri, Alex, Logan, Daniel ALL WHILE HE KNOWS HE HAS A 20 SECOND PENALTY. Also Nico’s pace was pretty good, holding off Zhou and Alex, and kind of with ease. Apparently having a TP other than Guenther is proving to something quite positive.

RB are in shambles. Like, Yuki was pretty good, but wasn’t able to convert his p9 quali to points, and Daniel is just not doing well, that even with that 20 second penalty to Kevin, he’s still dead last. (Maybe it wasn’t McLaren, it was the choice of leaving red bull back in 2019) (I have a whole thing in my head about Daniel, and I still want to make sure if the facts and data before sharing it). But it might have been a miss that RB didn’t get Liam in this season, but we never know. I mean, Helmut Marko did say that there could be mid season surprises. And so far, non of the RB drivers seem or look to be even in contention for that Red Bull seat, in all honesty, it appears so far that Checo is more likely to keep his seat for 25!

I am not 100% convinced with either McLaren or Mercedes. Like yes both are consistently scoring points, and gaining, but I can’t really find that speed. Like they are okay, better than last year, but not Ferrari level improvement. Also, the strategy that both teams put Lando and Lewis on (especially Lando) cost him a better position, more points, maybe even a podium let’s be real.

Williams are okay. Ngl, I love James Vowels, his technicalities and as he said in DTS his geek-inees (hoping to be like him honestly one day). I feel like, Saudi and Bahrain aren’t really their tracks, because they did well, both Logan and Alex gaining positions. They are a team I’m waiting and hoping to see thrive, because Alex and Logan both deserve it.

Stake were okay, especially with that Zhou crash in FP3, like he couldn’t even qualify, but strategy kind of wasn’t ideal, and in all honesty, they’re just kay, not too fast, but not too slow.

And finally, our leaders. Despite everything, they do be cooking (Adrian and Max, you’ve both done it). That speed, the tyre deg, just everything about that car is phenomenal. And Max deserves it, after everything he’s gone through in his life, and he deserves to re-write the history books, which he already is, with re-reaching seb’s record not even 6 months after breaking it. This man who everyone is bored of his dominance are all going to be crying and missing him after he retires (I DON’T WANT TO THINK OF THIS DAY, BECAUSE I’LL BE THE FIRST ONE IN TEARS) but Max Emilian Verstappen is something that hasn’t come and probably won’t come again in Formula 1 and Motorsport history.

So yeah, that’s kind if my inital takes in the race, kind if a mini summary as well, and may we always listen to the Dutch National Anthem because I’ve been emotional this week with Max and everything happening around him.

This is such a wonderful analysis that really doesn't need anything added to it because you've got this spot-on, so I will try to keep my own thoughts relatively brief.

Ollie did incredible and I am so excited to see him in F1 permanently. Him and Liam? The future is bright.

I am cautiously optimistic about Ferrari and I really hope that, for once, they won't fuck themselves over which is in no way, shape or form a guarantee.

K-Mag did so fucking well, and it brings me so much joy seeing my fellow Scandinavian putting on such a performance. And Nico had a decent race, which also makes me happy. It's obviously far too early to be sure, but their new team principal seems to have been a good choice.

VCARB are just... Well, I'm not even going to utter my thoughts. All I will say is that there is no way in hell Daniel will be a good replacement for Checo. Claiming Daniel is better than him is just laughable.

McLaren and Mercedes are giving Ferrari 2023 vibes with their strategy calls yesterday, and it will be interesting to see how they develop over the season.

I truly hope Williams will improve over the course of the season, because I want to see Alex and Logan do well so fucking badly.

As for Stake: they were unlucky, and I'm just glad Zhou made it out of that crash unscathed. It's a shame he missed out on being able to qualify because holy hell did that team do their fucking best trying to get his car ready. I want to see him, and Bottas, do well.

As for Red Bull, they are as impressive as I hoped they were going to be so far this season, and as a Max girl it makes me laugh seeing Max haters bitch about his dominance making the sport boring. I, for one, am having the time of my fucking life. I won't even think about him retiring at this point, and will just keep enjoying every race for as long as I can. And seeing Checo starting off the season in such a strong manner fills me with joy. I am by no means Checo's biggest fan, but the shit he went through last season at the hands of disgusting Helmut Marko and the F1 community at large has me wanting him to suceed. Put some respect to his name because God knows he's fucking earned it.

Thank you so much for sharing yet another wonderful analysis, my darling. You have no idea how happy it makes me, and how much I appreciate it. ❤️

[multi-lefaiye]

tick, tock.

[ #FFF234: HOW IT ENDS ]

HIIIII hi <3 i have some writing to share, after about 500 years.

this was originally written for today's @/flashfictionfridayofficial prompt, HOW IT ENDS, but i ended up going way over the limit and didn't wanna edit it down. so. it's not part of that anymore. but i'm including the banner anyway bc i like it <3

so, for context, this is based on a specific scene in act two of baldur's gate 3, a specific interaction with wyll that i love so so much, featuring my tav, the tiefling eden linnaeus <3

content warnings: semi-graphic threats of violence, but honestly mainly just spoilers for bg3, if that's something you're worried about.

words: 1692

tagging the art taglist, bc no gods no masters (no pressure to any of y'all to read! <3 and if you want to be added or removed, please let me know): @skitzo-kero @anexor @presidentquinn @albatris @chaieyestea @astral-runic @kk7-rbs @jezwrites @whonsper @moonflowerrss @approximately20eggs @rosesandartss @lychniscitrus @invaderskoodge @transmasc-wizard @midnight-and-his-melodiverse

----

The projection of Mizora is every bit as imposing as the first time Eden saw her. She stands tall in the heart of his camp, his safe haven, her clawed hands on her hips and jagged teeth barely hidden by her rose-painted grin. As always, she stares down at him with clear disdain, crown of horns perched high on her brow. She has a smug air about her that says, You are beneath me, nothing more than a pathetic ant beneath my boot.

At this moment, all Eden wants is to rip that pretty face apart. If she ever gets the guts to actually stand before him, he might do just that.

Tonight isn’t about that, however. Tonight is about Wyll, who stands next to Eden with a resigned sort of grief on his handsome face. He bows beneath the weight of Mizora’s expectations, as always, and the ridiculous suicide missions she sends him on. Wyll is dutiful, kind, and deeply honorable, and she seems to delight in every torturous humiliation she lavishes upon him. Kill this devil for me (yes, Mizora), move this mountain for me (yes, Mizora), tear yourself to ragged pieces for me (yes, Mizora). It never ends.

Even now, she appears just to torment him, holding promises of freedom over his head that she has no intentions of fulfilling. His suffering is a game to her, one that he has no hope of winning.

One thing is abundantly clear: to Mizora, Wyll is little more than a dog, her loyal pet for her to keep on a tight leash and kick as she pleases. And he’ll always come crawling back to her, because he has no choice in the matter.

And that, Eden decides, is unacceptable. 

“Ta ta, pet,” Mizora coos, winking playfully at Wyll’s clenched jaw, the way he casts his eyes down at the ground. Submissive. Cowed. It doesn’t suit him. She waggles her dainty fingers at him in a wave. “And do make haste. I’d hate to have to ruin that pretty face of yours if you fail.”

Something inside Eden snaps.

“Wait,” he says, taking a step towards the devil. She blinks at him, clearly surprised that he spoke up. “What’s in it for him?” Mizora snorts.

“I thought I was quite clear,” she purrs. She holds up a finger for emphasis. “As per our contract, Wyll must do whatever I ask of him. And, now, he must rescue my stolen asset from Moonrise, or else I will rend his flesh from his bones and-”

“Yes, yes, we heard you the first time,” Eden cuts her off. “Save us the fucking theatrics, you winged sack of shit.” He waves a hand dismissively and rolls his eyes. “My point, however, is that I don’t see why he should do anything for you. You haven’t given him anything--isn’t that the point of a fair deal?” He’s treading dangerous waters, he knows, but he’s not backing down now.

The devil ponders his words, her expression twisted in fury at his insolence. Clearly, the bitch isn’t used to mortals who talk back. Finally, she asks cautiously, “What are you proposing?”

Mizora glares at him, and for perhaps the first time, Eden understands what it means to face down eternal damnation. Her burning eyes promise hellfire, but Eden meets her gaze unflinchingly. And as he does, he sees something he didn’t before: a spark of fear, of desperation, in her face. Mizora is scared. Whatever asset she needs Wyll to fetch, she’s fucked if he doesn’t get it for her.

There’s blood in the water. And, like a shark, Eden strikes.

“End your pact with Wyll.” The words seem to echo like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet camp. “He’s done everything you’ve asked as your errand boy, and you’ve done almost nothing in return. The contract has served its purpose, so if you want anything else from him, end it.” Distantly, Eden is aware of the others in the background, talking among themselves as they wonder if they should intervene. But Eden doesn’t care about that now. His focus is on the evil bitch in front of him, and the noble man behind him.

Then, Wyll’s voice sounds in the back of Eden’s mind, clearly terrified of where he’s going with this.

What are you doing? he asks. Eden glances at Wyll out of the corner of his eye and sees the man watching him with wide eyes. Wyll is terrified, that much is clear.

Trust me. Eden meets Wyll’s gaze, his face carefully neutral despite the pleading words. Please. Wyll hesitates for a moment, trepidation shining in his face. A heartbeat passes, and he nods, steeling his gaze.

I trust you.

Something in Eden’s chest warms at the words, at Wyll’s unwavering faith in him, and he turns his attention back to Mizora. She’s still glaring at him, but she looks unsteady. He’s clearly on the right track. He just has to keep digging.

“Why should I?” she sneers, and now Eden sees how defensive the gesture is as she crosses her arms. “You have no bargaining power, boy. Wyll made an agreement with me, and he’s obligated to-”

“Tick,” Eden says casually. “Tock.”

“What?” Mizora barks, furrowing her brow.

“Tick, tock, Mizora,” Eden says. He smiles at her, the expression baring his fangs. “Every second you spend bitching about what Wyll should do is another second you waste that we could be helping you.” His smile grows as he imagines sinking his teeth into Mizora’s flesh. “How long until the Absolutists destroy your precious asset, removing her brain and replacing it with worms? We’ll have to act fast if we’re to get there in time. By then, it may be too late.”

“You don’t-” Mizora starts in a snarl, her fingers curling into claws, but Eden doesn’t let her finish.

“Tick, tock.” He snarls back in a feral grin. “What do you choose? Tick, tock, tick, tock-”

“Stop,” Mizora growls.”

“Tick, tock, tick, tock-”

“ENOUGH!” Mizora cries, her voice a booming thunderclap that almost shakes Eden to his core. Almost. She staggers away from him as though burned by his words alone, raising her hands to hide her face. For a long moment, she stands there, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

Whoever Mizora needs saved from Moonrise, she’s clearly as important as Eden assumes if the idea of losing her is enough to unsettle the devil this deeply.

The devil takes a breath, shuddering as she collects herself. Finally, she lowers her hands, crossing her arms again. She glares at Eden, but there’s no heat in the expression now, not after Eden laid bare how desperate she really is. He glares back at her freely, his expression triumphant. He’s won, and they both know it.

“Fine,” Mizora says through gritted teeth. She takes a breath again, schooling her expression into a calm smile. “Fine. I will release Wyll from his contract.” It sounds like she’s forcing herself to say each word. Eden hopes it hurts her to say them. “After he rescues the asset.” She throws the last part out like a challenge, grinning viciously at Eden, and he only shrugs in response.

“Naturally,” Eden agrees easily enough. “That’s only fair, after all.” Something glints in his eyes. “When he rescues the asset, you will release him from his pact.” It’s not a request, and Mizora clearly knows it, based on the way her lip peels back in another snarl. “And if you even try to weasel out of this, I’ll personally ensure the Absolute devours you and your precious asset whole.”

It’s an empty threat and he knows it, but the flash of terror in Mizora’s eyes at Eden’s words tells him she believes him wholeheartedly. Good.

Mizora averts her gaze, clearly unsettled, and turns away from Eden to look at Wyll. “You’d better move quickly, pup,” she barks, desperate to cling to whatever power she has left in this situation. Eden decides to allow it, for now. “Looks as though we’re both on a time limit.”

Before Eden can examine her parting words, she disappears as swiftly as she arrived, the illusion melting into a puddle of black ichor on the stone floor. In seconds, the muck evaporates, leaving behind nothing more than a dark stain, a smudge of shadow in the flickering firelight.

The moment she’s gone, Eden lets out a breath of his own, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly. His heart pounds something fierce in his chest, his victory over Mizora lighting a fire in his veins just as much as it fills him with pure, exhaustive relief.

“I…” Wyll begins behind him, swallowing audibly. “Eden, I… Not that I’m not grateful, but why-”

“If you want to beat a devil, you have to beat them at their own game,” Eden says simply. He suddenly feels deeply uncertain, and he shifts as he crosses his arms. “And, well… you’re my friend. I’m tired of her making you play alone, so I’m gonna help you beat her.” That’s half the truth, anyway.

Eden turns his head to look at Wyll, and he’s nearly taken aback by the man’s expression of pure, unabashed awe. Wyll is looking at him like he’s the most remarkable creature in the world. There’s something else in his eyes, something else that Eden can’t quite identify, but the expression makes something stir deep inside Eden’s chest.

“We’re not out of the weeds yet,” he continues, smiling bashfully, “but this is a start. We’ll just have to make sure Mizora upholds her en-”

Before Eden can finish his sentence, Wyll surges forward and wraps his arms around the smaller man, pulling him into a tight embrace. Eden freezes in surprise, his words dying in his throat as Wyll buries his face in the tiefling’s neck. It takes a moment for him to realize that Wyll’s shoulders are shuddering, ever so slightly.

“Thank you,” Wyll says, his voice watery with unshed tears. “Thank you.”

There’s a million things Eden could say in response. But instead, after the briefest moment of hesitation, he just hugs Wyll back, holding his friend gently.

[tinyluvs]

All you do is complain, leave if you want to leave.

i wasn’t gonna entertain this but i’m going to lol

i think i’m allowed to complain? on my own blog for a start!! but it’s genuinely upsetting when i sit up, lose sleep to try and fill out requests and get them posted and because of peoples refusal to reboot things go unnoticed?

genuinely put yourself in a creators shoes, there’s the writing, rewriting, deleting and completely starting over, proofreading, tagging, linking, etc to do and we finally are proud of it, post it and half the time the people that request it, don’t even rb it or even leave a little comment, it hurts ?!

if just a fraction of people rb’d peoples works we wouldn’t have to complain, liking it does not send it out to more people, liking it gives it another note, sure but reblogging (and tagging) are the only ways our stuff gets shared about to a bigger audience and yet, people still don’t do it

and i know for a fact if the people that didn’t rb, were creating any sort of art and trying to get people to see it and enjoy it, they would complain too

as for leaving, i genuinely might but atm i don’t want to because i do like writing, i enjoy it a lot but when you get little to no feedback, it makes you question what is the point in me keep doing it

psa!! if you DO comment on n rb my shit, i’m giving you a thousand forehead kisses, i love you, i appreciate you n i hope both sides of your pillow are cold !! mwah!

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

first off, i would absolutely love to hear all of your thoughts! second, the beef between carlos and charles fans is actually insane. like omg we get it, you prefer one to the other, that doesnt mean that you talk so much shit about the other!! i feel like they just need to get over themselves, like im such a charles girl but like at the end of the day, i love seeing ferrari succeed. whether that is carlos or charles on podium, just be happy that your fav is actually finishing in points and isnt last. - 🏁 anon

exactly!! and i’m not sure why they’re pitting the ferrari boys against each other now more than ever, because carlos has only got 20 more races and then he’s going, so. f1 twt is crazy man, it’s a scary place sometimes lmao

okay so here are my driver thoughts, based on the actual driving and performances and not personalities/who I like best -

- red bull - i think rb would be silly to let checo go. I don’t feel very strongly about him as a person, but he’s proven time and time again that he can at least get close to max. we know no ones matching max’s level, so being close is the best you can do. checo has had wins and lots of podiums these past couple of years, and has proven that he can drive that car reliably with minimal mistakes. if I was rb, i’d be keeping him. there’s no way i’d trade a reliable driver like checo for danny ric i’m sorry but it doesn’t make sense

- ferrari - i fully understand why they’ve chosen to bring lewis on for 25, but there’s no way they’re not slightly debating their decision at the moment. carlos has been on the podium for 100% of races he’s started this year, and lewis hasn’t even finished top 5. yes maybe it’s the car etc etc but… there’s no way they’re not doubting their choice even a tiny bit. if lewis doesn’t prove himself quickly next year i think there are gonna be some regrets

- mercedes - I don’t know if they’re gonna be able to sign any of the big names. they say they have their eye on carlos, fernando etc but honestly they’re not a desirable team. no one wants to go to a team that’s struggling with the car and has been for years. no one wants to go to the team that’s fucked it all up for a 7 time world champion. alonso said himself the other day that it’d be a downgrade for him. they might sign kimi and try and teach and mould him into a senior driver. signing someone young and new might be their best bet honestly

- VCARB - GIVE LIAM LAWSON THAT GODDAMN SEAT. car issue or not, dannys career has taken a steep decline over the last few years. I just think we’re holding so many young racers back (lawson, doohan, drugovich) to keep the same older ones on the grid, even when they’re not performing. yuki is really shining this year so far, and he’s outshining danny massively. judging by his performances this year and last, I don’t think any teams are gonna want to sign mr ricciardo. if they didn’t want him after mclaren and he’d won in that car… why would they want him now?

- mclaren - obvs the papaya boys are going to be there together until at least 26, so no worries there. but… i hope there’s a car upgrade soon, because at the moment, that doesn’t look like a race winning car to me. it won’t happen (at least not for like 5 years at least), but… dare i say i’d love to see lando in a red bull 🤭. it’s obviously unrealistic but god imagine him in that rocketship of a car, with his talent… same with oscar!! I think if you gave those papayas a better car (it’s decent, don’t get me wrong), they’d be unstoppable

- I don’t think logan or zhou will have seats next year. not too sure about the haas guys… they’re weirdly actually doing okay at the moment. I think that williams seat will definitely be open, so it’ll be very interesting to see who slides into that.

- not sure where carlos will end up honestly. most probably sauber, because they’ll be audi in 26 and his dad has a lot of links there. but, I think he’ll really struggle in that car for 25, because frankly, it’s fucking terrible. I just hope he’s happy with wherever he ends up.

that’s all from me for now 😌 please let me know, my f1 girlies, what you think!! who’s going where? who do you want to go where? let’s talk about it <3

[rickybaby]

I also think the situation at AT in general may also have an impact. We know the team is in trouble internally, it may even be moving to the UK, it’s clear that the engineers have also lost their way a bit and that Tost was pushed rather than decided to leave of his own accord. I can completely see that putting someone in their who has driven for them before, albeit a long time ago, may actually help with getting the team back on track.

Whether it would be a good think for Daniel, I’m less sure of. It’s a big risk if he can’t out drive Yuki. Like a shit car is a shit car. I don’t think George is better than Lewis just because he’s outperforming at the moment, and so I don’t think it would necessarily mean much if Daniel couldn’t beat Yuki. BUT I think it would really kill his chances of a seat in the eyes of other teams.

Completely agree with all you’ve said.

The team has not been performing too well in recent years and it’s clearly undergoing a period of change. Daniel is the perfect figure to help drive development and push the team in the right direction. But the point still stands that he has made it clear he doesn’t want to start from scratch. It all depends on whether he doesn’t mind doing it for half a year if there’s the bigger promise of the rb seat for next year.

Redbull and AT would definitely benefit more from having Daniel there than Daniel in the end might cause as you’ve said if he doesn’t outperform Yuki or the gap between the two is too big this might just prove the end to his hopes for getting a race seat anywhere

I guess any decision he’ll take will depend on concrete promises for next year as well as maybe the behaviour of the car in the sim

[blowthemoonout]

replying to anon

“he’s a bad defender” and if he puts in a good shift in the next game, now what?

-

i can call him a bad defender if i want. if he plays shit one game then he’s a bad defender until he fixes up. yet there’s a difference between the people who say that they’ve been pretending to think he’s good vs the people who think he has a lack of defensive intelligence. i think he’s a good player, i think he might be one of the best rbs esp given his attacking attributes, but its not rude to admit he isn’t a good defender. he makes the same mistakes over and over again that he usually fixes up mid game but i haven’t been seeing that recently. his head isn’t in it and again as our vice captain, him putting in performances like this shouldnt be excused 🥴

I am just failing to see how that means he actually doesn't care about the fans.

-

him showing that he doesn’t care how fans perceive him during all this shows that he doesn’t care about them lol. rumors are going around that you’re planning to leave your boyhood club on free and you’re fine with that? you won’t even bother telling people to not believe what the media is saying? personally i just think its weird and him not trying at least once to shut down rumors shows that he couldn’t care less and is just worried abt his individual career rather than the club. no one’s saying fuck him but im pretty sure the majority just think his silence is weird.

and idk i obviously don’t agree with the people who are yelling at him during matches because that falls under abuse and i don’t see how that’s helping either side but to consider someone who says “he’s being lazy because he doesn’t care about the club” crazy isn’t true i fear 😭 he quite literally gave the ball away and didn’t even bother trying to catch up and win it back.. he just jogged slowly like? if someone cared about the club and wants us to succeed especially while in a title race then they wouldn’t make small mistakes like that and do nothing to fix it.

https://x.com/lfccxt/status/1876004505458012228?s=46&t=a4CNG-ghgPKZN1dkvCL15g you can see for yourself if you’d like but i don’t see how this is just a mistake that can be ignored like he clearly can’t be bothered to do his part lol

I'm not saying people can't say he's a bad defender? Again, people can criticize his performances all they want. I think that anon was making a point about how people make very definitive, over the top statements about things that change very quickly, like week to week performances.

him showing that he doesn’t care how fans perceive him during all this shows that he doesn’t care about them lol

Yeah we just disagree on this one I guess.

Listen, I don't want to sit here and pick apart every aspect of his game and whether or not he should have done x when he did y, whether he gave the appropriate amount of effort, etc. I'm not saying that someone thinking he's lazy because he doesn't care about the club is "crazy." I can see why people would draw that conclusion, even if I don't agree with it. I'm saying it's still an assumption and treating it like proven fact in public discussions, which are available to everyone including the people involved, is pervasive in the fanbase right now and is toxic.

[ajxrn-archive]

rant under the cut . doubt anyone will see it but who cares anymore.

.

I’m tired of not being interacted with.

I always have to start the conversation. My ask box is empty 24/7. Maybe once in a while someone else will start a convo with me. I constantly get notes and I look and its just the kosa post I made. I might turn rbs/notifs off or delete it at this point. Someone I thought was my friend fucked up our friendship and I realized they didn’t actually value me in the first place. I joined the discord right when everything fell apart and practically everyone left. Half of my friends aren’t online often. I’m active in the discord and try to fucking fix everything and keep it lively and fun for everyone and it feels like nobody else fucking cares as much as I do.

idk.

I’m just really lonely and I feel like nobody cares to speak with me yknow. I reblog or make ask games, and I don’t get asks any asks. I tag friends in posts and they don’t rb or just acknowledge them. People always liked and never reblogged my art so I gave up posting it. I don’t get tagged in stuff and that made me hate picrew/reblog chains so I don’t do them anymore. Im always initiating conversations. I vent too much and complain and I can be rude so maybe that puts people off from me.

I just feel like I have stressed myself by trying to put in so much effort just for others to…not? Even back then when I was an anon. I would send rambles and ask people about their day and be super friendly just for..barely any response.

The last time my friends seemed to care so much was when I made my suicide note post at like, what, 14? I was begged to stay. People said they loved me so much and I mattered a lot to them.

..And then the next day it went back to no interaction.

I have ONE fucking irl friend and I’m grateful to have her and she means the world to me but fuck I’m so lonely. I even just talk to my animals like people at this point. I try to send asks to friends and they never get answered or the replies are short. Nobody sees my posts despite the fact I have 44 followers. Which irritates me. And half of those people followed for art and I can’t even do that anymore.

i feel like everyone liked me better when I was in the Lu fandom and under the different name. I got way more interactions back then. People saw my art more even though it was bad. Friends sent asks and DMs. People responded to my tagging. I would reblog ask games and I’d GET asks. I would post something and it would get attention. But now it’s so empty.

I used to post a headcanon about a character and people would say they loved it. Now I do it and it goes unnoticed. I talk about shit I like now and nobody fucking cares. Nobody listens. It pisses me the fuck off. Oh but if I came back as old me and started talking about lu again I’d get SOO much fucking attention.

I saw friends talk to eachother in huge reblog chains. I saw people reblog their mutuals posts all the time. Constantly answering asks. Talking about dm conversations. Everyone I was friends with. It feels like being in a huge circle of people yet everyone forgot about you. Even when you cut people off they didn’t notice. And that really shows that you weren’t of value in the first place. They didn’t care. You meant nothing to them. There was always someone who mattered more.

I feel invisible and honestly unwanted. And that really fuels my whole abandonment issues. Its so nice knowing people will leave you because they always have someone who’s more important. Someone they favor. Someone more valued.

I could post a suicide note right now and suddenly people would care. People would want to talk to me. People would ‘like’ me.

that really shows that people don’t care until your gone.

[milla-frenchy]

Ok let's go, final chapter, and I'm totally ok 🥲

“What, don’t you recognize me?” he says. You do, though. Of course you do. He was the one Joel beat the shit out of in that alley.

You mf!!

You hear it before you feel it, leaving you blinking in shock for a moment. Life may not have been great in the apocalypse, but no one’s actually hit you before. Not like this. Your cheek and eyes sting sharply. Ball Cap certainly hadn’t held back. “Don’t lie. We’ve seen them coming in and out of your place, you stupid cunt.” When he hits you this time, it’s less of a rage reaction and more for fun with a closed fist. You’re still reeling when you register the heat first, then the slick, sickening drip of blood from your nose down your lips.

Fuuuuuuck I'm hyperventiliating rn 😭😩😩😩

“You better hope they show up soon,” Ball Cap snarls at Mustache. “Or there won’t be much left for them to find.” It’s true, no matter how he means it. You’re not suited for this. You wish you were a secret badass with balls of steel, but you’ve given pretty much all the fight you had.

I'm just a mess, leave her alone please, pleeeeaaaase 😓

He takes them out first, silent as the falling snow, which melts as it lands in pools of hot blood.

Omg this is so beautiful 😍❤️

“Tell us where she is,” Joel says before pointedly shifting his gaze to where Tess holds the knife buried, “and maybe you’ll be able to salvage that arm.” He gives in so quickly he might have been able to, if they had left him alive.

They're such badasses

Tess is on the other end of it. It’s hard to conflate her with anyone else; they never made a girl superhero more badass than Tess.

If I wasn't already in love with her, I would be now. I love your Tess, Toni

You look up at his blank eyes. There’s viscera splattered on his shirt and face. When you crane your neck to look at Tess, still behind you with both hands on your shoulders, she’s soaked in gore. “Not yours, right?” you say. “Not a drop,” she promises. You look back at Joel. “Now, please,” you whisper, even though it makes your stomach turn. “Get her out of here,” Joel says.

I am so amazed by this rescue. I know you're going to break my heart later, but this? Jesus, that's so good

They play you like a harp, keeping you trapped between their legs and plucking pretty sounds one after another from your taut body. There are a lot of orgasms all around, and you’re not even trying to keep track. Your head is blissfully empty, each climax wringing your brain like a sponge. At some point, you push Joel off so you can suck his cock. Tess helps herself to feast from your cunt while you do, and somehow, when you look up, Joel’s buried his face in her as well. The circle shifts and warps but never breaks. Eventually, they get you on your back again, and after a bit of whining on your end, Tess sits on your face while Joel has your cunt again. He switches between licking and fucking, and you actually pass out a bit this way.

Fuck, this is so hot seriously. These 3 are perfect together and I love them and I want them to stay together until the end of their lives 💕🥰😍❤️ Right? Toni? Please? 🥹🥹

On your loneliest nights, you think of them. You hope they’re okay. It’s never a guarantee in this world. You like to think they’re wrapped up warm and safe in bed. On cold, sleepless nights under the starry sky, Joel likes to think the same of you.

This is the 3rd time this chapter has made me cry. And this time, it's even worse than the previous two, as if the fact of rb it made the reading true and inevitable. And that's probably why I didn't do it right away.

I always say that what I look for when reading fics, is emotion. Woah, Toni ❤️

I don't think I've ever been so moved.

Thank you for this journey. These three will stay in my heart for a long time. And I think this is the perfect ending. Even if it hurts ❤️

I'm gonna buy a box of tissues now

ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter five

ain't no rest for the wicked series

five: way down below

series masterlist | prev chapter

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

words: 4k

summary: After sneaking out of Joel and Tess's apartment, you wake up in an unfamiliar place.

warnings: creator chose not to use warnings, dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, threesome, description of violence & wounds, canon-typical violence, canon-typical killing.

Welcome to the end, my friends. I omitted a specific warning due to spoilers. If you need to know before you read, DM me.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you come to, head pounding, it’s on an old dining chair with cheap metal legs and a moth-eaten seat. Your hands have gone to pins and needles from the rope that burns when you try to flex them, bootless feet in a similar predicament. The cloth stuffed in your mouth tastes metallic, though you don’t seem to have bled.

You’re swimming through static. You think you might throw up.

Wherever you are is long abandoned, which doesn’t really help narrow it down. It was maybe a break room, once, with a shattered microwave and the cupboards askew.

A tall, spindly man in a Mets hat leans against the counter. He’s bundled in a jacket while yours is missing.

You take comfort in that it’s the only other piece of clothing you’re missing. You wiggle your toes, trying to coax a modicum of warmth back in them.

Ball Cap snubs his cigarette on the counter and leaves it there. “Nice to see you again,” he says.

You wish it wasn’t to you.

“What, don’t you recognize me?” he says.

You do, though. Of course you do. He was the one Joel beat the shit out of in that alley.

“You sure were a talker before. Aren’t you gonna give me that same offer? Your mouth for your life?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to think. Come on. Any time now, brain.

He seems to be alone. Could you take him? Probably not. Is he armed? Yes, definitely. He had struck you over the head with the butt of a gun last night.

At least, you think it was last night.

He stomps over to you and yanks your head back to look at him. “Aren’tcha gonna answer me, you little whore?”

When he sees the gag, he throws back his head and laughs. “Shit, right. Well, no point in this,” he tugs the knot loose and tosses the cloth to the ground. “Nobody’s gonna come help you, no matter how loud you scream. And kinda wanna hear it. Y’see, the boss man didn’t take kindly—”

You manage to hold your tongue, due largely in part to the tackiness of your mouth, but your lip curls a little. Is this guy for real? He’s fucking villain monologuing?

“Hey,” a nasally voice says. “Better not be starting without me.”

The newcomer is tall like Ball Cap, but beefier. He’d be more intimidating if he wasn’t sniffling and wheezing, his nose a constant faucet of mucus that pooled on his upper lip.

He coughs deeply for a minute, fist against his open mouth. The part of your brain that’s actively pretending you aren’t going to die tonight is worried about catching whatever he’s splattering across the room.

“Don’t you want to know what we want with you?” Slimy Mustache says.

“Not really,” you say before you can stop yourself.

You hear the rattle in his lungs as he steps closer. “No, you already know, don’t you?” His hand lifts, a finger stroking down your cheek. You flinch away, squeezing your eyes shut.

Slimy Mustache laughs. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to start the show without your friends.”

Friends? You don’t have—aw, fuck.

“Not my friends,” you say. “I didn’t—they were strangers, too.”

You hear it before you feel it, leaving you blinking in shock for a moment. Life may not have been great in the apocalypse, but no one’s actually hit you before.

Not like this.

Your cheek and eyes sting sharply. Ball Cap certainly hadn’t held back.

“Don’t lie. We’ve seen them coming in and out of your place, you stupid cunt.”

When he hits you this time, it’s less of a rage reaction and more for fun with a closed fist. You’re still reeling when you register the heat first, then the slick, sickening drip of blood from your nose down your lips.

“Knock it off, man,” says Slimy Mustache. “He said we had to wait for them. Ain’t gonna negotiate if she’s dead.”

“They’ll kill you,” you lie, grimacing as it invites the coppery tang into your mouth.

Ball Cap grins with a set of unusually shiny, straight teeth for a thug at the end of the world. “Nah, honey, that’s why we have you.”

You spit blood at his feet. He moves to backhand you, but Mustache tries to stop him, and it knocks him a little off course. His hand is decked out in gaudy rings, and the edge of one snags on your cheek. You gasp, and it turns into a whimper as the pain bleeds through.

“You better hope they show up soon,” Ball Cap snarls at Mustache. “Or there won’t be much left for them to find.”

It’s true, no matter how he means it. You’re not suited for this. You wish you were a secret badass with balls of steel, but you’ve given pretty much all the fight you had.

And you know no one’s coming for you.

When Tess wakes, the sun peeks through the window aggressively, and she has to shield her eyes to see Joel. He’s shaking her shoulder gently to let her know he’s leaving. He’s already bundled in his coat and hat, tugging gloves on. It’s unusual, but he doesn’t look distressed.

She sits up and stretches. “Where ya going?” she says, but she thinks she knows since the bed is empty and the apartment is quiet.

“Just gonna make sure she got home okay,” he says and kisses her. “Musta snuck out sometime in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, I think I spooked her when I asked her to stay,” Tess admits.

“M’sure she’s fine,” he says, but he isn’t looking at her, and that’s when she realizes she misread him earlier. He is worried.

“I’m comin’,” she says, already on her feet. “You go on, take the long way, and I’ll meet you.”

He nods.

There’s only one lurking outside your apartment, but two in nearby alleys on standby. He takes them out first, silent as the falling snow, which melts as it lands in pools of hot blood.

He lets the third man catch him. There’s a pistol in his face, but he knows he’s not really in danger.

“Where’s the girl?” he growls.

“Don’t worry, we’re just showin’ her some of the same hospitality you showed my brother,” the man tells him.

He seems to think that by pointing a gun at Joel, he has the upper hand.

He doesn’t think that for long. Not when Tess’s knife sinks into his arm and twists, the gun clattering to the ground as he reflexively jerks. Joel picks it up and stuffs it in his waistband as casually as if he had just adjusted his belt. His jaw ticks as his hand wraps around the man’s throat.

“I suggest you listen real close,” Tess says, voice low and thick with danger.

“Tell us where she is,” Joel says before pointedly shifting his gaze to where Tess holds the knife buried, “and maybe you’ll be able to salvage that arm.”

He gives in so quickly he might have been able to, if they had left him alive.

“Think we made a mistake,” Ball Cap drawls. “They aren’t comin’ for this bitch.”

You don’t know how long you’ve been here, but you keep slipping in and out of awareness. Floating through something like a dream, but not enough to escape reality. Worse yet, you keep snapping back to the world, having been close to escape or rescue, a sick hope still brewing in your brain.

“That’s too bad,” Slimy Mustache says with an exaggerated pout. “I wanted them to watch.”

“Guess your pussy wasn’t good enough to save you,” Ball Cap says.

You keep your mouth shut. They’re still pretending they need a reason to hurt you, and you sure as hell aren’t going to give it to them.

They’re right, though. The late afternoon sun is dragging wearily through the clouds.

You don’t blame them. You knew the danger. You didn’t just open your door to let the tornado in; you had sex with the—no, okay, you have to retire this metaphor.

It’s okay. You knew what this was.

And what it wasn’t.

Still, you think. You’re not really keen on dying here and even less keen on what you’re pretty sure will precede it.

“I dunno. I still think we should find out for ourselves,” Slimy Mustache says.

“Not a fuckin’ chance,” someone snarls behind Slimy Mustache, a knife to his throat.

You must be delirious from fear and blood loss because your first thought is that motherfucking Batman is here. You’re at a point where you apparently genuinely believe, if only for a moment, that it’s more likely for Bruce Fucking Wayne to show up than Joel. Except why would Batman be in Boston?

There’s a gun resting against Ball Cap’s head; his namesake knocked to the dusty ground. Tess is on the other end of it. It’s hard to conflate her with anyone else; they never made a girl superhero more badass than Tess. Not that you’d say no to Wonder Woman, but who would?

You close your eyes. You’re not getting tricked by this dream again.

“That’s it, sweetheart, keep ‘em shut, okay?” Tess says.

There’s a lot of rustling fabric and soft, wet sounds muffled by agonized cries.

When hands touch your shoulders, you flinch.

“It’s just me,” she says. “Hold still just one more minute, okay? And don’t look.”

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter as she goes around the back of your chair, her hand never leaving your shoulder. It’s easier to breathe with her touch to anchor you, even through your swollen nose.

With one hand, she flicks open a blade and cuts through enough of the rope that she can tug the rest away. She doesn’t have to come up with a way to free your ankles without letting go, because Joel’s already cutting the knots.

“I gotcha,” he’s murmuring. “We’ve got ya, sunflower. Hey, look at me.”

You do, hesitantly opening your sore eyes. His broad body is blocking everything else, though there’s clear whimpering and groaning behind him. He cups your face in his hands, turning it to look at the cut on your cheek and survey the swelling.

“Don’t,” you mumble. “It’s not pretty.”

He ignores you. “We’re gonna get you home. But first, I need to know—you want me to drag it out or just kill ‘em now?”

You look up at his blank eyes. There’s viscera splattered on his shirt and face. When you crane your neck to look at Tess, still behind you with both hands on your shoulders, she’s soaked in gore.

“Not yours, right?” you say.

“Not a drop,” she promises.

You look back at Joel. “Now, please,” you whisper, even though it makes your stomach turn.

“Get her out of here,” Joel says.

“No,” Tess surprises both of you. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t think she can walk on her own.”

You remember Tess in the kitchen with the chef’s knife and how you thought she looked like an angel when you first met. They both do, now.

“I’ll meet you there,” she says, her tone offering no negotiation.

Joel doesn’t argue, though you think he looks disappointed. Like he wanted the kill.

You’re just barely aware that it should scare you. It doesn’t.

He scoops you up with no problem, as if it doesn’t strain his aging knees.

“I think I can walk,” you say.

He doesn’t dignify you with anything more than a shake of his head.

It’s not a long walk. The setting sun frames him in gold, the blood gone dark and sticky. You’re only a block from the alley you first met them in, which in turn is only two from your apartment. But by the time you get there, you’re asleep against his chest.

He sets you down gently on the bed, meaning to go looking for your first aid kit, but you dig your fingers into his shirt.

“I ain’t leavin’,” he says, gently prying them off. “Just gonna get you cleaned up, okay?”

It’s so hard to open your eyes, but you manage a few seconds to take him in. You nod and let go, but the deep pout is unshakable.

He opens the door to the bathroom and flicks the light on, stepping over the towel threshold and then nearly stomping on who, if he was forced to guess, is Georgie. Both mice scatter immediately, luckily into the wall instead of out into the open apartment.

He shuts the door to prevent an escape and rifles around your cabinet until he produces a mostly empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and some bandages.

You wake again when he sits on the bed at your side, booted feet still on the ground.

“Sit up for me, sunflower,” he murmurs, helping you up as you groan and popping a pillow behind your back. “Look at me.”

He waits until you do and hands you a glass of water. While you sip at it, he gets a better look at your nose.

“It’s not broken,” he says, and you sigh, shoulders slumping. “It’s going to be swollen for a few days, though.”

You flinch back from his touch but try to work through it. “Okay,” you whisper.

He cleans your face, murmuring to you all the while about what he’s doing. You hiss when he wipes the gash on your cheek, tears welling up at the sting.

There’s a familiar knock at the door, but Tess doesn’t wait for anyone to answer; she just slips inside.

“Not gonna need stitches, either,” he says. “You got real lucky.”

“Don’t feel lucky,” you mumble. Your eyes dart to the horseshoe. Both of theirs follow yours, and they exchange a look.

“Think you can take a bath?” she asks.

You shake your head.

“What if I get in there with you?” she offers.

You think about it, biting your lip, and nod.

Joel gets the tub filling while Tess gently peels you from your battered clothes. When he comes out of the bathroom, he’s scrubbed the blood from his skin and has his shirt hanging up to dry.

Your bath isn’t very big, but you make it work, nestled close between her legs. It’s maybe the least sexually charged moment you’ve had with them. Joel kneels on a towel and washes the blood from both of you. None of you speak.

It does help. Having it cleaned from you, having it be them who do it. Joel’s firm hand scrubbing the blood and dirt away, Tess’s steady embrace keeping you grounded.

Joel helps you each out of the bath and dries you off, swatting away your hands when you try to do it yourself. The look in his eyes is still kind of distant, so you stop protesting and let him do what he needs to do.

No one bothers with clothes. There’s no point. While the bath may not have been sexual, whatever is happening now definitely is.

You’re on your back in bed, wet hair splayed out on your pillow. Joel is on your left, and Tess is on your right, and their hands are everywhere. You clutch at them in return with each of yours.

They’re passing you back and forth for kisses, deep, consuming things with teeth and tongue and spit. You understand the “beast with two backs” thing now. Except, how would it work with three backs? Are you some kind of mutated monstrosity squished into a triangle? A pyramid of flesh and sweat and moans?

“Stop thinkin’ so much,” Joel growls against your neck, and you’re inclined to obey when his fingers find your clit. Thoughts aren’t super useful right now, and you’d like to keep most of them at bay anyway.

Even that’s a little too close, and you must tense because Tess nips at your ear and whispers, “Just focus on us, okay? Just us.”

They make it easy to lose yourself in their hands and warm mouths. You genuinely can’t tell who touches you where until you end up with three fingers in Tess’s cunt.

Joel rolls your lower half and yanks your legs where he’d like, leaving you contorted with your top half focused on Tess. He plunges into your pussy while you mouth at her tits. One of her hands cups your head to her breasts, and the other gropes at your own.

Neither of them are being rough with you, but they aren’t treating you like glass, either. You really fucking appreciate it, even if you don’t register it right away. Even while he fucks into you, Joel can’t stop his hands from roaming, smoothing over your hips and thighs and stomach.

They play you like a harp, keeping you trapped between their legs and plucking pretty sounds one after another from your taut body. There are a lot of orgasms all around, and you’re not even trying to keep track. Your head is blissfully empty, each climax wringing your brain like a sponge.

At some point, you push Joel off so you can suck his cock. Tess helps herself to feast from your cunt while you do, and somehow, when you look up, Joel’s buried his face in her as well. The circle shifts and warps but never breaks.

Eventually, they get you on your back again, and after a bit of whining on your end, Tess sits on your face while Joel has your cunt again. He switches between licking and fucking, and you actually pass out a bit this way.

When you wake, it’s to Joel getting out of bed and pulling his clothes back on. He catches sight of the look breaking across your face and shakes his head.

“I’ll be back. Runnin’ over to get her some clean clothes ‘n stuff.”

You settle back down. Tess slides an arm over your waist, and you roll over to snuggle up to her.

The next time you wake up, it’s because of the nightmares. You jerk awake with a cry, and she’s right there, rubbing your back and coaxing you to lie down.

“I know, sunflower. I’m so sorry,” she murmurs as you cry.

“I was so scared,” you whisper in the safety of the night, voice wavering.

“I know, baby. You were so brave, though.”

You don’t feel like you were very brave. You feel like you let the creeps crawl into your skin and ruin everything.

When Joel gets back, you’re still awake.

“Good,” he says. “I didn’t want to have to wake ya, but I need you to eat.”

“M’not hungry,” you say. Tess is up and getting dressed in a soft tee and sweats. She tosses you another set, and you put them on without thinking about your own clothes in the dresser.

“I know,” she says. “But you need to. It’s nothin’ much; just need to get something in ya.”

“I brought something for the pain, but you can’t have it on an empty stomach,” Joel says.

You give in and unscrew the thermos he hands you. It’s chicken noodle soup, and he presses warm bread, wrapped in cloth, into your lap.

Once you’ve satisfied their expectations, Joel drops a round white pill into your hand. “I can only give you one,” he says, laced with raw guilt. “But I got some ibuprofen for ya, too, for later.”

He hands you a glass but pauses. “It’s gonna make you sleep,” he warns.

“Okay,” you say and chase the pill with a swig of water. “I trust you.”

He winces a little, almost imperceptibly.

“I’m going to run out and talk to someone ‘bout the mess we made,” Tess says.

Joel scowls. “Can’t it wait ‘till later?”

“You know damn well it can’t,” she hisses like she doesn’t want you to hear.

“I’m sorry,” you say. They both look at you, and you sniffle. “I’m sorry I’m trouble, I’m s—”

“You cut that out right now,” Tess snaps, but her face softens right after, and she comes to sit on the bed beside you. “It ain’t your fault. We should be apologizing to you.”

“Please don’t,” you whisper.

She and Joel exchange a look.

“Alright,” she concedes. She kisses your forehead. “I’ll be back soon. Joel’ll stay with ya, okay?”

You sniffle again but nod.

They share a significant glance when she reaches the door, but say nothing. Joel locks it behind her and slides back under the covers. He tugs you to his chest, and you melt into his warm, broad shelter.

They phase in and out of your apartment all night, but never both at a time. You wake just a little at each changing of the guard, just enough to snuggle into whoever slips in and holds you.

There are murmurs and whispers; you don’t catch most of it. Just huffed breaths, a few sharp snips, and lonely words with no meaning—dawn, you hear once, and for. Or four. Or fore, you suppose, but it'd be strange to be talking about golf. Anyway, there’s no context.

They don’t break through your slumber as anything more than a soft breeze.

When morning comes, you’re alone.

It’s painfully obvious. Your tiny studio is occupied by only yourself and the ghosts. The towel is neatly stuffed against the bathroom door, betraying its vacancy.

There’s a bottle with a handful of painkillers on your kitchen counter next to a glass of water. You can tell there’s a note and something wrapped in cloth. But if you stay here, stay tucked into bed where they left you, you don’t have to see it.

It could say that they’re cleaning up the mess and they’ll be back later. It could be instructions for when to come over next.

But it’s not going to be. You don’t need to read it to know. The truth’s been trickling into your lungs since you woke up. Since last night, really.

You get up anyway, shaky legs on autopilot. You take the pills first, sipping the water, and stare at the paper. It’s bigger than their usual scraps, and neatly folded. Someone’s drawn a little flower on the outside. You wish you knew who.

When the water is gone, and you’re out of excuses, you pick up the paper with a trembling hand.

Rough capitals take up most of the page. “Be good.” You close your eyes, choking down the acid in your throat.

At the bottom is a neater, slanted scrawl. “It’s the iron.” You blink stupidly for a moment and then reach for the cloth.

It’s a flannel Joel brought over last night, clean and soft. When you pick it up, something clatters against the countertop and falls to the ground.

It’s a fucking horseshoe.

You sit, right where you had stood, legs folded and the flannel clutched to your chest with both hands. Your head droops so your nose is buried in the fabric, and you stare at the gift and let the tears burn down your cheeks.

You don’t change out of their clothes for three days.

The note gets tucked between the pages of “An Unsuitable Job for a Woman.”

The horseshoe sits on your table for weeks until you shove it under the bathroom sink. Half of you wants to bury it somewhere, afraid it might actually work.

But it’s just a horseshoe, and they’re just human. They only wanted you to think it would work—that it might protect you.

The flannel lives tangled up in your blankets. The smell of them fades fast.

You don’t return to their apartment. You think about it. Think about haunting it like they haunt yours. Think about banging on it until they tell you why.

But you know why. You saw it in the fear in their eyes that night. You had become something they could lose, and so, they had to. Quick and sharp, like their knives at the throats of those men. How could you blame them? Hadn’t you run away for the same reason?

On your loneliest nights, you think of them. You hope they’re okay. It’s never a guarantee in this world. You like to think they’re wrapped up warm and safe in bed.

On cold, sleepless nights under the starry sky, Joel likes to think the same of you.

Thank you all so much for coming along on this journey.

I hurt my own feelings with this one, y'all. Please feel free to yell/vent/talk with me about this because I am not okay.

*title from "Heaven Knows" by the Pretty Reckless.

[orels-lucky-bible]

omg hi consider this blog fucking dead im never writing for moral orel again <3

[fabledteeth]

today i am thinking about how awful the once upon a time fandom was, and how it was recently brought to my attention that it still sucks.

i am also thinking about certain people of said fandom who are still, to this day, convinced that an actress deciding (and outright stating!) that she had begun to wear less makeup because she wanted to portray a more accurate picture of how women look, meant that her character had started to look “tired” and “drained” and that this was an indicator that she was deeply unhappy with her relationship, when in reality it was literally just because the actress decided to not wear falsies anymore. i am also thinking about how these people supposedly were “supporters of women”, yet were/are essentially calling a woman, who is just trying to help with Unrealistic Beauty Expectations, uglier for not wearing as much makeup as she did previously.

[dolugecat]

On some Japanese social issues I had learned about at uni and abroad):

(Rb ok!)

Legit had an epiphany about the true hidden meaning of the last arc of Mob Psycho 100. It’s hella projection but for real there is nothing neurotypical about Mob or Mob Psycho. I do not wish to enforce my interpretation on others (ironic bc I do that all the time but this is a serious social theory). There are some interesting and very sad social issues in Japan that the west really doesn’t understand but would I think help people understand a lot of context behind not only Mob Psycho, but also a lot of other anime. I learned this at my shitty university (prestigious but horrific) and while studying abroad in Japan and talking with Japanese peers. Get ready here we go (and tw for bullying and darker things):

Unfortunately in East Asian education systems, bullying can be extremely intense. Growing up I assumed it was over exaggerated extremely in anime for drama but it really can be so horrific. From what I’ve heard, there is often a single kid or so who is just shit on by everyone else, even the teacher. Mogami land *is* the reality of some Japanese kids. I’ve read that in Korea, this social punching bag sometimes is just the darkest skinned person (yayyy colorism /angry) and or someone who does not fit in. I mean, we have that in America too, but maybe not as common for the bullying to be as focused on one misfit rather than several. These kids just can’t escape the stigma too, kids from other schools find out they were a major victim at their old school and it starts anew. Thus there is so much stigma and incentive to join in on bullying so you aren’t the one. Sadly, this also ofc leads to higher suicide rates. That’s where the “shoe on building roof” anime trope comes in, bc somehow taking off shoes is relayed to death (I forgot why sorry)

There is a difference in how intense in general high school vs college is too. In the West, commonly college is the more intense curriculum and is harder than high school, but in Japan it’s usually the opposite. Grind suuuupppeeerrrr hard for entrance exams (huge standardized tests that determines what college you can qualify to) bc unlike the ACT or SAT here, that test is by far the most important factor for college admission. Then chill and relax a bit in college. Can’t relate. Name and prestige is very critical for job application, more important than here. That’s why planning out your future is sooo much more intense for Japanese high schoolers than in America, and why there is sooo much more pressure to excel in high school than here. Japanese school years and holidays are done different than ours, I’d suggest looking it up.

Social prestige of going to an American high school or college is nuts. Like whyyy do you value our shitty education, Japan’s is much higher quality (it’s bc we neo colonized them). Being able to speak English is very, very highly valued and any association with Americans make you cooler. From my experience, some Japanese students got very excited to practice speaking English with us, and their biggest issues with learning it is pronunciation, lmao. Wasai english is unique slang that is indeed English words but it’s kinda different and it’s kinda jarring to remember lol. So, Teru having parents that are working overseas isn’t too uncommon, idk about leaving him absolutely alone, but I did have a ex-friend who just came from Japan in middle school who’s situation probably wasn’t too far off from that. Empty wealth with no love, it’s no wonder those kind of people can end up being huge bullies (minori?)

I did a presentation on 引きこもり(hikikomori) for which means “shut in”, (like Serizawa) and it’s fucked up. It’s a social phenomena where according to some Japanese researchers a mix of undisciplined parenting, guilt/not living up to expectations, and hopelessness makes an alarming amount of youth/ young adults literally never go out side their house/room. Often a parent is “enabling” the behavior by supporting them, but idk the articles seemed a bit victim-blaming to me when I read it, but I don’t think I should make a judgement too hard, not my place. I will say I do suspect and believe I read something to support that ASD might play a role in hikikomoris (there is pitiful resources for autistic people in Asia, much much less support than even here, to the point I don’t think most know it exists). Like come on, with the other points I laid out my personal opinion as an Asian American with autism is that it really seems it’s unknowing ableism against autistic classmates, but I didn’t grow up in Asia so I don’t want to say.

Mental health in general is tragically quite abysmal in Japan, and with it being so hyper competitive and brutal work culture, it’s no surprise birth rate in Japan is so low; some Japanese young adults say it seems unethical to bring a life to such hostile world. Suicide rate is of the highest in the world. It’s fucked, I’ve interacted with some of the locals in Tokyo and they were so nice, but the business men just looked dead inside, it’s so sad.

Relationships between child and parent is also strained bc of this intense work and school culture. Quality time is too scarce when you gotta work so much. And the pressure from parents to do well in education or else you might end up socially stigmatized is rough. Bc your job is who you are, it’s hyper capitalism (thanks us for making them do this)

With autism being so unknown, support for parents in raising autistic kids is almost nonexistent. What happens if the “darker” side of ASD shows up in kids? I used to be a menace when I had meltdowns, I felt so bad but really just became so indiscriminately violent. See where this is going? Legit, I think ESP is a sort of metaphor for neurodivergance to ONE. There is so much stigma around it, and even less way for kids to understand why they are different than the others. My Korean family can’t admit we all got ASD, too much fear and internalized shame.

I got finally diagnosed with ASD as an adult and I’ll tell ya, I relate too much to Mob hurting Ritsu. I felt so bad, but also not in control, I knew what I was doing but not how to stop. Luckily, is was blessed in that my hyperfixations involved science and logic, so I did well at school. Sadly, our boy Mob just don’t got the passion or ability to do well at school. His kanji is very bad, even to point of not being confident he wrote a kanji (世) they learn when they are 9, in elementary school (thanks @katyatalks). Him being a bit berated by his parents for having bad grades and bending spoons seems harsh to Westerners I think, but IMO it’s pretty tame from what I’ve seen of some Asian parents (I get to say that lmao). Ofc, however the shaming is very real and Mob just agreeing with them about how weird and stupid he thinks he is so sad. There is even more pressure for the eldest to be better than here, I feel from some interactions. Nonetheless, it’s implied Mob is quite emotionally detached from his parents, even though he loves them, which also adds to his emotional complex. Combined with originally fragile self esteem and feelings of worthlessness, we got one emotionally stunted boy. However, contrary to common belief people with ASD are sometimes hyper empathic and experience emotions very intensely. We are prone to having “meltdowns” which if not assisted with can be quite violent if very intense. For me, my worse meltdowns as a kid came from when I didn’t understand why I wasn’t getting what I wanted, it seemed selfish and cruel of me but I couldn’t control it. I wanted to be a good kid, so why did hit my moms leg at target when she refused to buy me Pokémon toys? I couldn’t come up with a good reason for why my mind just commanded my body to do bad things, just a single thought was controlling me, I want I want I want I want I want ____. Which I argue could be what ???% represents… bc well…. Yeah….. hmm….. not in control of self (mob unconscious), selfish (not actually, I’ve forgave myself but my “normal” kid self was so ashamed), destructive, hurt family, wanting to stop but can’t, that’s kind of…. Too relatable.

But legit, since realizing my new HC, I’ve started to think of the last chapter of mp100 when I “explode” and it helps me feel better and I do gain “control” a bit easier. I don’t feel so bad anymore either, Mob!

[gaydennisreynolds]

I was just gonna rb some posts about this but I am bone-chillingly nervous about it so i need to have like a whole breakdown in ur inbox. I don’t know if rcg understand how deeply invested some of us are in macdennis and that a decent amount of people see it as something deeper than a “haha mac wants to bang him” joke. I really really really hope if they do make macden canon they recognize that they’ve ALREADY DONE “this is what I thought I wanted but now I do not want it at all” (Charlie/waitress) AND “we bang once and decide we are never doing that again” (Charlie/Dee) and they’ve beaten the shit out of the “dennis hates mac and points out that even if he was queer he wouldn’t like mac” joke. Literally begging praying screaming at rcg to not be fucking idiots and let us just have this one thing please PLEASE

ok I totally forgot about the charlie/waitress AND the charlie/dee plots if i’m being honest but u guys are right, they probably won't re-do those ideas macdennis style since they don’t like to be repetitive. so we’re probably safe from that outcome!

Something notable about the writing style of Sunny (to great comedic effect) is that, unless it would be funny, they cut away before the consequence. It’s funny to see the characters get themselves in deep shit through stupidity and ego--not so funny to see them crying through their one phone call from jail or getting thrown out of a store or getting yelled at by their mom. I think that’s really important to keep in mind as we consider what they might do with the seeds of MacDennis that they’ve been planting for so long. If they give it to us, it might be in the series finale or in some other context where they can set it up, deliver, and cut away before the fallout/consequences.

To address the rest of your ask: the devil and god are raging inside me and God is like, RCG are clearly very smart!  They mean everything they say! Comedy is important, but they want to tell a compelling story too! versus The Devil who is like bro RCG are only in it for the comedy of it all and the story and the meaning is secondary. I think the reality is somewhere in the middle; they oscillate between these truths depending on season and who is in the writers room.

Will we get good canon macdennis, that lives up to everything they built it to be? It all depends on if they feel like it would be funny, sustainable, or say something different than what they’ve already said. It’s hard to gloss over just how much time and effort they’ve expended into setting it up--I feel like it’s going somewhere...but whether that destination is one we would like is not known at this time. I feel like in service of our own happiness we should all try and collectively assume that macdennis found dead in Philadelphia until we see them kiss with tongue on screen.