#I swear I'm as dumb as a brick sometimes

[iamespecter]

Fuck I almost scratched my arm that had the anti-tetanus shot which the nurse SPECIFICALLY told me not to scratch it

AND I ALMOST DID IT AGAIN TWICE AS I'M WRITING THIS

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Art Week Hangover! Here's Maggie!

Finishing my art week a little late, 'cos I ran into a brick wall emotionally LAST week. These are illustrations for my longrunning story, if anyone cares - it's free, and everything's Creative Commons BY-NC-SA - and I'll give you some more art and description under the cut.

It's only a 7 pointed star because I needed something glowy-shaped I could fit a soda bottle inside. Maggie has drawn a lion because that's in the Rider-Waite version of Strength. And all the chalk art is on the ground now because it read better that way in this style.

Here's the old version with the shading:

Sometimes I regret not just cutting her title down to "The Apprentice" but that's a shitty reality series I don't care to be associated with, even accidentally. It's a lot of letters to fit into an image, though.

This are liable to get out of hand with Maggie along, just like that mouse with the brooms, but not because she doesn't know what she's doing. She knows exactly what she's doing, she just doesn't know when to STOP.

The fleur de lis is in all of Maggie's family's cards, signifying loyalty. They are definitely loyal to each other, and more-or-less to their homeland - albeit in different ways. Maggie's mom has a crown appearing near her head, while Maggie has drawn one at her feet, and she could easily scuff it out if she wants. She and her mom both know how to turn into birds - not necessarily like the city birds in the air behind her, but Maggie is definitely an urban phenomenon. Changing your whole body like that eats up pieces of it, so, at her age, Maggie can only store enough body mass to do maybe one or two changes a week. If she's going to cause mischief, there are less expensive ways.

It's way harder to get a smug smile across in only two contrasting colours! I think I managed, but, again, this might change before I put it up on my site. I've almost got Milo's card finished too, so I'll either be back with that later tonight or tomorrow. Once I have the first few illustrations front-loaded, I'll check out Tapas as a host for Tin Soldier. If I can reformat it well enough there, I'll post the whole thing in order... Possibly with the swearing bowdlerized, we'll see how that works.

My next eye doctor followup is on June 17th. I'm not doing badly with most of the exercises, but my eyes are still messing with me at the moment. Maybe I pushed too hard last week, but I think middle age is making close work harder with no correction. (I fear how bad my most recent art will look once I get some!) I'm going to have to see what's the best option to treat presbyopia which a binocular vision dysfunction. I got more dumb doctor stuff this week too, but not until Wednesday - so I'm still gonna be all distracted.

I have almost got my Canadian finances straightened out! I have access to money, now I just need access to credit. Hopefully, they'll approve me for a card of some kind next week, then I can get into debt and prove I can pay it off.

Okay, thanks for your patience with the combination art/update thing, and here's Maggie's original crappy artwork.

(I kinda like that one.)

[neil-neil-orange-peel]

do you have any headcanons regarding rivyan just accepting their own sexualities (gay and bi as fandom tends to assign) and living their lives just accepting that maybe they’d found their own Platonic soulmate and resigning themselves to never being together? mild angst I guess but just little excuses for behaviour/convincing themselves that their infatuations are unrequited and assuming the other is straight? (may or may not be projecting here hehe) 🍵

Oof project away! I believe this situation warrants this ao3 tag (and its variants):

A lot of people must know by now that I'm partial to a bit of angst. 😂 Let's see...

There is fear that comes out as jealousy that the other will find a romantic soulmate and forget about them.

Let's be honest: this is more Rick's fear than Vyvyan's because Rick is a terrible flirt. He just gets all awkward and says the wrong things. Plus, if Vyv doesn't know that Rick's gay, that means he's never seen him try it with another man.

Vyvyan's flirting abilities get better over time, they develop beyond the "hey, girls, watch me do press-ups!" method.

But he doesn't seriously flirt with anyone; it's just a bit of fun and usually with women who just so happen to strongly resemble Jennifer Saunders...

Vyvyan thinks Rick's moodiness whenever he catches him with a woman is because Rick is jealous... And he is, just not in the way Vyvyan thinks.

Is Rick still a virgin? If this is set a a few years after uni, probably not. He's probably slept with at least one or two guys - maybe ones who reminded him of Vyv - and they weren't bad experiences but he knows they would have been better if only Vyvyan wasn't so ruddy heterosexual!

Likewise, Vyvyan isn't a virgin either. I reckon he's slept with more women than men purely to lessen the risk of someone unfriendly - or Rick - discovering his bisexuality. He's only ever had one night stands though; he's never looked for anything deeper because he knows he won't be fully invested unless it's Rick. Which it won't be, no matter how many times he calls him a poof.

They're just both very dumb. You could say maybe they're in denial about the other and scared of trying anything lest it spoils what they have now... But mostly they're just dumb.

For instance, whenever the catch the other staring at them when they're watching TV or whatever, they just assume they're about to comment on how ugly they are so quickly fire off retaliation before anything has even happened. Kinda dampens the romantic mood.

Very rarely, they might end up somewhat entwined on the sofa. Vyvyan drapes his arm over Rick's shoulders and Rick leans against Vyvyan, maybe after a hard day. Neither realise but the other is absolutely bricking it whenever this happens. Vyvyan thinks Rick's just touch starved and girly - which he is - and Rick thinks Vyvyan doesn't give much thought to what he does with his body or how certain actions could be interpreted - which is true, most of the time.

To add to this, one drunken night amidst an unexpected outpouring of emotion, Vyvyan comes out to Mike and tells him about his girly feelings towards Rick.

Rick also comes out to Neil and admits the same... Only he wasn't drunk. He didn't need to be drunk; he's just that dramatic.

Unfortunately Mike and Neil have never talked to each other about this and realised that the love is requited because Vyv and Rick made them swear never to tell another soul.

Rick has several poems he's written to Vyvyan over the years but never had the courage to give to him.

Vyvyan once got a small tattoo in a place that's usually covered from view - maybe over his heart because perhaps Vyv can be a sop sometimes too. It simply says "pRick".

I'd like to imagine they figure it out eventually and then bonk like rabbits but clearly it's gonna take them a while.

Hope this was alright? Putting these two bastards in different scenarios is fun. Dammit just kiss!

Thanks for the ask!

[billhaderlovebot]

beep beep (4) - richie tozier

some sexy stuff, swearing, angst, the usual. i don't know how many more parts there are going to be but if 5 is the last one then prepare for a Big Boy™

@ceruleanrainblues @the-star-above-you @a-second-hand-sorrow @shockwavee

----

the divorce was messy. timothy took pretty much everything on the grounds that you had run off with another man (which you thought was pretty fair) and he also had slandered your name in front of your whole family in court, which was actually quite petty of him. richie almost murdered him, that day, and had to keep his hand in yours so that he wouldn't get up and break timothy's nose again right in front of his big-shot lawyer.

your family, it was safe to say, did not approve of richie, because timothy was always such a nice boy, and you've made a terrible mistake, dear. the only one who ever did like richie was your grandmother, and she was long gone, bless her cotton socks.

so, yeah, you'd run off with richie.

yeah, you'd escaped from an unhappy marriage in which you never felt loved to be with someone who looked at you like you hung the fucking moon.

okay, granted, you did sleep with richie that night, which wasn't entirely moral, considering you were married to another man, but, yknow, timothy hadn't gone anywhere near you in months and months, and richie was just so good at the sex thing.

also, you loved him. so much.

leaving you with barely enough money to pay your hospital bills sucked. you weren't even sure how timothy was able to do that legally.

but it was alright. you took your stuff and moved into richie's penthouse apartment in malibu almost as soon as you'd been discharged from the hospital. he had made enough money over the first half of his trash-mouth tour to support the both of you for the time being, and he cancelled the reno dates, and all the dates for the foreseeable, because all he wanted to do was be around you and the rest of the losers.

your books and mugs and weird stuff that you'd hoarded over the years slowly spread themselves around richie's apartment, and it made him so happy because it was so utterly domestic.

whenever he saw your shoes in the hallway or your toothbrush in the weird ceramic holder with a bee on it that bev had bought him, he grinned like a stupid, lovestruck idiot, because he was a stupid, lovestruck idiot.

eddie came over a lot, regularly crashing in the spare bedroom because he, too was going through a divorce, and myra kaspbrak was quite a bit more intimidating than timothy. so, that became eddie's room while he was looking for his own apartment.

and you were so fucking happy.

the piece of string that had been serving as your engagement ring after richie proposing on a whim was a constant reminder of how loved you were, and you tied a matching one around his finger, because you didn't feel it was fair that he got to do the whole cute proposal thing.

it had been six months since derry. since the sewers, since defeating IT for the final time. since reuniting with your soulmate. you were sure that life couldn't get better.

eventually, you'd gotten an actual ring.

richie had given it to you on a whim, as usual, opening the little ring box in your direction while you were both surrounded by chinese food, the fourth consecutive episode of snapped playing in the background.

you had choked on your wok-fried garlic and soy broccoli, and he'd thumped your back so you wouldn't almost die, again, which hurt your recovering shoulder, and then he had panicked, and you were crying and laughing and choking all at the same time.

point is, he had given you a ring.

it was a thin, gold band with three little diamonds set into the middle, and you had immediately fallen in love with it.

you hadn't, however, wanted to take off the piece of string, so you wore it on the same finger as the proper engagement ring. richie was relieved because he also hadn't wanted to take the string off.

that night, after some really really great celebration sex, (albeit a little careful, as you sometimes got sharp pains up and down your ribs if you exerted yourself too much) richie bared his soul to you.

he told you everything.

and he cried, and he trembled because he was so scared of ending things with you before they had even begun.

it was the first time he had ever said it out loud.

"i'm bisexual."

and he had let out a breath, then. a breath that he had been holding in for almost three decades.

"oh, richie." and you held him to you without a second thought.

you had always known, somehow.

you'd known, for the same reason one knows the sun has risen. because you had eyes.

you'd seen how richie had always gravitated towards eddie, always grabbing onto him in moments of distress, the soft looks richie would give him when he didn't have time to put up his walls. you knew, and you loved him all the same. of course you did.

you didn't tell him, however, that you had known.

because this moment was so important. the moment where he finally had control over his life and his identity and he was spilling his heart out to you. you would not take that away from him.

this was his time. his moment. his life.

he told you about eddie, and the arcade, and the kissing bridge, and how he'd always, always pushed it down but now it was only the two of you, and if he was to marry you, he wanted everything out in the open.

and god damn you if you let him keep hating himself.

"richie, thankyou for telling me. im so happy that you... that you felt you could talk about it. and to me."

"so... you're not..."

"angry? no. honey, this is who you are. what kind of partner would i be if i didn't love you for who you are? you're perfect, richie."

he cried again, and you let him, because he fucking needed it.

----

richie's nightmares were bad.

really, really fucking bad.

he didn't have them as much as beverly said she had, because, while he had been caught in the deadlights, It was dead and couldn't push into his mind any further. he often couldn't remember what they were about, only that he woke up so scared he would cry. the deadlight-induced terrors came and went, but they always caught both of you off guard.

when it first happened, you were more than a little bit confused, because richie was not a restless sleeper.

you woke to quiet whimpers coming from the man sleeping beside you as he writhed under the bedlinen.

in your sleep-addled haze, it took you a minute to understand what was happening, wiping the sleep from your eyes and adjusting to the darkness.

what, moments ago, was little more than disturbed whimpers, was now loud, heart-fucking-wrenching sobs, the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment.

his body shook next to yours and you were beginning to panic, reaching for him.

"richie? baby, wake up." you shook him lightly, noting the sweat practically dripping from him, and his face, scrunched in fear. he whined lowly, jerking in the bed, but he did not wake. you hadn't been faced with such a situation before, especially not with him, so this was touch and go.

this had never happened before and you were absolutely shitting bricks.

you shook him again, and he jolted awake, crying out as he sat up with a start.

"richie?"

his eyes snapped open, searching wildly around the room for something that wasn't there.

the only light came from the moon and city lights outside your house. sobs of pain overtook him, great, heaving breaths, and then the man you were in love with was crying his fucking eyes out in front of you; fisting his hands in his sweat-soaked hair as his whole body shuddered.

they were tremors he had no control over, the aftershocks of the nightmare taking control of him.

it broke your heart. your face softened as you reached for him again.

god, he held on to you so tight that you almost started crying yourself.

"eddie..." he choked. "ben didn't warn him in time. and i-i-i couldn't... fuck-"

"eddie is at home." you murmured, pressing your lips to his sweat-slick forehead "a ten minute drive. he just moved in. we can go up to see him tomorrow, if you want."

"It's... It's in my head." richie sobbed. the front of your shirt was soaked through with tears. "It's still in my head."

"It's dead, richie."

"so why can i still feel it?"

and you didn't know what to tell him.

---

your first fight, needless to say, sucked.

you didn't even remember what you were fighting about, only that you screamed at each other a lot, and there were tears, and it ended with richie, head in his hands, asking you to leave him alone for a minute in a voice so uncharacteristically calm that it scared you. and so you left for the bedroom, shutting the door, your head swimming and chest burning from the sobs you'd been caging in there.

you knew, realistically, that this was just one fight, and you'd be back to normal within the hour, but this was the first fight you'd had since you were kids, and god only knows how hot headed you'd gotten in the 27 years since then. both of you.

and you hated yourself for letting it get this far and making him not want to be around you.

it was times like this, when richie's nightmares were at their worst and you woke up every night like fucking clockwork to make sure he was real and still there and still breathing, and eddie came round constantly because he couldn't stand being alone in a new place, it was times like this that you needed to be close. so while it was just a dumb fight, you allowed yourself to cry.

richie clicked open the door about half an hour later, shuffling into the room. his eyes were red and he was probably shaking a little bit, you thought.

"im sorry." his voice came out small, and you sat up from the bed immediately.

"no, im sorry, rich. i was overreacting and it was fucking stupid and we need to just-"

and richie all but staggered forwards, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you, hard. you gasped, and he used the opportunity to gain access to the inside of your mouth. cheeky bastard.

you both had been crying for a while, so the kiss was rather wet, but you overlooked it on account of the fact that his hand was not-so-discreetly sliding up your shirt and fumbling at your bra clasp. as suave as he liked to think he was, his bra skills needed work. he eventually did it, and seemed more than a little bit proud of himself, muttering a triumphant: "fuck yeah."

you tugged richie's bottom lip between your teeth and he fucking groaned. and that noise coming from his mouth was so fucking hot that your knees almost buckled.

you made a mental note to do the sex thing really really well tonight, because the sex thing was definitely happening and it had been a bad night for the both of you and you fucking needed him, right the fuck now.

it wasn't long before you ended up underneath him, and he was pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, and you were breathing hard and you honestly thought that if he didn't get the fuck on with it you'd probably die right there.

"rich- ahh- richie?"

"yes, baby?"

god, how the fuck was he so smug all the time?

"i think you should- fuck, oh my god- probably get on with things right the the fuck now, or i'll have to... i'll-" you curled your fingers into his hair, your nails scratching across his scalp.

"or?" he hummed, continuing his ministrations everywhere except where you wanted them.

"i'll have to, mmmh, hurt you, actually." you whispered, breathless. you were unable to form a solid argument, what with richie fucking tozier being so sexy and all, teasing the shit out of you.

"you will?" richie put a hand on each of your legs and spread them further apart, his lips relentless, sucking and biting your sensitive flesh. this man was going to fucking kill you, god.

"yeah, yeah, i'll- ahh- bite your fucking face off, or something-"

and then he was between your thighs, right fucking there, so he never did find out what that something actually was, because whatever came out of your mouth after that wasn't decipherable.

---

"we shouldn't fight." richie murmured, as if he was afraid of being too loud in case he broke the moment.

you traced gentle patterns on his chest with your fingertips.

"i know." you said, equally as cautious.

"but i don't even remember what we were fighting about, and we just had several rounds of the apology." he laughed quietly, kissing your bare shoulder.

smirking at the hickeys on your collarbone, he pressed a kiss there, too, admiring his handiwork.

"i love you, fuck face." you yawned, your eyes fluttering shut.

"yeah, and i love you, dickweed."

richie stared fondly at the piece of string around his ring finger. you would be alright. after all, your wedding was coming up.

he had no nightmares that night.

[amockingbirdslament-blog]

*realizes I reblogged this without my own story*

Ok so this was sometime around August/September of 2017. I was going for a walk around my neighborhood, because that's a thing I do sometimes, and had wandered kinda out-of-the-way.

Now, I consider myself to be pretty good with directions, as long as I know the area I'm navigating. Like, I've lived in this neighborhood for practically my whole life, so I know my way around. But somehow, on this walk, I got a bit lost, so I started backtracking and looking for street signs I recognized.

On the way, I passed a house that -- I swear to you -- hadn't been there before. It was red brick, with a greyish-blueish tiled roof and a white fence around it on two sides -- standing in front of the house, it was fenced in to the right and to the back. On the left was another house, and the street was in the front.

Being the curious and probably somewhat dumb at times person that I am, I decided to check it out, because I got a weird vibe from the place and wanted to know why. It didn't look like anyone was home, the lights were off and there was no car in the driveway, so I crossed the street and walked up to it.

That was my first mistake.

There were no lights on, as I've said. The grass was neatly cut, like someone had been taking care of it, and there was a potted plant sitting on the railing that wrapped around the stairs and the front porch. Once I was across the street, I sort of stopped and stared at the house for a bit, taking in how huge it actually was.

Thinking back, I realize that I didn't hear any cars passing by, even though I should've been near a busy road.

Not noticing that was my second mistake.

So, I finally approached the house all the way. There was a letter sticking out of the mailbox -- it was one of those that's attached to the wall of the house, so I had to go up on the porch to get a good look at what it said. It was a mail hold order -- something usually used when people are on long trips so that their mail doesn't stack up while they're gone. The post office holds onto it and you can pick it up when you get back.

But... The grass was cut, like someone was still here. And the potted plant looked taken care of.

I shrugged it off as maybe the people have someone that comes to take care of the plants while they're gone, and I resolved myself to hurrying up so I didn't get caught.

Then I noticed the windows.

In every single window on that goddamn house, there was a piece of paper taped up, and each one was one of two things: a child's drawing/half-assed coloring page, or a Scripture verse. I wasn't -- and am still not -- sure which was creepier.

With that, I began to pace the house, starting with the right wall -- the fenced-in side. More creepy drawings in the windows, and the other creepy thing was that I couldn't see inside. It was just... black, aside from the drawings.

So, nothing too noteworthy there, other than the eeriness of it all. I got to the backyard and holy shit did things get weirder.

There was no back patio furniture whatsoever. No tables, no chairs, not even a grill -- and no visible entrance to inside, either. The lawn was no different -- no chairs, not even a playset for whatever child was the source of those drawings in the windows. Just... nothing.

Thoroughly creeped out now, I walked to the final side I hadn't explored, passing by an empty locked shed -- yes, I checked, it had windows and these weren't blacked out, thank god -- and walking along the barren driveway.

I got about halfway back to the front. Then I stopped, because I felt like someone was watching me.

I looked up towards the windows.

That was my third mistake.

Behind the drawing -- I remember, it was a child and a dog signed with some name and a date, both of which I can't remember -- yet somehow in front of the darkness was a man. He looked normal enough, but he was glaring at me, like I was trespassing and he was gonna come out if I didn't get out of there and I was suddenly terrified and so I ran and ran and ran

and didn't stop until I got back home. It was faster than it should have been.

But that's not the end of the story, because the next day I went back.

That was my fourth mistake.

My sister wanted to go to the park, and the way I take to get there by walking somehow passes right through the area where I had seen the house. I didn't know that -- because I had no clue where I was when I found it the first time -- until my sister spoke up and said, "Is that place for sale yet? It looks wrecked."

And it did.

The grass was overgrown. The potted plant was wilted. I could tell from the street that the mail order was gone -- no way was I approaching that door again. The drawings were gone from the windows -- all except for the one of the child and their dog, the one in the window where the face had appeared -- and the odd black veil was gone as well.

I said I was feeling sick -- and I kinda was, ngl -- and so we went home.

I looked up the address, and the place had been vacant for at least a year.

So yeah, I may have stumbled upon some fae something-or-other.

SO I’M GONNA TELL YOU A STORY OF WHAT HAPPENED TO ME TODAY because I think I accidentally made friends with a benevolent trickster god/fey animal/werewolf???

backstory: I have been afraid of dogs since I was in first grade and two of my classmates both independently got hospitalized for dog bite injuries within a week of each other. ever since, I have been attempting to get over this fear. it’s going pretty solid lately. it helps that at my bus stop, there’s a large and fenced in property with a dog that is afraid of humans. he’s a gorgeous german shepherd?? who I have taken a few sneaky photos of and always manages to look angelic.

so this pup is scared of humans and I’m scared of dogs. but for months we see each other every day. and we nudge closer and closer. and one day I’m feeling brave and pick up a stick and hold it out to the fence and this good good doggo gennnntly takes it between his teeth and runs off with it. since then it’s been a game we play every day and this buddy’s tail starts wagging when I come down the street towards the bus stop and frankly it adds life to these brittle old bones of mine.

today however was the reckoning… I was a bit distracted by school stress when I came down the street, and so I take a moment for myself and when I look back up, the puppy is GONE. I look around the yard, seeing if he’s behind a tree, then see him leaving the yard and merrily skipping down the sidewalk, where he suddenly stops. I ask my group chat for advice.

trick question by the time the answer comes I’m already walkin towards him. he’s sitting still, tail wagging. right in front of him on the ground, with no one in sight? a $20 bill. 

I slooowly bend down and pick up the money and a nearby stick. put the money in my pocket. put the stick out to my doggo friend who gently takes it as always. and then awkwardly I kinda “well, thanks for the money! you should get home now, my bus is coming and your person won’t like you being out of the yard.” and just like that. the dog just trots back to the yard happy as a clam and slips in through the gaping wide bars of the fence. meanwhile, three high schoolers on the way to school are staring at me and laughing but like. okay what am I supposed to do, not thank this blessing dog. I actually tell him thanks once again for good measure before the bus comes.

so basically my fear of at least one dog is cured, my curiosity is piqued (coincidence? maybe. smart dog? perhaps. but this is the same city I got cursed in and the same city I wandered into a fey subway sandwich shop in so), and I got 20 bucks. so reblog for money dog? I guess?