#I'm so fucking sick of going out of my way to do things correctly in time and to a decent standard

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[qqueenofhades]

I understand how important it is to be able to criticize the President, and am not at all of the belief he should be beyond critique, but the critiquing of Biden makes me so nervous. (That's not to say I agree with every decision he's made - I absolutely do not). But I feel like people see things he's done wrong and decide they won't vote for him because of it. I'm not sure if enough people have the ability to see that he's done things wrong but also is our only hope of staving off literal fascism.

So many people talk about how sick they are of it constantly being a lesser of two evils situation, constantly having to vote for a candidate they hate because the other side is worse (I heard it in 2020, 2022, etc), and I guess I just- I don't really get it? We're here because they didn't do that in 2016. All of this could've been avoided had the result been different then. I just feel like people don't comprehend how different of a place we'd be in if Hillary won and engage in all this cognitive dissonance to make themselves feel better about being part of the reason she didn't.

Like.... this has been a long-running topic of discussion on my blog, not least because it is so inexplicable and maddening. It also shows how terribly shallow most people's understanding of the American political process is, and how toxic the "I can only vote for a candidate if every single personal belief/position of theirs matches mine" belief is, as well as how much damage it has done to American democracy even (and indeed, especially) by people who technically don't identify as right-wing. Yell at Republicans all you like (God knows I do, because they're the worst people on earth) but they vote. Every time. Every election. Every candidate. Whereas the Democratic electorate still holds out for Mister Perfect, and it very definitely is Mister Perfect. The amount of "evil HRC!!!" Republican-poisoned Kool-Aid that so-called progressives drank in 2016, and then afterward when they insisted they could have voted for someone like Elizabeth Warren and then didn't do that in 2020, is... baffing.

Frankly, I don't care if Hillary Clinton's personal positions on XYZ issue were the most Neoliberal Corporate Centrist Shill to Ever Shill (and Online Leftists' intellectual skills being what they are, I seriously doubt that they were using any of those words correctly and/or accurately). American policy is not made by "personal dictate of the ruler," or at least it shouldn't be, because we are not an absolute monarchy. We rely on the operation of a system with input from many people. As such, if Hillary had been elected, we would have 2-3 new liberal justices on SCOTUS and have secured civil and environmental rights for the next generation. Roe would be intact, and all the other terrible rulings that SCOTUS has recently handed down wouldn't have happened. We wouldn't have had January 6th, the attempt to stage a coup, all the tawdry scandals, our national security being at risk because of Trump stealing classified documents and probably selling them to Russia and/or Saudi Arabia, etc etc. If you think that's in any way an equivalent amount of evil to what would have happened if Hillary was elected, or if she was "still evil!!!," then I honestly don't know what to tell you. She could fucking murder puppies in her spare time if she had preserved SCOTUS for us, WHICH SHE WOULD HAVE, BECAUSE SHE WARNED US EXACTLY WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

(Hoo. Sorry. Still steamed. 2016 war flashbacks, again.)

In short, Hillary would have been a solid continuity Democrat and she would have signed whatever legislation a Democratic House and Senate passed, not to mention been hugely inspiring as the first female president. But because it's so important to the Online Leftists' moral sense of themselves that BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME!!!, they can't possibly acknowledge that ever being a factor, and/or admit that they have any culpability in not voting for her in 2016. It's like when you read the British press about any of the UK's equally numerous problems, and they BEND OVER BACKWARD to avoid mentioning that Brexit might be a factor. They just can't mention it, because then that means they might have made the wrong choice in pulling for it as hard as they did, and blah blah Sovereignty.

Basically, if HRC had been elected president, everything would be so much less terrible and terrifying all the time, we would be talking about her successor in 2024 as someone else who could be the "first," we could explore handing the reins over to Kamala as a Black/Asian woman, we could promote Buttigieg as the first gay president, etc etc. But because 2016 was so catastrophically fucked up, we are in damage control mode for the immediate future and every election is just as pivotal. And yet, because people think that the only thing that matters is a presidential candidate's personal views, we're stuck having the same old arguments and desperately begging people over and over to please vote against fascism, since that somehow isn't self-evident enough on its own. Yikes on Bikes.

[ronearoundblindly]

Ari- Baby is sick for the first time

Ari Levinson x best friend!reader (now fiancé)

New Parent Panic, a Bedrock and Blueprints tale

Warnings for protective!Ari, Ari not communicating, you doing the same, and then everyone gets their shit together and it's fluff. WC 2k *Off in the distance an ol' timey man pops up: "An argument, you say? You wrote an argument?? How different from your usual!!" Ha-ha. Yeah. We get it. Ro's the same hoe as last year... **I am not a mother. I know what would reasonably be categorized as zilch about babies. I have, however, seen this overwhelmed and guilty behavior from several of my peeps as they raise their youngins, so that's good enough for me. You're doing fine. I promise.

Sure, there was the rather severe diaper rash incident, and the time when nursing her turned your nipples into raw portals for a newly-discovered circle of hell, but nothing could have prepared you for this day.

Rachel was...meh this morning when Ari left for work. A little whiny, not sleeping well, but she's an infant; that's not new. Overall, she's actually been a very straight-forward baby.

And then you don't know what happened.

You napped very hard until noon (after only a moderately successful feeding) and by then Rach had a fever.

You called the nurses' hotline. You gave her the dose of baby meds. You're trying to keep her hydrated, at least, if she can't be happy right now. You just have to stay vigilant and wait it out.

But that's not easy.

She's crying and won't sleep, she'll barely eat, and you don't have a separate car. You only want to call Ari if it's to say "we need to take her to a doctor." You're not there yet.

So you do the shittiest feeling thing you can think of, the most painful thing, and you wait.

You don't sleep. You barely eat. You take Rachel's temperature like you are monitoring the possible meltdown of a nuclear reactor. One wiggle of a degree in the wrong direction, and that Bat Signal is going on.

I can do this, you tell yourself. I've wanted to be a mom for a long time, so I can do this.

Except you don't sleep and barely eat.

Ari arrives home precisely when he said he would, the exact number of minutes (after work shuts down for the day) that it takes to drive to the house, predictable, dependable, and utterly useless when he opens the door and asks "why is she crying?"

"Because she hates me," you blubber, holding her to your chest, arms cramped from cradling her for so many hours at this point.

"She need meds?"

Of course, I gave her the fucking meds.

"Hungry?"

No, asshole, I purposefully starved your fucking child for my own amusement.

"Calm down," Ari snips back. "I'm just trying to help."

Well then fucking help me!

By now, you likely look as if you're in a war zone: disheveled, manic, and possibly--definitely--hostile.

"Okay, okay, let me just take a piss and then I'll hold her."

"Yeah, of course. Whatever you want. Whatever you need." You turn your back to him before grumbling, "not like I haven't had to hold it all afternoon..."

Ari's still-booted feet land heavily beside you again. "Then I'll take her now," he grits through clenched teeth, "and you can use the bathroom."

"No. I already have her."

"Fine. I'll be right back."

"Take your time."

The way you lace the words with a sickly sweet melody has Ari spinning on a heel and staring at you through his long eyelashes, a tick in his jaw stopping him from saying something he might regret.

"Kid," he finally sighs, "just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

He runs a hand over his beard while he waits for your answer. A few seconds later, his hip juts out, arms akimbo, and he bites his bottom lip expectantly.

You just walk off toward your phone on the kitchen counter and call the nurse hotline back.

"I swear, woman," he mutters as you leave, but you're glad he can't hear you sniffle back a sob.

It should be reassuring that the nurse has no new advice for what to do. You're doing everything correctly. You're doing all you can. Don't worry. Keep checking her temp and giving her whatever fluids she'll take. That's all for now.

It doesn't feel like enough. It doesn't feel like all a mother can do.

Ari? Ari waltzes up to the fridge and cracks himself open a beer.

You don't even have words, only flaming hot vibes that will melt his face like a Spielberg movie--you have got to stop watching movie marathons during late-night breast-feeding--if you stare hard enough at his casual blue gaze.

"So," he begins, "you figure out what I gotta do?"

What had been steady whimpering from Rachel has amplified into wails that bring tears to both hers and your eyes.

They just fall down your cheeks, and you wipe them from your chin before they can fall onto your screaming child.

Ari's judging frown makes your stomach turn while he steps closer, bends at the knees, and takes his little girl in hand.

Less than a minute later, Rachel stops, and you just cannot fucking handle it. The only quiet moment you've had in six and a half hours he gets to enjoy moments after coming home.

That's not fair. Cure fucking cancer already, Levinson, and save us the goddamn grief!

The tears and the tired are choking you.

Ari tells you to go freshen up in the bathroom, but that is the most horribly wrong way to say anything to you, ever, in a moment like this.

You stomp out the front door, rip open the sliding back door of the SUV, and crawl onto the cab floor. Once the latch clicks behind you, face buried in the blanket kept on Rachel's car seat, you scream.

You whimper and you cry and you get your fucking time to be angry at all your feelings today because it's bullshit.

You didn't take your own temperature. You didn't get rest and drink plenty of fluids. You didn't take any medicine. All you keep going over in your mind is whether or not you were sick first. Did you have something you gave to your daughter? Is this your fault?

So the tears and the choking continue for...as long as they take.

You don't know how much time has passed before the car door is yanked open again. Thank the stars you are facing away. You can't look at Ari right now.

"Is she okay?" you ask with a watery voice.

His big, warm hand rubs across your back, making you sink further into the upholstery.

"Took a few ounces of a bottle and went down in her bunk."

Ari likes to call Rachel a part of his 'squad,' so he talks to your infant daughter like they're going on 'missions' to the store or getting a bottle from the 'mess.' Your bedroom has thus become the 'barracks.'

Sometimes, he holds her sitting up against his chest and uses her feet to 'march' the pair of them across the house.

Left. Left. Left right left.

And almost always, there's a giggle, too.

"Up you go, kid," Ari huffs, maneuvering you into his arms.

"No," you whine, so tired you can't tell what it is you don't want.

He just keeps saying, "I know. I know," until he's carried you inside.

Instead of taking you to the couch or the bed, Ari sits you both down in the front hall, balancing you on his lap while he loosens his boot laces and finally kicks the sturdy shoes off, placing them on the mat a couple feet away.

He presses his lips to your temple, rough beard gently scrubbing over your eyelid and cheek.

"How many times I gotta tell ya to call me?" he whispers. He doesn't expect to have this same argument again, not like this, but his point still stands. "You know, you're warm, too."

If it's another question, you don't answer that either. You change the subject.

"Did you take her temp?"

He nods, and the number he tells you is the same as it was thirty minutes ago, or rather, thirty minutes before he came home.

Ari squeezes you tighter. "You want to get into bed, and I'll bring your some juice and meds, huh? Meet you in there?"

"I'm a bad mom," you breathe.

"What?" He pulls away, smacking his head on the wall behind him. "What are you talking about?"

How are there more tears left in your body? You should be nothing but a shriveled husk at this rate.

"Bullshit," he practically seethes. "Don't you ever say that again."

"I shouldn't have--"

"Stop."

"--you were--"

"Stop it," he blurts, firm and serious.

"But I'm the one who wanted this, Ari!" Your most powerful voice only comes out as high whisper. "Me. I wanted kids. This whole time. I bitched about how Joanna's done, and I thought I could just--" you swing an arm out dramatically "--and I suck at it. Rach even likes you better!"

"No, kid. She was exhausted. I only got here at the right time."

"It's 'cause your comfy and you smell good--"

"--not sure about that--"

"--and she loves you," you bemoan.

Ari snorts out a laugh.

"She loves you, too. You're her mom." He tucks you in closer, soothing you with petting hands wherever he can reach. "I love you. So much. So, so much."

He finds your hand and the sapphire ring he put on it, spinning it gently on your finger. He hasn't gotten to make good on his promise. Planning a wedding, even a small one, with a newborn is almost impossible, but that seems to be part of the problem.

Anything to do with you or you two feels selfish when there's three. Guilt grips you when you stop to daydream about your big day because it's not about Rachel. She's the most important thing. She will trump you forever as the single most--

"Can I tell you a secret?" Ari's timbre rattles close to your ear. "You're my favorite."

You slump into his chest until your forehead braces his throat.

"Almost not fair, really," he drawls. "You've got a decade of brownie points, and she's managed to make me buy more pads for her than I've had to for y--"

You pinch at his side harshly, biting back a smile, the salt from dried tears on your lips flooding your mouth.

"Oh! And you can control your bladder for a whole day, which is downright impressive wh--hey now--" Ari scuttles on the floor to evade your attack on his ribs. "I'm just...being...honest," he chuckles.

"You're a jerk is what you are, old man."

He easily grabs both your arms and pins them together in front of him.

"Yeah, but I'm your jerk. Your old man, kid. I'm yours, okay? You are not alone here. You don't have to know how to do everything by yourself." He lowers his voice as well as his face to yours. "And you mean just as much to me as that little girl in there. You hear me?"

There's a different lump of emotion lodged deep in your chest. You only nod because you can't speak.

He makes your foreheads meet.

"Please be okay. I could never do this without you. Any of it..."

That's when you realize what bothers you so much: Ari should need you to raise Rachel, but you never truly acknowledged you might need him to raise her, too.

This enormous weight of clutching every thread of life in your own two hands isn't real. You can share. You are meant to share your life with Ari. Ari is meant to share his life with you. Rachel shares life with you both, as she is meant to share with everyone around her. It's a lesson she has the opportunity to learn a lot younger than you, apparently.

He gets you to drink a whole bottle of water. He brings you some food and medicine while he handles some laundry and cleans out the day's bottles. He leads you with both hands to the bathroom, finally, and then gets you settled in bed.

As you fall asleep, you watch Ari take Rach's temperature again.

He lets out a silent cheer and holds his hand over her.

"High five?" he whispers. "No? It's fine. We'll work on that."

The last thing you see is Ari playfully lifting her from the basinet, sneaking out to the living room to enjoy a movie marathon, just for a little bit, snuggling together while he winds down for the night.

All that matters is she's safe and happy.

That, and of course, waking up in Ari's arms, listening to his slow breathing and Rachel's faster, baby huffs. You can handle anything because you made it through today and you have them.

[Ari's POV for this day]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @yenzys-lucky-charm

[kawaiigirly21]

Gem of Olympus 6

"Wait, say that again. I'm afraid I didn't hear you correctly. You…want…her…back?” Apollo stared at his brother as he sat across from him in the large garden. “Yes Apollo! I want her back! I-i miss her. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can barely look at Aphrodite without wishing she was… Natasha… I still love her. I don't think I ever stopped…” Ares put his head in his hands. This was one of the very first times he displayed his true emotions in front of anyone besides the goddess he was previously married to.

Apollo sighed as he took his eyes away from his brother to look at his wine glass. “Look Ares, I'm sure your feelings are genuine but do you know how much you hurt her? She unraveled because of you. Her confidence became undone. And so did her clothing. She went around starting affairs to compensate for what you did to her. She never once doubted her beauty until you planted those seeds of deceit and pain. She simply did all those things to feel beautiful again. To regain some semblance of power. Control.”

Ares could do nothing but simply listen to his brother as he spoke words of truth to him. His ears now finally opened and his mind cleared to truly understand what he had done. “I don't doubt your love for her, Ares. In fact when you two first started courting, I had never seen you so happy. But she's no longer yours. And if you want her back. If you want to be her husband once more, you have a lot to work on.” Apollo then stood from his chair and walked past his sulking brother.

“Now if you'll excuse me, I do have to get going. I do believe I hear mortals praying for me to heal their sick. Till tonight brother.” Ares simply waved his brother off and made his way out of the garden. He knew Apollo was telling the truth. He had much to work on. Such as getting rid of Aphrodite. Elsewhere on Olympus, Poseidon and Hera were planning his proposal. As Hera was the goddess of marriage, she jumped at the opportunity to help her brother wed Natasha.

“She did say she liked Dolphins right? Or was it tiger sharks… this is stressing me out…” Poseidon sighed as his eyes scanned the parchment in front of him. “It was indeed tiger sharks. Please don't let this bother you. It's just a proposal. It's not the wedding… yet.” Poseidon nodded before grabbing a pen. “I just want this to be perfect… I love her Hera… I truly do..” Hera smiled warmly. “I know you do. I can tell. Now back to the planning, you want to do this when?” Poseidon quickly answered. “The day after tomorrow! I don't want to wait any longer!”

While the two continued their planning, Hades, Persephone and Natasha were playing with Cerberus. “Come on boy! Come on! Go get it!!” Natasha smiled brightly as she watched the three headed dog run off to fetch the log she threw. “It's hard to believe he used to be so small you could hold him in one hand. Now look at him.” Persephone put a loving hand on her niece's shoulder as she led her to their usual table. “We have much to discuss my dear.” Hades spoke as he took a seat besides her.

Natasha knew exactly what it was they were about to discuss and smiled as the gossip flew. “Then she claimed she didn't know I was there. Can you believe that?” Natasha sipped her tea as she listened closely to her uncle's story. “Ugh unbelievable!” She added. “I personally wouldn't have tolerated such disrespect!” Persephone said. Once every month, Natasha traveled to the underworld for 3 days to spend time with her aunt and uncle. Most of the time, it was tea, cakes and all the gossip they could stand.

Other times....“Ah! Oh! There! There! Mm!!” Hades growled in Natasha's ear as he took her from behind. “Put that mouth to good use, darling.” Persephone purred as she led Natasha's head to her pussy. “Ah~ good girl~ mm~” Hades smirked as he pushed himself deeper into Natasha's weeping cunt. “Agh shit!! So tight you are little one! Fuck!!” Persephone smiled as she pet Natasha’s head. “Oh fuuuuck~ You’re too good at this~”

Later that day, Natasha laid in her bed reminiscing about her past affairs and her previous lovers while petting her lion. “Hmmm Hercules gave you to me. You big ball of fluff.” The nemean lion simply yawned while snuggling close to her. “Not much to say on that. You’re so spoiled.” As Natasha looked up at her ceiling, she heard a soft yet firm knock at her door. “It's open.” Fully expecting to see Hermes, considering his knocks were the only kind that sounded that way, the goddess’ eyes widened when the man in her chambers was not in fact Hermes but Ares.

“Do you have a minute?” He asked with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Um…sure. What is it?” Natasha moved from her lying position to sitting up with Leo, her lion, moving to place his head on her lap and continue his nap. “I um..here. These are for you. They’re your favorite right?” Ares asked as he pulled a bouquet of belladonnas from behind him. “Yes they are. I didn’t know you knew. Place them on my night table. I’ll vase them once Leo moves his large head.” The war god nodded as he placed the flowers down and stood in front of Natasha awkwardly.

“You may sit Ares. I’m not forcing you to stand.” As the god found a chair to sit in, Natasha watched confused. Why was he so awkward and nervous? He wasn’t even like that when they first started courting. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other night…and for …everything…” This threw Natasha for a major fucking loop. Ares? Apologizing?! Since when!? “Oh well…You’re forgiven…at what cost though?” Natasha eyed her Ex husband suspiciously. “What do you mean? Can I not apologize without having an ulterior motive?”

Natasha immediately shook her head and stroked Leo’s mane while he purred loudly. “No. Not from what I've seen.” Ares sighed as his head hung low. “I beg for your forgiveness. Not for the benefit of myself, but for my love for you…” Natasha’s eye twitched as she watched in disbelief.

"Your love for me? When did you ever have love for me?! You cannot just come in here Ares and expect me to embrace you with open arms! After what you did to me?! You’re grateful that I even accepted your flowers and allowed you into my chambers! You want my forgiveness?! Work for it! Now…If you'll excuse me, I must get ready for bed. Goodnight.” Ares left the room tight lipped and humiliated. It wasn’t as if he expected her to take him back right away but he definitely wasn’t expecting that reaction either.

As the war god moved to make his way to his own room, He stopped in his tracks when his ears caught the condescending chuckle of his uncle. “Didn’t go as you planned, did it?” Poseidon asked as he appeared from his place behind a pillar. “How long were you there?” Ares asked as his eyes squinted. “Long enough to know I have more of a chance than I once thought.” Ares stepped to his uncle with an angered expression on his face. “And just what is that supposed to mean?” Poseidon simply smirked as he walked past his nephew.

“Exactly what you think nephew. You had your chance. Now let me show you how a real man charms a woman.” Watching in irritation, Ares’ eyes widened as Poseidon not only knocked on Natasha’s door with a much firmer sound that just screamed authority and confidence but that it looked as if Natasha scrambled to open the door and immediately let the king of the seas in. while she was dressed in her finest nightgown as well. Before the door closed, Poseidon sent an all knowing smirk Ares’ way. It became all so clear then. This was war. And Ares was determined not to lose.

[americas1suiteheart]

Hi! Hope you are doing well! So, Tangerine x Reader: any headcanons about Tan as a partner? Thanks!

I'm doing great in fact, thank you for the request! Headcannons are my favourite thing to write, hope this is fitted to your taste.

Dating Tangerine Would Include...

Tangerine x GN! Reader Headcannons

Warnings; Violence, smoking, violence, it's a bullet train fic, guys

Notes; I love writing for Tan so much you guys have no idea, I get to cuss as much as I want to in these fics

Oh man, he's such a softie for you, you have absolutely no idea.

He can go from being the same grumpy prick to other people and have one of the worst days but when he's around you he's calling you love and darling, clinging onto you practically and just showering you in kisses.

He's so clingy, as soon as either of you get home he's begging you to sit with him on the couch just so you could cuddle. And if your making dinner expect him to try to help but just end up holding you by your waist the whole time.

Lemon thinks it's the cutest thing how tangerine acts around you. He thinks its hilarious how quickly Tan switches up with you.

"-you're the one that doesn't fucking know how to go on about this job correctly! You're such a fucking idiot sometimes Lemon it's insu-" Tangerine yells at his brother before being interrupted by you.

"Whats going on? What are you two fighting about now?" You say in annoyance.

"Nothing darling, just please go back to the living room I'll be right there okay love," Tangerine tells you softly, pressing a kiss to your head before you leave.

"You're a right fuckin' sap for them, Tan," Lemon snickers at Tangerines change of attitude and tone.

"I'll put your fuckin' head through a wall, honest to god Lemon."

He just loves when your laying with eachother and you run your hands through his curls.

I'd like to think you help him take care of his hair actually. Like, he would know how to take care of it properly before, but he let's you put different product in his hair to make sure he doesn't miss any areas on his hair, (In reality he just wants to be touched by you in some way).

Being a part time nurse for him and Lemon definitely became a thing almost immediately after you two started dating. Constant cleaning of wounds and such, just constantly.

The days when he's on missions he's constantly texting you as much as he can, checking up on you to make sure you're doing well.

There are times where he's come home a couple days or even weeks later than he had originally anticipated without being able to contact you, and you'd be absolutely furious, (sometimes not knowing that he wasn't able to contact you at all).

"What the fuck happened, Tan! I thought you were dead. You hadn't even texted me or anything, you were supposed to be back 5 days ago! You had me absolutely worried sick!" You yell.

Tan had been gone for almost 2 weeks when the mission was only supposed to last a week. And on top of that he hadn't phoned or even tried to text you. If it weren't for Lemon telling you that they were fine 2 days before they showed up you would've assumed the worst had happened.

"I really am sorry my darling, the mission was just much harder than we'd expected and we got stuck there longer than nessasary." He explained quietly.

"But why hadn't you contacted me at all? If it weren't for lemon calling me I would've thought you two were gone for good!"

"My telephone got broken by some prick the 3rd day into the mission whilst we were fighting. And I didn't think to used lemon's phone because I was so frazzled the whole time. Really darling, I didn't mean to frighten or worry you."

"Alright.. Sorry I freaked out on you but I really was worried. I'm just glad you're okay now." You walk to Tangerine, pulling him into a hug.

" 's alright love, I'm glad you and I are good too. Let's go wash up and go to bed, I've got blood all over me and my fuckin' clothes and it don't feel too great," Tangerine says, picking you up and taking you to your shared bedroom.

Loves taking baths with you, taking turns washing eachother off makes him feel all warm inside, that you trust eachother enough at that point in your relationship. He thinks it's so sweet though.

Sometimes when he goes outside to have a smoke he'll invite you out with him so you two can just talk. If you smoke he'll probably share one with you too.

Very protective.. Being he's an assassin and all, he'd most definitely go to extremes if someone had been bothering you. Some random person flirted with you? Dead. A someone you knew in high school used to bully you? Dead. Any person that has hurt you no matter how long ago will probably end up dead.

You two are so good for eachother though. Strangely the healthiest relationship you will ever have. Please don't break this poor boy's heart. He will be absolutely devastated and blame himself for it. Underneath all of that muscle and confidence he's very emotional and sensitive.

Will ask to marry you and even possibly start a family with you if you're up for it. (Adoption or old fashioned depending on your biological sex).

Loved writing this, and I was infact so excited that I finished this in just 2 hours🤭

[svltth]

Get out the car.

Tom era: braids/09

Category: angst, little fluff

You and Tom got into a car augment on the way home from a club,tom ends up snapping.

————————————

"I didn't flirt with him, he tried to hit on me and I said I have a boyfriend!" Y/n looked at him with disbelief that he was actually accusing her of flirting with other guys.

"Bullshit!" He yelled gripping tightly onto the leather of the stirring wheel as he sped up slightly.

"TELL ME WHAT I WAS DOING THAT MADE IT LOOK LIKE I WAS FLIRTING EITH HIM!" Y/n was now getting pissed off that he didn't believe her.

"YOU WERE LAUGHING WITH HIM!" Tom shouted matching her tone while not taking his eyes off the road.

Y/n scoffed at his answer. "I was laughing AT him because he said he's better looking than you and that I should leave you to go with him! Now I think I should have gone with him!" Y/n shouted knowing she shouldn't have said the last bit but It just slipped out and to be honest she didn't care at that moment.

Tom pulled over coming to a sudden stop. "Get out the car!" He shouted unlocking the doors as he stared at her.

"What?!" Y/n said making sure she had heard him correctly.

"I said get out the fucking car" Tom lowered his tone as he clenched his jaw.

"Tom it's pissing it down I'm not getting out!" Y/n protested.

"Get out the god damn car!!" Tom yelled loosing his patience. Y/n didn't say anything thing else. She grabbed her leather jacket getting out the car and slamming the door shut, watching him drive off as she put on her jacket beginning to walk. Her hair was instantly soaked as well as her clothes.

——————

Toms POV:

——————

I knew I shouldn't have made her get out the car into the cold rain in only a short dress and jacket but I was so annoyed with her, though it wasn't her fault it was mine for jumping to conclusions. I was stupid for thinking she was flirting with that guy. But just the thought of someone else laying their hands in her or even just laughing with her makes me want the rip their worthless little head off.

I know I can get jealous at times but I just don't want to get hurt again. Y/n wouldn't do that though.

I pulled into the driveway and parked the car. I opened the front door and sat down on the couch thinking of how much of an asshole I was. An hour had passed and she still wasn't home, I had rang her multiple times each time it was declined. I had fucked up.

——————

Y/n opened the door to Tom and hers house. She was met with the sight of him sat on the couch his head in his hands. Tom quickly stud up once he heard the door open.

"What took you so long I was worried sick" he said slowly walking over to f to he sight in front of him, she was soaked to the bone her arms wrapped round her body failing to keep her warm and makeup smudged round her face.

"I got lost" y/n simply said as she made her way upstairs to the shower.

"Y/n I'm so sorry I just got jealous I didn't mean anything I said" Tom said desperately as he followed her up the stairs.

"Leave it Tom I'm sleeping on the couch tonight" she said shutting the bathroom door on him. Tom just stood there, tears threatening to leave his eyes.

Y/n got into some warm pjs, grabbed two spare blankets and some pillows and made her way to the couch down stairs. Tom was lying awake in their bed unable to sleep with her not there next to him.

——————

Y/n's POV:

——————

It was around 3:30 am and I was unable to sleep. I had too many thoughts buzzing round in my head. No matter what I tried I just couldn't seem to get to sleep.

I heard Tom creep downstairs so I pretended to be asleep. I could tell he was looking at me, I suddenly felt him get under the blanket next to me. His arms snaked loosely around my waist.

I was too tired to tell him to move and plus I felt safe with him close to me, I know we had just had an argument but I just wanted to be close to him so I turned to face him pushing my face into his chest as I felt his arms tighten around me as he pulled me closer nuzzling his face into my hair.

"I so sorry y/n, I love you" he whispered into my hair his voice barely audible.

"I love you too" I mumbled into his chest as I hugged him tighter.

_____________________

❗️IGNORE MISTAKES❗️

[s0lar-ch3ri]

weird pine trees in my minds forest

(it is just vyncent being gay, based off a ghost knife post i made which i shall link at home) (edit heres the link i forgot to add for so so long)

Aren't emotions weird? Vyncent knew they were. They seemed to change over time as he looked at Will. He didn't want to stop looking at him, which...that wasn't "normal", right? Will was great, wonderful even. He was awesome enough that he felt his own body twist his stomach and his face get warm. His legs even feel slightly wobbly if he's close, but he can say that doesn't happen.

He was also very pretty, Vyncent wasn't scared to say it (to anybody but Will, for some reason), his friend was quite nice. Will normally had fluffy black hair that reached his shoulders, but right now he had tied up in the back with parts sticking out the side, also was a bit flatter from Will forgetting to wash it. There was some white strands in his bangs and in the back some more blue curls. His face held a couple of pimples (if Vyncent remembers the word correctly) and the under eyes had deep eyebags. His pants were some black bagged sweats that reached upto his red sneakers. He normally also had on his regular graphic text t-shirt, but this time had sleeveless grey v-neck with a skull and crossbones on it, hoodie around his hips. His hands had midnight blue nails (Dakota managed to do them sometime before) that were barely visible with how dark his hands at the tips were. On the right he had a skeleton fingerless glove and on the other some bracelets and some skull ring he felt like was from Fauna. His eyes were a bright blue, almost glowing, very piercing, but Vyncent liked the way they saw into his.

"VYNCE BE-"

Right, dancing. That's what Vyncent was doing with him. Despite the tail, Vyncent was a horrible dancer without any balance. He figured he could learn from Will, even if he's never seen Will dance before. Could be half an excuse to hold his hand. Who knows, Vyncent won't tell.

Will was definitely stronger then Vyn was remembering, catching his arm and pulling him back up and sending a shiver down Vyncent's spine.

"Are you feeling good Vynce? You- Oh man you are so red, did you get sick again?" Will started laughing a bit.

"I'm feeling fine, perfect and normal, just...wanna keep trying?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll start the music back up."

Vyncent thought he knew the tune from show with gems and magic they watched once, but decided to go without comment. He's holding onto Will’s hand, and he finds his gaze going back to Will's eyes. Oh my fuck, his eyes are entrancing. He keeps stumbling around because rather then focus on his feet, though Will doesn't seem to be holding up too much better. Despite it, he keeps giggling and laughing as he looks at Vyncent, and Vyncent gets redder and starts laughing too as they fumble around their own feet.

Of course, the stumbling on Vyncent's end only ends with one way, falling forward onto Will, knocking them both to the floor. His face is just about a dagger away from Will’s. The only noise at the moment is the faint song playing. Vyncent's just looking at Will, who blinks back at him. Will just starts laughing again. Vyncent feels his heart skip beats and his tail swish and even his ears flutter slightly, turning reds he doesn't know are okay. It's hitting him all at once at just how pretty he finds William Wisp with his not-exactly-right laugh and the tremble in his lips before he speaks and the way his hands seem to grip either just too tight or just too weakly, unaware of their strength, and just every small thing he's heard someone call strange of The Wisperer.

Basically, Vyncent cannot get the thought of just how wonderful Will looks and is.

"We're really bad at this, huh?"

"I thought you'd know this a bit better..."

"Wh- Okay, *why* exactly would I know how to dance?"

"...You're awesome like that?"

"Vyncent, I can barely even use my legs right let alone- just-" He snickers about it. "Me? Dancing?"

"I'm not that observant!" Vyncent noted the way Will tapped his left pointer finger on the floor with his nail, a heart beat pattern almost. He was happy, that's good, and totally not an observant thing to pick up on.

William smirked a little bit. "Imagine if we were dancing heroes." The idea sent a visible shiver down Vyncent's back, and once again did Will start laughing, Vyncent laughing with him. Nothing was funny, it was all just stupid, yet maybe it felt so ridiculous to Vyncent for any of this. William was too pretty for focus, and he tried to get him to teach him to dance without any reason.He wouldn't have been like this before, but he didn't mind how it's changed where he's red on the floor, laughing with his best friend. Feelings are weird, so is he, and maybe it doesn't matter if Vyncent was thinking of William deeper. He can pretend it's a new normal.

[icallhimjoey]

All Goes South

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe is overworked, tired, exhausted and just... he needs a break. Everyone knows it, too. None of it is really exciting to him anymore. Then, he meets you, and something reignites within him.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader, angst, mentions of smut

Author’s note: Wee woo wee woo! Last part alert! The 2004 film that inspired me was First Daughter (and I guess, that means Chasing Liberty too). Some girls got it shockingly fast and my inbox is full of messages of girls guessing correctly, so well done! Hope you all enjoy this last part!

Wordcount: 5.5k

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Mistake.

That was a mistake. All of it. You. You were a mistake.

“Yea, well... we’ll see,” Joe could hear your voice echo in his mind. He’d seen it now, and desperately wished he could unsee it all.

In the car on the way to Joe's film premier, he stared out of the window with wide eyes, a hand covering his mouth, brain buried deep in thought. In shock, because what the fuck had just happened?

"She was just doing her job, mate... I don't know what to tell–"

"She's an undergrad." Joe interrupted, voice stern, not blinking, eyes still staring. You didn't have a job.

"Yea, she's interning for Victoria. Josephine helps her out a lot too... she'd been given an assignment, and... fucking aced it, if I'm being honest, so Vic's gonna offer her a job,"

Joe then turned his head, looked at his manager and felt something snap and recoil inside his head.

Joe's manager saw, and immediately jumped to your defense.

"We needed to get you out there, Joe... you were calling in sick left, right and center - we asked if you if minded an intern joining the team, you said you didn't mind, so an intern joined the team. I don't know what to tell you..." 

Joe tried to ignore it, looked away, eyes trained out the window, worked away the tears that built in his eyes from sheer anger, and got his phone out to distract him. Pretended he wasn't trapped in a car with someone defending you, standing up for you, after the most devastating thing ever had just happened to him.

"You fucked off to the toilets again, and were in there for, what, twenty minutes? She asked if she could try something, and Victoria told her to do whatever because none of us were getting through to you, we tried everything, didn't we? Josephine said she'd get Victoria to hire her right after her internship if she could manage to get you to stop canceling on everything... we were at our wit's end,"

Joe's breathing grew heavier, and if his fingernails were longer, the palms of his hands would've bled.

"And she fucking nailed it, didn't she? She did a stellar job. Got you out there. Got you smiling, all... I don't know, all happy? Paid your bills–"

"Don’t."

So close to breaking, Joe only had to say that once to shut Alex up fully. Knew if he would've kept going, Joe would've broken down completely. Would've started crying for real, and Joe didn't know if he'd be able to stop himself if that were to happen.

A silence took over, Joe's mind reeling, and then, he blocked your number.

What a fucking mistake, how the fuck could he not have seen it? Could he not have puzzled it together? He couldn't actually believe it. This was taking humiliation to a whole different level.

He tried to make sense of it, but couldn't for the life of him.

You'd eavesdropped on Joe's meeting at that restaurant you said you used to work at. Made it sound like you weren't with them, with him, at all. They'd been lies. Lies by omission, maybe. But still fucking lies.

You'd shown him out that backdoor, and then he'd asked if you wanted to join him, like an idiot, and Joe realised, that was the first mistake he had made. He remembered all the phone calls and the texts he'd gotten that night from his team. Had you not received any?

The second mistake was banning chat about work. Would you have told him if he hadn't swiped the topic off the table? Would your silly round of questions have involved work-related questions? And would Joe have learnt then that you were part of the team of people he'd ran away from then?

These were questions he knew he was never going to get an answer to.

He could think of so many more mistakes. He should have never let you take him over to Swingers, should have never taken you over to Duck & Waffle and should have never insisted on taking you home.

And you had fucking warned him too, hadn't you?

Joe closed his eyes, absolutely livid with himself as he realised you'd actually warned him. You'd been so hesitant, had said, "I don’t want to make mistakes," which then lead to Joe taking full responsibility for all of the upcoming mistakes the two of you made. Why did he do that? What the fuck was actually wrong with him?!

But it was never fully his fault.

Because Joe didn't know.

Joe had no idea.

Joe could blame himself for a lot, but the biggest mistake was the one that you made. The biggest mistake was the information you'd withheld. The purposefully vague explanation of your internship, the exclusion of any details of what it really was that you did. That was all on you.

Joe angrily puzzled things together in the silence of that backseat. Things sort of started dawning on him. Started making sense a little more. In hindsight, Joe felt like a fucking idiot because hadn't it all been so fucking obvious?!

You'd been very jittery a lot.

Very nervous.

Would almost succumb under a pressure Joe never fully understood, but he had wanted to be so helpful, so supportive.

Was it all fretfulness to be found out? To run into someone who was going to tell Joe? Tell him that the girl he'd fallen so hard for - fuck, he was in so fucking deep - that she was lying to him? Is that what that stupid bouncy leg was all about? The clammy hands? Those fearful eyes?

Joe realised he'd bitten through his bottom lip when he suddenly tasted blood.

Shit, he fucking loved you. He realised it then and there and wanted to smash in the windows. The whole thing was a disaster.

The taxi pulled up outside of the office where Joe got changed into a fancy looking suit. The office was just around the corner from Leicester Square anyway, so he made it perfectly on time. Didn't look anyone in the eye, though. Not until he stepped foot onto the red carpet.

Joe smiled at people behind the barriers.

Joe smiled at the wall of photographers.

Joe smiled at the people holding microphones.

Joe smiled at his coworkers, at his costars, at other celebrities.

Joe smiled the whole time.

Yet, it never reached his eyes.

Joe loved you, and you'd gone and fucked it all up.

Once people started making their way inside, Joe was pulled aside, and then, was told to go home. He looked awful, like he was on the verge of a mental break down. But then Joe said,

"Oh no, I'm staying." and turned into a real bitch of a man.

"This is important, isn't it? Can't skip my own premier, oh no, this is the type of shit you come and get me for, right? The big event that I definitely wasn't allowed miss out on, just, had to be dragged from a date–" Joe closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose in frustration. He didn't like that he'd just called that a date.

"I'm staying." He finished, but as he said those last two words, he was already walking backwards.

"I'm staying. Because you need me out here, right? Need me to stop canceling on everything? I'm staying. I'm fucking staying." and then Joe stretched out both his arms with both middle fingers raised, and left.

Joe sent an e-mail to his team from the car that drove him home.

"Taking an indefinite leave of absence. Please direct any and all questions towards Alex, he'll assist."

And then, for the next two and a half weeks, no one managed to get into contact with him. They tried - you tried - but Joe dodged all calls, blocked various numbers, and let all e-mails go unanswered.

He needed time to think.

Joe granted himself the break he needed a long time ago, got drunk more than was good for him, spoke to his mum and dad a bunch, and cried when he found the toothbrush you used in his medicine cabinet.

All for a fucking job.

And sure, Joe had seen your flat, had seen the way you lived. Had heard you wish for a real job, one that would pay you enough to move to a different place. One without a messy flatmate, and one with a gorgeous bathtub.

But still.

Joe couldn't get it out of his head.

Couldn't accept that in such a short amount of time he allowed himself to fully love someone that could do such awful things to him.

Couldn't accept that he loved you at all.

And that he missed you.

Fuck, he missed you so fucking much.

Joe dreamt about you a lot. Somehow couldn't shake your face in his sleep. It found him every time, and each morning, it took him real convincing not to call you. Not to reach out. Not to pretend that nothing bad had ever really happened. He had to actively remind himself that you pretended you were something else to get him to do his job.

He just hoped not all of it had been pretend.

Some things had to have been real... right?

Joe dreamt and reality-checked for days, until time settled things. Anger settled into sadness, and sadness dulled over time.

Joe was never mad at his team. He realised they were all nice, kind people who wanted nothing but the best for him. So when, after seventeen days, Joe's manager decided to stop by to check on him, Joe didn't hesitate to let him in.

Alex didn't come over to talk Joe back into work, but after a short catch up, apologies exchanged, Alex suggested for Joe to stop by the office. Not for any meetings. But, just to come by and see everyone. Joe's team cared about him. They wanted to know if he was doing all right.

But the chances of running into you made Joe hesitate.

Alex immediately took back the suggestion when Joe didn't really respond to it. "Take however long you need, mate, no rush,"

Joe blinked and smiled, but it was sad.

"No, no, it's just... I can't run into her," Joe confessed, and immediately knew he shared too much when he saw his manager's face scrunch up in confusion before it turned into a frown.

"Were you dating?"

It was as if the penny only just dropped for him then, and Joe thought, why else do you think I reacted the way I did, you fucking idiot? Didn't say that, of course. Instead, he stared at a fixed spot on his kitchen island and said,

"I think it was somehow more than that,"

Alex frowned deeper.

"Didn't you only meet like, a month ago?"

"Yea," Joe's eyes grew but remained fixed on that same spot. "It was a second nature sort of... instinctual thing. Makes it all worse, somehow,"

The fact that all of it was based on lies, Joe meant.

A moment of silence passed where neither man said anything, and Joe let his mind drift off, thought of your face for a little bit, until suddenly, he cleared his throat loudly and then Alex slapped his own legs.

"Well," Alex said before getting up, and finding his jacket to sling his arms back into. "No need to worry about running into her at the office,"

Joe looked up at his manager, blank faced.

"She concluded the internship, and then didn't take Vic up on the job offer, so, you know,"

"Hang on," Joe placed a hand over his eyes for a second, now his turn to be confused. "She didn't take the job?"

"Probably for the best, isn't it? Seeing as there... was something, between the two of you," Alex gestured vaguely, unaware of how this little piece of information derailed just about, um, everything.

You didn't take the fucking job? What the fuck?!

Alex saw Joe tap impatient fingers on the counter as his eyes darted around, clearly calculating his next move. He was about to say something, but then Joe said, "Thanks, Alex," before redirecting his attention to his phone.

You put plates down onto a shelf and rubbed the back of your hand over your brow when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You weren't meant to answer, but you couldn't help sneak a look at who was trying to reach you. When you saw, you thought for a second you were making things up.

That said Joe.

Joe was calling you.

Without even checking if any of the guests could see you from where you were stood, you answered.

"Joe?"

"Where are you?"

It took you a moment to register Joe's question, his tone of voice, and the urgency with which he spoke.

"I'm..."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at work, Joe. What's going on?"

"Where's work?" Joe sounded impatient and was loud, practically screaming down the phone. You heard keys jingle and the bang of a door slamming shut.

"I- I got my old job back, at the restaurant... Joe, are you all right, what's wrong?"

But Joe'd already hung up. You texted, "I'm working til close, do you want to meet after?" but the text bounced. You were still blocked.

You spent the next however many minutes eyeing the entrance of the restaurant like a hawk from behind the bar as you absentmindedly twirled a dry wineglass in a dry towel.

What the fuck was going on? Why had Joe called you? Why did he need to know where you were? And why did your gut feeling tell you that something was terribly, terribly wrong?

You watched the entrance and twirled that wineglass, long dried by now, until you convinced yourself that Joe wasn't actually going to come over to see you.

Then suddenly, you saw him.

But he rushed past the windows. Power-walked right by the restaurant without glancing inside.

Shit.

The back door.

You put the glass back on its shelf and hung the towel neatly on its hook, before stepping into the kitchen.

You already heard it then.

Loud, rapid banging, unmistakably from both of Joe's fists that hammered the door urgently.

The loud banging stopped when the door opened a little at first, and then a lot, as you fully pushed it open.

Joe was there, panting in the alleyway, and he looked unwell. Pale, eyes red-rimmed, and harshly underlined by dark circles. He looked broken in a way you hadn't been able to even imagine him, and it stabbed you right in the center of your heart.

Joe looked awful, like he hadn't slept in weeks, but above all else, he looked fucking furious.

"Joe," you croaked, barely a whisper that had to compete with the loud noises coming from the kitchen behind you.

Joe's face was like an open book, so expressive, which was just the worst. You saw everything. All of it. His outrage, the humiliation, the clear desire to inflict harm, upon you, you imagined. All so recognisable, so familiar. You wished you couldn't see any of it, but you could. Joe wanted you to, and it made the guilt that had camped out in your chest for weeks now grow to a new size.

It instantly made you want to burst into tears. It was painful, but you understood you deserved that.

Joe didn't move. Just stood there, breathing heavily, looking at you, and you understood this was going to be it. Joe was going to get all of it out. Confront you about everything. Make you feel horrid in new and different ways, and even though inside the restaurant it was busy and you had a job to do, you decided that this was more important.

Joe was here to end it.

Okay, you thought definitively. If Joe needed this, you were going to bear it. It felt like the least you could do.

"I'm taking five," you shouted over your shoulder, and you stepped outside, letting the backdoor fall shut behind you. Now it was just the two of you in that grimy alleyway where you remembered Joe asking you to come with him weeks ago. When it all started.

“Hi,” you said on an exhale when the silence dragged on too long. It felt stupid, but you didn't know what else to say.

Joe faced everything he’d been afraid of facing. His heart broke and leapt for joy all at once. He'd missed you. So much. Seeing you in the flesh made it undeniable which was really fucking annoying. You'd hadn't even known each other for two months, and hadn't even seen each other for over half of it. And yet, he had missed you so, wanted nothing more than for you to collide with each other in this moment, because even though there were so many things he was mad about, he really fucking missed you.

Joe's throat swelled and his expression faltered slightly. He swallowed hard, not fast enough for you to not see it, but he hoped you didn't notice the softness within him that he still kept for you. 

The air between you was sweltering despite the low temperatures and for a moment, you allowed yourself to close your eyes. Geared up for whatever Joe was going to throw at you. Gathered what you needed and made more room in your chest because more bad feelings were going to have to fit in there.

"Look at me," 

You did, but immediately wished you didn't. You could see how devastated Joe was in close-up detail, all of the inner turmoil that bubbled up inside him, and you kind of wanted to self-destruct. Wanted it to hurt you, wanted that punishment - anything to make this inside ache go away.

Joe took a long look at you and held your gaze and fuck, it was really difficult to not look away. Then he drew a deep, angry, close-lipped inhale and finally said, 

"You didn't take the job?"  

Joe spat the words at you accusingly, eyes narrowed, facial expression one of pure disgust, like it was the worst thing you could have ever done to him. You frowned a little, confused, because that wasn't what you expected. But he was right, you didn't take that job. How could you have?

"Of course I didn't," 

Thing is, that was exactly the wrong thing to say. Joe didn't want to hear about how you had taken the moral high ground. He didn't want to hear the explanation you had ready from the start, one that hadn't changed throughout the weeks, hadn't really transformed into anything deeper. 

You looked at the person that you loved, and then hurt so viciously. 

"How could I have?" 

Joe glared at you, anger building and starting to spill out, sort of like he couldn't believe what you were saying. You thought it made perfect sense, though.  

"So you made me go through all of that for fuck all?" 

Joe gestured wildly, took a step back and started pacing. You could practically feel the anger exuding off of him. It was so heated - hot enough to burn you, if you weren't careful. 

"Made me question everything for no reason? Why? Was I not worth it?"

There wasn’t much more you could do but show your defeat. Stand still. No movement. Just, sad eyes. Let Joe know you never meant for any of this to happen, even if you understood that it was your fault that all of it had.

"Joe, I'm sorry," your brows knitted together. You were sorry. Would tell him a million times if you needed to. But you also knew that it was never going to be enough. You'd clipped Joe's wings and were now telling him, oops, shouldn't have done that. Like that was going to fix anything.

Joe then whirled around, arms held out wide, like there was an audience. 

"What does that even mean?" 

You went cold all over and could feel tears welling up as you frowned hard. 

"It means I wish I didn't fuck all of it up–" 

"You didn't take the job!" Joe interrupted loudly, making you flinch, before he continued speaking on a more sensible volume level. "You didn't take the– she didn't take the fucking job," Joe kicked against a steel bin, made the lid go flying which crashed hard against the asphalt. You flinched and saw Joe place both hands behind his head as he stared down the alley towards the main road with wet eyes and a red, blotchy face. 

"You didn't take the- you decided to lie to me for weeks, fucking weeks, and then... for what?" 

You distantly felt tears spilling down your own face, but couldn't focus on anything other than Joe who seemed to slowly, kind of... lose it. Lose himself, in real time, right in front of you.

He couldn't even look at you. Fuck, he thought so many things, but most things died in his throat because, look at you. 

He fucking loved you.

The overwhelming need to comfort and care for Joe started filling up the empty spaces in your chest and it melted together with the guilt. It made a scolding, hot, thick mash that boiled your lungs.

You took a single step forward. Wanted to take Joe's hurt away and slot that shit into your own chest where it belonged.

"Joe," 

You reached for Joe's hand, but got his arm instead. You took it. Would take what Joe was going to give you. Joe let you hold his arm with plenty of noticeable distance between you still.

"Why did you do it?" Joe's voiced cracked right down the middle, all filled with hurt and complex anger. The eyes that watched you seemed a little cooler then, that fiery heat simmered down a little.

Your eyes moved between his in a long gaze that pleaded for forgiveness you knew you didn't deserve. Your mouth was dry as you began to speak, and you croaked, "How could I not have?"

Joe scoffed, rubbed a palm at his mouth and looked away from you. It was the space you needed, the distance the loss of eye-contact granted to get all these dangerous feelings out. 

"It.... it was magic." you sighed, and saw Joe crumble, his head fully turning away from you as you moved memories to the forefront of his mind. 

"It was so beautiful, Joe. It was real, all of it was. We went and flew south together, and it was never meant to be more than me getting you out of that meeting... I just wanted to get you out, give you the break you so desperately needed. They were all saying it, how you needed a break. And I risked my internship because it almost felt inhumane what they were making you do. I'd seen your schedule…" 

Joe impatiently shook a knee in and out of over-stretching, and you knew it was because they were difficult words to accept. You watched Joe's face scrunch up, brows knitted together, and he was completely open. All vulnerable, all real. Nothing exaggerated.

"You lied to me," Joe's voice sounded like it was made of glass, and you instinctively ran a hand down his arm to clasp his hand. To your surprise, Joe let your fingers intertwine and squeezed your hand impossibly tight, desperately clinging on.

It might have been a moment of weakness from his side, but that would be fine. If Joe was to snatch away his hand in a second, at least you, got to hold his hand for that single second. It was more than you deserved, you were well aware.

"I did," you breathed heavily, closed your eyes and lowered your head. Accepted that Joe had seen the worst of you. "I did and I am sorry, I should've told you right from the start, but then–" 

"But then you didn't," 

You let your other hand reach up to cup his cheek, and Joe immediately leant into it, closed his eyes and granted himself this little moment of closeness.

"But then I didn't, and now..."  

You didn't need to finish. 

A silence followed, and for a second, your mind went back to where you were. You were in the alleyway behind the restaurant you worked at - currently were working a shift at. Any minute your manager was probably going to come out and get you. 

"And now you didn't take the job," Joe finished your sentence for you, and for a small moment, you thought he was going to step away. Let go of you. Walk away without looking back.

But he didn't.

Instead he blinked tears into his lashes and looked down as he let the hand that wasn't holding onto yours play with the ties of your apron that was wrapped around your waist.

This wasn't the end.

"I'm so sorry," you repeated yourself as you blinked tears down your own face, your hand now sliding down Joe's chest. You tried to hold yourself together as much as you could, and then promised, "I'll do whatever I need to do to make this right. I fucked up. This is my fault."

Joe let go of your hand and brought both hands to your waist before letting his forehead fall against yours.

"You should've taken the job," Joe whispered before sniffing thickly, exhaling wetly through his mouth. "It would've made it all so much easier,"

Had you taken the job, Joe could've just let hate take over. Slot you into a box labeled terrible people alongside others that wronged him in his life. But now it was all fucked up because not taking the job meant something to Joe.

Mistakes.

They were all mistakes.

And people... people made mistakes. All the time. Never intentionally. Mistakes were never intentional.

Joe felt you shake your head a little against his, and your bottom lip trembled, but you sounded surprisingly solid when you said, "Taking the job would've meant losing you. I'd rather lose a job than destroy every ounce of a second chance I know I don't deserve,"

Little did you know that the minute Joe learned that you didn't take the job, you'd been granted all the second chances you'd ever need. Joe found himself suddenly made from second chances then, all of them individually crafted specifically for you.

That's when Joe's arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into a hug that made your knees nearly give out at how much you wanted it. Your arms slung around his neck, and Joe pressed his face into yours. It was all wet.

When he spoke again, his voice was muffled but rough, not angry but strengthless. "You're all I can think about, no matter how hard I try not to." He burrowed deeper, gripped harder and you felt the shudder of a sob as you pressed your full body against his. "I've only known you for like, a second, but I can't stop thinking about you,"

Fucking hell.

You were in the alleyway, hugging each other tightly after weeks of hatred and humiliation and guilt and regret, and you were both crying.

"I'm sorry," Joe whispered when he collected enough breath to shape the words, and his words took you off guard.

"No, this is my fault," you reassured.

"I'm sorry," Joe said again, and it made you move back enough to take careful hold of Joe's face. You had to dip your head to force eye-contact, to make him look.

You wanted to tell him he didn't need to be sorry. You wanted to say he had nothing to be sorry for. You wanted to let him know again that this was all on you. You wanted to repeat your words until they didn't feel like real words anymore.

Instead Joe leant in and kissed you.

He came in harsh, and it was deep and intimate from the get-go, his tongue in your mouth and coaxing yours into his, his breathing erratic from crying, lips and tongues smacking - it was fucking obscene, but so easy to drown into. It was wet, and salty, dried tears mixing with fresh ones, all dramatic, drenched in pent up emotions that had built up for weeks. 

You let Joe maneuver you back up against the brick wall, which scraped harshly against your skin and hurt the back of your head, but you didn't care. 

Joe's grip on you strengthened as did the pressure of him pushing himself into you more, like he was working out deep-seated anger, which, yea, kind of checked out, and you made a noise that sounded so stupidly fragile, you had to pretend it wasn't you who let it slip. 

There was no need for pretending, though. Joe had already swallowed it, and responded with a moan of his own. 

Joe was kissing you, none of it gentle but instead violent, and breathless, and you didn't want this to end, ever. Wanted Joe close forever. 

Joe pulled back enough to ground out, "Up," as his arms curled around your backside and with a little hop, you were up in a powerful hold. You immediately locked your legs around Joe's waist and without a single inch of separation between your bodies, Joe sighed deeply into your mouth as your fingers scraped into his hair on either side of his head.

Close.

You could feel Joe's erection bulging tightly in his jeans.

This is what you meant when you said that it was magic. You belonged in Joe's arms like this. This was a thing of pure beauty. This was the earth pulling the moon. The moon pulling the oceans, creating high tides Joe didn't really know what to do with. You were ethereal. This was everything.

This was birds escaping their cages, leaving the cold weather for others to deal with, flapping wild wings, and flying south.

Birds escaped their cages when the backdoor of the restaurant swung open and interrupted you. You were asked if you were going to come back inside since you were on the clock, and Joe said, "No, she’s not." You looked at Joe, all confused, still held up in his arms and pressed against that brick wall and asked him, "I’m not?" It wasn’t enough to make Joe laugh, nowhere near, but you could see a little smile that only lasted a second. It was the first stretch of wide wings, feathers reaching out, finally free of constrictive confines.

Birds left the cold weather when you woke up in Joe's bed the next day in the early morning sunlight in the nude, soft limbs tangled, hearts singing and healing, and he smiled at you before telling you he just got off the phone with his publicist. The job offer was still standing, and if you wanted it, Joe thought you should seriously reconsider. "You’d make such a great publicist," he said. "Not yours," you carefully joked, and he laughed, "No, not mine."

Wings flapped wildly and took you up high into the air when weeks later, you were talking to a client in the kitchen at the office and Joe walked by but stopped to blow softly into your ear before carrying on. A tease, a sure-fire way he knew he was going to make you blush and get all flustered. You only raised a quick shoulder to it, powered through, facial expression unwavering, and the person you were talking to had witnessed these types of things between the two of you so often, they didn’t even acknowledge it. Just kept your conversation going as you both heard Joe chuckle to himself before he entered a meeting with his team.

You flew south, crossed borders into warmer weather when, about an hour later, you saw Joe wait for the elevator after his meeting and you decided, as payback for earlier, to quickly join him for the ride down. You joined a couple of other people, and then when the doors closed and everyone stood facing the same way, you placed a warm palm over his crotch with a straight face and Joe had to close his eyes and bite his lip to make sure no noises would slip out. When the doors opened again at the ground floor and everyone filtered out, the two of you remained and Joe whispered, "This is not the same as blowing some air into your ear," and as a reply you squeezed, and Joe couldn’t wait and so didn't wait for the doors to close before he launched himself at you.

Joe'd been right when you'd first met: lone birds were bad luck.

These two birds were flying south and there was no fucking way one was going to leave without the other.

One for sorrow. Two for joy.

And it was beautiful down south. Blissfully gorgeous. Warm, and soft. Tender, and fun. Real. It was all laughter, all scalp-scratches and pure, utter, sheer magic.

It was magic.

the end

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[ohcorny]

i need to post loic soulsov character analysis because if i don't i'll die. he's been plaguing my thoughts for *checks watch* like three to four days because we get SO much information about him and who he is in just this one nugget of the game and i'm spinning out of control about it.

spoilers for the most raw bits of the prelude so obviously go play the game first and then come back and read me ramble and make wild assumptions about this man and the direction of his character

so i have been obsessed with this (paraphrased because i'd have to whip through nearly the whole game again to correctly quote it) exchange between the voice and loic:

"Are you prepared for the world Ysme would create?" "Could it really be any worse than this one?"

and god. bro. bro. the absolute devastation necessary for this man to feel this way, about a woman who lied to him from the moment they met (which he clocked! very early on!), mugged him with a gun, SHOT him with that gun, and then when she became his ghost-god immediately realized she could force him to commit suicide by cop if she wanted. this woman did all of this to him, and when given the opportunity to just let her die--arguably justifiable given her goals and how she threatened him and the fact her death was entirely of her own doing--he doesn't. even though "don't let this woman die", a morally good thing on its face, is actually "let this violent, selfish woman become god with the ability to remake the world in her image, while also becoming her slave" and he knows it.

because to him, that's preferable to the world he lives in. your world has to be so bad for that to be the case.

and it is! his world is that bad. not the physical actual world, which yes, is harsh and cold and dangerous outside the mosaic, but his world, his daughter, in an incurable coma. there is a cruelty to somebody you love being incurably sick. to the selfish, hurting heart, it can be worse than if they were just dead. you can mourn somebody who's dead, and move on from your grief, but as long as they're still living, you're shackled to hope, constantly grieving. there is no moving on, there is only waiting for it to end. you might bargain, as loic does in his search for the flower to cure her, but it's still just waiting.

and when ysme comes into his life, he gives up on waiting. he has been haunting his own life until then, doing good at lamplight because it was within his power while he was there, but i don't think it was ever with dedication. it was something to pass the time as he looked for the flower. essentially selling his soul, surrendering his free will to ysme, this incredibly dangerous, selfish woman, is better than living as he has been. because he's selfish too.

what i like so much about loic is that he's presented as this very kind, soft, unassailable dad who wants to do the right thing. A Down to Earth Good Guy, to contrast with the chaos of ysme, but he's fucking selfish! while he couldn't have predicted the raw physical power of exalted ysme, he still knew she would receive the power to remake the world. and he still decided: fuck this world.

the natural assumption is that his kindness will balance out ysme, and i'm here for that narrative, but honestly. i think she's going to make him worse. the seed of selfishness is already in him, and he's indulged it by giving her power over him, and that must be in some way a relief. he's effectively surrendered responsibility for himself and his actions over to her. he can no longer be fully blamed for anything now that she has power over him.

and i think he's tired of being nice. i think he's ready to go apeshit.

.........and while that would make a good button to end this on, i have to mention: there is a non-zero chance he thinks she's hot and the idea of being a goddess' slave is hot. he's a grown ass man who we know for a fact HAS fucked, and while ysme was like "i thought you were a dead wife guy. i guess you still could be" my money is on divorced. my theory is lia was going over to her mom's house in that flashback.

like yes, all of that above is the main motivator, but i'm not ready to discount sex. loic wants to be lifestyle dommed. because what i just described about surrendering his free will is literally the appeal of being a sub: giving somebody else control, so you don't have to feel the weight of it. this is a story for adults about adults and it is on that le guin shit of linking a sexual fantasy inexorably to the world building and plot thrust, and i am ESPECIALLY here for that.

and i think that's everything i had to say about loic soulsov. i am exorcised. i'm better now.

[venusjaynie]

stranger things social media!!

all the older kids are 18-21 and The Party are 15-16

steve harrington x fem!reader

series mastlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

y/ns.priv24

Liked by itsbuckleybitch, thefreakmunson, dustybunhenderson, willthewise and others.

y/ns.priv24: "baby, take a pic with this sweet view behind me."

View comments.

itsbuckleybitch: he looks like a stickman

↳ stevie.h: shut the fuck up

↳ y/ns.priv24: you're so right rob

↳ stevie.h: wow babe i expected better from you

↳ y/ns.priv24: you're a very cute stickman

thefreakmunson: the thought of the both of you atop a mountain taking pictures of each other is so cute it makes me sick

↳ y/ns.priv24: love u too eddie

b.hargrove: harrington wtf is wrong with your face

↳ stevie.h: bite me hargrove

johnnybyers: this comment section is the reason i'm fucking insane you are all so annoying (even you baby sis)

↳ y/ns.priv24: i may be annoying but at least i'm mom's favourite.

↳ johnnybyers: i would come back with something equally as harsh but we both know will is mom's favourite

↳ y/ns.priv24: ...yeah that's true. seriously he gets possessed by some fucking demon one time and all of a sudden he's the light of mom's life

↳ willthewise: not cool big sis. not cool

stevie.h

Liked by b.hargrove, nanceewheeler, mikey7 and others

stevie.h: just chillin by the sea with my favourite girl

tagged: y/ns.priv24

View comments.

itsbuckleybitch: wait why are you guys kinda cute

↳ stevie.h: you're only realising this now???

dustybunhenderson: you are literally my parents

↳ stevie.h: not cool dude

↳ dustybunhenderson: mom dad's being mean to me

↳ y/ns.priv24: steve don't be mean to our son

↳ stevie.h: oh my

nanceewheeler: the cutest ever

↳ y/ns.priv24: um not as cute as you and j

↳ stevie.h: excuse me we're way cuter than nance and jonathan

y/ns.priv24

Liked by b.hargrove, johnnybyers, stevie.h, itsbuckleybitch and others.

y/ns.priv24: it's all well and good that billy and steve got over their issues, and i'm glad they aren't at each others throats 24/7 anymore, but can i just point out that they aren't even planking correctly? did no one else notice this?

View comments.

b.hargrove: okay rude

↳ y/ns.priv24: learn how to plank first then you can call me rude

↳ b.hargrove: you bitch

↳ stevie.h: hey cut it out dumbass. that's my girl you're talking to. i'll beat your ass

itsbuckleybitch: i did notice, and i'm really glad someone spoke up about this issue. thank you.

↳ y/ns.priv24: i appreciate your concern for the wellbeing of my boyfriend's and his (boy)friend's back. you're welcome.

↳ b.hargrove: WOAH WOAH WOAH WHAT

↳ stevie.h: yeah dude wth

↳ y/ns.priv24: call me dude again and i'll skin you alive bro

↳ b.hargrove: JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE HELL

↳ johnnybyers: go little sis. you slay.

↳ johnnybyers: WILL TOOK MY PHONE I SWEAR I DON'T SAY SLAY

itsbuckleybitch

Liked by y/ns.priv24, nanceewheeler, stevie.h, dustybunhenderson, thefreakmunson and others.

itsbuckleybitch: amazing show yesterday dingus. we had a blast

View comments.

y/ns.priv24: currently googling how to become a microphone

↳ stevie.h: glad you enjoyed the show sweetheart

↳ y/ns.priv24: i really did. you're incredible stevie

↳ thefreakmunson: oh my god get a room

b.hargrove: loved the show man (also currently googling how to become said mic)

↳ y/ns.priv24: SEE. BOYFRIENDS.

nanceewheeler

Liked by y/ns.priv24, stevie.h, johnnybyers and others.

nanceewheeler: y/n and i's favourite boys

View comments.

mikeymikey: hey i thought i was your favourite

↳ nanceewheeler: why would you think that?

y/ns.priv24: stevie i forgot how big your arms are can you choke me

↳ stevie.h: oh my god

itsbuckleybitch: this is quite horrifying

↳ stevie.h: i apologise for my girlfriends unhinged comments

↳ itsbuckleybitch: no i meant your face in the picture dingus

willthewise: i'm actually y/n's favourite boy.

↳ stevie.h: sure you are buddy

↳ y/ns.priv24: oh steve how do i put this nicely...

↳ stevie.h: you're on the couch tonight

↳ y/ns.priv24: NO STEVE WAIT

johnnybyers

Liked by nanceewheeler, stevie.h, willthewise, mikey7, and others

johnnybyers: my person.

View comments.

y/n's.priv24: stop you guys are so cute get married rn.

↳ jonnybyers: thanks kiddo (ik you only want us to get married so you can be a bridesmaid for nance)

↳ nanceewheeler: correction - maid of honour

stevie.h: you guys are almost as cute as me and y/n

↳ y/ns.priv24: i'd say we're equally as cute.

↳ dustybunhenderson: i agree with steve. my parents are the cutest

↳ stevie.h: DUDE

↳ y/ns.priv24: HAHAHAHAHAHA

[gaspshichat]

hi chat. pearl made me cry at 9:30 in the morning so y'all know what time is it. warning there will be swears [i say the f word ☹️] bc i haven't slept but i'm somehow not sick rn which. hasn't happened in weeks

[and a quick health update: pretty sure i have narrowed down what's making me sick to three possible things. i'm hopefully seeing my doctor soon bc the refill on my meds expires in june. we're so close and i haven't been able to breathe]

.

.

.

OH MY GOD. Y'ALL. IF YOU'RE FOLLOWING ME AND SOMEHOW AREN'T A PEARL FAN. HOW ???? GO. GO BE A PEARL FAN. IT'S A THREAT

pearl is funny and kind and caring. there is a reason i gave her 10k bits the other day. she deserves the entire world and more. i don't know what the world did to her that made her so kind

i'm not the only one who has a message though !! here are a few messages from people but i've seen so many in reblogs and tweets and whatnot

.

from my lovely partner tay aka twitter user PandoraRxse: I can’t catch streams very often but your videos always make me smile and I always look forward to a new upload. Keep doing what you’re doing, you’re amazing Pearl

from lovely twitter user SKYBL1NGS: shes like genuinely super funny and has great content that everyone can get into and shes really pretty and i loce pearlecentmoon

from a lovely anonymous twitter user: she is genuinly such an amazing artist, both in minecraft and in real life, all of her art is so lively in a way that i'm not sure how to describe best. also she is such a kind human being :))

from lovely tumblr user sapphicwhimsy: pearl is such a lovely and sweet person. shes SO kind to everyone in chat, new or old, and creates such a lovely environment to hang around in. her streams are the only ones i can sit through fully, and she has SUCH a lovely voice! i could listen to her read the dictionary, because im sure she would make it interesting. she has such a way to make everything interesting! even things like sitting still for thirty minutes can be something interesting in a pearl stream, because shes always got such amazing things to say. shes absolutely beautiful, inside and out, with a kind soul that matches her through and through. the fact that she always tries to read everyone out personally, and tries to pronounce their names correctly - and accepts corrections wholeheartedly - is so nice. and shes so wonderfully accepting to all of her community, and always has well wishes for everyone. shes truly a very wonderful and accepting person, who deserves the world! honestly the sweetest person ive ever came across.

.

anyway onto the next part of why i made this post

HOW THE FUCK IS SHE SO PRETTY. WHAT. IT'S GENUINELY UNFAIR. SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE COULD BE A GODDAMN SCULPTURE

LIKE COME ON. I WISH I COULD DRAW SO I COULD DRAW HER. SHE'S BEAUTIFUL. WHAT THE HELL. LOOK AT HER

featuring other GORGEOUS women. my god. i am so

anyway :)) it took me an hour and a half to write this bc i kept getting distracted. in short. pearl is so amazing and wonderful. it's weird how she remembers things about me and actually cares ???

also. SHE PRONOUNCED MY NAME CORRECTLY ???? I'VE HEARD SUCH TERRIBLE PRONUNCIATIONS BUT PEARL. SHE SAID IT RIGHR FIRST TRY. WHAT. i kind of want to hear how karn would attempt to pronounce it

[bc yes. i'm okay with anyone, including streamers, calling me vyren. you know me better than my dad does. it's okay to call me vy, vyren, gasp, or gasps]

sleepy brain wrote this post and i want to say so much more but i can't. i had a better message when i did my 10k bits message but that thing is long gone. the only way pearl knows about those bits is if she sees this

and to her community: i love y'all. y'all are lovely. thanks for helping make my shitty life a little brighter. the world may not be kind to me, but y'all are. thank y'all for that. y'all are so lovely

pearl, if you see this, sending all the love to you and your three cats. and yes. karn is the third cat

[thana-topsy]

The Neloth Post Nobody Asked For but now I'm making it everyone's problem

I guess I'll start out by saying: all of this pertains to my very specific version of Neloth who can be found alive and well (for now) in my fic series "Legends Never Die". It's a big wide fandom, I do not claim to be an authority on Anything, and I think everyone's little pocket universes and OC-ification of NPCs are all equally valid. These are just some of the ways I write and characterize him. So if you have any Neloth headcannons of your own, please sound off!

The Basics:

I estimate this old crusty bastard is in his 700s, or thereabouts, probably on the later end. He stopped counting at a certain point and can't be arsed to keep a talley. There are more important things that occupy his brainspace. He maintains his spry and youthful visage [cough] through his rigorous magical practices, (and his not-so-subtle interest in necromancy and discovering the secrets to immortality).

He was exiled decided to retire from the Telvanni Council a good fifty or sixty years before the eruption of Red Mountain, retreating to Solstheim to continue his experiments in seclusion. Due to severing his mainland ties and House loyalties, his power and influence are significantly weakened, though he continues to expand his studies and has a relatively well-functioning settlement of workers, as well as his current apprentice, Talvas Fathryon, under his tutelage.

And of course, the question on everyone's mind: do he fuck? In terms of his sexuality, he's finicky and if I had to slap a label on him, he's definitely in the realm of Aro-Ace, but on the gray side of things (pun intended???). Here, have an Ace Neloth Pride Flag because why not:

Personal Interests, Likes, and Dislikes:

The list of dislikes could probably rival the "color of the sky" post, so let's try to condense that into the main point: he dislikes inefficiency. The definition of what he finds "inefficient" can and does vary greatly, even in his own work. I would say one of his driving motivators is IncreasE Efficiency, above all else.

His likes are few and far between. As it stands, I could probably list three off-hand. He likes well-made tea (preferably dark, bitter, and stimulating), he likes an organized bookshelf, and he likes Teldryn Sero (who is also dark, bitter, and.... stimulating).

Morality:

Huh? What's that? Never heard of it.

I kid (kind of). Neloth has a complicated psychology. I characterize him to have underdeveloped empathy, but he is not entirely devoid of it. I suppose I'll let him explain it, (from chapter 5 of "Breathing Water"):

“I do…” Neloth began, [...] “I do… feel.” He twisted the stiff bedroll between his fingers. “I do.” [...]  “It’s just…” He didn’t know where he was going with this, but the words were clawing their way out of him like some kind of sick, emaciated animal emerging from a cave. “I don’t think I… feel… correctly.” He exhaled sharply, letting his head roll from side to side, neck popping. “I’ve always been this way. It’s not just the result of graying morals from a prolonged life. I’ve always had this,” he gestured to his chest with trembling fingers, “hole. Like something’s missing.” He pulled the bedroll tighter around him, curling in on himself. A small laugh. “It’s been useful, if I’m honest.” 

He does try, at a certain point, to understand this side of himself a little bit better. Though, honey, he's got a big storm coming.

Anyways, that's my Neloth post for now, maybe I'll add more another time. :) Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[raina-at]

Mouse

In celebration of this fandom and how much fun I'm having right now, with the May prompts and the fic club, have a bonus ficlet set in my theatre universe . (Another one of my AUs ticked off the list) (short premise for those not familiar: John is a stage manager and Sherlock is an actor. Mary, Molly and Sally are all part of John's crew.)

This is especially for @totallysilvergirl and the members of the Johnlock fic club. You all know why.

Warning, mention of an accidental animal death.

Also, this is loosely based on a true story.

-------

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“Be quiet,” Molly shushes Sherlock as she drags him through the stage door into the green room area.

“Oh thank god.” John sighs in relief as he sees Sherlock enter the room. “Save me from this madness.”

“Sit back down, Watson, this is all your fault after all!” Mary snaps. She’s pregnant again and the glare she gives him is filled with the homicidal rage of the permanently uncomfortable.

John sits back down and sighs. “Okay, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Molly pushes Sherlock into a chair. “You be quiet now, we’ll be done in five minutes.”

Molly sits on Mary’s other side on the floor and takes Sally’s hand, completing the circle.

Mary gestures to Molly. “Do you have the object?”

Molly produces the live mousetrap and puts it in the middle of the pentagram Mary has drawn on the floor. 

“I hate to repeat myself, but what the actual fuck are you doing?” Sherlock asks, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. 

They all turn their heads in surprise, because they all know how rarely Sherlock swears. 

“We’re doing an exorcism,” Molly explains. “John killed a mouse and now we’re haunted.”

“I didn’t, I repeat, DID NOT kill a mouse!” John very nearly yells, sick and tired of this argument. 

“You left the live trap open over a bank holiday weekend,” Mary growls. “The bloody mouse sprung it, died of thirst in it, and ever since we’ve had one accident after another. First my fucking brand new moving head blew on its second night, then Molly twisted her ankle, and yesterday you were nearly hit by a stage wall.”

“So did I understand this correctly? You, rational, adult, competent professionals, had a few easily explained accidents and then came to the inevitable conclusion that you’re being haunted by the angry spirit of a common house mouse?” Sherlock asks, steepling his hands under his chin. 

“Duh,” Molly mutters, rolling her eyes. 

“Anything to say, genius?” Mary asks, glaring at Sherlock in a way that makes John hope that Sherlock will consider the words that come out of his mouth next very, very carefully.

“You need sage,” Sherlock says after a moment of silent contemplation. “And candles.”

“You’re not fucking serious!” John stares at Sherlock as if he’s grown a second head, which would frankly have surprised John just a tiny bit more than the current development. “You’re superstitious? Since when?”

“All actors are superstitious,” Sherlock says, ducking into the tiny theatre kitchen. “It’s the better safe than sorry principle.” He comes back with mixed herb salt and some tealights. “This should do nicely. Budge over.” 

He sits between Sally and Molly and takes their hands.

“This must be what going mad feels like,” John mutters, but he takes Mary’s and Sally’s hands and completes the circle.

Mary shushes him and lights the candles. Then she shakes a bit of the salt over the live trap. She turns to John and gestures to the trap. “Now apologise.”

“But I—”

“I said,” Mary says with a smile sharper than a battleax. “Apologise.”

John clears his throat. “Um.” The thing is, he is sorry. He never meant to cause an animal’s death, even indirectly. They only ever use live traps for a reason. But he feels slightly ridiculous all the same. 

He knows this is necessary, though. Theatres are places where legends and superstitions and rituals live for generations. Case in point, no theatre person in their right mind would ever refer to the Scottish play by its actual name. Case in point, you never say good luck backstage. This is no different, he knows this.

Of course the knowledge doesn’t stop him from feeling completely ridiculous as he says, “I’m sorry, mouse spirit. I didn’t mean for you to die. Please forgive us and stop haunting our theatre. We’re really sorry.”

He puts a piece of cheese into the trap, and every member of his crew follows suit. Sherlock contributes another sprinkle of the herbal salt, and then Mary, in lieu of setting the trap on fire, which would trigger the smoke alarm, bashes it in with a cricket bat. It’s horribly loud, but the trap is unusable afterwards.

“Be at peace, little mouse,” Molly whispers, and John can see the tears in her eyes.

They all share a long look over the mouse trap, and then they burst out laughing.

“You’re all insane,” Sherlock says, but he’s laughing as well, and there’s a lot of affection in his voice.

“Yup,” John answers, still giggling a bit. This is my crew, he thinks. Dangerously foul-tempered, certifiably insane, scarily silly at times. And I couldn’t love them more for it. He looks at Sherlock, who’s watching him with sparkling eyes and so much unguarded affection, and he smiles. “And you fit right in.”

----

Tags under the cut as usual.

@calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @catlock-holmes @peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @friday411 @inevitably-johnlocked

[sillystringpony]

Reflections on Rosemary:

experimenting with a psuedo-pop-art style (ben day dots yay!) for some angsty chalmskinn fanart, and a discussion about Rosemary Chalmers.

[TW: discussion of eating disorders]

I made this piece because I feel like I haven't really seen a lot of chalmskinn content that takes Shauna into account, which I guess makes sense since she isn't given all that many interactions with her dad. Anyway, I've always seen her delinquency as stemming from her mother's death: in my eyes, she's not a bad person, she's just a girl who misses her mother. I started wondering how that would play into the chalmskinn ship; I feel like she'd be fine with her dad's various flings and one-night-stands, but would recoil at any sign of her father moving on emotionally from Rosemary. I definitely want to explore how that might impact the dynamic between Seymour and Shauna a bit more in the future, especially since I've always been a huge fan of the new step-parent trying to connect with a hung up step-child trope (I really love Quibble Pants/Clear Sky because of this... if there are any bronies reading).

Her Father's Temper and Her Mother's Eyes, 2024.

no need to grip the pancake so hard girl it aint going anywhere

If I'm remembering correctly, Rosemary's character was first introduced in season 16 when the superintendent mentions his wife is very sick. There's then no real mention of her until season 23, in Bart Stops to Smell the Roosevelts, when she's pretty much confirmed dead, and Gary reflects on how he misses her (which was way more upsetting than it should be, fuck you, you funny yellow people). She's finally explicitly confirmed as dead in season 30.

Autism is as autism does, so I fixated in on these little tidbits and tried to fill in the gaps with my own headcanons. Around the time I was doing so, I was going through a really hard period with my own anorexia - I was experiencing a lot of potentially fatal symptoms and beneath the anorexic delusion, I was genuinely scared for myself. Because of that, I sort of subconsciously projected myself onto Rosemary; it's never explained how exactly she died, only that she was 'very sick'. Rather than take the more conventional route of headcanoning her as having fallen victim to a fundamentally physical illness, I decided to go the route of having her lose the struggle to anorexia nervosa.

At first, obviously, it was just a simple projection of my own issues and illness at the time. You know: I'm scared I'm going to die from this illness... I'm going to cope with these fears by exploring the lives of a person's loved ones after an eating-disorder-related death. It did kind of start to make sense to me, though: Gary Chalmers is a very traditionally masculine man, and I feel like the struggle of losing someone to a mental illness is something that would play with his character with more depth than simply losing her to physical illness. This, in part, came from seeing my own father (who admittedly reminds me of Gary) react so poorly to my own eating disorder: there is something very emotionally impactful about witnessing men who only have the capacity to understand mental illness as a non-physical, unmanifested ailment fight to understand why their loved one is fading away because of something that cannot be cured with surgery, or medicine, or physical therapy. Also, inpatient treatment isn't exactly cheap; so I feel like Chalmers' working an extra job to earn money for what was implied to be Rosemary's treatment checks out under my headcanon.

I haven't really thought much about the specific timeline of things, but a few months ago, I was writing a chalmskinn oneshot where the boys get drunk and wind up on Mount Springfield in the middle of the night (sadly unfinished): there's a moment where the two discuss the death of Rosemary that I think pretty much sums the details of my headcanon up:

“Doy,” sang Seymour: admittedly in slightly bad taste. "You know, you never said what it was. Oh- Hic… Let me guess. Was it, ya' know... The big C?” “No, no… Heart failure.” “What-? Wait, wait, wait… All those years ago, you said she was sick.” “She was sick, you… You… Stupid,” grumbled Gary. He collapsed backwards and next to Seymour with a resigned sigh. “She had anorexia.” “...Oh.” “Mmm… I- I paid for every single treatment I could, Seymour. Behavioural therapy, so, so many inpatient stays in the psychiatric ward, but no matter what she went through, she just kept getting worse. It was so scary- I, she- The woman I married was, she was disappearing right in front of me; a little more every day. I tried to get her to eat; I- I tried to stop her from throwing it up… God, it got physical, once: she was a small, small woman, but that day… She fought like a, a wild dog- Scraping, and kicking- Fuck, even biting, just to get herself free enough from me to vomit.” “Goodness. I- I had no idea.” “Pssht… Nobody did. She- she hid it so well, but behind closed doors,” Chalmers had to stop speaking for a moment. He swayed from side to side in silence; as if the rocking would stop the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “She was dying… Sometimes I wish it was cancer. Well- No, not cancer, just- Something physical, something that could have been cured with treatment, or a pill, or surgery, or what-fucking-ever. But nooo, it had to be a disorder that me- Stupid fucking me- That I couldn’t understand. That I couldn’t help her with… Besides paying for her treatment.”

I'm currently just over two months into recovery for anorexia, and I'm doing so much better (not to be TMI, but I definitely will not miss the gastrointestinal bleeding and incontinence, haha). Anyway, I just wanted to half-dedicate a post to talking about Rosemary; I was really socially isolated when my symptoms were at my worst, and it was headcanons and projections like this that helped me feel a bit less alone, and at the end of the day, really got me through the struggle of fighting a disorder on my lonesome. I'd love to hear your guys' thoughts on this, or if you personally have any similar headcanons for other fictional characters.

[magewolf-the-artist]

Domestic K-9: Incorrect Quotes (Kinda)

Note that some of these have been modified and two of them are originals.

Bon: BE A BETTER PERSON! 

Felix: WHY?! 

Bon: BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE MORALS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP, AND IT SURE AS FUCK AIN'T GONNA BE ME, SWEETHEART!

Susan: The joy of hanging out with Charles. You look away for 5 seconds to make sure something is set up correctly, and they bite the tip of a marker off.

Molly: Is the pink panther a lion? 

Edd: Say that again but slower. 

Molly: I don’t get it. 

Edd: He’s a PANTHER. 

Molly: Is that a type of lion? 

Edd: No, it’s a fucking panther. 

Molly: *somehow accesses google and searches up panther* They aren’t pink? 

Edd: AND LIONS ARE?!

Charles: Susan, I screwed up, big time. 

Susan: You’re going to have to be more specific than that.

Susan: *hands Linda a ‘bouquet’ of flowers. In reality it’s a fistful of withered dandelions and dead grass* Before you say it, I know it’s not much, but it was the only thing I could find.

Linda takes the bouquet with a smile despite the shoddy quality.

Linda: Awww, they’re just like you. Dead and decaying with hints of life.

Susan.exe has stopped working.

Bon: Hey there happy campers-!

Susan: What the fuck makes you think we’re happy?

Bon: … hey there extremely depressed campers!

Bon: honk. 

Charles: WHAT. 

Bon: HONK. 

Charles: WHAT DOES HONK MEAN THIS TIME YOU WHIMSICAL PIECE OF SHIT?????

Charles: Please, Person B, after everything we’ve been through together. You can’t do this. 

Susan: I’m sorry Charles. 

Charles: I’m begging you. Don’t do it. 

Susan: It has to be done. 

Susan: 

Charles: 

Susan: *Places +4* Uno.

Felix: I don’t think we can mansplain, manipulate, or malewife our way out of it this time. 

Bon: *cracks knuckles* Manslaughter it is!

Felix: I think it’s time I get my life in order. 

Jack’s ghost: But they did not get their life in order. In fact, they got drunk last night and fought a raccoon.

Bon: Oh, fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers! 

Susan: Please, just say fuck.

Bon: I REGRET NOTHING!!!

Felix: I REGRET EVERYTHING!!!

Molly: Aunt Susan, I want a bedtime story! 

Susan: I’m busy. I’ll tell you one tomorrow. 

Molly: If you don’t tell me a story, I won’t go to bed! 

Susan: Once upon a time, there was a person named Molly, who always wanted things their way. One day, their friends got sick of it and locked them in the basement for the rest of their life. Everyone else lived happily ever after. The end. 

Molly: I don’t like these stories with morals.

Susan: Damn, the power went out. 

Charles: Don’t worry, I got this. 

Charles: *shakes rapidly and starts to light up* 

Susan: What-? 

Charles: I swallowed a glow stick! 

Susan, absolutely appalled: WHY WOULD YOU-

Bon: In case you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t “fit in” and I don’t WANT to fit in. Have you ever seen me without this stupid hat on? That’s weird.

Edd: I hate how you're just born out of nowhere, and you're forced to go to school and get education so you can get a job. What if I wanted to be a duck? No one ever asked me if I want to be a duck!

Bon: God has let me live another day and I'm going to make it everyone's problem.

Susan: Sometimes, I don’t realize an event was traumatic until I tell it as a funny story and notice everyone is staring at me weird.

[iaus]

random epilogue things

-> so. i have this chronic need to defend EVERYTHING i put in my writing. and originally i was going to have a whole ass paragraph where we learn that porter's house is actually a family house he inherited and that his parents gifted it to him in hope he would stop being a freak and settle down. which is why the house is so untouched in epilogue even though it's a month out from porter's death.

i originally approached porter's house still Being There and in pristine condition as a way to show the disconnect between him and his family. it was originally going to show that pretty much everyone in his life did not know what to do with him. like it's a good house. it's a nice house. porter's family sort of wants to keep it in the family, but they're also ashamed of what porter did. but there's no reason for JACE to know or think about that so. </3 cut.

i made his house in the sims. it's part of the illness.

-> in the draft of epilogue, i had jace steal the charred remains of porter's heart. and this almost made it into the final draft. the ending revivification scene had him placing the fucked up, destroyed remains of porter's heart in his chest alongside the diamonds. this was meant to link jace's resurrection to porter's resurrection. i ultimately got rid of it because it made jace's action a bit clunky and i also. could not justify porter's heart surviving the way he died in the end. so. thrown out.

-> in the final scene jace steals true resurrection, he doesn't realize it. he's sort of aiming for a raise dead (he actually doesn't really know the exact spell he's aiming for; he has components for true resurrection AND reincarnation) but raise dead actually wouldn't have worked on porter's body since it was missing his organs. raise dead specifically reads:

This spell closes all mortal wounds, but it doesn’t restore missing body parts. If the creature is lacking body parts or organs integral for its survival—its head, for instance—the spell automatically fails.

so jace is kind of just grasping at straws. he's just hoping whatever he steals works and it does. in my mind i've also bent the rules a little and the reincarnation actually kind of works.... that might come into play in darling later. but according to my chart for spell thief, jace incurred two penalties (plus an extra): he took damage AND has lost maximum hit points. this doesn't really come into play in fic, but it would be an issue if/when he gets into combat situations later. he also has lost the ability to steal/cast true resurrection. (that moment where he mentions feeling a pocket in his magic is a reference to that.)

i do also have a reason to justify porter having resurrection sickness in darling even thought he shouldn't.

-> jace mostly (or only if i'm remembering correctly) refers to porter's house as porter's. it is not theirs.

-> epilogue's working draft title was raise dead for the entire time that i was working on it

-> funny fact: i have porter as a path of zealot barbarian.

jace didn't need the diamonds.