#Jimmy Mould

[hybbart]

Day 2506: The world almost ends...

Short story below

The last thing Tango could recall was laying on the ground in a warm pool of his own blood, staring up at a sea of faces gnashing their teeth and claws into his limbs.

And thinking, none of you are Jimmy.

Then everything burned away into darkness.

Yet the world did not end.

It reformed itself a pool of indiscernible reds, an incomplete, deafening whisper, and a biting stench.

A barrier draped itself out over it all. The first shape to ever form, outstretched to block out the colours and sounds and smells. The first feeling accompanied it, something soft and structured, dragging the whole world back down.

And Tango thought for the first time, and he thought, that is Jimmy.

The world was swallowed once more, in its infancy before anything could take form. So, it tried again.

This time it created more than just red. Blacks, blues, greens. Yellow. Tango reached out for it, but had no body with which to do so. Trapped by nothing. There were sounds but they were somewhere else where he wasn’t. Skin he did not have itched and burned. If he could only exist enough to reach, but what little there was soon slipped away. The first, last, and only thing this Tango knew was despair.

So, it tried again.

In this one Tango had a body, he knew, but it was a cage. Cold, stiff, unyielding to him rattling it, begging for freedom. He still couldn’t reach Jimmy, only a shadow in the pool. He screamed, but it made no sound, and he went unseen.

So, it tried again.

Everything burned. Not an inch of his cage went unbitten. If he could he would tear it all off. This time Jimmy heard him, but it did Tango little good. There were too many sounds, too many smells, and they all ripped him apart until there was nothing left.

So, it tried again.

And again, and again, and again.

Until finally the world began to settle into place.

Tango peeled open his eyes, staring up at the clouds, body numb and heavy from the pain. It was like his muscles had turned into snakes biting each other every time he moved, but he could move. He could feel, and think, and hear the nearby sound of bird song.

He tried calling out for Jimmy, voice like shards of glass to his throat and ears. It was good enough. There Jimmy was, leaned over him, blocking out the sun. Though it still burned to do so Tango could feel the weight of a hand on his own. He wished he could assure Jimmy that he was fine.

Jimmy watched him silently. Tango reached out for him again, tears in his eyes. “Jimmy.” He croaked, trying to beckon the avian forward. But he would not move. Tango began to sob. “You’re here. You’re here.”

He opened his mouth. It was as though the whole world went silent to listen. No voice came. Nothing but a sickening crunch. Tango’s vision swam, consumed by Jimmy. Old blood poured from his mouth, drenching Tango below, around the mangled remains of beating flesh. No light filled his eyes, not the bright light of the sun or his own inner sunshine he always carried, or even the black flames consuming his wings. They were as lifeless as the dried mould clinging to his jaw bone and the grey of his cheek.

Tango couldn’t scream.

His own heart wrenched him awake. The rest of him delayed, eyes darting and muscles cramping. Something was squeezing his left arm to death until it was numb. His eyes began to sting from the light piercing right into them. A muffled voice filled the air, and a shadow cast over to block the sun.

“Are you okay?” It asked.

Tango was in too much pain to reply. The shadow stretched out far to canopy the whole sky from view. Wings. They were wings. Tango gasped, trying desperately to call out. “J-”

But his eyes adjusted soon enough, and before him was not feathers made of fall wheat and butter. These were a dusty brown, only golden in the light of the afternoon sun. The eyes that stared down upon him were a piercing sky blue and the shoulders were far too broad. New panic settled within Tango’s bones. Too much of his body hurt to run away.

“Oh, good, you’re awake this time.” He said, voice most certainly not Jimmy’s. His grin was too sharp. “I was starting to think you were just gonna kick the bucket.” The stranger shifted, grabbing something far beyond Tango’s view. “Which would be quite a shame given how much of my supplies you’ve used up.”

Some brightly coloured cylinder was held up towards his face. A water bottle, Tango’s brain finally provided after several seconds. Tango managed to move his mouth enough to accept, its straw preventing him from spilling too horridly over himself. Even still, he quickly found himself choking, sputtering up much of what made it into his mouth. The stranger hummed to himself, waiting for Tango to cease his coughing before trying again, this time one gloved hand cradling the back of Tango’s head to hold him up just slightly. The water went down much easier. Only after it was taken away did it occur to Tango it may not be the best to trust the liquid. He was already a soft breeze away from death, what did it matter?

Because you still have to find Jimmy.

The stranger yelped, but Tango ignored him as he tried to push himself up. “Hey, there!” Hands found their way to the back and front of his torso, the only thing keeping him from collapsing back down as the brief pulse of energy abandoned him. “You took at least fifteen chomps, there, buddy, you’re in no condition to be on your feet.”

Tango tried to explain himself, tried to yell at the man. But all he could get out when he said Jimmy’s name was a squeak that tore up his throat. Insufficient. Though he tried to fight back, the stranger laid him back down. Tango tried not to sob. Everything hurt, everything was going horridly wrong, and his rancher was probably dead in a ditch somewhere. He’d follow soon enough at this rate. It was all so pointless-

Warmth wafted through the air. Sweet and achingly familiar. Tango’s head lulled to watch the stranger as he held up a fork towards him, the fluffy pasty dotted with berries and dripping syrup. “I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda live off instant pancake mix at the moment. If you can eat.”

Tango wasn’t sure he could, but he accepted the offer anyways. Even just the smell would have brought tears to Tango’s eyes if he could cry. The bites kept coming until Tango hadn’t the strength to eat anything more. His body screamed at him to both stop and eat, desperate for the food Tango had been denying it and lacking the strength to continue, stomach rolling in that fashion that he knew meant it would all come back up if he tried.

Silence returned while the stranger finished the rest, most of it still there. Anything else might have made Tango throw up from the smell anyways. All he could think of instead was breezy summer mornings, sat at an uneven oak table covered in blemishes that they never got around to replacing, throwing plastic tablecloths over instead. Coffee that became tea that became increasingly questionable flower water that became tea once more. The distant sounds of mooing and much closer sounds of barking, and, somewhere in between, a bird song matching whatever was on the stereo.

Why had they left? They should have stayed on the ranch. He should have tried harder to convince Jimmy not to go, should have put his foot down. When that bridge came into view he should have immediately turned them back around. They saw the ocean, and what good did it do them? Jimmy died, lost and far away from home, and Tango would soon join him...

The next time Tango woke up it was early morning. Something loud had ripped him from his slumber, but he could not for the life of him recall what it was. As best he could he looked around, and found the stranger shutting a cabinet set against a far wall. Tango must have made some sort of noise, because his head immediately swivelled towards him. “You’re awake again.” He said, matter of factly. There was too much energy in his hops to a kitchen. Did all avians wake up at the crack of dawn?

It was almost hard to watch the man, actually. Tango had seen it with Grian, but it hadn’t registered. Because he was a puffball and it only seemed natural, or because he’d never had reason to note it. This strangers talons similarly rarely touched the ground, taking leaps and bounds to reach for anything. Wings casually unfurled themselves to glide him across the room. It was so different to Jimmy, who stumbled his way everywhere, only used his wings for balance.

More food was set in front of him, this time a small bowl of mixed berries. “I already ate.” Explained the stranger while he held out a spoonful. “If it’s too hard to chew I can blitz it into a smoothie.”

“No.” Tango croaked. Easier than last time, but his throat still felt like it was splintering.

The stranger quietly fed him. The sun was quickly rising, but the avian didn’t seem to have anywhere to be. At some point Tango thought he heard the bark of a dog, but no one else came into the sky-lit room. The stranger’s clothes were not the sort one wore when they knew zombies were nearby. His sweater was sleeveless and his gloves were for sport, to keep frog scratching his hands and keeping a good grip, rather than the heavy leather work gloves Jimmy wore. The sort of thing they’d wear on peaceful days at the ranch, not the city Tango thought he was last in.

“So,” The man rocked his head slightly as he put the half-empty bowl aside. “You got a name, stranger? If you’re up for talkin’ of course.”

“Tango.” His voice scratched worse than it usually did, almost incoherent to his own ears. No long sentences, then. “You?”

“Wels, at your service.” He did a small bow, smile widening. “There’s not a lot of survivors out here these days, Tango. You musta come quite a ways?”

He nodded, wincing at the sting in his neck. Had he been bitten there? “We came from the mountains.”

Wels’ eyebrow rose. His hands began moving just outside Tango’s vision, fiddling with something. “’We’, huh? Run into some bad luck?”

“I’m looking.” Tango quickly snapped. “We got separated. He’s here.”

“You don’t sound like you believe that.”

Of course he didn’t. Tango had never been the optimistic sort. It was Jimmy who comforted them when things went wrong, calmed Tango down when he lost his temper. Thought there’d be an adventure to have exploring uncharted territory. If it was Jimmy here and now instead, he’d be just as determined as day one. Tango couldn’t do that, could barely hope to even find a body. But... “If I stop looking, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

The room fell quiet. A rough hand lifted the stump of Tango’s left arm, peeling something off it. It stung, but not as much as the air did seconds later. Tango grit his teeth. It last too long, but eventually it subsided into a dull ache. Even without looking he knew it was swollen and ugly, raw from wearing his arm for too long. It would take too much time to pull on and off without help. Why was he so stupid as to design it that way? Like he’d never be alone?

The dog outside continued to bark.

“Well, then,” Wels sighed. “Guess if you gotta keep looking then I’ll have to keep my eyes open, too.”

Tango strained to shake his head, “You don’t have to-

“Hey, it’s my city. Who better to keep an eye out? Besides,” He stood up, spreading his wings wide enough to block out the skylight, “You aren’t really getting out of bed any time soon, and you can’t exactly get back down without my help anyways.”

“Down?” Tango murmured to himself, turning towards the sunlight.

His vision was still a mess, but he could see it. Behind stacks of supplies and reorganized furniture was a wall-wide glass balcony, doors wedged wide open. Peeking over the rail was the very top of a half-dozen skyscrapers he recognized from the ground.

Wels hopped over towards the open doors, grabbing various items from a table. A bag, rope, a sword- was that metal gauntlets? By the time he’d kitted out he looked like he’d raided a museum exhibit. When he noticed Tango’s staring he gave him a grin and a thumbs up. “Gotta go for a water and medicine run. Be back before the sun sets.” He jumped up onto the railing, but paused. “Say, uh, what’d your buddy look like? In case I run into him.”

“Blond.” Tango rasped. “Lanky, bit taller than you. Long yellow wings. Should be with a big black dog with no eyes. Hopefully...”

Something in the man’s wings tensed, smile falling away. “A canary avian?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you- how did you say you got separated.”

“He was gone when I woke up. He kept-”

“Wandering off?”

The blazeborn’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah... What-”

But Wels unfurled his wings once more, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ll talk later, when I get back. You should rest up, get back on your feet.”

With that he was gone.

Tango could feel his heart hammering in his chest, wounds pulsing down his limbs. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling. How on earth was he supposed to rest after that?

[copilot-crashout]

Oh em gee I love ur writing so much it physically cleanses me sjsjjsjsj

Anyhoo, I was wondering if I could politely request Mouthwashing x reader (separate) where reader writes them “anonymous” love letters. Reader thinks they are being sneaky but the crew have known from the first letter its them and just chose to keep quiet^^? Idk I am kinda crazy about dorky!reader..

Ps #1(If u don’t wanna do all the characters, that fine!)

Pairing: Tulpar crew x gn!reader

Content Warning: None! [except I gave up on proofreading.. ( ᐡ๐ ·̫ ๐)〣]

[A/N]: You're so sweet! Thank you, lovely anon!! (°´˘`°) I default to all the characters, so don't worry! I don't want to leave anyone's favourites out! I wonder if you can tell who my favourite is from my work... ( ⩌⩊⩌)✧

CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> What a charming admirer he has! He grins when he notices you nervously looking around before entering his room, only to find the cutest little letter in his room professing their love to him.

-> He keeps hold of all of them. They're worth more than gold anyway. He doesn't have the heart to tell you right away, not when he sees your chest puffed out with pride when you place another letter in his room, a mission successful in your eyes. Instead, he focuses on noticing the little details he'd never seemed to pick up on initially. You had it bad for him, huh?

-> Curly teases you about it. He never mentions them directly, but he will often exaggerate his behaviours to the most recent letter he read. You mentioned how tall he was. He's sure to flaunt it off more.

Since when were things in this kitchen placed so high?

You sighed to yourself, stretching to try and grab some simple condiment packets you swore were placed on the countertop the last time you saw them. Luckily for you, Curly walks in at the perfect moment. When you ask for help, he gives a confident grin as he nods, stepping towards you. As expected of him.

What you didn't expect was the warm hand he placed on your hip or the way his chest pressed into your back as he grabbed exactly what you were asking for, the steady thrum of his heartbeat only making yours speed up. You're left red-faced and stuttering, nervous hands taking the packets out of his larger one.

"You're all red. If you're not feeling well, you should take a visit to Anya. I can walk you there."

JIMMY:

-> He loves it. End of. They boost his confidence in ways he didn't even know was possible. The idea of you watching him when he didn't notice was one he found sickly sweet, prideful that someone loved him as much as he deserved.

-> He was initially planning to tell you he knew after the first letter. He had dreamed about the way he'd hold your letter back to you, a sly grin as he watched you scramble for an answer, flustered before ultimately coming clean about your attempts to court him. Once he sees the second letter, however, his mindset changes.

-> It's simply too cute. The way you sneak around to keep it anonymous and the way you wear your heart on your sleeve. He's delighted by how much of your mind he occupies. It excites him to think about how much you try to learn about him. Do you know his routine by heart? What about his likes and dislikes? Better yet, were you trying to mould yourself into the perfect partner for him (although this seems more of a dream on his part than a genuine question...)? He gets a sick kick out of it.

-> He finds himself re-reading the letters in the middle of the night, the ones that point out the smallest parts of himself that you talked about so affectionately. It made him nauseous. Words so tender weren't something he came by so easily, nor was it something he believed he deserved. He's used to one-night stands, a cheap fuck, nothing so... romantic. Perhaps he could get used to this.

-> He's not going to be soft, though, as he teases you about it. Offhandedly mentions the letter and if you knew who could leave such a thing in his room and grins when you instantly deny it and make a show of him believing you. He gets incredibly touchy, too. His hands linger for a fraction longer than they need to. He stands as close to you as he can, looming over you whenever he has the time. Have you noticed the way the atmosphere changes when it's just the two of you alone? He'll look forward to your next letter. Maybe you wrote about it.

-> He could try playing the long game for once. The reward feels so much sweeter that way.

ANYA:

-> Anya is perceptive first and foremost. Rather than catching her admirer mid-delivery, she uncovers your identity through your handwriting.

-> The letters cheer her up endlessly. They're a sweet reminder of how someone adores her, even when she's overwhelmed. It's hard on board, but your letters become a routine that she looks forward to. I think she's one of the only characters who would tell you she knows, feeling guilty about leaving you in the dark about something that could embarrass you. However, she'd never ask you to stop. Anya gushes about how much she appreciates every single letter, keeping them and re-reading them when she can and she tells you how she figured it out, giggling when you stare at her like you're begging for the floor to swallow you whole.

-> Anya makes it a priority to keep you happy. Your letters do so much for her, she only wants you to feel the same. You'll find her lingering around you more, offering hugs or a shoulder to lean on whenever possible. If you're especially tired, she'll help finish your work with you. Another set of hands would always help.

-> She begins to write small compliments on her Post-it notes, leaving them in places you frequent. If you have tools you use, she places a note talking about how hardworking you are on there. Otherwise, you begin to find small notes in your room. It becomes a ritual between the both of you, sending each other letters when you can. She just wants you to know how loved you are.

DAISUKE:

-> For him!? Really!?

-> He's kicking his feet and giggling, rolling around in his bed, head buried into his pillows. If you thought you were dorky, then he's 100 times worse.

-> He's attached to your hip. You thought he was helpful and sweet? Well, he'll help you with your work! Fun to be around? In his free time, he's running to you for another round of board games or to play on his Game Boy.

-> He wouldn't know subtle if it slapped him in his face. It's unfortunate for the rest of the crew, who have to watch two love-sick adults pine for each other as if they're not reciprocated.

-> Whenever he feels especially sad, he re-reads the letters. Even if he might feel useless at times, that he doesn't have a plan for his future, he does have the assurance that you'll be there by his side. You're a great person. If you can find all these amazing things about him then... He's sure he can make something great of himself.

SWANSEA:

"Jesus, this kids got it rough."

-> That's his first thought before it slowly dissolves into a fond affection. He's a bit too old for this lovey-dovey yearning shtick, right? Initially, he finds himself sighing at the letters, wondering when and how would be the best way to stop this little game of yours. He feels undeserving of it. You have so much going for you. You simply don't deserve someone like him. He wants to push you away, but the letters mean too much to him. Instead, he becomes charmed by it all, awaiting every letter with bated breath.

-> You do know how to make him feel young again. Each letter leaves his heart pounding, feeling like a young schoolboy rather than a washed-out mechanic.

-> He keeps every single one. If you place them in little envelopes or place small gifts like stickers in them, you'll be glad to know he keeps it all in his bedside drawer.

-> He's one to return the favour, too. He's picked up a few skills with his work. Blue-collar jobs like this have enough transferable skills to help in the creative department. He hopes you're not too surprised if you find your broken items repaired or a small figure of your favourite animal made out of scraps in your room.

-> Perhaps... He's the one who's got it bad.

[gurokiitty]

a/n : no thoughts, just slippin' jimmy

RUINATION

{ inmate! jimmy x correctional officer! f! reader ]

word count : 1486

warnings/tags : NSFW, jimmy's noncon fantasy, pre-tulpar/prison setting, voyeurism, objectification, solo masturbation, obsession, implied violence, jimmy has a corruption/domination kink.

Jimmy had seen you for the first time two months ago, fresh-faced and stiff-backed, walking into this pit like you belonged here. You didn’t. He could see that from a mile away.

You weren’t like the other guards—those grizzled, bitter men with dead eyes and nicotine-stained teeth. You didn’t smile, didn’t soften, didn’t slouch under the weight of this place like so many others had. You were new, unspoiled—a picture of order and control in a place where everything and everyone was dirty.

Your navy blue uniform fit a little too well, the pressed seams highlighting the curve of your hips, the swell of your chest, the delicate line of your throat where a small vein pulsed. You smelled clean, like the citrusy shampoo you probably used every morning. It was a scent so out of place that it almost made him sick, lingering in his head hours after you passed by, curling into his thoughts like smoke. Jimmy couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman in person, let alone one like you.

He couldn’t decide if he hated you or if he wanted you. Both, probably. You weren’t here for him—you weren’t here for any of them. You walked the block like you were above it all, like the filthy men behind these bars weren’t worth your time. You wouldn’t look at him, not really. A quick glance, maybe, when you were counting heads or writing something down, but never long enough to see the way he watched you.

And he did watch you.

Jimmy watched the way your shirt pulled tight over your chest when you reached for the radio on your belt. He noticed how the top button was always undone, offering the faintest glimpse of the hollow of your throat, smooth and delicate like porcelain. He noticed the way your pants clung to your thighs, the belt cinching your waist so tightly it made him think of his hands wrapping around you instead.

Today was different, though. Today you weren’t just walking past his cell with that quick, dismissive glance that set his blood on fire. Today you were inside his cell, tearing through his cellmate's things, your small hands shoving his meagre belongings aside with practiced efficiency.

Jimmy stayed seated, his hands resting on his thighs as he watched you move. You started with the bunk opposite his, rifling through the thin mattress, shaking out threadbare clothes, and tossing them to the floor. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his bony knees, his gaze fixed on you like a predator sizing up prey.

He barely registered his cellmate's nervous muttering as you crouched low to the floor, your hand sweeping under his bunk. And when you bent lower, he swore under his breath.

The fabric of your pants stretched tight over your ass, the seams straining, pulling, moulding to every curve like a second skin. He could see the faint indent of your underwear beneath the cheap polyester, the way it dug into the soft flesh of your hips and dipped between your thighs. His mouth went dry. He could feel his pulse pounding in his throat, in his chest, in his groin.

He wondered what your hands would feel like if they weren’t reaching under his cellmate's bunk but instead dragging over his ribs, his hips, his cock. He wondered if you’d grip him like you gripped that pack of cigarettes when you found them, firm and unapologetic.

“Whose are these?” you asked, standing up, the pack dangling from two fingers as you locked eyes with his cellmate.

“N-Not mine,” his cellmate croaked as he shifted on his feet, trapped under the weight of your stare.

Your lips curled into something faintly amused. “Funny,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “because they sure as hell didn’t walk in here on their own.”

The silence stretched, taut as a tripwire, until you turned sharply on your heel, your boots scuffing the floor. With a jerk of your head, you beckoned his cellmate. “Let’s go,” you said, your tone dropping an octave into something that wasn’t a request. “Now.”

He scrambled to follow as you walked out, your posture rigid, your hips swaying just enough to make Jimmy grit his teeth.

And then you were gone, the door slamming shut behind you, leaving him alone in the cell with nothing but the memory of your body bent over and the faint, maddening scent of your shampoo.

He couldn’t help himself.

Jimmy sprawled across his bunk, the springs groaning beneath his weight as he shoved his hand down his pants. He was already hard, painfully so, hissing through his teeth as his fingers curled around his length. His free hand gripped the thin, scratchy blanket beneath him, twisting it as he closed his eyes and let the image of you flood his mind.

He thought of your body in that uniform, too tight in all the right places, hugging the curves he could only dream of now. The navy-blue fabric was like armour, shielding you from men like him, but it did nothing to hide the soft, alluring contours beneath. What did you wear under it, he wondered, when you left this prison and stepped back into your clean, untouchable life? Something modest, perhaps, like plain cotton, prim and white—or something more sinful, like black or red, silk or lace.

His thumb dragged over the head of his cock, slick now with precum, and a low, guttural groan clawed its way out of his throat. The thought of you in lace—delicate, sheer, barely covering you—made his hips jerk against his own hand. He imagined tearing it away, his rough fingers yanking at the fabric until it unravelled into useless tatters.

You’d be weak on the outside, he thought. Easy to restrain, easy to overwhelm. You’d try to fight him, of course—claw at him, maybe even scream—but it wouldn’t matter. Not against his strength, not against his need, not against the singular thought of you.

He’d push you down, pin you beneath him, let you feel the weight of his desperation. He could already see how you’d crumble under him, the fight draining from your limbs as you realized there was nowhere to run, nothing left to do but give in. All that authority, all those clipped commands—you’d lose them the second he touched you, the second he dragged you down into the dirt.

You’d smell the same out there, wouldn’t you? Like blood on snow. Like something pure, ruined. He’d strip away that pristine edge of yours, leave you raw and trembling, a smear of himself staining the perfect surface you worked so hard to maintain. You wouldn’t be clean anymore—not after him.

Jimmy's strokes were ruthless, his grip tight like a vice, as though he could claw the frustration out of himself with every punishing movement. He imagined your lips trembling, your breath catching in your throat as he pressed you into the ground, his hands greedy and unrelenting. Your hair, usually so neat, would spill like a dark halo against the earth, and your eyes would be blown wide, wet with fear, shining like glass just before it shattered.

He spat into his palm, the slick warmth easing the drag of his hand as his pace quickened, frantic now. The mattress creaked beneath him, and he bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood, the metallic tang searing through his mouth. He imagined you tasting it, imagined forcing his mouth against yours until you had no choice but to take him in.

The groan that tore from his throat was feral, guttural, his head tipping back against the cold cinderblock wall. Sweat slicked his skin, the coarse prison shirt sticking to his chest as he chased the vision of you to its inevitable end. You’d break so beautifully, he thought. He’d whittle you down to nothing but a trembling, begging whore. He’d ruin you as thoroughly as you’d ruined him, with that maddening, little smile you didn’t even know you gave.

The thought pushed him over the edge, his body seizing as release tore through him. His hand faltered, his breath hitched, and he spilled across his stomach, the warmth pooling sticky and unwelcome against his skin. The world blurred, dissolving into static and white noise as he rode the wave to its bitter, relentless conclusion.

When he came back to himself, he was left with the oppressive weight of silence, his chest heaving and skin damp with sweat. The faint scent of you still lingered, haunting him like a ghost, and he let out a low, ragged curse, wiping himself clean with the edge of the blanket.

You weren’t clean anymore—not in his mind. He’d dragged you down into the filth with him, ruined you in ways you’d never even know, and the thought curled his lips into a slow, wicked smile.

[cadhla182]

This Kara is from my adventures with Superman. This show is amazing

Oh my god I love her so much. They made her such a Me character, the child moulded and manipulated to be a weapon but her empathy broke their programming and she's very visibly autistic and she's a foodie and she's got a temper and her and Jimmy are real cute!

I liked this show a whole lot before but I'm really in love with it now.

[wcnderlnds]

alone together | jimmy darling

・❥・ summary: jimmy saves you from twisty and you end up catching feelings for him. ・❥・word count: 2.3k ・❥・warnings: 18+, nsfw. female reader, virgin!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, maybe some swearing, clown mentions. ・❥・ authors note: im still not super confident writing smut so we all gotta keep pretending its decent until i am thank u love u.

The damp smell of mould filled your nostrils, eyes straining to see through the bars you were held behind. It had been days since you’d eaten more than half a cracker, your stomach hurting from the lack of food and water. How much longer could you survive this? Escaping wasn’t an option. You and your fellow captives had tried but each time it had failed. All you could do was sit and suffer through each and every day of this torture. 

The door to the small trailer was thrown open and in stepped the clown. His terrifying face looming through the bars at you, holding out… flowers? Shaky hands took them from him but when you didn’t smile or thank him he started rattling the cage, moans of anger coming from the mask on his face. He threw open the cage door, grabbing your wrist roughly and dragging you outside where there was another clown. It took no time at all for them to tie you up, the other one more talkative — his voice seemed familiar to you but you couldn’t quite place it.

The talkative of the two skipped over to you. The weapon in his hand brought up to your throat…

You jumped up in bed, sweating buckets, fear coursing through you as you once again dreamt of that night. As your eyes focused, you noticed another person in the room. He was looking at you with concerned eyes, slowly edging closer to you. Scooting back on the bed was all you could do to put some distance between you and the mystery man.

“Hey, calm down, toots. I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s me, Jimmy,” his soothing voice said calmly. His hands up in the air. That’s when you realised who it was. The man that had saved you. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Now what’re you apologising for? You went through a real traumatic experience, doll face. I'd be concerned if you weren’t a little cautious.” His voice was like a soothing balm, easing a little bit of the fear.

“I appreciate it. You rescuing me and letting me crash here. I don’t got nowhere else to go.”

“You can stay here as long as you like. I’m sure we can bother Elsa to give you a job around here to help out — make you a part of the family. Besides, here, you’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it.”

For some reason, you believed him with all your heart and soul.

Elsa had given you a job. It wasn’t anything special — just to clean up around the place and help the others get ready for their acts. It was easy work but it made you feel important. Everyone had accepted you the instant Jimmy introduced you to them. It had taken a while for you to open up and actually hold a conversation but they had been so patient with you. They knew the whole story of what you’d been through. It was probably why they were just as protective of you as Jimmy was. Well, no. Nobody was as protective of you as Jimmy. He had stuck to his word and made sure you were safe. Anyone even so much as looked at you funny and he was by your side ready to defend you. The fact you had someone looking after you made you feel special. Jimmy made you feel special. The closer the two of you got, the easier it was to fall for him.

Whether it was his charming smile or his caring nature, he always found a way to make you swoon. Not that he knew. No, there was no way you were telling him. The thought alone was almost more terrifying than being kidnapped by that awful clown.

The nightmares still came but they weren’t as frequent anymore. They never came on the nights where you fell asleep on Jimmy, held tightly in his arms. Those were your favourite nights. It often happened when you were talking — he was a touchy guy and always liked to have his arm around you. Who were you to refuse a cuddle from a handsome guy like that? It was purely platonic even if your herat beat a little faster any time he touched you.

“You busy after the show tonight?” Jimmy asked, approaching you with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

At his question, you stopped sweeping the floor, turning to look at him. “No, why?”

“Thought I’d treat you. Meet me at my trailer after the show?”

“Yeah, okay.”

It felt like the night dragged, each acting seeming to take twice as long as normal when in reality you were just being impatient. Ever since Jimmy had asked you to meet him after the show, it was all you could think about. Maybe there was some hope that he did actually feel the same way you did. The thought alone was enough to make you feel giddy. It didn’t help when Jimmy caught the wide smile on your face from the other side of the stage and threw a wink your way. 

When the show finally came to it’s end, you almost ran to his trailer - but didn’t because you didn’t want to seem too eager. When you stepped inside, Jimmy was already there. Turns out he was just as eager as you were. He gestured for you to take a seat and you almost couldn’t believe your eyes. This man had cooked you dinner. He’d taken the time to actually cook for you. That meant the world to you, especially knowing Jimmy wasn’t that much of a cook in the first place.

Was there anything more romantic than the person you liked making you dinner? He’d even set the small table out with a candle in the middle.

The two of you chatted, laughed and ate. It was like nothing else in the world mattered but you two. It had been so long since you felt so carefree. With that thought in mind, you decided to be brave. You had to take your shot while you had it, right? So, you leaned in and captured Jimmy’s lips with yours. At first he was surprised, his eyes wide but soon enough he relaxed into it, his lips moving gently against yours.

It felt like heaven kissing him. It was everything you’d dreamed of and more. He nibbled your bottom lip trying to deepen the kiss so you parted your lips, your tongues tangling together in a frenzied dance. Jimmy’s hand rested on your hip, gently laying you back on the bed where you’d moved over to relax after dinner, his body gently resting on top of yours. The second you felt his hand slide up your thigh and under your dress, you froze. That caused Jimmy to instantly stop, pulling away with a confused look on his face. 

“I thought….” He furrowed his brows.

“No, I mean…” Before you could finish your sentence, he cut you off.

“It’s because of these right, right? You don’t want these hands touching you. I should have guessed it was too good to be true. I thought you were different than everyone else but turns out you’re just the same as them,” Jimmy’s eyes were ablaze with anger. He had a short fuse, you knew this so you tried to diffuse the situation quickly. As he tried to get to his feet, your fingers gently encircled around his arm not letting him move.

“It’s not that. I don’t care about any of that. Your hands are part of you and… I like every part of you. I just…” you swallowed, almost mumbling your next words. “I’m… a virgin.”

That took him by surprise. His features softened immediately. It had nothing to do with him. You liked him. All of him. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But, I gotta tell you doll, I really like you. You drive me crazy.”

“I… want to. I’m just nervous.”

“We’ll go slow, alright? I do something you don’t like then you tell me to stop and I will, I promise.”

You nodded your head, hands threading through his hair as you pulled him back down to your lips. This time when his hand slid up your thigh, you didn’t stop him. His fingers softly rubbing you through your panties causing a moan to slide from your lips. The noise sent shivers down his spine. If he could hear you make noises like that for the rest of his life then he’d be a happy man. 

“Can I?” He asked as his fingers found the edge of your panties. With a nod, you gave him permission. Jimmy wasted no time at all in pulling them off, bunching your dress up around your waist so he could get a better view. He groaned at the sight, his cock already half hard and straining against his pants.

His fingers slid through your folds with ease, the skin on skin contact causing you to moan out, your hand grasping his wrist as he softly moved his fingers. You’d touched yourself before but it had never felt as good as this. His eyes kept focused on you, taking note of what made you moan, what made you squirm. Sensing how wet you were, he decided to push the boundaries a bit more, his fingers rubbing against your entrance. He pushed them inside slowly. You gasped out. He slowly began to slide his finger in and out, trying not to hurt you. With his conjoined fingers, he knew he had to be careful. The last thing he wanted to do was cause you any harm. Your soft moans echoed through the trailer, your orgasm fast approaching.

“Ohhh, Jimmy,” you whined, back arching off the mattress as you bucked your hips into his hand. That familiar feeling was pooling in the pit of your stomach and all it took was his thumb circling your clit for you to fall apart around his fingers.

He continued pumping his finger into you through your release only pulling out once he was sure you were finished. The smirk on his face as he leaned down to capture your lips once again was captivating. In your still dazed state you barely felt the way he was moving his hips against you, his hard, clothed length rubbing against you. “Jimmy?”

“Hmmm?” He mumbled, his lips now pressing along your neck.

“I want you.”

His head shot up, eyes searching yours to make sure you were certain. When he found no hesitation he didn’t waste any time in pulling your dress off you along with his own clothes. As he laid back on top of you, skin on skin, you felt the nerves bubble up. Sensing it, he rested his forehead against yours. “We don’t have to do this.”

“I want to. I trust you. You once told me you’d keep me safe and… I know you will now too.”

“Well, shit, way to make me feel like the luckiest guy on the planet.” His lips found yours in a soft gentle kiss saying more than words ever could. His free hand rested on your hip as he positioned himself at your entrance. “You sure? I’ll go real slow. Tell me to stop at any point, okay?”

“I trust you,” you whispered.

That was all he needed. Slowly, he pressed his tip into you, pushing in until he heard you gasp. The sharp ache that ran through your body hurt like hell, your eyes scrunched up. Jimmy looked at you with concern, his hand finding yours letting you squeeze it if you needed to. “You okay?”

You nodded your head. Once he was certain you really were fine he pushed in a little more. You squeezed his hand, breathing out to ground yourself. He stilled once he was almost all the way inside giving you time to adjust to him, peppering kisses all over your face to ease you. “Y-you can move, Jimmy.”

He pulled out slowly, shallowly then back in testing the waters. It still hurt but you weren’t going to let that stop you. His pace was slow, the tightness of your walls almost overwhelming him. The more he moved against you, the more enjoyable it became and slowly but surely the wince of pain turned into soft moans. It was like music to Jimmy’s ears. He picked up the pace just a little bit more, a groan slipping past his lips when you moved your own hips with his.

“You feel so good, dollface,” he whispered in your ear, his lips finding that sweet spot on your neck, gently biting down. “Can’t believe you’re letting me do this of all people.”

Your hands rested on his back, your body moving with each thrust. As your release grew closer, Jimmy felt your nails digging into his back. He let out a hiss, the feeling only bringing his own release closer. 

“Jimmy!” You gasped as he sped up, his hand moving to bring one of your legs to hook around his waist. His thrusts were becoming sloppy now, his own high on the horizon. Your body arched into his, walls clenching around him as you came, his name falling like a prayer from your lips.

“That’s it, baby, I’ve got you,” he grunted. The feeling of your body convulsing around him was enough to send him over the edge, burying himself inside you as he coated your walls with his release.

His body collapsed on top of you, the both of you sweaty and spent. All that echoed through the room were your heavy breaths as you tried to calm down. Jimmy’s head was buried in the crook of your neck, peppering light kisses there as your hand ran through his dark messy hair. Eventually, he lifted his head up to look at you with a lazy smile. “I meant it, y’know? When I said I was crazy about you. Have been since I met you. My life isn’t the greatest but you’re a sliver of hope in all the darkness. When I’m with you I feel…normal.”

“I’m all yours for as long as you’ll have me, Jimmy Darling.”

“Alright, how’s forever then?”

tag list (ask to be added!): @juliamaximoff @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @xmidnight-rain @honeymoon8

[pherelesytsia]

Who did this to you? - 9

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend’s house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, Angst, swearing 

Word Count: 2.7k

Part 8

Chains, bloodied and graced with torn rotting flesh, moulding in the light of the wanning moon, dangled in all directions in the howling wind. Bones cracked under polished shoes freckled by grime and coated with rotting leaves. The lightbulbs among the broken were shining faintly, breaking the doom, the utter darkness ruling in the endless corridor leading into different vacant rusty halls.

The wind was howling, a lonely wolf, a hound greeting the full moon. Water dripped through the holey ceiling of metal and musty wood. The old building, far away from civilisation, with shattered windows barricaded by boards was surrounded.

The man clothed in a form-fitting suit didn’t bear a map, didn’t need a compass to find the right path. The faint stench of mould lingered in the stiff air. Rats fled in great haste, screeched and warned the brothers hiding in the holes in the ground and empty chests. A few dark grey strands illuminated the dark sea. Untroubled Thomas followed the path. His fingers tapped against the polished metal. He did not put his gaze over his shoulder, focused on the light showing the end of the tunnel. Deep hush voices exchanged brief words and the grin on his lips widened, thought of ways to harm the men who had dared to touch his wife.

Thomas tilted his head. The light hit the tip of his shoes, but the Shelby, a demon, the devil himself waiting patiently, remained in the shadows. Deftly, he leapt to the side, hiding behind the cargo crates stacked high from India, Africa and the far East. Footsteps echoed and a soft whimper, a kitten, a newborn calling for its mother, fell silent. More men, dark dressed creatures, followed the order with drawn weapons and waited for the signal. Thomas leaned forward, peering through the crack between the crates. Two men, shabbily dressed, stood in the light of the flickering yellowish bulb, but his keen eyes couldn’t find the source of the whimper.

            “The money?” the thinner one pecked, wiping the oil from his fingers on his trousers.

The taller one laughed, folding his arms in front of his bulging chest. 

            “The woman will pay us off. I called her. By the end of the day, we’ll get the money.”, “We should have killed his wife right away,” the other said, leaning against the cargo boxes.

            “Karl, I would have killed her, but the other guy came. We would have died otherwise. I know him, Solomons. He would have killed us,” he interjected.

            “And what are we supposed to do now, Jimmy?” Karl questioned.

            “And what will happen to us, Karl?” Jim asked.

Karl shrugged his shoulders. Eyes widened in shock, screams followed, bullets pierced flesh and grazed bones. Men in suits stormed the old run-down complex, a tsunami swallowing villages and towns. Closely followed by his men, Thomas entered the room, stepped closer with his gun drawn, fired and hit the bull’s eye, ran ahead, searched and cursed, but didn’t find the woman. Sweat cascaded his face, turned, and hoped the men could answer his questions, but the eyes had paled. Cursing, Thomas stared at his brothers opening the crates in the hope of finding Peggy in one of them.

            “Where is she?” Arthur asked, heaving.

John cursed, nearly fell into the crate. Perplexed, he stared into the distance, cursed under his breath, turned with paled features towards his brothers and mumbled a short prayer.

            The moon wandered on, over land and mountains, on and on, climbing hills and swimming over lakes and raging streams. Under the cover of the moon, ghastly shadows crept forth. Light burned in the mansion far away from civilisation, from towns and villages. The vehicles parked in front of the mansion were not neatly lined up. Curtains were drawn and didn’t allow to witness the people warming themselves by the flames, gnawing on the hardened biscuits and awakening the sense with the dark unsweetened liquid. The phone didn’t ring, and the bell didn’t announce a guest.

The clock was ticking, heels clicked against the creaking hardwood. Voices had died down, the women did not chatter as the gentle voice breathing delicate word into the microphone sang of love and gentle kisses. The women exchanged meaningless glances, glanced at the man they thought would never enter the house, who had settled down by the fireplace and was leafing through the book with his legs crossed, staring again and again at the doors and windows in search of grim faces pursued by evil intentions. Y/N warmed her fingers on the cup filled with tea and dipped her tongue in the warm liquid.

            “Don’t worry, they will be here soon. It’s just a matter of time. Don’t worry, my dear.” Ada breathed.

She flashed the shaking woman a smile, breathed encouraging words, but they couldn’t banish the fear from her heart.

            “They’ve been gone for a long time. At least three hours now.” Y/N breathed.

            “You worry too much Y/N/N. The Shelby can take something. If he’s not here by seven, then we’ll go looking for him together.” Alfie joked.

Y/N stretched her arms into the air. Sleep gnawed on her bones and the voice in her head assured her that all would be well, that Thomas was on his way back, that the door would open soon and he would stand with Peggy and a promise to change by her side. She counted the seconds, focused on the clock, yet Y/N had lost track of time and space a long time ago. Her eyes widened. The tiredness was gone with the wind. Groaning, Y/N jumped and threw the blanket away. A wall, the last wall of defence rose in front of her and a palm settled on her back.

            “Come, little one. We will go together. You stay here. I have everything under control. I saw a car.” Alfie said.

Y/N tried to argue, telling him to stay with the others, that she wanted to go alone, but no words crossed her lips and nodded. Alfie smiled, gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, stuffed his gun into the pocket, and guided Y/N away from the richly set table. Keys jingled. Alfie pushed Y/N behind him, but the young woman went ahead. The cold air brushed her skin and painted her cheeks. Brows almost touched. Y/N looked questioningly at Peggy, shook her head, and lips parted.

            “Peggy?” Y/N whispered, not believing her eyes, convinced she was about to awake from a dream.

She looked healthy. Not a drop of blood clung to the long white evening dress, looked like a woman on her way to church to walk down the aisle. The hair was laid in curls, dotted with pearls and glass shaped in tears. The bouquet, white and red flowers fell to the ground. A smile, false as a fox’s, sweet as a snake’s voice, spread on her lips.

            “You’re well?” Y/N questioned.

            “Why shouldn’t I be well? I am glad to see that you are well. I see nothing happened to you while I was away. I told you to wait for me at home. I could never have forgiven myself if something bad had happened to you.” Peggy spoke coldly, stoically, emotionlessly.

            “Where’s Thomas? He’s out looking for you. I was worried about you.” Y/N uttered.

Spreading her arms, Y/N wanted to enclose Peggy in a tight hug, but fingers clawed deep into the thin material covering her, forcing her to stagger backwards.

            “Alfie, can you please let go of me?’ Y/N demanded.

Y/N turned and stubbornly demanded to be let free, but Alfie shook his head.

            “Why do you have to make everything more complicated? Get in there and don’t do anything stupid or you’ll all regret it. Are we clear?”, “I wouldn’t do that.” Alfie interjected. He removed his hand from the pistol and rose his hands into the air after he pulled Y/N closer to his chest.

            “Peggy?” Y/N breathed, hoped the person bore a mask, but it was Peggy.

Colour drained from her features. Cold metal pressed deeper into her skin. Bloodshot eyes forced Alfie to step back and told him not to dare to waste a single thought about doing something he might regret. Questions nor curses crossed Y/N´s lips pressed into a fine line. A lonely tear cascaded down her left cheek and left a red burning mark on her skin. Y/N questioned her life, every decision she had made, every word and complain she had said to Peggy in hope she would aid her. Synchronically, Ada and Polly arose, aimed, but no shots pierced the air. Peggy chased Alfie away to stand by the wall and he listened and placed the weapon on the ground as the women as Peggy stood tall behind the crumbling shield.

            “Why?” Y/N inquired, her heart bursting through skin and bone.

Peggy laughed and combed through Y/N´s locks with her long light-coloured nails.

            “I should be in your place. It would have been so easy. But those idiots let you get away and then you were at my door and I just had to let you in. I called these fools. I knew they would be at the bar, and informed them that you were with me, that they should walk in and take care of you. I then set off here, wanting to inform all of you that something might have happened to Y/N. I would have taken your place, but this man had to interfere with my plan.” Peggy joked.

Her bloodshot eyes slid from one person to another and pointing her finger at the tall man settling down on the armchair by the crackling fire.

            “How would you have done it? The Shelby wouldn’t have to believe you. Nobody would have.” Alfie questioned, with his arms crossed in front of his body.

            “Nobody? Suddenly everybody was searching for Y/N. When I returned home, she was gone. I am a good actress, I had classes when I was young and played in the theatre, always the evil and wicked,” the woman huffed.

She chuckled.

            “Thomas would have believed me. I would have played the good friend, helping him through this rough path. I just wanted to play the worried friend. I would have helped to find Y/N and then after a good month the case would have gone cold. The postman would have brought a letter from overseas and the problem would have been solved. Thomas would have found a good friend in me and later a wife,” she sneered.

            “But they trashed your house.” Y/N breathed, eliciting a malicious laugh from the mad woman.

            “I was a bit angry and had to let my anger run free. My plan was perfect.” she huffed, stroking Y/N’s skin with the weapon.

            “You wanted to kill me?” Y/N breathed.

            “No one cared about you, you told me everything, your former husband barely cared about you, you slept alone, spent your days alone, were air for everyone, I didn’t expect anyone to care about you.” Peggy laughed.

Y/N gulped, nodded, and breathed a soft prayer, prayed for the safety of all of them a few steps away from her.

            “A confident woman. Why would I marry you?” a deep voice sneered.

Smiling, Peggy turned around, fixed her hair and let go of Y/N, but she was rooted into the ground, turning into a statue overgrown by moss.

            “All these months you’ve been using me.” Y/N

The veil fell, and the wind carried away the dense mist. Y/N balled her hands into fists, nails bore deep into the soft flesh, but no sound escaped her lips. She faced Peggy, unfearful of the weapon in her right hand.

            “You never told me to give Thomas a chance, to at least try to get along with him. You never said anything nice about him. When he gave me flowers or chocolate, you told me he’d cheated on me and feared I would find out.” Y/N whispered, her voice raising with every fallen word.

She remembered the forgotten, the lonely nights, the long calls, the endless hours spend in the small room and crying her heart out to the wrong person, hoping Peggy would help her like only a friend could.

            “We spoke on the phone when Thomas didn’t come back that evening and instead of telling me that he must be working but you swore on your parents’ lives that you saw him in the arms of a woman.” Y/N cried out.

Y/N faced her friend, unfaced and untroubled by the loaded gun.

            “I suppose that was a lie, too. Probably everything you told me was a lie,” Y/N whispered.

She remembered the nights she was pouring out her heart and the answers that were as false as the snake’s words. She raised her eyes and looked up at Thomas. The man swallowed, saw the questions in his wife’s eyes and smiled.

            “I was never unfaithful, Y/N. I was a terrible husband, but I was always faithful to you,” Thomas assured her.

            “I believe you,” Y/N whispered, but Thomas had heard the answer.

Y/N advanced, oblivious to the woman in the wedding garment, wanting to go towards her husband, but Peggy made it impossible for her to do so, getting in the way.

            “Enough of this sweet talk.” Peggy chuckled.

Metal dazzled the eyes. She grabbed Y/N by the collar, scratched her skin, pressed her tightly against him. And the men and women, apart from Thomas, recoiled with their hands up. Thomas stashed his hands in his trouser pockets and nodded, guessing what she would demand.

            “You let me out and nothing will happen to her.” Peggy requested.

The Shelby nodded, exchanged brief glances with his brothers.

            “Good, go, you know the way. You hand Y/N over to me at the door. I leave my gun here and you put yours away. Do we understand each other?” Thomas spoke.

            “I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands here, Thomas, but I’ll take your offer. But I want them out of here. I want them all out of here in the kitchen.” Peggy interjected.

Thomas gestured to his siblings to leave, nodding, indicating that they should be on their way, that they shouldn’t worry, but his eyes betrayed him. Slowly, they rose from the sofa and did as Thomas ordered them again to leave. Heels clicked against the hardwood. Hush voices exchanged words, and the door slammed shut.

            “Can we go?” Thomas probed.

Thomas walked ahead, showed the way, paused at the open door, pushed it wide open and motioned the woman to leave. His hands clenched into fists. He wanted to free Y/N from the woman’s clutches, heard the soft whimpering as Peggy grabbed her former friend. Teeth gritted. Peggy stopped and turned with Y/N.

            “Here you go.” she shoved Y/N in his direction.

Y/N staggered forward, threatening to fall like a soldier, but arms wrapped tightly around her body, pressing her tightly to his chest. Thomas breathed loving words into her ear, pressed his dried lips on her skin and pressed featherlight kisses on her cheek. He murmured a prayer and begged for her forgiveness. Sweat danced down his face. He pressed another fleeting kiss on her temple. Thomas put his hands over her ears, deafening her to the screams and bullets piercing the air and suddenly, after all this time filled with screams and prayers, silence reigned over the land.

TagList:

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[winchesterszvonecek]

hii can i request “I’m not scared.” “Your face says otherwise.” from the autumn prompt list with mike dodds?🥺 yk like it's halloween season and the precinct gets a lead to some house but when they get there it's decorated like a haunted house (with jumpscares and stuff) so reader is jumpy and mike laughs at her at the time but afterwards he's worried and hugs her and they have a moment and there's fluff etc

Haunted House - [ Mike Dodds ]

Prompt: “I’m not scared.” “Your face says otherwise.”

Word Count: 4654

Warnings: female!reader, use of y/n, mentions of jump scares, brief mentions of dismembered limbs

A/N: this is my first Mike work so please be nice lol

Masterlist | Mike Masterlist

Ever since it fell abandoned back in the late 1800’s, the old Sunnydale Asylum had easily grown legend to many a spooky tale.

From sightings of disoriented patients still clad in their dirty, white gowns, and left to wander halls forever as ghostly apparitions seeking peace. To the spine tingling story of the doctor who once ran the hospital still eager to lobotomise anyone he deemed fit, the asylum had grown to be quite the destination for those with a thrill for scares.

In fact, it became so popular for tourists and city dwellers alike that on every Halloween since before you were born the owners would set up the most intense haunted house inside, leading those who were brave enough to enter on a terrifying, bloodcurdling journey throughout history.

“God, there is nothing sunny about this place,” You muttered, feeling easily unsettled as your eyes landed on the moulding, degrading sign of the asylum.  The very sight of the smiling sun above the name, sent a fierce shiver rippling down your spine and you ran your hands up and down your arms, following Mike reluctantly, yet quickly, down the path before he ended up too far away for comfort. 

You never would have come here willingly. You hated anything even remotely scary and a haunted asylum, filled with actors waiting to pop out on you, was the very last place you ever could have wished to spend your Halloween. You’d wanted to spend it at home, watching something light and fun, but unfortunately for you duty had called in the shape of a case and for some reason…For some, the universe hates me, what did I do to deserve this? Reason, it had led you straight to the very asylum that you never wanted to see with your own two eyes. 

“I hate this already,” You complained, tailing Mike towards the ticket booth that had a line way too long for your liking as who would ever put themselves in such a situation as this if not under threat of immediate death? “Why is this place even allowed to be open? I thought some guy died in it last year.” 

“He fell down the stairs,” Mike replied casually, glancing briefly towards you. “He wasn’t murdered by a ghost.” 

You scoffed, “Yeah, that you know of. But who’s to say a ghost didn’t push him?” 

Mike couldn’t help but chuckle at your dramatic nature as the two of you weaved your way through the crowds of people waiting for their turn inside, many of whom were actually dressed as asylum patients and had the hairs on the back of your neck sticking up already. 

Why, oh why, hadn’t you just gone to the landfill site with Carisi? 

“Excuse me,” Mike said as you approached the ticket counter, gaining the attention of the rather young looking man, dressed as an orderly, who sat behind it. “I’m Sergeant Dodds, this is Detective Y/L/N of the NYPD. We’re looking for a James Santos, we were told he works here.” 

With his mouth hanging open, the ticket guy said nothing for a split second before his reddened eyes widened in realisation and he nodded, “Oh, you mean Jimmy.” 

Okay, so he was high. Great. 

“Yeah, he works here,” The guy continued, yet he didn’t bother to elaborate further until Mike snapped him back into reality with a click of his fingers, startling the kid terribly and causing him to shuffle in his seat. “But, uh, he’s inside. He's one of the actors down in the South Wing… Look for the guy in the straight jacket and the muzzle.” 

“Muzzle?” Mike repeated, curious.

“Yeah, you know… Like Hannibal Lecter,” The guy said, watching as Mike narrowed his eyes a little before shaking his head and the whole thing off entirely. 

It was too late, too cold, and he was far too eager to close this case to bother dumbing himself down anymore by talking to a stoned twenty-something year old. 

“Is there any way you can get Jimmy out here?” Mike asked, yet to you it seemed more like an order than a question. Something you were extremely thankful for as you did not want to go inside there and have to look for a guy impersonating a cannibal.

“Sorry, dude, I wish I could help. But once they’re inside and in costume they’re off the grid as cellphones kinda ruin the vibe.” 

“Well, is there any other way for us to get inside?” You asked hopefully, as you were already twitching minutely at the faint screams you could hear from inside the asylum, therefore you didn’t even want to imagine what you might look like should you be forced to walk through them. “Maybe an unlocked fire exit somewhere?” 

“No, we keep all the fire exits locked from the outside to stop kids from sneaking in,” The ticket guy replied plainly, only tightening the thick rope building in your stomach as if kids weren’t allowed inside…then what the hell kind of horrors lay beyond those doors?

“What about a back door?” You questioned toughly, finding yourself in sudden interrogation mode from the fear you had over venturing inside. “This is an old asylum, there’s bound to be other entrances.” 

“Look, lady…”

“It’s detective,” Mike corrected harshly, his teeth gritted together so hard you were surprised he had any left. 

“Detective,” The ticket guy corrected nervously, his attitude easily shifting as he became all but sober under the weight of Mike’s heavy glare. Even you were taken aback by his sudden harshness, and if it hadn’t been for the gentle, yet brave, pat on the arm you gave him to help him relax, you were afraid he might have launched himself over the counter and supplied the haunted attraction with an extra body to display. “The only other door is all the way around back.” 

“Great,” You said happily, tapping the desk with your knuckles before stepping back. “We’ll go that way then, you mind showing us?”

“It’s a fifteen minute walk through the forest,” The guy added, his eyebrow raised questionably. “Are you sure you want to? I mean… I don’t know if you know this but there’s stories of those woods being haunted…” 

“We’re not walking through the woods,” Mike stated, causing the guy to snap his mouth shut instantly and look away. You did the opposite though, in that you twisted your neck so quickly to look up at him you could have starred as a special performance of Regan from The Exorcist. He saw you easily from the corner of his eye, your mouth gaped like a fish and your eyes hard. “What?” 

“I’m not going in there.” 

“Why?” Mike asked, puzzlement sitting deep in his features until they slowly began to loosen. You, yourself, stiffened, as a smile etched its way onto his face at the sudden realisation of exactly why you would rather walk around through woods than use the front door. “Wait a minute… Are you scared to go inside?” 

“What?” You chuckled delusionally, your tone an octave higher than usual as Mike studied you, nothing but an annoying doubt plastering his otherwise handsome face as he saw right through your facade. You drew your tongue awkwardly over your back teeth as you added, unconfidently, “I’m not scared.” 

“Really? Because your face says otherwise,” Mike replied bluntly, humorously, causing your aforementioned fear riddled face to shift instantly into a frown that he couldn’t help but find ridiculously adorable. He always loved seeing you get all riled up like this. 

“Fine, you wanna go in?” You asked, a newfound wave of bravery coursing through your veins at his obvious smugness. He nodded, his hands on his hips as you stared up at him, your arms folded and your stance firm. “Then let’s go in, sergeant.” 

“Happy to,” Mike said wittily, knowing damn well you did not want to go in and that you weren’t happy with him knowing it either…otherwise, you wouldn’t have called him sergeant. He stepped aside, dropping his hands and motioning for you to go first as a smug smirk rose to his lips, “After you, detective.” 

A disgruntled huff left your nose as you strolled past him, keeping your shoulders high as you put on a brave face in hopes that he couldn’t tell how truly scared you were to go inside. Which wasn’t much, you know, your bones just practically shook beneath your skin as you ascended the steps. Each flickering light that caught your eye or ear piercing scream that met your ears caused your stomach to lurch inside you and if you weren’t careful, it was likely going to force its way up and land in front of you, but other than that you were just peachy. 

“Well, good luck,” The ticket guy called cheerfully after you, causing you to almost spin back around and arrest him. 

However, luckily for him and tragically for you, Mike’s large frame following behind you easily stopped you from turning around, meaning you had no choice but to carry on towards the building. You already felt uneasy. From the mere sight alone of the large double doors that were peeling away and rusty, you knew that what lay beyond was going to be ten times worse than what was outside.

Nevertheless you carried on, reaching the top of the steps far quicker than you’d have liked. You lifted your shaking hand reluctantly, curling it around the handle and sucking in a sickly breath as you mustered up all the courage you had in you to push it open. You could feel Mike lingering behind you, the heat of his body so close to your own yet it didn’t allow you to feel nearly as much comfort as it might have done, not with the horror that stood beyond the door you still hadn’t opened. 

“Oh, you are so scared,” Mike laughed, nudging you playfully with his elbow and finding even more amusement when you shoved him away to the other side of the step. “Do you want me to open it?” 

“No,” You replied, your word a little choked that it caused you to clear your throat roughly. “No. I can do it.” 

You heard Mike hum sceptically as he retreated back to you, yet he did nothing. He just lingered beside you patiently, watching as your focus grew distant and you forced the fear to momentarily leave your mind just long enough to allow you to power through. You took a deep breath, pushing open the heavy door as the air left your lungs in a shudder. 

God, you were already regretting this. From the eerily wailing sound of the hinges creaking open, and the pitch black darkness that engulfed you from the second you stepped across the threshold, you knew this was a bad idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle. But at the same time, you were also stubborn. You didn’t want Mike to win…whatever game it was that you two were playing and even if you hadn’t you still wouldn’t have been able to turn around, not when Mike had already closed the door behind him and was now hidden…somewhere amongst the shadows around you.

You couldn’t sense him. You couldn’t hear him, not with how hard your heart was pounding inside your chest and all the way up to your ears. You couldn’t even feel his usual presence around you either and that worried you. It terrified you, rather, as if there was one thing worse than being in a haunted asylum…it was being in one alone after Mike decided to be a dick and stay outside. 

“Dodds?” You whispered, swallowing thickly at the echo of creepy laughter that swept through the room around you. 

Against your better judgement you then stepped further into the foyer, hoping that at least hearing Mike’s footsteps follow you in would give you a general sense as to his position. But when you heard nothing, not a single peep besides distant screams of those further inside, you began to sweat…Both from your body, and from your eyes.

“Mike, I’m serious,” You said…seriously, and both of you could tell you were as you’d never once had you called him by his first name. “Where are you? This isn’t funny.” 

At the moment a hand clasped onto your shoulder and made you jump so hard you might have cried had Mike not appeared from within the darkness, a knowing, amused, smile tugging at his lips, “Come on, it’s a little funny.” 

“God, you’re such a dick sometimes,” You muttered bluntly, a very real anger towards him building inside you as you shrugged out from under his hand. 

Only, when you went to walk away from him to emphasise that you were huffing with him and would rather go alone, a skeleton swung down from the ceiling right in front of you. You screamed, your heart leaping in your chest as you stumbled back, feeling the firmness of Mike’s chest behind you as he caught you, his hands holding your outer arms gently before you ended up tripping over your own eagerness to run.  

“So, you’re not scared, huh?” He whispered tauntingly into your ear, causing an entirely different sensation to tingle down your spine. You shrugged out from within his grasp again and stepped away, hearing a pleased chuckle leaving his lips as he followed suit and placed his hand back on your shoulder. Only this time, as a way of comfort. “Come on, I promise I’ll keep you safe.” 

With a reluctant, heavy sigh you nodded and allowed him to lead the way as you mumbled, “Great, just a fun trip into an asylum to get killed.” 

Mike laughed, “We’re not gonna get killed.” 

“Maimed.” 

“Y/N/N.”

“Stabbed.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Beaten.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Burned.” 

“Y/N.” 

“What?” You said innocently, watching as Mike struggled to hide his smile at your incessant rambles of the danger that would likely never succumb to you in here. He kept quiet though, as no matter what he said to you about you being perfectly safe with him, he knew it wouldn’t sink into your stubborn mind until you were back in the true safety of the precinct. 

Instead, he simply continued to lead you further into the asylum, constantly checking to make sure you hadn’t passed out behind him each time an actor jumped out to try and startle you both. He was fine with it, a small twitch of his shoulders every now and then but you… You hated every single minute of it. 

It didn’t matter that Mike was at the front and was the primary target of the scare, you still seemed to take the full brunt of it and each time a disturbing, how did he even manage to make himself look like that? actor would pop out from within a locker or lunge out from behind a door, you would scream like a little kid and lurch forward to cling to Mike’s arm. Not that he minded, though. He kind of liked having you this close to him, and each time he’d feel your face press against his bicep as you hid it from view, his heart would literally skip a beat. 

However, as the two of you delved further into the asylum and had yet to come across another jumpscare actor in the last five minutes, you grew uneasy and on edge, and because of that, you did something Mike wasn’t the least bit prepared for… Nor did he even know how to react when you did. 

“Y/N,” Mike said quietly, almost nervously. He heard you hum from next to him, your pitch a lot higher than it should be as he came to a slow stop. You glanced up at him questionably, your eyebrow raised where his was dipped and the way he kept dropping his gaze between your bodies only heightened your sense of intrigue, and so with a partial widened of your eyes you urged him to speak his words. Something you’d regret the second they slipped past his lips. “You’re uh… You’re holding my hand.” 

With your face dropping, you instantly snatched your hand back and looked away from him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as your stomach began to flutter furiously. Oh God, you hadn’t meant to do that. You hadn’t meant to… Shit. You’d only meant to take a subtle hold of the cuff of his jacket with your fingers just to make sure you didn’t get separated, but you were literally so scared of something popping out in front of you that you held his hand.  

“Sorry,” You mumbled, tugging your sleeves down over your hands as you sucked in a shaky breath and tried to force yourself to look back at him. 

You didn’t want to, not by a long shot. You didn’t want to see the cringed look in his eyes over having you hold his hand but you knew you had to. Not only did you want to keep what remaining dignity you had left but you had a job to do and you literally couldn’t stomach where your eyes were facing now… as there was a concerningly realistic decapitated head sitting in a pool of blood next to you and it was making you want to reach out and take Mike’s damn hand again.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mike replied as casually as he could, watching as you turned around and smiled at him…a proper, genuine smile that could strike a man smitten had he not been so already. He could have kissed you. Hell, he was going to, had he not spotted the opportunity of a lifetime sitting just off to his right. “I get that these things can be scary and if you really want a hand to hold, I’d be more than happy to provide you with my own.” 

With your heart literally skipping beats inside your chest, you were about to happily take him up on the offer before he slowly raised a severed hand, wiping your smile away far quicker than it had formed. 

“Or if you’d rather… I can offer you this one instead,” Mike said, rolling his lips as he struggled to not laugh at his own cheesy joke. 

You simply deadpanned him, folding your arms across your chest and refusing to even acknowledge the hand he held out towards you.

“Oh come on, lighten up…” Mike chuckled, wiggling the hand a little to gain your attention — which failed. “It’s funny.” 

“You and I have very different definitions of the word funny,” You muttered, spinning on your heels and deciding to venture further into the asylum by yourself. 

You made it a few steps before you heard a soft thud from behind you, no doubt from Mike tossing the hand aside as it was quickly followed by his hurried footsteps as he caught up to you. He fell in line with you easily, continuously peering at you out of the corner of his eye and when you kept glancing around you anxiously with one hand placed firmly on your churning stomach and the other hanging loosely by your side, he reached out his own and slipped it back into yours without so much as saying a word. 

The two of you stayed like that, with your hands clasped firmly together and your chests fluttering furiously beneath your skin, until you finally reached the room you needed to be in — the operating room. It was basic. As stereotypical as any hospital room in any horror movie could be but there was something about the lonely hand trolley that stood in the middle of the room, with a single man dressed like Hannibal Lecter strapped to it, that very deeply unsettled you.

“This is not a good use of this room,” You whispered, hearing a brief, almost amused…maybe, breath leave Mike’s nose as he slipped his hand out from yours and approached the Hannibal wannabe. 

You stayed behind, not wanting to go anywhere near him just yet until it had been established that they were not there for the scares, and were in fact cops who were investigating a brutal double homicide…Otherwise you simply wouldn’t have been there in the first place. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, as Mike came strolling back over to you with a deep look of guilt sitting heavy on his face. 

“That’s not him,” Mike said, swallowing thickly as he had no idea how you’d react to the news. You squinted questionably, prompting him to elaborate even further. “That uh, that’s not James.” 

“What do you mean? He’s the only guy in this whole place dressed like that!” You exclaimed, gesturing angrily towards the guy who had better turn into James before you got a hold of him. 

“They swapped shifts,” Mike explained, placing his hands on your shoulders to gain your attention and feeling as they rose rapidly beneath them. “James was never here.” 

With a frustrated groan, you shoved Mike’s hands away from you and made for the exit. He followed after you swiftly, jumping more at the way the door banged against the wall as you threw it open than he did at the countless horror actors who’d just spent the last twenty minutes popping out at him.  

“You’re telling me that I just went through all that…” You pointed furiously towards the asylum as your turned in the dirt with so much pressure put on your heels, that it made little dents in the dirt. “And the guy wasn’t even fucking in there!” 

“Wow, hey…” Mike exhaled, taken aback by your sudden swearing as he approached you carefully, your hands on your hips and your chest heaving with every breath you took. 

At first, he thought it was from nothing more than anger at the entire situation. Having your Halloween ruined by work… Having to drive here so late at night… Having to venture through a ridiculously cheesy haunted house set up in an otherwise creepy asylum, but the closer he got to you… the moment he saw the first glisten of the moonlight in the fresh tears that brewed in your eyes, the more he came to realise that you weren’t angry. 

No… You were scared. You were really, truly terrified that whole time and he had no idea. He thought… He thought you were just messing around. He thought it was all a game, but he literally couldn’t have been farther from the truth and honestly, it made him feel like such a dick for all but making fun of you for it. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N” Mike said softly, his lips pressing together regretfully as he closed the gap between you, his brow pinched together with worry. “I had no idea, I thought… I thought you were just messing around. I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” You sniffled, feeling like such a pathetic child for almost crying over a stupid haunted house. “You didn’t know. You… It’s fine. Really, Mike, I’m okay now.” 

“Are you though?” Mike questioned doubtfully, watching as you nodded your head with uncertainty a few times… before shifting and immediately shaking it as you were not okay. Not by a long shot. He then raised his hands and cupped your face instantly, his heart warming at how easily you seemed to relax under such a small gesture. 

At that immense softness that shrouded your features as you smiled tearfully up at him, Mike couldn’t stop himself from dropping his hands and pulling you into the safety his arms, allowing you to feel as they wrapped around you so tightly…so comfortingly that the last twenty minutes became nothing but a distant thought in your mind. Your own slipped under the warmth of his jacket and around his waist, holding him equally as tight and as close to you as you could as you all but melted against him.

You weren’t aware of just how long he held you like that. Time seemed to tick idly by without you having so much as a care in the world, not when you were here in his arms where he allowed every ounce of fear and worry to leave you entirely. It was strange… Unrealistic almost, how one simple touch from one specific person could make you feel so much better than ever thought possible. But he did. Mike made you feel better. He made you feel safe…like nothing would ever happen to you again and it was because of that…because of that sudden realisation that kicked in in your mind that you did what you did next. 

When he inevitably pulled back from you, just enough for him to glance down at you, you slipped your hands out from around him and curled your fingers tightly around the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer to your face so that you could do the one thing you’d been dying to do for weeks, and might never have found the courage to had he not hugged you. 

You kissed him. 

You pressed your lips so tenderly, so sweetly against his own that his knees almost gave out from under him even despite how quick the moment had come and gone. But it was slow enough to get Mike going and he steadied himself easily, his arm slipping securely around your waist as he brought you closer to him. You could already feel your heart racing as he placed one hand on the side of your neck and brought you towards him, his lips crashing against yours in a way that had you seeing stars, and not those that you could see in the sky just above him. 

You tightened your hold on the front of his jacket to keep him close to you, feeling the way his hand slid slowly round to the back of your head where his fingers began to weave their way through your hair as he cradled it. His tongue traced eagerly over your bottom lip as he did so, pushing them apart as it delved deep into your mouth, causing such sweet sounding hums to leave the back of your throat as he easily deepened the long, overdue kiss that the two of you never wanted to end.

“God,” Mike breathed out, when the two of you inevitably had to pull apart due to a stupid thing called oxygen, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” 

“There was nothing stopping you, sergeant,” You said flirtatiously, dragging your bottom lip through your teeth as there was nothing causing you to be shy anymore. Not when he’d just stuck his tongue down your throat and answered all the lingering questions you could ever have about whether or not he’d have ever liked you back. “You could have kissed me like that any time you liked.” 

Mike chuckled, drawing his thumb down the softness of your kiss swollen lips, “I don’t think the guys would have liked seeing me kiss you like that in the middle of the squad room.” 

“Maybe not,” You murmured humorously, leaning up to press another gentle kiss to his lips. “But then again, we’ve all seen worse.” 

“True,” Mike replied, pecking another kiss to your mouth as it curled against him. “But I’d rather not have the whole team watching us as we did.” 

“You’d rather have an asylum full of freaks instead?” You questioned, your eyebrow raised playfully as Mike glanced towards the building and shrugged. 

“If that’s what it takes,” He said, drawing his eyes back to you and trailing his knuckles down the side of your face. “As after all…had it not been for that asylum full of freaks then I might have had to wait a whole other year for sometime to scare you badly enough to make you kiss me.”

Like Mike? Apply to his tag list here so you don’t miss out on his works!

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[verdantwyrm]

Ugh, Instagram keeps recommending dumb Mouthwashing reels to me and they're about what you'd expect from the Instagram fanbase. Considering reels are basically reposted tiktoks, it shouldn't be surprising. The one I saw today was making fun of some Mouthwashing fans for not "having media literacy when it comes to Curly," and stating the already well known point that "Curly was complicit in what happened to Anya." Like yes, but noooo? He absolutely failed to help her properly, but I swear these people are acting as if Curly knew Jimmy was assaulting Anya for weeks and refused to handle the situation at all. When that clearly wasn't the case.

You've been sent to the torture dimension i'm so sorry Anon.. but on a more serious note apart of the reason why people view Curly's inaction so heinous is because we, the player, know that Jimmy was assaulting Anya, or at least picked up on it at some point and have everything prior hit them, and then those people are subconsciously apply that logic to Curly like he was supposed to know the same way we do.

Curly is not supposed to be us, neither is Jimmy. They aren't moulds for us to squeeze and shift into, no matter how much you want. They do actually just act like Curly knew for weeks, maybe months at most and just let it happen because he wanted it to or didn't actually care about Anya in any way. People just want to believe whatever is easiest, really. ┐(‘～`;)┌

[em-harlsnow]

I wanna talk for a second about Fiona and JimmySteve, and I want to compare them to Gallavich

They have a lot of similarities:

Fiona loved him more than she'll ever love anyone, and I think Jimmy's the same. Just like Ian and Mickey.

Obviously, the whole on and off thing, since both couples had one of them leave and come back again and again.

I think with both Ian and Fiona, their partners outside of jimmy or Mickey are always characters which relate to Jimmy or Mickey. That's weirdly phrased, but I think it's more like both Ian and Fiona would be like 'oh, Mickey used to say stuff like that' or 'Jimmy kissed better'. Like their other relationships are almost a consequence or comparison of their main love.

Both couples also have a hell of a lot of chemistry.

However, they're also so very, very different.

Ian and Mickey are an example of loving someone an insane amount and, against all odds, it works.

Fiona and JimmySteve are an example of loving someone an insane amount and it not working.

Fiona and JimmySteve are a tragic trope; they'll never work. I don't think Fiona goes back to him after she leaves. I hope she finds someone else who she loves, perhaps not as much, because loving someone that much is hard and a little destructive.

Ian and Mickey are not tragic. Their storyline is, but they can't be tragic because they will always work out. They can't stay away from each other. Magnets.

There is certain completed element of Fiona and JimmySteve's goodbye, which every single Gallavich goodbye lacked. Even Mexico, when logically they both knew there was no chance of getting back together (because Mick would eventually come out of prison, ruling the season 1,2 and 6 goodbyes out), lacks a completedness. There's no goodbye, just an 'I love you - fuck you' which almost says 'I'll see you soon.'

Fiona and JimmySteve say goodbye. He tells her he loves her, much like Ian did, but she still needs something else. They could have been together, nothing was keeping them apart that time. (Aside from his compulsive lying - but this is about the couple and not about Jimmy).

They were an example of people falling in love with the wrong person. Love doesn't mean it works. They weren't right for each other, and I think that's one of the saddest things. Just because they loved each other, does not mean they can be together. Sometimes love does not conquer all.

Ian and Mickey are different. They fell in love with the right person, they almost moulded themselves to fit each other better. The reason they stayed apart so long was mostly due to circumstance - which you can argue for Fiona and JS too, but most of their problems could be solved with communication. Half the time I watched Fiona and JS, I felt like they were speaking two different languages. They couldn't understand each other, couldn't hear each other. It's really hard, I think, when you love someone so much, but you just don't fit right. They didn't love each other right.

("Why don't you go cry to your gay dad about it?" "Living in a goddamn slum" "I trust you - that means more to me" "I love you - I think I need something else now" "You need to let me go, you need to let me let you go")

I've always felt like Gallavich were on the same wavelength, they understood each other.

("You love me, and you're gay." "You're sick." "You're so much better than that." "I understand better than anyone: you're afraid of your father, you're afraid of your wife, you're afraid to be who you are." "I love you - What the hell does that even mean? - It means we take care of each other" "I love you, Mickey Milkovich, and if you'll let me, I'd like to spend the rest of my life - Jesus Christ save the fucking speech you pussy.") See, they get each other.

There's a lot to be said about their miscommunication as well, but they clearly get each other, in a way that Fiona and JimmySteve don't. It's like puzzle pieces. Ian and Mickey's pieces fit together, even if there were external forces keeping them apart. Sure, it may not be a perfect fit, but what is in humanity? There's so much beauty in imperfection. Fiona's and Jimmy Steve's pieces didn't fit. There were giant gaps where there shouldn't have been - such as JS's lying problem and Fiona's inability to feel empathy for anything he went through. Have you ever got so frustrated with a puzzle you just try and shove two pieces together so hard because you just want them together so bad? Maybe they'd look better in the puzzle if they went together. No matter how hard you try, they won't fit.

It just doesn't work, and that's so hard to accept. That sometimes, it just does not work.

I thought about this because of the sound trending on TikTok from Ocean's 11.

"Does he make you laugh?"

"He doesn't make me cry."

Anyway, rant over. Again, I'm not talking about the actions of JS or Fiona individually in this, those are whole different essays and I don't like JS enough to rewatch all his scenes and put one together for him. I think I've done one on Fiona though, but my feelings towards her are complicated. I'm talking about them as a couple.

Also, I'm not saying JimmySteve is anything like Mickey, or Fiona is like Ian.

Sorry for the deep stuff, I didn't think this would get so heavy.

[charliespringverse]

i've touched on this before but like . i really do think rowan's feelings get accidentally overlooked by readers that ,,, Aren't a bit obsessed and rereading for the nth time

and it's understandable because the version we primarily get of rowan is fereshteh's warped fanon & jimmy's longtime best friend mental illness riddled descriptions . and Because jimmy is unwell he almost idolises rowan in a way that holds him up as a pillar of stability and permanence — which is what jimmy needs and it's not a wholly negative thing, but he also inadvertently fails to accept any evidence to the contrary

whereas with lister we Learn a lot because jimmy is learning a lot — through deeper-than-usual conversations or blatant cries for help or very revealing behaviours — we don't get to discover anything new about rowan, and so when he's kinda mean or angry or distrusting it's easy to misinterpret that as him being deliberately and needlessly nasty

but if you stop looking at him through jimmy's lens, that boy has had an absolute bastard of a week . the jowan photo leak affects him as much as jimmy (arguably more so, because all the while he's dating bliss, jowan is an Active Lie rather than just an untruth), he's dealing with the same contract stress, his secret relationship has been exposed to the world, his girlfriend is ignoring him at a really difficult time, he's watching his two closest friends fall apart, he's learning that he really doesn't know one of them very well at all, his best friend is missing, the other is definitely an alcoholic making no moves to resolve that, his girlfriend has dumped him, he feels like they (and bliss) are being stalked by a member of a group he already feels like he isn't safe around, he feels like he's losing the two people closest to him

and all this time he's considering himself wholly and singlehandedly responsible for fixing all of this, feeling he has to hold himself and the world together . there's no real safe space for him to unload any of this because the three people he's closest to are either dumping him or going off the rails, and the only way he's ever known how to make himself comfortable is to have complete control over a situation, which just Is Not available to him here

it's not the fault of jimmy's narration that we never get to truly sit with the extent of what's going on with rowan, and in fact it really Really adds to the themes of being unable to truly know somebody and personal perception destroying objective truth

but GOD it breaks my heart to see people say they don't care for rowan, or don't like him, because he's snappy and sweary and short with people . because that's such a natural response to having that much shit piled on top of you in under a week AND losing your only coping mechanism (in this case, taking the weight of everything and moulding it into something tangible and possible to hold)

anyway. i am a rowan omondi stan first and a human being second and WOW rowan needs therapy and jimmy needs to stop idealising him

[georgiaswarr]

thinking about how every iwbft character essentially leads two different lives. there’s the ark, of course, who have their celebrity life and their life behind the masks, behinde the facades. there’s fereshteh/angel, who has her fandom life and her home life (something very notably divided through her name). there’s juliet, who is dealing with a similar divide, though for her it’s exemplified through the life she shows fereshteh and the life she has at home (also symbolised through julied vs. judith). and there’s bliss, who stands at the precipice between normal and celebrity life, all due to her relationship with rowan. even mac is leading a double life.

where it gets interesting in iwbft is where the lines between these lives are blurred and stepped over, both by the characters themselves and by others. the first big climax of the book is when fereshteh crosses into ‘celebrity land’ by seeing jimmy’s other life, something that then causes her fandom life to change and eventually be rejected in favour of something more akin to her home life. on the other hand, the ark’s arc (lol) is about them rejecting the image they’ve created for themselves and wanting to lead a quieter life, something resembling normalcy as much as it can. bliss and rowan’s breakup similarly has bliss move away from the divide between her two lives, etc etc.

at the end of the book, each character has to some extent managed to remove the divide between their two lives, not by choosing one life over the other, but by creating something completely different, something more real, something they will hopefully learn to feel more comfortable in. even if it’s not an ideal life yet, it’s theirs to embrace and to mould for themselves.

[hybbart]

What are magical Lizzie and magical jimmy’s powers and do their powers change with their outfits? What are the microphones for?

what do they fight or work towards in the au?

Well, it's funny that someone mentioned hirogaru precure in the notes first of all because the hirogaru transformation is the one I use in my head for theirs.

Anyways way too much info below

The Enchanter Wands are their transformation and final attack items, its day to day form is a pen probably. (This is where I show I thought too much about this) the paw on the front has three toe bean buttons and those control which mode they transform into and then press the heart in the centre while saying which mode into tbe microphone. The little coloured lights along it light up one by one during this cause all the best transformation toys do. And of course, the ribbon is moulded plastic like the rest of it. I'm awful at designing wands and toys alike but I think I did a good job of making something that meets the typical standards for the transformation trinket while making it stick out just enough to seem like it was designed first.

Anyways they're music themed! Just like my old art. They're Magical Enchanter Jimmy and Magical Enchanter Lizzie, because they're semi-idol magical girls so they sing, but I went with chanter because chanter is also french and it's not magical girls without random french. And enchanter makes it magical and a reference to minecraft. Magical is redundant but it rolls off the tongue. Also the abbreviation would be Macha rather than Maen or Maencha, just cause its cuter and be a similar pun to Precure.

Their transformation modes are as followed:

Cod Cajun and Axolotl Shanty. Aka their aqua forms they can breathe water and swim with these forms and their attacks are nature and water themed and magic oriented. They also let them create objects.

Cow Folk and Cat Carol. Aka their land forms, these ones have super strength more than the others and are defence oriented. They use fire and earth themed attacks. They also can make shields.

Canary Blues and Butterfly Ballad. Aka their sky forms. They can fly and have superspeed with theae forms. They're fragile but powerful. They use wind and light themed attacks. They also let them use disguises.

All the forms have about average strength, speed, jumping ability, and fighting ability like your typical combat magical girl, and they can also talk to animals. Jimmy also has super hearing while Lizzie's voice can travel long distances.

They're regular siblings who just love karaoke until their singing attracts the very distressed faeries, Norman and Joel, to them. They need help defeating The Silencer (Martyn) who attacked the Harmony Kingdom and stole the citizens' ability to connect. The seablings are heavily music themed but the overall theme is the arts and communication.

His henchmen are Tango, Cleo, and Shubble, all former citizens of the Harmony Kingdom brainwashed through their individual difficulties communicating. The daily baddies are manifestations of people's lonelines. The Harmony King is also Ren, who's been put into a great depressive slumber on his throne. Oli and Joe are also there somewhere too, but no one knows what's up with them.

Later they're joined by Katherine, the princess of the Harmony Kingdom who has a sewing and fashion theme who is very sociable but has a curse that turns her into the Dark Enchanter, who got brainwashed trying to save her faerie friend Shubble. And Pearl, a strange upperclassmen they meet in a gallery who has a sculpting and art theme who uses technical/scientific knowledge like redstone to enhance her art (cause the very first thing I would do if I was ever given a children's series to work onis subvert the performer-technician dichotomy trope since its my least favourite thing).

Both have their own unique trinkets of a makeup case and stamp palette, and their faeries are Shubble and Tango after they've been defeated and turned back to thwir faerie forms.

Jimmy and Lizzie's story is largely about them drifting apart after their parents divorce and they grew up going to separate schools, and reconnecting with one another through their shared love of singing and cute animals.

I think they would also all join theatre club together, as a way for them all to show off their talents. Lizzie is already part of her music club at the start but wants to switch to theatre because it better suits her passions (but isn't as respectable), and Jimmy is a bit more aimless, constantly getting in trouble and being bullied, and joins to make friends. Katherine and Pearl later join also in as the costuming and set design department. The teachers are oddly familiar...

[gurokiitty]

Hiii! I read your Jimmy fanfic and I absolutely love it so so so much.

I was really curious as to if you could do a babysitter! jimmy x reader, where reader is Curly’s younger sibling and, despite them being of age, Curly is adamant on them being babysat (just in case because he’s a caring brother ☺️) and Jimmy comes to babysit the reader. They order pizza, put on a Christmas movie and get cosy under a blanket. Jimmy starts to get handsy under the blanket and it ends with the Reader sucking Jimmy off on the living room couch.

Thought a sort of Christmassy fanfic would be good this time of year :3

Lots of love, 🌺 ~🫶🫶

a/n : i'm giggling n kicking my feet, anon <33 i love this idea! thank you for your request :3 AND HAPPY HOLIDAYSSS

DON'T TELL

{ babysitter! jimmy x f! reader ]

word count : 1594

warnings/tags : DUBCON, legal age-gap, pre-tulpar, reader is curly's adopted sister, implied incest, groping, rough n messy throatfucking.

You didn't know what you expected, but it wasn’t him. When you opened the door, he was there—leaning lazily against the frame, all wiry angles and slouching indifference.

Jimmy, you’d assumed, though the man standing on your porch was a far cry from the image you’d pieced together in your mind. The stories your brother told painted him as someone reliable—maybe even admirable, in Curly’s own begrudging way.

But the real Jimmy looked like he’d been scraped off the bottom of a gas station parking lot. His leather jacket was cracked and scuffed, so fatigued it shone in patches. His hair was slicked back, greasy enough to catch the dim porch light like an oil spill. His jaw was shadowed with dark stubble, and his eyes—so dark they almost swallowed the whites—flicked over you with a quick, cutting assessment.

“Curly’s sister?” he asked finally, the cigarette smouldering between his fingers leaving a faint trail of smoke that curled in the frosty air.

You nodded, though something uneasy had stirred in your chest. “Yeah,” you managed, your voice thinner than you wanted. “That’s me.”

You stepped aside, pulling the door open wider, the words spilling out of your mouth before you could think better of it. “Come in.”

“Little old for a babysitter, don’t you think?” he drawled, stepping over the threshold as the faint scent of sweat and smoke trailed after him.

He was right—you weren’t a kid, and yet here you were, playing host to someone Curly had insisted on sending to keep an eye on you. It felt absurd, letting this wolfish man into your home just because your brother trusted him. And yet, you did, because trust in your brother was second nature.

Now, the two of you sit on the couch, the glow of the television casting flickering shadows across the room. The Christmas movie you’d picked plays in the background, all twinkling lights and syrupy holiday cheer, but your focus has drifted elsewhere.

It had started innocently enough—Jimmy stretched out at one end of the couch, you curled at the other, a safe distance between you. But slowly, inexorably, he’s crept closer, his presence consuming more and more of the space around you like mould festering, proliferating, spreading to places that were once unspoiled. His knee brushes against yours, then lingers. The blanket you’d wrapped around yourself is now shared, his hand tugging it over his lap as though it had been his all along.

You barely register the movie anymore—some forgettable scene flashing on the screen, colours bleeding into each other without meaning. The warmth of his body radiates through the layers of fabric between you, but it’s his hand that holds your attention. It rests lightly against your thigh beneath the blanket, his fingers splayed just enough to make your breath waver. He doesn’t look at you—his eyes remain fixed on the screen, disinterested, as though his touch is incidental, meaningless.

But it’s not meaningless—not when it shifts higher, grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

You should say something, do something, but you sit frozen, your breath shallow, your hands clutching the blanket as though it could shield you. His fingers inch upward, a silent threat to claim the space between your thighs.

“Ever been touched like this before?” he murmurs, his raspy voice cutting through the music on-screen. He finally turns to look at you, his lips stretching into something that resembles a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You swallow hard, your voice barely audible. “My brother—” The words tumble out, an incoherent plea. "He'd be so angry... I don't..."

Jimmy's eyes narrow, his fingers digging a bit harder into your soft flesh like a warning. "Then don't tell him."

Before you can respond, he leans in, his lips capturing yours with a force that steals your breath. The kiss is all tobacco and heat, and it leaves your head spinning. Your hands hover uselessly in the space between you, caught between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, your brother's voice echoes—a reminder, a warning—but it’s drowned out by the way Jimmy’s free hand drifts higher, his palm pressing against your chest through the thin fabric of your shirt.

Your body betrays you, your hips shifting, grinding subtly against the palm he’s pressed between your legs as the blanket falls to the floor. The friction sends a jolt of sensation through you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, shame and desire warring. Curly would hate you if he knew, you think desperately. He’d never forgive you. But even that thought isn’t enough to make you pull away.

When Jimmy finally releases you, there’s a faint trail of saliva connecting your lips, glistening like honey. He grips the back of your head, his fingers tangling roughly in your hair, as his other hand fumbles hastily with his belt. The metallic jingle is sharp, invasive, and your stomach knots as he pushes his jeans down just enough to free himself.

“You worked me up,” he mutters, his voice rough, cracking slightly at the edges like something about to snap. "Now you’ve gotta finish the job." His hand tightens, and he pushes your head down toward his lap—toward his hardening cock.

The world narrows to the feel of his hand gripping the back of your head and the press of his fingers biting into your scalp. His scent curls inside you like a living thing, nauseating and strangely intoxicating. The fabric of his jeans is rough against your cheek as you shift, your lips parting hesitantly over his leaky head.

Salty precum stains your tongue before you can think to resist—his palm driving you down his length. Your warm, wet mouth envelops him, his girth stretching your lips as he invades your throat. He worms his way deeper, making you cough and sputter around him, your trembling fingers seeking the edge of the couch for support.

He’s unrelenting, pushing you down until your nose grazes the coarse hair at the base. Your lungs burn as you struggle to keep up, the pace frantic and uncaring, and you can feel spit beginning to drip from the corners of your mouth, pooling in a glossy mess between you. Your body shudders, muscles straining against the force, but he only growls low in his throat, moving you like a doll in his hands.

His fingers knot tighter, and he begins to guide you up and down, each motion sharper than the last. For a moment, your resistance slackens entirely, your head moving in time with the jerking motions of his hips.

His pelvis lifts slightly, an unspoken command, and you obey, your movements automatic, practiced. You can feel your cheeks hollow with effort as you take him deeper still, your lips brushing against his base with each downward stroke.

The slick sounds meld with the movie playing, obscene and rhythmic, each bob of your head sending a fresh wave of spit down your chin. You swirl your tongue around him with precision, tracing patterns you know by rote, and he groans above you, his fingers tightening as he presses you down further, deeper. His chest rises and falls heavily, his breaths jagged, and you can feel the heat of his shaft pulse against your tongue.

"F-Fuck, where’d you learn to suck cock like this, huh?" Jimmy pants, his hips stuttering as your motions turn quicker, more deliberate.

The words lodge in your chest, clawing at your ribs. Your stomach churns, and for a moment, you falter. Your brother's name blooms in your thoughts unbidden, sharp and sour like bile rising in your throat. It’s there, screaming inside your head, his voice intertwined with the memory of his hands—guiding, demanding, teaching.

Jimmy’s grip on you tightens as if sensing your hesitation, dragging you back to the present—to the bitter saltiness coating your tongue and the searing stretch of your throat. “Hey,” he growls, "I didn't tell you to stop."

Your body responds before your mind catches up, your head dipping again, lips sealing around him with renewed vigour. You move faster now, your tongue fanning over the underside of his cock, pulling needy sounds from him that vibrate in your ears. Your hands find his thighs, nails digging into denim as you try to steady yourself, spittle and mucus bubbling from your nose and mouth, trailing in sticky threads down your jaw.

He holds you there, his breathing ragged as he thrusts shallowly into your throat. You can feel his thighs tense, quivering beneath your fingers as the muscles in his stomach coil tight like a spring. He throws his head back, a steady groan escaping him as his release surges down your constricting throat in thick, pulsing streams.

It floods your mouth, hot and acrid, and you gag as it forces its way through. You tap desperately against his leg, your glassy eyes fluttering open in a silent plea. Finally, he lets you go, and you lurch back, coughing violently as you drag in a breath that burns all the way down. Strings of milky white trail from your lips, and some of it escapes your nostrils to trickle in sticky rivulets down your chin.

Your tangled hair clings to the dampness of your face as you sputter, choking out thick globs of spit and cum. Jimmy leans back against the couch, his breath still heavy, and watches you with a smug curl to his lips. "Shit—if I knew you were such a little slut, I would've babysat more often."

[kylieswift31]

Box of lies

"A present is on it’s way, keep your eyes peeled closely."

Just like Taylor is affectionately known as Tayliar, she has shown us time and again that she is the unreliable narrator. To give us a chance to see the love story hidden between the lines she has left a trail of breadcrumbs in obscure places like this series of skits, but you might just find that the use of mascots, symbolism and references to Taylor’s music foreshadowed more than just her muse…

The items in the box of lies game featured on the tonight show starring Jimmy Fallon are full of hidden references to Taylor's love story. Just like a game of ping pong, this skit is set up so each opponent go back and forth as they attempt to bluff each other by describing what's in their box. This typically starts with the guest picking a box from the shelf as they take turns, so these are in order unless otherwise stated.

Tina Fey part 1 and 2

Black dress

Part 1

Box 5 -colander full of ping pong balls

Box 3 -long handled fork, telescopic handle

(You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours)

Lied -red Swiss army bartender tools

Part 2

Box 7 -taxidermy squirrel

Lied -Patrick Stewart doll, 6 inches

Box 9 -facial wax strips

Box 1 -hotdog in a ziplock bag

Julia Bowen

Dark gold dress

Box 4 -wavy bowl with a taxidermy tarantula

Box 3 -black card with a tiny rubber chicken 

Lied -feather glued to paper

Box 8 -toupee in its package

Lied -replica stripper on a stage 

Melissa McCarthy

Black dress, bird necklace

Box 4 -joint in a ziplock bag

Lied -dispenser for Dixie cups

Box 6 -ransom style note written with magazine letters 

“mElisSa mcCartTy is aWesomE!”

Lied -Fort Lauderdale magnet

Box 7 -Jane Fonda workout VHS in a large focaccia sandwich

Jenifer Lawrence

Dark blue dress

Box 9 -Rubik's cube inside jelly

Box 3 -Full house Jesse barbie doll box and doll, Hershey kisses

Lied -back street boys action figure

Box 4 -egg roll burrito in a birds nest

Lied -mini horse, flinstone vitamins

Kate Hudson part 1 and 2

Black dress, white details

Part 1

Box 7 -bowl of pennies and a spoon

Box 6 -orange burger and fries, American flag pick

Lied- tiny slot machine, three Harry Styles heads as jackpot

Part 2

Box 4 -plate of yellow jello, turtle 

“What’s like a turtle, but not a turtle?”

(part 1 = hare and part 2 = tortoise)

Kerry Washington

Blue and white half dress

Box 4 -pumpkin full of spaghetti

Box 3 -necklace with troll dolls

Lied -iPhone 6+, figurine, Justin Bieber tattoo

Emma Stone

Black and white shirt and skirt 

Box 4 -tray with a ‘frozen poster’ frozen in an ice block

Lied -3-4 instruction cards from a deck of cards that you throw out before you play the game, stacked in the shape of a salamander 🦎 

Box 5 -faux plastic hand with watch

Lied -plate with a tiny squirrel surfing on lettuce

Channing Tatum

“First male guest ever to play this game”

Box 3 -jello on a blue plate with a Chewbacca action figure inside

Lied -bowl of chilli frozen in gelatine 

Box 2 -hot water bottle wrapped in sports bandage

Lied -sugar cube, teabag thread, sticker that says “lick me or legalise it”

Box 4 -baby ET swaddled in pink crown patterned sleeping bag 

Nicole Kidman

Black striped dress 

Box 4 -fed ex book with a piece of pizza stuck on front

Lied -old cheese sandwich with bite taken out

Box 2 -hammer covered in postage stamps 

Lied -3 pound statue

Box 8 -box of matches and red matchbox car

Lied -condom

Scarlett Johansson

White dress

Box 4 -Scarlett and Gumby on a park bench

Lied -hotdog bun shaped like the hulk

Box 5 -mannequin head, goggles filled with balls

Box 3 -“people love this number!” 

Starbucks iced coffee filled with baked beans

Heidi Klum

Black dress

Box 3 -fireball whiskey minis in a pink claw bath

Lied -butterfly shadow box with chewed gum (lego house reference?)

“That’s cinnamon whiskey” (both take a shot)

“You’re my best friend!” -Jimmy 

Box 8 -slinky full of Monopoly money, $1 on front

Lied -jello mould, Justin Bieber doll head 

Box 7 -grass, rubber red lips 

Lied -burrito, started over and told the truth

Julianne Moore

White dress suit

Box 1 -(meek voice) Oscar the grouch, MAGA hat

Box 9 -naked Ken doll wearing roller skates

Lied -book, Jimmy, macaroni, abc

“You should give me the Oscar”

Box 5 -“it’s like a zeitgeist thing” (talking about box 5)

Friends forever photo frame of Julianne and Jimmy

Lied -silver paddle brush, knitted sock cozy

Adele

Black dress, red details

Box 2 -t-rex in cowboy outfit

Lied -t-Rex dressed as a fairy

Box 5 -Simon button game, 💚❤️💙💛 wheel, four noses attached to each one, 💙 is 🤥 (Tayliar)

Lied -GI Joe dressed as Santa, candy cane Chinese throwing star

Box 9 -giraffe, 3 doughnuts as a necklace

Vince Vaughn

Box 9 -Hulk in a bowl of crayons 

Box 8 -jelly bean taco

“You like Jim Carrey?”

Lied -ruler made out of a celery stick

Russell Crowe

Box 7 -toy xylophone, Australian dogs (pairs)

Box 3 -junk drawer

“Empty roll of scotch tape”

Box 5 -starfish, plastic hands on tips

(Jimmy highlights his pinky ring) 

Lena Dunham

Black dress, diamond shaped earrings

Box 4 -Leo DiCaprio leaflets that say 'Frances McDormand'

Lied -Banana, sideshow bob hair, raisin nose

Box 9 -chariot helmet full of rubber duckies

Lied -Barbie hot tub, 3 Brady bunch kids

Box 1 -red Grimm’s fairytales book with tree trunks on the cover

Pull tab to reveal a Tennessee whiskey bottle

Matt Damon

Box 4 -Gnome bonsai

Lied -slinky, phallic symbol, pinnochio 

Box 3 -glass piggy bank full of shrimp

Lied -hot tub, Luke Skywalker

“Hillary Clinton, Donald Trump and Justin Bieber in a bathtub”

Emily Blunt

Black dress

Box 4 -record player with pizza as the record

Box 3 -a number 3 box within another number 3 box etc

Pretended it was heavy "why would they put that on the top shelf?"

(Russian doll style box of lies boxes)

Box 5 -“you’re acting like you’ve seen this before”

Monster in a clown costume

Lied -my little pony with a syringe stuck in it

Megyn Kelly

Maroon dress

Box 4 -iPhones body, deer head and dinosaur tail

Box 6 -furby with a beer hat

Box 8 -deck of cards with flubber tube through the middle.

Jack of spades as the back card ♠️

Alec Baldwin

Purple shirt

Box 9 -baby gummy bear, dummy, blanket

Box 4 -plastic glove full of olives and wearing a wedding ring

Lied -shavings of pickle, tiny door mat “ermehgerd welcome”

Box 1 -Chewbacca mask, blonde wig

Lied -burrito filled with bananas, Trump joke

Gal Gadot

Gold dress

Box 5 -lucky Chinese cat, cats rule giant hand

Lied -plastic elephant trunk

Box 2 -pineapple, giant ears, purple top

Lied -cabbage patch doll head, cheerio afro 

Box 7 -plastic foot, ski slope

Ends with guy doing Wonder Woman dance

Halle Berry

Maroon red dress, Jimmy wearing a pink spotted tie

Box 3 -blank CD tower cake, 1 piece sliced, 5 candles

Lied -elephant, snake wrapped around it

Box 5 -red faced moustache, pencil sharpener machine, pretzel matchsticks to feed it

Box 4 -(put box 3 back in box 4 space on purpose)

“I know a magic trick when I see one. Something just happened”

24 hour dry cleaning shop, characters lined up

“This has got a lot of characters involved”

Margot Robbie

Maroon dress, gold necklaces

Box 4 -“saucy” red lobster

Lied -Jimmy’s head, Jessica rabbit’s body, bobble head “giant”

Box 6 -large hotdog, feet bun, rice, mustard

Lied -ice cream, baseball hat, Trump hair

Box 2 -Egg and nest, face picture of Nicholas Cage

Lied -salad dish, paperweight, bandaids, toy car

Cardi B

Bronze dress

Box 4 -picket fence, grass circle, rolling fluffy balls

Said “Not a peen*” and Jimmy walks away (cat balls)

Box 3 -cowboy pug, Freddy Kruger claw and outfit

(She was pregnant and standoffish)

Chris Pratt

Plaid shirt and suit

“Pick the first box, box, box”

Box 4 -five garden gnomes (dwarfs) in a yoga class

Box 6 -jurassic park, Jello, Geoff Goldblum

Box 5 -spinning ballerina dinosaur

Lied -bedazzled raccoon/fox skull with sharp teeth

John Cena

Blue suit, orange tie

Box 4 -open and twist cosmetic lipstick

“It’s something bejewelled”

Jimmy opened it to reveal a tiny hand

“You shanghaied me!”

Box 3 -praying mantis, bees skipping double Dutch

"Two doubles" "Welcome to my world"

Box 1 -orange head, tap🚰 and blue bandana

Lied -red and black 1970’s Chevy car, the Fonz

Julia Louis-Dreyfus

Black dress, string tied sides, red ring

Box 4 -Stormtrooper, rocking chair, knitting, lamp, cat

Lied -“are you familiar with a closet?”

A horse, huge collection of sandals and heels

Box 3 -table tennis paddle (red side) plugged into a power socket that’s been ripped from the wall

Lied -two contestants from the masked singer, in a tiny hot tub of jello

Box 2 -paint brush, hair with braided ends

"Am I familiar with a closet? Yes." -Jimmy

Chance the Rapper

Blue shirt, khaki pants, red stripe, b+w hat

Box 5 -box of lies set, box for head, head for box

“That is so meta, dude!” 

Box 2 -furby, ipod, ostrich egg nest, headphones

Lied -taco shell filled with papa Smurfs 

Box 4 -pretended it was empty “antelope grazing” -Jimmy

Pickles strung up like a link of sausages

Emilia Clarke

Black suit, red ring 

Box 4 - Coffin, Dracula corn dog, open coffin

Lied -small frog wearing a monocle (mr peanut)

"What should I pick? (Uno!) Uno?"

Box 3 -McDonald’s fries, open burger, hockey puck and sticks

Lied -Donald Trump, lady and the tramp scene

Box 2 -salad bowl full of money, one dollar notes

Blake Lively

Black dress, rings, diamond earrings

“I feel like I’m on the price is right!”

Box 4 -Time turner sand timer, rainbow cereal, milk

Box 3 -the Rock on a rock (alfalfa reference from Blake?)

Lied -brass matte mask, dead pool head on top

Swapped items “I just activated the cereal” -Jimmy

Box 5 -Devin Sawa J14 “pedestal” chilli bird pecker in a park

Kate Beckingsale

White dress, hugged

Box 5 -corndog bouquet, faux pink carnations

“I’ve never touched a corn dog before”

Box 6 -Nintendo console, grilled cheese hunt game

Box 2 -(Jimmy again) mini skateboard, Easter bunny peeps, each holding signs that spell “sup?” (purple, pink, yellow, blue bunnies)

Lied -little dolls, olympic medals, frosted mini wheats, podium

"We have to try American cereals!" -Jimmy

Ana de Armas

Ana de Armas 2 years 🖤

Red wet leather dress "doing this with heels is not good"

Box 5 -pumpkin jacuzzi, three people inside, mix of Star Wars and horror movie characters (Halloween, Jarjar Binks, Friday 13th), holding red nail polish bottle and blue nail polish bottles

Box 3 -Cream lunch box, marriage story poster and rotating scene inside like a ballerina music box

Box 1 -basketball court game, devils vs nuns, orange ball

Lied -turtle, hamburger shell, lives inside the burger

"the turtle lives in the burger"

Taylor Swift

White dress

Box 1 -binoculars, corn, 'I see corn' lanyard (picture to burn)

Lied -Selena Gomez 'wizards of Waverly place' DVD

Box 5 -Chewbacca walking a black beetle in a park, girl on picnic blanket holding a rubber chicken, lady walking a pug on the grass

Lied -family of pinecones playing trouble

"We're the worst poker players. We shouldn't even be allowed outside!"

Box 3 -grey book, biography written by Grimace, picture of his character on the front, 'my life under the golden arches', pull tab with burger and fries inside

Hugh Jackman

And Jimmy Kimmel as the host

Box 3 -barber shop with wolverine character, checkerboard floor

Box 6 -shrimp cocktail birthday cake (Hugh and Ryan reference)

Millie Bobby Brown

Purple outfit, feathery neckline

Box 4 -ET painting, stranger things monster painting with her rainbow makeup palette (IET phone home)

Emphasised ET and Elliot character. “Why mess with the best”

Box 2 -spaghetti and baseballs

Lied -said that it was Elon Musk’s head

Box 5 -baby Yoda, pink outfit, writing on shirt, writing says 'this is the namast-way'

Lied -croc shoe, pasta, watermelon sour patch kid

Box 3 -“lets do it!” baseball hat, pink peptobismal, hot sauce (sriracha)

“I learned from the best!” -Jimmy

Jenna Ortega

Jenna Ortega 1 year ago 🖤

Black dress

Jenna also hosting SNL with 1975. Jimmy said ‘too late’ repeatedly

Box 3 -park scene, cousin it, corgi, trash can, Chewbacca vanity fair magazine

Jimmy dressed as a cowboy in the audience screaming “two!”

Box 5 -Mona Lisa painting, dressed as Woody, cowboy hat, sports flag (similar to Taylor's vintage cat head portraits)

Lied - said that it was colonel sanders from KFC

Box 1 -cowboy hat, racer wheels, Elvis bobble head, marshmallow

Lied -said that it was Peter Pan in a suit and a Leonard Cohen hat

Julia Roberts

Box 5 -Alf on the shelf, peppermint candy

-Peppermint candy picture frame, "Christmas gift to take home?"

(Pretends to smoke and flicks the ash -Matty reference?)

Box 2 -hair dye for the greying grinch, grey and green before and after samples on display "very niche audience"

Lied -bathtub with five barbie dolls, George Santos head

Box 1 -tinned baloney spaghetti, split the points: “first time ever”

Baloney: a lie without caring if it’s true or false

Seth McFarlane

Box 4 -anti hero funeral scene for the cool aid man, 2 apple juice boxes, cool aid man portrait, purple flowers

Lie -Bradley Cooper's nose on a bed of lettuce

Box 2 -heavy, CEO beat magazine, C3PO on cover with tech CEOs

Lied -clothes pin doll, brother and sister, Osmonds scissoring?

"Would broadcast standards on NBC allow that?" -Seth

Box 3 -painting of skunks drinking beer, yellow dunk tank

Demi Moore

Demi Moore 2 weeks 🤍

Pink dress, Questlove wearing pink too

Box 1 -broccoli tree house, angry tomato, ‘no tomatoez allowed’ sign

“Liar, liar, pants on fire” (rotten tomatoes reference?)

Box 5 -class of 1700 yearbook, message to Beethoven from Mozart, Dude!

Lied -yogurt leaflet, small Yoda

Box 3 -Flip phone on the beach, iPhone lounge chair, margarita, cocktail and umbrella, shoes, Mickey Mouse hands

I didn't have enough room to add anymore photos, but feel free to check out the videos for yourself.

"You don't know what you don't know" ✌🏼👩🏼👩🏼‍🦰

A tortured poet,

Kylie x

[tev-the-random]

(Technically a distant continuation of this, but can be read on its own!)

His skin was an imitation of life that refused to age or scar. Although the years had moulded Jimmy into someone near unrecognisable, he looked no different than he did when he left Tumble Town. It was quite anticlimactic, to think he had nothing to show for his trials other than some patches on his clothes and perhaps a sharper wit to his eyes — metaphorically, that is. His actual eyes looked just as glassy as ever.

So after everything he went through to find himself here, he supposed the location was fitting. It, too, was rather anticlimactic: nothing but an old shack in the woods. It didn't even look dilapidated enough to be haunted. The forest didn't bother to have ominous crows cawing at him or any particularly disturbing tree — on the contrary, there were small patches of sunlight shining through the leaves above, and the smell of morning dew was fairly pleasant. If not for the peculiar plants growing in the little garden in front of him, which his cat sniffed suspiciously, he would have thought this was the wrong place.

These weren't plants you could normally find in the Overworld, that much Jimmy was sure of. From bushes of glowing, multicoloured berries to herbs that floated in the air like little leafy balloons, their roots hanging loose. The red vines crawling up a trellis close to the wall reminded him of the Nether, though the blossoming black flowers that grew on it would suggest otherwise.

"Awfully poisonous, those flowers."

He jumped, sword in hand.

Without producing shadow or sound, a person stood beside him, towering over Jimmy. Their silvery hair, washed out robes and sickly pale skin made them stand out against the background; a desaturated figure in the otherwise verdant woods.

There was a moment of silence in which Jimmy tried to gather himself. Any information he had about the one who supposedly lived here left his brain entirely. All of his well-thought-out bargains and self-confident arguments were startled out of him, leaving an uncertain tremble in his voice.

"Um..." He blanked.

In order to give him some more time to think — or maybe they just didn’t care enough to pay attention to him, — the stranger walked past the small man to take a closer look at their garden. They merely shooed Norman, who hissed at their approach before moving to stand beside his owner.

“You ever seen prettier experience bushes?” They said casually, getting rid of a few dead leaves on one of their plants. They examined its colourful berries carefully, only to let them go with a disappointed sound. “Incredible magical properties, but it’s so difficult to grow them right this time of the year...”

"Are you— are you the person I'm looking for?" Jimmy finally spoke. "I was told I could find a wizard in these woods that could help me with a curse."

By their curious demeanour and wise, elderly face, Jimmy expected them to respond with some enigmatic question of their own, something a mysterious master would say. Perhaps a meaningful silence and a sharp glance. Instead, all he got was a quirked eyebrow.

"Well, does it look like there's anyone else around here?"

He made a conscious effort to not look bashful. What a talent he had to surround himself with people who loved patronizing him, huh? But he had had enough time to learn that, if he took the bait and let himself be played for dumb, he wouldn't get anywhere. Seize the discussion.

His determined eyes didn’t move from the grey figure.

"I just got here. Don’t waste my time—"

"Yes, yes. You sure did take your time," said the stranger, moving to the red vines on the trellis. With a pair of small pruning shears they fished out of their pocket, they started cutting away at the flowers. "I, myself, thought you had keeled over and died somewhere along the way. I've been waiting for years, Jimmy! Surely you can hold on for a couple more minutes?"

"You— what?” His focus wavered ever so slightly. “How do you— you've been waiting for me? Like, for me specifically?"

"Who else would I be waiting for?" They chuckled. The sound ringed in Jimmy’s ears, bothering him the same way it always did when people laughed at him. In that regard, he only changed for worse.

Even though he felt like it, he didn't groan. He stared at Norman as if the cat could tell him what the deal with this unusual character was. If he knew how to, Norman would shrug.

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy forced calmness into his tone.

"How would I know?" He'd gotten better at not gritting his teeth at frustration, though he still sounded like he had swallowed a lemon. "You could be waiting for a hundred other people, maybe that’s your deal. I don't know you."

"Ah, but you certainly know of me! Otherwise, I wouldn't be the person you're looking for."

"Oh my g— Are you them or not?"

"Yes." They still didn't bother looking at him. Once satisfied with the number of black flowers they had gathered, they turned around with a swish of their robes and opened the door to their hut. "Well then. Come on inside."

Jimmy hesitated to follow. Norman, on his part, sniffed every inch of the chipped wooden door before sitting resolutely by the entryway. Jimmy took it as a warning. I’ll keep an eye out.

When he stepped inside, he concluded that this was, without a doubt, a wizard's house — a very disorganized one at that. The cabin was much larger on the inside, tall bookshelves extending far into a ceiling that seemed never-ending. Manuscripts littered the floor and desks alongside scrawled notes and old hardback books of all sizes. There were a multitude of coloured candles on nearly every surface, illuminating vials and more vials of the most peculiar ingredients. Jimmy consciously chose to believe that the blood in all those organised flasks on top of the nearest shelf belonged to some wild animal.

From the walls hanged more vines of strange plants, as well as all sorts of animal skins and various paintings and pictures — some pristine, others completely defaced. But they all seemed to depict a same theme, a same character: a very familiar deity with a golden trident and exaggerated grandeur. It was hard to ignore such clear obsession for someone Jimmy thought to be so incredibly unremarkable. The so called god of Stratos was the very reason he ended up like this to begin with. Religious fanatics were the last thing he needed right now.

Completely oblivious to their guest’s discomfort, the mage stood hunched over a counter, surrounded by multiple powders, herbs and and fluids in jars. Their hands worked on a mortar and pestle.

"You could have come sooner, you know?" They commented. "I don't know why you'd go through all that trouble with witches and pirates and whatever else you were doing when you could've just asked Scott for my address, I haven’t moved. But then again, you are the second pettiest individual I've ever seen. Leave it to you to go on some wild goose chase."

Jimmy stopped eyeing the room to stare at them. His brows quickly furrowed, suspicion immediately arisen.

"What does Scott have to do with this?" He asked. His hand itched to grab his sword again. "Actually, no: how do you know me in the first place? How did you know I was coming, huh?"

They hummed. "I’ve got eyes everywhere. You just happened to stumble upon one of them a long time ago."

The wizard stopped their motion to point at an open cabinet to their left. It was low enough that Jimmy could see its contents, and it made him raise an eyebrow: it was a human skull. Inside of one of the eye socket, there was a bright pink jewel; in the other, an unique blue stone caught his attention — it was intricate, as if it had been made to truly look like the iris of an eye.

Absentmindedly, Jimmy reached his wooden hand to touch the artefact, looking for something that could explain its purpose.

But when he blinked, he was on a hill. Vibrant flower patches stretched along the brick roads of a colourful kingdom, where glowing clouds of all colours painted the sky, constantly pumped by tall chimneys on cyan rooves.

Right in front of him, an excitable man dressed in orange spoke; Jimmy couldn't hear any of it. The man, too, glowed ever so slightly, and it made him want to squint at the vibrancy of the scene. The entire world was in deep silence, despite how much it looked like it was screaming at him.

Jimmy raised a hand to run it through his hair in exasperation, only for it to hit something. The cabinet. He blinked again, and back he was at the wizard’s hut as if he had never moved at all.

“What in the world—?”

“Funny, isn’t it?” The mage chuckled. Adding a few drops of a green liquid into the mortar, they went back to crushing. “What was he doing this time?”

“He was— I was just... in Chromia,” Jimmy murmured in disbelief, not knowing how to feel about it. Haunted, he stared at his strange host. “What was that?”

“The eye I gave Scott Smajor has many perks for him. But mostly, it has perks for me. It pays well to have such a well-connected informant. Don’t tell him about it, though, I’m sure he would hate it.” They didn’t sound apologetic at all.

“What do you mean you gave him an eye?!”

“Did he never tell how he got that magical yellow eye of his?”

“I assumed he was just born like that! You know, like, it’s a condition! Het- hetochro- heterochromia? Don’t look at me like that!”

“Oh, trust me, there is nothing hetero about that man.”

Jimmy continued to stare. For the sake of his own sanity, he tended to avoid thinking about any of the emperors he left behind. It had been so long since he last uttered the name of Scott Smajor, and the memories he held weren’t exactly the fondest. But a part of him couldn’t help but feel bad for the collector: this was, at the very least, a huge breach of privacy. Did he even want to know why this random guy in the middle of the woods needed unaware spies? Were they just a creep, or were they looking for something in particular? Did they assume Jimmy was coming over eventually, or had Scott been following him this whole time? Could they even make him do that? Could they control him?

The thought of being a mere puppet to someone made him sick in a horribly familiar way. He had half a mind to get back to Norman and leave.

But, he thought to himself, what if this is the only chance he has? In the years Jimmy had spent travelling, looking for a way to reverse this stupid toy curse, all he’s ever found was disappointment. Rejection. The frustrating loneliness that comes with learning people can’t be trusted; nobody cared enough to help, and those who did were never able to. When he was told there was a powerful wizard in a far away forest who could fix him, he took the lead with multiple doubts.

Now, he faced them all at their full force. What if they were to scam him? What if they were, in fact, nothing more than a massive creep? What if they killed him? Tortured him? Locked him away?

Just what price would he have to pay for his humanity?

He didn’t want to spend another hundred years running around looking for what he had lost. Jimmy was an imitation of life that couldn’t age or scar, but he was tired. So very tired of being a thing, tired of being a walking reminder of his own weakness in the eyes of others. He was tired of being so pathetic, no matter how hard he tried.

“You know what I’m here for, then,” he stated dryly. Resolute.

The mage hummed once more.

“Well, I have an educated guess.” They finally turned their head to look at the toy. The little glass eyes they met were unwavering. “You want your old body back. To be human again. Am I right?”

“You are. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes. But don’t you try anything silly!” His hand brushed against the hilt of his sword, pointedly displaying its netherite shine.

“Oh, don’t bother with threats. This is just as worthy an exchange to me, you know?”

“... And what do you want? In return, I mean.”

They didn’t respond immediately. With an amused smile on their face, they turned back to their workstation and, one by one, started tearing the black flowers from their garden into pieces. Into the mortar the shredded petals went, and after a minute of silent work, the wizard seemed satisfied with the solution they had made. There were another two or three minutes in which they put it through an old brewing stand before transferring it into one of the glass vials scattered around their desk.

With that, they handed him the concoction. Although it may have seemed like there wasn’t much of it in there to begin with, to Jimmy it felt more like a bucket full of bricks. He blinked, as if to ask ‘what the hell am I supposed to do with this?’

“Drink it, boy, drink it!”

Their eagerness wasn’t lost on him. The small man stared down at the inky substance, which smelled no more pleasant than spoiled milk.

“I thought you said those flowers were poisonous,” he pointed, stalling.

“Hm, yes, I do pride myself on growing the finest wither flower hybrids.” They waved Jimmy off as if he had said something particularly flattering. “But alchemy works in fascinating ways, so really, that mixture should be fine. Well, at least I haven’t killed anyone with it yet.”

The toy looked back at the front door, where his cat sat like a gargoyle. Upon noticing the his gaze, Norman got up with all that feline grace of his and approached to sniff the potion. His reaction wasn’t encouraging — he let out one of those tiny cat sneezes that often made Jimmy laugh, — but if he didn’t make a fuss about it, it was probably fine. Either that or the cat didn’t know a thing about magical ingredients either.

“And... what does this do, exactly?” Jimmy asked, still grimacing.

“In theory,” the wizard said from an unknown corner of the room, where they were now heaving an old-looking box from another one of their cabinets. He definitely hadn’t seen them move, “it allows me to freely tinker with you. Think of it as a surgery of sorts,” they quickly added at Jimmy’s horrified expression.

“You do realise this is the most suspicious situation ever?”

“Yes.”

“And you expect me to just drink this, then?”

“Well, if you don’t want it, you can leave.” They shook their head at him while they examined the instruments inside of the box. “I do have other things to do.”

“No, no, just... how can I know you’re not trying to trick me? You know, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Jimmy, if I wanted to do you any harm, I would have done it already.” Their sigh came from somewhere behind him. What were they, a transporter? “Do you think I let just anyone find me here? No. Now, you might have never heard it before, but you are quite special. And I personally would hate to let your potential go to waste because of some tasteless joke.”

That was it. Not pity, not scorn, not condescendence. It was as simple as ‘you deserve better.’ He did deserve better. So he did it.

The potion was thick and oily, and it burned on the way down. It was a mix of spicy and sweet that frankly made him want to throw it right back up. But the vial was small enough that he managed to down the whole thing in a few gulps.

He couldn’t remember anything after that.

---

When Jimmy woke up, the first thought that crossed his mind was that he had to have been buried alive. There was a suffocating weight on top of him, while his body sank heavily on an unstable surface. His chest was impossibly tight, and some horrible, almost painful texture seemed to envelop every inch of his skin.

His skin.

 He bolted upright.

The room Jimmy found himself in felt claustrophobic; not because it was particularly small, but because he fit inside of it. It made him dizzy, like it was too foreign to process. But it wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as what he was feeling.

What was he feeling? It was hard to name it all.

A breeze made its way inside through the ajar window, and he could feel it on his face and shoulders like cold knives. The hairs along his arms stood up, goosebumps seeming to make their way into his very soul. There were no more ball joints, no more creaking, no wood grain — instead, he could faintly she the lines of his veins under pale skin.

He kicked away the covers he was tangled up in. The itchy, heavy thing had so many little loose threads, it felt like bugs crawling up his legs. The mattress was no better: his weight made it shift under him; he was almost sure it would swallow him up.

Jimmy touched his face to find that he could feel his own stubble, the lack of hinges on his jaw — it felt so loose, so free that he feared it would somehow fall from his skull. Pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes felt weird. His cracked lips, glued together from sleep, also felt weird. His hair— gods, it was so smooth! The knots were less like fraying yarn and more like he just hadn’t washed it in a few days.

His chest was wrapped in the most uncomfortable bandages possible. They were tight, rough, and Jimmy could feel every last fibre digging into his sides. But he could still run his fingers over his own ribs, touch his own stomach — it was squishy, not like cotton filling, but like flesh.

From the tip of his toes to the top of his head, he was flesh and bones and skin. And gods, he could feel it all — there was so much more surface to feel than he remembered! If he didn’t know any better, he would say he was about to combust.

He laughed in disbelief, only to immediately hug himself when it startled him; since when did his voice vibrate so much? Why was he so hot, yet so cold? So heavy? Why did his skin feel like it was melting underneath his fingers? Why was the sun so blinding, the room so small, the shifting of the bed so loud? Why was his chest even tied up, it didn’t have enough space to breathe—

“Woah there, let’s not do that.” A formless voice ringed in his ears.

Rough hands took hold of his wrist, and Jimmy pulled away like they burned him. His nails had dug bloody marks into his arms.

“Come on, deep breaths,” the owner of said hands told him. They sounded oddly close by, but Jimmy couldn’t bring himself to look at anything other than his own knees. “Yes, like that. Everything is fine, you just gotta readjust to it. Take your time”

He took in air that didn’t quite seem to fill his lungs. Without making a sound, someone closed the window and drew the curtains, cutting that cold breeze and bright light. It became easier to focus on the sting of the bruises he had produced, clinging to himself to confirm they were there.

A new weight dipped the mattress beside him and a mass of greys, browns and whites invaded his vision. Norman stared at him, sniffed at his hand, but was kind enough to not jump on him. If anything, the cat seemed suspicious.

Jimmy cleared his throat; it gave him a headache. But he was smiling fondly. Norman was so... tiny, like a kitten. Had he always been that small? His owner at times thought of him as an impromptu horse, tall and strong. He was a fluffy little thing.

“Hey, big man,” Jimmy murmured hoarsely, surprising himself with his own tone. Raising a hesitant hand, he caressed the cat’s waiting head and promptly melted.

He had forgotten what it was like to run his hand through Norman’s soft fur, to bend down and place a kiss on his little forehead. He’d forgotten the warm weight of the animal on his lap — or his own weight, for that matter. To make the floorboards creak under him, to leave a dip in the bed, to cast a long shadow on a wall. Oh, it was horrendous, too much at once — yet it was every fantastic bit like he had longed for.

“I’m not a toy.” He could shout it from the rooftops. Instead, he let out a wet and true laughter into Norman’s fur. He didn’t even realise he had started crying. “I’m not a toy.”

The wizard observed ominously. They left him a glass of water before exiting the room without a word.

For the first time in years, his own blood underneath his nails and sweat running down his back, Jimmy was alive.

[mizumech]

My thoughts on Martyn’s Limited Life lore so far

“Every grain that passes

Comes to rest

A pillar built

Another test

These fickle feuds

Unguided hand

Forever moulding

In the sand

The thrill to kill

The fleeting gill

All washed ashore

To settle still

A single day

And then it’s gone

Doomed to repeat

Our will be done”

That’s what flashes on screen in Martyn’s episode 4 at 12 hours, 39 minutes and 2 seconds, right after the timer flashes 11:33:09 (the three numbers are divisible by either 1, 3, 11, or itself, does that mean anything?)

This implies that something big happened off-camera and Martyn is hiding something, because that’s a whole one hour not shown. Even weirder is how no one seems to have any footage of that.

I’ve only really watched Etho and Martyn PoVs so far, and I’ve been unable to find evidence if Martyn doing anything suspicious at that timing with Martyn roughly two hours behind Etho. (boogey victim+triple tnt victim+scott and bdubs kill)

As far as I’m aware, Jimmy is the only one of Martyn’s previous allies who have reached that timing (Cleo’s POV is currently unavailable, so I am unaware of anything going on at that time. Scar, although not an ally, skipped over that timing in his timer). At that timing, his plans to extort something from the Nosy Neighbours are interrupted by Pearl. In my memory, joined the shadow clan in Last Life, which could be an interesting fanfic thing as Jimmy is heavily related to Scott.

The first four lines don’t mean much to me, it could just be a way to emphasise that time is only running out and it is permanent. I’m not sure about what the ‘pillar built’ refers to. This could be a DLSMP fishing rod reference, an LLSMP end crystal reference and perhaps much more. My main theory is that this pillar refers to Scott’s MLG, as he was tested in LLSMP via end crystal. Once again, it seems he has failed this test, because, hear me out: He was not willing. Their will was not done.

After all, the Shadow liked Ren because he was willing. The Shadow would’ve preferred Ren winning over Scott. Scott’s test of the end crystal was a test of will. His unwillingness to kill and boogey-kill caused the Shadow to target Scott. And yet again, Scott defies. Scott refuses to die. Scott evades and Scott lives.

The first two lines could also be a reference to LLSMP thing about the Shadow consuming the souls of the dead or how every day passes eventually and becomes the next using the (grain=grian meme). Maybe it even refers to how many places the bread bridge passes suffer destruction.

Now, in video time, at 11:33 (I know that this doesn’t matter when it comes to other POVs as lore is Martyn-specific, but it is fun) Martyn, Jimmy (LLSMP ally), Etho (3rdLSMP & LLSMP ally) and Scott (current ally) respectively are saying ‘I want my time back’ agitatedly, trying to kill Martyn on the Bad Boys Manor (or just defend Joel), watching the chat announce Martyn’s death to fall/ender damage while fighting Tango and watching the chat announce Martyn’s death to the triple tnt kill.

In response to Martyn at video time 11:33, I want to talk about ‘These fickle feuds, unguided hand’. I know this could be a reference to the absence of Ren, who Martyn has had a track record of allying with, and I don’t deny that theory. In fact, I agree with it. The Shadow has been shown to rather like Ren. However, I wish to point out that Martyn explained he had only wanted to stress Joel out, and that he hadn’t wanted to kill him, but only decided he wanted to do so because everyone else was doing it and well, Martyn really is that kind of guy. Fickle basically means to switch loyalties or motives fast, which could apply to his sudden change in motive when feuding with Joel. Unguided Hand could refer to how the Listeners did not tell him what to do, and it was not their Will being done. ‘Forever moulding in the sand’ could refer to how all of these fights have to do with the want and need for time and perhaps how Martyn became the Hand in response to the Sand People.

Which brings us to the next part! We can also assume the verse is meant to be ‘Forever moulding/In the sand/The thrill to kill/The fleeting gill/All washed ashore/To settle still’ instead of ‘Fickle feuds/Unguided hand/Forever moulding/In the sand’. This could refer to how the passing of limited time moulds the need and the thrill of killing and also to how Scott was the last green among many yellows. Although I am unsure as to what ‘The fleeting gill’ may mean, fleeting means something lasting for a very short period of time. Did he mean ‘The fleeing gill’? Does this refer to Scott the merman dying underwater? Does this refer to Scott’s skin being ‘corrupted’ by coral? Speaking of which, the Shadow is opposed to Scott (if I remember rightly), and the coral is the symbol of the partnership between the H2Bros, which is…interesting to say the least because Scott told Martyn to kill him, mimicking 3rdLSMP. Is this an example of Scott being willing? ‘All washed ashore, to settle still’ could refer to Scott respawning on land, and how the beef between the Shadow and Scott is not done. This could also however mean that Scott’s willingness to die has caused the Shadow to reconsider but not completely. The Shadow can Hear the similarities between Dogwarts and the H2Bros. but is not totally trusting of Scott because Scott is hated. By literally everyone. The Watchers hate him, Pearl hates him, the server is after him, the Listeners hate him, and by extension, the Shadow hates him. But that’s why the Shadow could be reconsidering. There is drama to be had. However, the words ‘washed ashore’ invoke the imagery of shifting, washed sand, which could refer once again to Scott’s death, or imply that something big happened at 11:33:09 on the timer (e.g. killing someone, someone dying, someone going red). This could also imply that arguments and disagreements from previous games are not yet settled and that Martyn may attempt to kill Grian, Scar, etc.

He could even kill Scott again.

The last four lines are pretty standard lore stuff talking about the nature if the games and of course, the last line.

Our Will be Done.

Their will be done indeed.