#Omg their little head would explode over gay felt people

[palettepainter]

You guys remember that homophobic gay muppet anon I had that one time?? Could you imagine how fucking hilarious it’d be if they tried to make a comeback after Muppets Mayhem episode 6 was entirely dedicated to gay people??

[janekfan]

omg you're taking prompts?? best day EVER!!! i was thinking. season 2, where jon is complaining about some kind of illness/pain that's actually worse than he's letting on? maybe elias sends jon, tim, and martin on some kind of gay little errand and jon's either really ill or already hurt, and he keeps trying to communicate that he really wants to go back to the hotel and lie down, but they're so angry with him that they assume the worst? then, comfort :) if you don't like this i can try again!

@taylortut :D I hope you like it!

6 hours and 47 minutes.

The average amount of time it took the train to travel from the London station to Edinburgh.

And that being if they didn’t run into some sort of delay. Or hit a cow. Rupture the fuel line and be trapped on the tracks for the rest of the day.

Jon massaged his temples, shifting uncomfortably on the hard cushion that honestly might as well not exist for how much good it was doing him. Barely back from their mandatory thirty days leave after the Prentiss, Elias, the prat, sent them away to investigate the vaults beneath the city regarding the murders committed by Burke and Hare nigh 200 years ago.

And Jon really, really didn’t want to.

He’d been looking forward to sitting in the dark of his office and going through statements at a snail's pace and possibly, possibly skiving off early because he hurt and hadn’t been sleeping well because of it. The injuries left behind had been deep and damaging and he'd walked out of the hospital with a brand new cane. Leaning against the window and easing the weight off his left side, Jon tried to let the scenery slipping by lull him at least a little bit. Tim and Martin were spending the majority of their time in the dining car sampling the assortment courtesy of Elias’ generous travel budget and that was fine by him. While Martin may be better at hiding it, both of them were quite angry with him and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the next week spent in their company.

Pain exploded in his bones, waking him from his nap and he whacked his head against the window blinking hard, breathing shallow, as he gathered his wits about him and took in Martin sitting across from him.

“Tim,” he admonished, setting a cup of tea down in front of Jon and turning the handle toward him. “Should perk you up a bit; you look tired.”

“Yeah, Boss.” Tim mocked him, prodded a particularly sore spot on his side. “Drink your tea.” Jon chose to ignore him.

“Th’thank you, Martin.” He spoke low, shrinking away, into himself, and holding the warmth close to his chest, checking his watch: two hours and change. Surely it wouldn’t be this awkward between them the whole week?

Jon was often wrong and this experience would prove no different as he pushed himself as fast as possible following Tim and Martin, the tip of his cane clacking unevenly on the cobblestones. It was dark and he had no desire to be caught alone on the streets at night, sure that whatever else had complaints with them wouldn’t hesitate.

“Tim, slow down.”

“Ah, sorry, Marto.” Jon looked away, feeling the heavy weight of Tim’s gaze press down across his shoulders and he almost stumbled beneath it, catching himself and thankful he’d chosen a backpack instead of luggage. “Tired from the train?”

“I happen to be, yes.” Authoritative, eyes cast pointedly forward. “Besides, it’s a nice night. Let me enjoy being away from the Archives for a moment, won’t you?” Tim laughed, pounding Martin on the back, and the two discussed going out for drinks at the various pubs they passed along the way. While grateful for the decreased pace, Jon was isolated and alone, throat closing up so tight it was like choking, face turning hot, but he refused to cry.

He’d dug this grave. He’d have to lie in it.

Unable to stand one moment more after climbing the stairs to their room, Jon collapsed heavily to the couch, digging his knuckles into his thigh in an attempt to stop the awful seizing in his muscles. His whole body was trembling with fatigue and when Tim suggested it was the perfect time to head into the Vaults he could have kissed Martin for insisting he was too tired tonight because he knew he was only saying it for Jon’s benefit and he didn’t understand why. How could he...after all. He hated him and he still--

“Well, I call rooming with Martin and there’s just one bed. That leaves the couch for your skinny arse, Boss.” He batted big dark eyelashes at Martin, making the other man blush furiously and sputter and despite himself Jon smiled, just a little, bidding them a quiet good night neither of them would hear through the door between them.

He could tell already he wouldn’t be getting much sleep, if any at all. The pain wasn’t anything sharp anymore, just a low level throb impossible to ignore, and no amount of adjusting or staying still or squeezing his fists so tight crescent moons were bit into his palms would change that. So he laid there, in the dark of an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar city, filled with unfamiliar sounds and listened to the deep and even synchrony of his employees’ breath. More street lights kicked on, the glow pleasant if only because he could see, transforming eerie shadows into shapes he could identify. Jon nibbled his bottom lip, shifted, pushed his feet into the cushions to exert pressure? Release pressure? He wasn’t sure exactly what he was trying to accomplish other than keeping himself quiet.

Dragging his bag over he dug blindly through it for the bottle of paracetamol settled at the bottom, fighting with the child safety cap and tipping too many pills into his hand. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t touch it. Not really. But hoping for a placebo effect was better than writhing in agony and Jon swallowed them dry because getting up wasn’t an option. Rigid, shivering, he pulled up the blanket, trying to take comfort in its weight and the sun was coming up by the time heavy lashes fell shut over tired, burning eyes.

“Wakey, wakey, Boss!” Jon jerked violently awake, whole body thrumming in panic and pain before he had the sense to realize what was happening and by then Tim was gone.

“Sorry Jon, I tried to distract him.” Sheepish, Martin offered up a small smile and a cup of tea, setting it on the low table beside the couch. “You alright?” He’d relaxed back into the cushions, trying to gain back any of the soft, drifting nothingness he’d finally succumbed to and failing miserably. Good lord, he wasn’t well.

“Just fine, Martin.” Rubbing away the remnants of sleep, Jon struggled upright and took a sip. “Thank you.” Strong and dark and perfect, the caffeine would help. “When, what time are we investigating the Vaults?”

“Midnight or so? There will be fewer people on the streets then.” Silence broken only by Tim’s puttering in the room settled between them. “We’re hoping to sight see, be proper tourists for the day.”

“Ah.” He hid his disappointment behind the rim of his cup. Of course they would. Of course and they deserved it. “That sounds like a fine idea.” It didn’t. He wouldn’t make it, surely. Almost choking on his tea when his jacket came down over his head, Jon sputtered and coughed, catching a glimpse of Tim slipping on his trainers.

“And you’re not getting out of it.” Martin reacted to Jon's sigh with exasperation and hurt.

"Look, Jon. I know you'd rather be anywhere than with the two of us, but try to enjoy yourself?" And while that wasn't entirely true Jon was unfortunately too much a coward to refute it.

Which is how he found himself here, now. Nauseated, Jon sipped carefully on some juice, sitting stock still in his chair and watching Martin and Tim sample almost everything on the menu. He’d been dragged through the city and while he’d enjoyed some of the history and honestly their company, the pain cast a dark pall over the day. It was only on his third try asking for a break that they passed a pub and Martin suggested supper, and not a moment too soon. Even with the cane and Jon's white knuckle grip on his self control, his leg felt ready to give way.

“Come on,” Tim cajoled, tongue loose and on his third pint. “Don’t you want to waste Elias’ money with us?”

“Not that hungry I’m afraid, but go on. Looks good and you mustn't forget dessert.”

"Martin! You heard the boss-man!" After sitting in the low light, resting for a bit, Jon felt up to a drink, enjoying how it blurred everything at the edges and dulled the worst of it so quickly on an empty stomach.

When they returned to the room for a nap prior to their excursion, Jon barely remembered passing out on the couch.

It was cold, the jacket completely useless against the underground chill and his exposed fingers were numb on the handle of his cane, on the torch. Long after this happened, Jon asked for a reprieve. They’d been down here for hours already and they had all week so with no leads they could come back another night, couldn't they? It had fallen on deaf ears and when he tried to speak up again, this time because he’d fallen more than a few steps behind, it was clear he just needed to tough it out. Obviously, he was supposed to be handling this better and he was only embarrassing himself by being overly dramatic. Gritting his teeth, Jon pushed himself faster, catching back up only to lose ground seconds later.

“I’m. I’m sorry. I.” Why was this so hard? Asking for help, for a break, to go back and just please stop standing up. “Could we. Could we take a moment? Just. I mean--”

“Spit it out!” Tim’s frustration echoed painfully in the enclosed space, bouncing off walls and striking Jon from all angles like a series of blows. “We don’t have time for whatever you’re on about.”

We don’t have time.

“Leave off, Tim.” Something caught Martin’s eye and he veered away from the pair of them.

We don’t have time for you.

Stop it.

Stop being a child.

“Of course. Yes. Push on.”

Sick with exhaustion and shaking from pain, Jon was falling further and further behind, the torch losing its effectiveness as the dark closed in, heavy, tight, suffocating. He couldn’t call out. They wouldn’t. He. They’d made how they felt clear and asking again would only be shameful. But his cane wasn’t enough anymore and it dropped from his ennervated fingers, clattering to the ground while he held onto the wall with both hands. He’d be lost here, buried here, in the oppressive black, his body saved by the End for experimentation and dissected by medical students and he didn't think he cared about being forgotten but the thought of it felt far too real. He sobbed. It echoed. And he clapped his hands over his mouth and let the tears glance off them as he slid to the ground.

He’d just hide here. In the dark behind his eyelids, stifling the pathetic sounds forcing their way up his throat and between his teeth. If he was quiet he wouldn’t be found, nothing could find him if he was quiet. Not the things scuttling around in the black, not the pain doing its level best to gnaw its way through his skin, not the overwhelming weariness clawing open his chest, between his ribs.

“Jon!” He flinched. He hurt. He curled tighter despite it. He didn’t want to be found. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. “J--Christ, Jon.” Martin’s heavy footsteps slowed to a stop on the stone in front of him, shifted nervously. “Hey, what’s. Jon? What’s wrong?”

“M’.” But it was so much more than that and he didn’t know how to explain, so he didn’t and Martin’s voice came from above him.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn't you say it was this bad? ” But he had. He had tried. Hadn’t he? After being ignored he thought he was just being needy and dramatic. Annoying. Tim had similar injuries and he was fine. Jon ducked his head into folded arms, shoulders hitching with a shaky breath. He didn’t know what to say or how to justify how bad off he was.

“S’sorry.” He’d have to stand in a moment. To continue the investigation and even the thought made him want to cry. “Just need a. N’need.” But it hurt so much and when the next breath he reached for broke open he heard Martin sigh heavily, shoes scuffing the ground and this time his words were at his level.

“I’m sorry, Jon. You. You did tell us. We just didn’t listen. Thought you were cross at being sent here with us.” A warm palm enveloped his forearm. “What do you need?”

“N’nothing. Just.” Deep breath. Relax. You’re alright. “I’ll be ready in, in a m’moment.” Thick and hoarse, he didn’t want Martin to see his face. He didn’t want to see the disgust in his. “You, you go on. Tim shouldn’t be alone.”

“And you should?”

Yes.

Yes, because he’d be fine. He was always fine.

Before he had the chance to answer he heard Tim coming back, steps angry if there was such a thing, and calling through the tunnels.

“I see, just abandon me to the spooky vaults, serve me up on a platter next time, it’ll be faster!” Jon risked a look and saw Tim staring down at him. “What the hell, Martin? Jon, sure, but you too?” And that hurt, cutting to the quick of him deep enough that he almost checked for blood. Tim didn’t really think he’d abandon him, did he? “What’s with the secret meeting?”

“We need to go back to the room.”

“What?! We’ve barely started anything!”

“Jon needs a break.”

“Of course.” Scoffed, Jon could practically see him rolling his eyes

“Tim--! No, Jon’s been. He’s tried to ask a few times and I know we’ve got work to do but--”

“It’s alright, Martin. I can. Keep going.” The crease between Martin’s eyebrows deepened. “O’or stay here until you get back.”

“No,” Martin spoke sternly, “Tim, help me get him up.” Jon didn’t think he’d ever seen such a scathing look on his face before but it was enough to shift Tim. They lifted him together and as everything stiff stretched back out fire bled into his bones and he couldn’t help but cry out, trying to collapse back to the ground and into himself. “Oh, okay, Jon. Okay.”

“Ah, it’s.”

“If you say “fine” I’ll drop you right here.” Tim adjusted his grip, tried to take more of his weight and Jon was ashamed that he let him but--

"Good lord, Jon. You're so pale." When had Martin gotten so close to him? “I’m, I’m sorry.”

“S’alright.” The shaking started up again when he tried to take a step and Martin had to catch him before he collapsed all over again. This was so stupid. Why was he like this? Why did he hurt so bad?

“You can’t walk like this.”

“No! No, I can! I just…nngh.” His teeth were chattering, he was shivering. Just leave him here. This was mortifying and he all but gave up, following their soft directions until he was draped across Martin’s broad back and suffering through the strain of forcing his leg far enough forward for him to get his hand under it to lift him. Off his feet and pressed against a veritable wall of warmth, Jon lost his grip on the frayed threads holding the last of him together. They unspooled, slipped from his hands, and tears soaked the back of Martin’s collar.

"You're warm." Empty, sitting limp on the edge of the couch, Jon leaned into Martin’s hand on his forehead. “Are you sick?”

“No…” Clumsy fingers clawed open the bottle of paracetamol, irrationally angry when Martin only allowed him double the dose.

“Jon.” Tone firm, Jon looked up at him without lifting his head. Didn’t think he could if he wanted.

“S’mm.” He pulled in half a lungful of air with difficulty. “When it. When it hur’s like this.” The next breath strangled him and he thought he saw Tim and Martin exchange a look, one he couldn’t interpret and didn’t care to if it just meant they were leaving him here to go back to the vaults. He didn’t bother worrying about the new moisture dripping off his chin. He just wanted to disappear.

“Jon?” There was a packet of digestives being thrust under his nose and his stomach turned. "I haven't seen you eat at all today, or yesterday for that matter. I'm not going to let you take all those pills without at least a little something."

“Mm.” He forced one down his throat and pushed insistent hands away, swallowing the medicine with some lukewarm water Tim helped him hold, gasping when they manhandled him down to the cushions, sighing when something cold eased the fire in his hip.

“Ice, should help, okay?” And Jon concurred, new tears slipped between closed lids in relief, in weariness.

“Try and sleep, Boss.”

Quiet voices tugged him up through layers of cotton. Martin. Tim. Talking. Hushed.

“...shouldn’t have pushed so far.”

“So stupid...didn’t think…”

“Shh.” Caught eavesdropping. Jon swallowed. Everything they were saying about him was true, he wouldn't cry over it.

“Hey, Jon. How’re you feeling?” Sore. Foolish. Like he wanted the couch to open up and drag him down to wherever loose change went.

“Better.” When he made to sit up Martin stopped him. “Really, m’fine.” He stayed put.

“I need to apologize, Jon. I, I was so stupid. I didn’t even think about. Well, your injuries. Caught up in myself, I suppose.”

“No! I. Martin, it, it isn’t your fault. This,” he gestured to himself and laughed humorlessly. “This isn’t your fault.”

“We should have listened.” Now Tim was sat on the arm nearest his feet. His elevated feet and his face must have shown his confusion. “Did some googling. But we shouldn’t have let it go so far.”

“It’s--” he stopped abruptly at their combined frowns. “It’s. Um. Thank you, for taking care of me.”

“How is it?” Jon looked at his folded hands, guilty.

“I’d. If I could stay here today?” He closed his eyes, waiting for the frustration, the disappointment. “Not because I don’t want to, to, I want to. I enjoy your company! I’m.” He was botching this, just speak your mind, Sims. “I’m just. I’m very tired. Haven’t been, uh, sleeping much.” Opened them again when Martin cupped his shoulder and saw understanding reflected back.

“Sure. Of course you can.”

“We’ll make a day of it.” Tim flashed the company card. “Back soon, gents.”

The day was spent watching bad daytime television and Jon dozed on and off between being plied with sugary snacks and tea and watching Martin scold Tim for throwing wrappers at the worst of the actors.

“I’d clean it up, Marto, but,” he gestured to Jon’s feet where he’d tugged them over his lap. “I’m trapped, clearly.” It was so much like old times, away from the pressure of the Archives and Elias that Jon couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this could be fixed after all. Maybe it wasn’t all lost.

In the end, they’d discovered nothing new. No evidence to back up the statement givers that inspired this whole excursion in the first place.

6 hours. 47 minutes.

It didn’t seem such a long time on the way back.

[thegreatestofheck]

Nothing More ⍋Routledge!Reader⍋

request -  Omg do a Routledge reader fic where John B is so focused on telling off JJ and warning him not to da*te his sister and he never worries about Pope and then Pope ends up dating her and John B is like 👁️👄👁️

warnings - none really, just a bunch of fluff I guess pairings - pope x reader, jj x reader, kie x reader (it’s a surprise 🥰) synopsis - You’re secretly dating one of the Pogues and your brother is starting to become suspicious. The only problem; he’s fixated on the wrong friend.  a/n - So, I went a little bit off the rails with this one. I had an idea and I ran with it, I really hope you don’t mind haha. I’m sorry it’s a little short. 

                                                   *** John B watched you carefully out of the corner of his eye. Your head rested in JJ’s lap and he fiddled with your hair. You weren’t paying enough attention to your brother to notice, listening intently instead to Kie as she rambled about astrology. 

“Okay, so, I don’t know if I should be insulted when you call me a cancer or not,” JJ said, his chewed off nails grazing gently over your scalp. The movement made your eyes flutter shut. 

“I didn’t call you a cancer, I said you are a Cancer.” 

“I’m not hearing the difference.”

Kie rolled her eyes. 

“It’s your star sign, dipshit,” you told him with your eyes closed. “The constellation you were born under.” 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” 

“Do you ever listen to a word I say?” Kie asked, half amused and half insulted. 

“Not generally, no.” JJ said. u8hPope, who was sitting with his nose in a book, started to laugh quietly to himself. “If I’m a Cancer, what’s y/n’s sign?” 

You looked over at Kie and raised your eyebrows. 

“Taurus,” Kie said with a knowing smile. You tapped your foot against her knee and rolled your eyes. “Pope is a Capricorn and John B, you’re an Aries.” 

John B didn’t seem to be paying attention at all. He kept his gaze fixed solely on you. 

Being John B’s half sister (younger only by four months) meant almost every single move you made was heavily scrutinized. Especially when it came to boys. More often than not, John B was far more concerned with whatever you were doing than the conversation at hand. Today wasn’t an exception. 

“J, can I talk to you real quick?” John B said, pushing himself out of the dirt. JJ looked up at him and then down at you. With a huff and a roll of your eyes, you sat up, letting JJ stand after your brother. You turned and leaned your head against Kie’s leg. 

“Hi,” she said, smiling down at you. 

“Hi,” you said back. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Pope asked, looking up at John B and JJ a few yards away behind a tree. 

“I bet he’s telling him off again,” you said, moving your eyes to look at the boys in the distance. 

“Really?” Pope sighed. “Again?” 

You shrugged your shoulders. 

“JB just takes the no pogue-on-pogue macking rule way too seriously,” Kie said with a laugh. 

“He’s the only one who hasn’t broken it, so of course he’s serious about it,” Pope said, looking back at his book. 

“’She’s my baby sister, JJ’,” you grumbled in a gruff voice in imitation of your brother. 

“’She’s not a kid anymore. She can make her own decisions’,” Kie whined, lamely mocking JJ. 

The two of you continued your dialogue, pretending like you knew exactly what was going on between the two of them. It dissolved into silly quips back and forth and then just senseless laughter. By the time JJ and John B returned, you and Kie were in hysterics. John B looked like he had been sucking on a lemon, but JJ was just smiling like normal. 

When he sat down, you lifted your legs and dropped them over his lap. JJ leaned back, raising his eyebrows at John B, almost like a direct challenge. You looked over at Pope and the two of you smiled. You even sent him a wink, knowing full well that John B was paying far more attention to JJ than to you or Pope or Kie. 

All any of you could do was laugh. 

                                                  ***

The party was in full swing. Kie and Pope were sitting, sipping on beers and laughing about something or another. John B was with Sarah Cameron, his girlfriend, by the keg, still passing out beers to whoever wanted one. 

You and JJ were on the dance floor. His hands were on your waist, his body pressed up against you from behind. You could feel the heat from his body pulsing off of him and you could smell his sweat and Old Spice. The music thrummed through your system as you lifted your hands to wrap around his neck. With you eyes closed, you let the rest of the world pass away, relishing in JJ’s touch. 

By the time the heat of dancing got to be too much and you and JJ were stumbling away from the dancers, John B was no longer at his station. Instead, he was standing angrily off to the side. You and JJ glanced at each other, rolling your eyes in sync, electing to head toward Pope and Kie instead of risking your brother’s anger. 

JJ sat next to Pope, flinging an arm around your shoulders as you sat between him and Kie. The four of you spent the rest of the night laughing it up, drinking, playing whatever games anyone offered them to play, and generally having a good time. 

It was around 2 am when the five of you made it back to the Chateau. John B was still looking sour, especially after Sarah left early to make it home before curfew. You knew that you couldn’t keep lying to your brother forever and he had just about reached his breaking point. 

When you all walked in to the Chateau, John B was pressed up against the wall, his arms crossed, and his eyes narrowed. 

“I’m calling a meeting,” he said. You had all expected it, so it wasn’t really a surprise. Still, it was crack ass early and you all wanted nothing more than to pass out. You walked over to the counter and lifted yourself up onto the counter. JJ moved to settle between your legs, but with a sharp look from John B, he elected to go elsewhere. Kie leaned up against the counter next to you. 

“I think you know why we’re here,” John B said. 

“This isn’t an AA meeting, JB. Just get on with it,” JJ snapped, clearly too tired to deal with this any longer. 

“Fine. JJ, y/n, I know you two have been fooling around the past couple months despite the clear line that I drew and I want to know what the fuck is up with that.” 

You heaved out a heavy sigh, tapping your heel against the creaky cupboard below. 

“You really don’t know much of anything,” JJ told him, getting more and more irritated by the minute. 

“You think I’m blind?” 

“No, I think you’re stupid.” 

“Okay, enough!” You shouted, lifting your head with a scowl before John B could cross the room. “John B, there’s something that I got to tell you that might make things a little less complicated.” 

Kie tensed next to you, but you almost felt yourself start to laugh. 

“What is it then?” 

“I, uh-” You pressed your lips into a fine line to keep yourself from laughing. “I’m gay.” 

John B’s eyes widened and he dropped his arms to his side. 

“I- what?” 

You nodded your head slowly. 

“Yeah. JJ is my best friend, nothing more.” You glanced down at Kie, who was looking up at you with tears in her eyes and a proud smile on her lips. She had come out to the pogues months ago and had been waiting eagerly for the day when you felt comfortable to as well. 

“y/n,” John B said, his voice breaking. He looked at the other three, who didn’t look surprised at all, and he realized that he was the last one to know. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel comfortable telling me. But I’m proud of you and I love you.” 

You smiled at him. 

“Thanks, bub. But there’s something else that I should tell you. I have been seeing someone,” you told him. John B stayed silent, clearly not wanting to say anything before you had finished, but he looked tense. “Yeah, uh, Kie and I have been dating for almost a year now.” 

“What?” 

You felt yourself smile. It was good to finally be able to say it. Kie put her hand on your knee, smiling up at you, and gave a little squeeze. 

“Did...you guys know about this?” John B asked, looking over at Pope and JJ who seemed to have no reaction to your deceleration whatsoever. They both nodded slowly. When John B looked at you with a face full of hurt, you thought you might as well explain. 

“A few months ago, back when you were hanging out with Sarah for every second of the day, we went to a party on the boneyard,” you told him. “It was just after Kie and I started dating and we were dancing together, chatting, whatnot, not really hiding it, but these guys kept saying gross things, people giving us looks, you know.

“We were getting super uncomfortable and wanted to leave, but JJ and Pope figured it out before we even told them. They’ve been...covering for us, I guess. And we’ve been-” You looked over at JJ and Pope. JJ looked at the ground and Pope looked straight at you, a small, proud smile on his face. “I guess, we’ve been covering for each other.” 

“Since we’re being honest all of the sudden for some reason,” JJ said with a sigh, lifting his head. “Pope and I have been going out, too.” 

He turned his head to look at John B, who looked like his head was seconds away from exploding. 

“I flirted and hung around your sister so that no one would say that disgusting “threesome” shit to her and Kie and so that Pope and I could keep things under the radar for a little bit longer.” JJ uncrossed his arms and reached out, lacing his fingers through Pope’s. 

Now, you couldn’t help but smile either. It had been a heavy weight on your chest, keeping such a big secret from your brother. But he told Sarah everything and, although you loved Sarah to death, you weren’t sure she would be able to keep something like this to herself. It was best if all of it just stayed between the four of you until you were all comfortable with it. 

“Are you mad?” You asked John B as he covered his face with his hands. He let out a deep, thoughtful sigh, before lowering his hands and looking up at the four of you with a beaming smile on his face. 

“How could I be mad?” He looked at you directly, tears swimming in your eyes. “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

You placed your hand over Kie’s, tracing your finger over her knuckles. 

“The happiest I’ve been in a long time.” Which was easily translated to “The happiest I’ve been since Dad died”. 

“I was so fixed on keeping you away from JJ, I thought....” John B stopped to laugh at himself. 

“You weren’t thinking straight,” you finished with a sympathetic nod. 

“Or you were thinking too straight,” Pope said, laughing at his joke. Kie and JJ looked at him with raised eyebrows, but you thought it was funny. 

“Shit, man,” John B said, pushing himself off the wall. “I’m so happy for you guys.” 

He walked over to you, pulling both you and Kie into a bear hug. He squeezed tightly, making you wheeze out laughter. 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” you said, pushing him away from you. 

“We could go on triple dates!” He had the look of a kid in a candy shop, eyes wide as he glanced between you and Kie and JJ and Pope. 

“Ooh, slow down there,” JJ said, putting up the hand that wasn’t holding Pope’s. 

“We’ll do a double date someday,” Kie piped in. She pushed herself onto the counter next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

John B smiled at the two of you. He moved forward to give you guys another hug, but you put a hand against his shoulder and pushed him back. 

“No more brotherly affection today,” you said. “I think I’ve had enough.” 

John B sighed and took a step back. 

“Are you going to yell at us any more or can we crash now?” JJ asked. “I’m beat.” 

“Oh, no, we’re all good,” John B said. “Kie, can I talk to you real quick?” 

You and Kie glanced at each other while JJ and Pope made their way toward the spare bedroom. You could hear the both of them snoring within seconds. 

“I, uh, sure,” Kie said. 

“Don’t try and steal my girlfriend from me now,” you said to your brother, only half smiling. 

“Just gonna lay some ground rules,” John B said. You scowled for just a moment, opening your mouth to say something. “Hey, if it was JJ you were dating, I’d have the same rules.” 

“What about no rules?” You suggested, tilting your head to the side. “Sorry to break it to you, but you’re still not my dad.” 

“I know. But I’m your brother and I’ll be damned before I let anyone hurt you...ever.” 

“I understand that, but Kie has been nothing but good to me since we started dating. She doesn’t need your rules. She-” 

“y/n, relax.” Kie said, putting a hand on your shoulder and giving you a loving smile. Then she turned to look at John B, that soft, kind smile never falling. “Let’s go talk somewhere.” 

You watched as she followed after your brother onto the front porch. You felt like maybe you should go to your room, sit up and wait for Kie. But you couldn’t look away. John B donned his serious face, talking with his hands as he always did. Kie stood there in front of him, hands in her back pockets as goosebumps scattered up and down her arms. There was a smile on her face, hidden beneath a serious look. 

Every once in a while, she glanced in through the Chateau window toward you. Once she even gave a wink. The conversation seemed to be going well enough. Still, you were almost surprised when John B opened his arms, inviting Kie in for a tight hug. You couldn’t help but smile. 

John B walked back inside, a little strut in his walk. 

“Night, sis,” he said, shooting you a thumbs up. 

“Night, John.” 

John B whistled all the way to his room. You laughed quietly, hanging your head and kicking your feet ever so slightly. 

Kie walked back in and let out a content sigh. You lifted your head to look at her. She walked toward you, settling herself between your knees and resting her arms on your shoulders. You hooked your fingers through the belt loops of her denim shorts. 

“Does it feel good?” She asked you quietly. “Knowing that he knows?” 

You nodded your head, rolling your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Yeah, it feels good. I wasn’t as scared as I thought I would be,” you told her. Kie put a hand on your cheek, brushing her thumb across your lips. 

“I’m proud of you,” she said, her voice husky and quiet. You leaned forward and kissed her lips, gently, softly. 

“So, what are our rules?” You asked her once you had pulled away, only keeping a breath between you and her. 

“Oh, you know John B. No macking in front of him, no sex in the shared bathroom. Watch out for each other at parties, the same old, same old,” she said with an amused smile. 

“That’s not so bad then,” you said, tugging on her belt loops to pull her closer. Kie let out one of her signature laughs that was almost near a giggle. It always made your heart pound in your chest. 

You had been in love with this girl for as long as you knew her. Being able to hold her at night was one of the only things keeping you sane these days. Knowing that your brother was aware of your relationship made it all the better. 

“Should we go to bed?” Kie asked and brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Yes please,” you whined. She took your hand with a smile and helped you down from the counter. You wrapped your arms around her waist and let her lead you back to your bedroom. You flopped onto your bed once safely inside and she laid down in front of you. Curling your arms around her waist, you smiled as you tucked face into the crook of her neck. You placed butterfly kisses against her shoulder and neck, humming softly to yourself. 

“y/n,” she mumbled. “I can’t sleep when you’re doing that.” 

You sighed and placed one more kiss against her shoulder before letting your eyes close finally. 

“You smell good,” she whispered. You popped your eyes open.

“I thought we were sleeping.” 

“I know, but I wanted you to know you smell good.”

“I smell like sweat.”

“The good kind.” 

“I love you, Kie,” you told her quietly, letting your eyes shut once again. 

“I love you, too.” 

[h0pelessm4n1c]

About Face..

~Your POV~

It's a Sunday, Aka the one chill day of the week for you. You're taking a break from your busy week and nonstop work to just rest and relax at your apartment in LA, you were just returning from your trip to the cute little vegan shop as you returned to your apartment with the groceries.

"I'M BACK!!!" You swung the door open and yelled at the top of your lungs just to annoy her.

"Goddamn! OkAAyYY!!" Your roommate Ashley half-yelled back as she got startled. She was feeding the fish in the tiny fish bowl y'all purchased on a wild, drunk night out. To this day, neither of you had a clue as to why you bought it.

You took off your jacket and was left in your white tee and shorts, you always preferred to dress comfortably ESPECIALLY on a Sunday. You set the groceries down and started putting things away and it was Ashley's turn to act crazy, she was jumping up and down and she started a rant about how excited she was for her make up line aboutfacebeauty to launch next week.

"OMGOMG Y/N I'm so excited I think I'm gonna explode!!Ican'twaitforittolaunchdoyouthinkthefanswilllikeit??whatiftheydont??whatifitdoesntworkout??"

"Omg Ash relax!" You gently told her, "everyone's obviously going to love it cause everything you do is amazing, and that shits gonna sell out so fast H. I hope y'all have enough in stock, and your devoted army of fans are gonna love it love it love it, and 100% sure of that."

You've had a crush on Ashley for a long time now. You thought it was just an infatuation at first and tried to let it go, but the feelings never went away. You've never spoken with your friends about your sexuality and honestly you don't think they even knew you were gay. (not to mention extremely into H) You never told her how you felt cause obviously she'll never feel the same, she was WAYY too attractive and amazing for you. The way her mind worked and just how talented she was absolutely blew your brains out. You didn't wanna risk losing her as a friend so for now you'll just have to settle for being her roommate.

"Okay fine." She huffed like a toddler, 'omg she's so cute' you thought to yourself, nope. Shut up y/n. Shush.

You started to walk away from her when she suddenly gasped dramatically, "I JUST HAD THE GREATEST IDEA" she screamed. You turned around to face her, "what is it". She had a sneaky grin on her face which worried you.. what was she up to.. "You know.. I need some practice if I'm going to launch this makeup line.. I should hone my makeup skills.. on someone else's face ya know, and you're the only someone else around" she said while wriggling her eyebrows at me.

"Oh no.. hell no! No way Ashley! NO WAY OVER MY DEAD BODY!" Growing up as a tomboy you've always had a distaste towards make up, and no, you didn't hate the people who wore it, you just thought it didn't look good on you. You never wore it unless you absolutely had to and that was just a bit of foundation and some eyeliner maybe.

You started to run away from her, she chased you like a serial killer. You sprinted for your life, "NO ASHLEY FRANGIPANE I'M NOT DOING THIS GET AWAY FROM MEEEEE" you shrieked as you ran away from her. As you were passing the couch to run towards your room and lock yourself in away from this monster, you tripped over a bag on the floor. It was better to fall on the couch than to smack your face on the floor so you tried to balance yourself using the couch.

That was when Ashley pounced on you, she grabbed you and pushed you on the couch, she immediately sat on you knowing you work out and she must keep you from escaping in case you tried to overpower her. You were laid out on the couch facing her, who was sitting on you.. the view was amazing.. Ashleys hair falling around her face.. her perfectly cut jawline.. you realized the position you were in and immediately turned red.

"Now.." Ashley spoke in a slow taunting way "you, shall be my newest makeup experiment.."

"NO ASHLEY HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME, I DON'T WANNA WEAR MAKE UP, LET ME GO. THIS IS HARASSMENT!!" I shrieked.

Ashley just giggled at your response "Stop freaking out so much it's just make up it's not gonna kill you" she said,

"IDONTCAREIDONTWANNAWEARIT" you replied.

She suddenly looked sad, she pouted, turned on her puppy dog eyes and said "Please y/n.. can you please do this for me.. Please it'll look so good on you! Your tan brown skin and amazing curls, your dark brown eyes and sharp jawline!" Your tried to hide the way her gush of complements made you feel. God I hope I'm not smirking like an idiot.

The position you two were still in was turning you on and that made you extremely uncomfortable. And you were struggling to hold your shit together.

Fine. Anything to get out of this position.

"Fine." You repeated out loud with an eye roll.

"YESSS!!" She shrieked while jumping off of you (finally), " stay right there!! Don't move a muscle! I'll grab the maakeeuuuuupp" she said while running to her room. 'Great'. You thought, 'no escape now'.

She immediately returned with her makeup box thingy. "omygod how much makeup does that thing hold?? How long is this gonna take H?? Don't you think it's too much??" You started complaining even before she could begin. "Jeeesus y/n, just relax. It won't take long" she replied as if a school teacher trying to calm down a toddler.

She sat next to you on the couch, she asked you to turn facing her. Your legs were touching. 'Oh god what did I get myself into' you mentally smacked yourself in the head for being so stupid. She had been working on your face with her makeup for 5 minutes which felt like eternity when she scowled and said, "ugh I can't seem to balance myself and it's ruining the whole thing!! And you're too far from me" she said, clearly frustrated. "Um..ok-so what should I do.?" You asked clearly unsure of what was happening "oh no it's not you *insert nickname*, I just need to be balanced and closer to you, otherwise it's gonna get ruined" why did she not look you in the eyes when she said that, which was very unusual for her. And you're no Jeffree Star but how close do makeup artists have to get to put makeup on people. Something was sus. Very sus.

You went along with it anyway, "okay so what do we do?" She suddenly straddled you, you were taken by surprise and was powerless to do anything but look at her in shock. 'Okay y/n calm down, this is just about the makeup she's not into you it's all just in your head'. "This ok?" She asked you without fully looking at you, was that shyness? Ashley Frangipane shy? No way. Get out of your head y/n goddammit!

"Mmm no it's fine" you managed to muster out. She continued to work with the makeup on you. Time seemed to have slowed and sped up as well as you were very uncomfortable but enjoying the position at the same time, every once in a while eyes would wander from your eyes to your lips. And when you catch her doing that she would immediately get back to the task at hand with a very concentrated face. 'Okay...y/n so you're more delusional than ever.' You thought to yourself. You yourself couldn't help but admire her features, her Greek goddess-like cheekbones, her beautiful eyes that seemed to be constantly changing color, her amazing skin color inherited by mixing her two parents skin colors to perfection, her lashes, her eyebrows and your personal favorite.. her freckles. It was all on display for you to gawk at like a creep and you couldn't help yourself but stare. She seemed to have noticed what you were doing and both of you locked eyes.. she slowly set her makeup brush down without looking away. She suddenly grabbed you by the neck and passionately kissed you. You couldn't react, all the feelings you've been storing for years and years got the best of you and you were frozen in your own body. The kiss felt like heaven but she pulled away. She looked at you, you couldn't say anything. Her eyes filled with tears, "omygod I'm s-so sorry y/n I sh-shouldn't have done that, I'm so stupid" she stuttered. She got up and started to run to her room, "No Ash wait, Please" you managed to say but she kept going to her room. You ran after her but it was too late, she had already closed the door and you were left standing in the hallway.

____________________________________

Send requests y'all! 😉

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Cornelia Street (8/9)

(+ an interlude i thought of after reading “Reeni”s comment. Idk who you are bc it was a guest comment, but thank you!)

A/N: oh my god they were quarantined

yes. It’s one of those fics.

AU, obvs

I’m posting as I go and idk how many parts this is going to be, likely won’t be very long but I literally don’t know what I’m doing and should i be starting yet another WIP? definitely not but fuck it lets fucking go

Title is from T-swizzles Lover album, I’m OBSESSED

Summary: Three years ago, Kurt and Blaine went on a disaster of a date and never quite got off on the right foot. Now, just before they graduate from NYADA, there’s a national outbreak and they’re both self-quarantined in a mutual friend’s apartment.

Read On AO3

On Tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Interlude

QueenJCedes replied to your story!

Kurt bites back a dopey grin when he opens Mercedes’s snapchat message. It’s a photo of her looking dubiously at the camera, a single eyebrow pointed up, with the caption: Quarantine buddies, huh?

He snaps back a quick photo of himself, eyes rolled upwards. What can I say, he won me over.

She sends back just a message this time—

Mercedes: Yeah, clearly. Mercedes: Head over feet, Alanis style!

—and then a bitmoji of Kurt falling through the air.

Kurt: I mean… You’re not wrong Kurt: He’s sort of everything Kurt: AND a fantastic kisser

Mercedes: OMG REALLY? I was just teasing, but if this is legit, I’m so happy for you!!!

He can’t help but giggle excitedly as he types a reply. 

Kurt: Yeah. me too.

*

New Snap from setroutymouth

Blaine rolls his eyes but still can't school the smile on his face into a neutral expression. This is going to be a lot, he already knows, but nevertheless, he swipes his thumb across the screen to unlock his phone.

Sam’s pacing through Mercedes’s childhood home in Ohio, phone in selfie mode, already rambling at a hundred miles a minute that Blaine’s sure he cut off a few words.

“—cedes just showed me Kurt’s snapchat story and I AM LOSING IT! Did something happen between you two? Oh my god, something totally happened, didn’t it!? BLAINE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED MERCEDES WON’T TELL ME AND I ALREADY FINISHED EVERY BINGABLE SHOW ON NETFLI—”

As expected, it was a lot. But still not enough to burst his happy little bubble. He doesn’t think anything could, at this point.

Through his smiles, he snaps back a picture of himself shrugging, trying to look as clueless as possible, and adds the caption: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

It’s not even a full moment before he gets another video back.

“BLAINE ANDERSON I AM BEGGING YOU—”

Blaine locks his phone shut, mostly because he knows it’ll drive Sam crazy. He can respond later. Right now, there are more important matters at hand.

*

Blaine’s in the kitchen, putting away what was left of the carton of Cookie Two-Step ice cream they’d demolished while watching another Netflix romcom, when Kurt’s phone lights up.

New Message: From: Adam I saw your sc story You know you could just be *my* quarantine buddy When are you coming?

Kurt actually growls as he types out a reply. How did he put up with this for nearly three years?

New Message: To: Adam I’m not.

Kurt. We both know how this ends.

Not this time. I meant it. We’re done.

Okay, whatever you say I’ll check in with you later When you change your mind

Kurt doesn’t even warrant that with a response, he’s too seething mad to even formulate one with enough bite to put Adam in his place.

But then the door opens, Blaine’s beaming at him, and Adam is completely irrelevant.

“I was just thinking,” Blaine muses aloud, slipping under the covers and snuggling up next to him in a way that Kurt knows will be way too easy for him to get used to. “Do you remember our Junior year when we had to partner up during Stagefighting for that Musical Choregraphy project?”

Kurt explodes into laughter. “Uh, yeah, that was pretty ridiculous. I remember hearing from Matthew that you said I dance like a pigeon that’d been chewed up and spit out by a cat.”

“What!?” Blaine exclaims, shocked. “I swear I never said that. Though, I do remember going on a tangent about how I didn’t know how I was supposed to concentrate when you insisted on wearing those pants with that tight fitted shirt and…”

He trails off, and Kurt can feel color rising to his cheeks. “Oh, that explains it, actually.”

“Explains what?”

“Matthew. He had a huge crush on you.”

Blaine’s eyes double in size. “He what!?”

Kurt lets out a chuckle. “You seriously didn’t know?”

“No! Nobody told me!”

“That’s not how crushes work, Blaine,” Kurt says through a stream of giggles. 

“Okay, why does it make more sense for me to just take a wild guess about how people feel about me instead of them telling me, or acting on it? Like, if you hadn’t have kissed me earlier, I would have never known how you felt and kissed you back.”

Kurt opens his mouth to argue that logic, but… he seriously cannot get over how oblivious Blaine is. “So you’re saying that if I hadn't accidentally kissed you then you really wouldn’t have known how I feel?”

“Yeah. And I would most definitely not have acted on my crush.”

“Aw,” Kurt teases. “You used to have a crush on me. That’s embarrassing.”

“And you watch too much Parks and Rec.” 

“I’m gonna kiss you again, now,” he announces.

Blaine just grins, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I think that’s a great idea.”

There wasn’t much of a choice because of the shelter in place, but based on the bright spark forming in his chest when their skin meets, Kurt could definitely get used to this living situation.

*

Blaine finally pulls away reluctantly. If he could stay attached to Kurt forever, stay connected to him, he would. He roams his eyes over Kurt’s face, like he could memorize it if he really, really tried, and notices a scar just above his eyebrow. It would be invisible to anyone else, anyone who wasn’t trying to intentionally map out the image of Kurt.

The scar doesn’t bother Blaine, but the idea that someone ever hurt Kurt bad enough to leave physical evidence that refuses to leave tugs achingly at his heart. Instinctively, he takes his hand from where it rests on the side of Kurt’s face, and gently traces over the scar with the pad of his index finger soothingly, as if it hasn’t been healed for years.

“Sophomore year… two years ago,” Kurt’s murmuring refocuses his attention.

That was a hazy time for Blaine, but he does have a vague memory of hearing from a friend of a friend that Kurt spent some time in the hospital, and he definitely remembers his rival-slash-partner being missing from their stage acting class for a while.

“What happened?” He asks.

Kurt is so calm, so steady when he answers. It leaves him in awe. “It was when all those gay bashings were happening…” he pauses, and Blaine immediately feels sick to his stomach because he knows where this is heading. “I was on my way home from school and saw these guys attacking some teenager, and… I had to help. I ran over and started shoving them, I guess. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but the kid got away. I didn’t. The last thing I remember after that was what I think might’ve been a brick hitting my head.”

“Jesus,” Blaine breathes. His initial reaction is to say I’m sorry, but something tells him that Kurt isn’t sorry about it at all. Instead, he says, “I had no idea. That–that was really brave of you.”

Kurt snorts out a laugh. “I’m glad you think so. I spent most of my hospital stay being berated by my dad about how irresponsible it was.”

“No,” Blaine shakes his head. “If anything it was over-responsible.”

“I’m not convinced that’s a word.”

“Me neither,” Blaine says breathlessly, amber gaze fixed on the boy lying across from him.

He really just can’t help but pull them together again. 

Blaine thinks Kurt is opening his mouth to deepen the kiss and, well, he’s certainly not going to complain. Until Kurt sucks in a deep breath and turns his head, chuckling through his yawn.

“Sorry, I really thought I could hold that yawn in.”

Blaine lets out a laugh of his own and glances over at the analog clock on the nightstand. “It’s only midnight, you grandpa,” he teases.

“Hey! Doing nothing all day is seriously draining.”

“I wouldn’t call what we did nothing,” Blaine says cheekily, causing Kurt to flush.

“I’m going to shower before I head to bed,” Kurt responds, sitting up and lifting his arms up over his head and exposing an inch or so of his midriff.

Blaine is trying so hard not to stare. Nevertheless, he can’t help it as he watches Kurt saunter off to the restroom. 

He tosses his head back onto the pillow with a satisfied grin on his face. Global crisis it may be, but if he got Kurt Hummel out of it… he could complain about worse things.

A bright ding from his right interrupts his thoughts. Blaine turns his head and sees the screen of Kurt’s phone light up, resting there on the nightstand.

He’s not snooping. He’s really not. It’s just sort of instinct to look in the direction of the sounds.

Then, he sees the succession of messages that make his stomach churn.

New Message: From: Adam Hurry and finish up with the rebound already I miss you Text me when you’re on your way

He stares at the screen for a few seconds before it fades back to black, feeling absolutely sick to his stomach. Of course Kurt was going to run back to his ex the first chance he got. It’s exactly what he did three years ago and Blaine was just kidding himself. This was all too good to be true.

Turns out it wasn’t.

Before he knows it, he’s grabbing his duffel bag and dialing Quinn’s number. 

He’s always welcomed there and New Haven isn’t all that far, after all.

Part 9

[demyrie]

I'm curious but why did you delete JAM? It was one of my favorite JxD fics and I never got to finish reading it.

ahhhh oh dear, yeah, that happened.

So, for everyone arriving, I wrote a fic called Just Another Mission for the Jak and Daxter game series, and Jak/Daxter pairing. Yes, the green haired elf protag with the fuzzy orange thing, which btw used to be a human and was a human in fic. I think I started it when I was maybe 14 (yikes omg) and a few years ago, I deleted it, and I don’t delete fics.

Rant and personal history ahead, but tldr; i deleted this particular fic because:

1) I became more and more uncomfortable with the way I’d treated certain characters without giving them respect or resolution (throwing around things like domestic abuse while being too young to properly understand What I Was Doing or How to Answer Very Triggered Friends Who Had the Misfortune of Reading This I’m So Goddamn Sorry, as well as falling into that Not Like Other Girls slash fan ditch of treating female characters like shit/obstacles to the main pairing WHICH IS JUST ******) as well as personally uncomfortable portrayals of obsession and taking advantage of people that turn my stomach to this day (see reason 4)

2) i got way in over my head with my own writing/style which was so obtuse and self-indulgent that I felt a great amount of shame over it, including the attention it had gotten, and the way it went to my head and turned me into an egotistic little shit. I was an asshole peacock and I regret it. There was a break where I got waylaid before the final confrontation in the fic (see reason 4, also a very bad time to get held up in any narrative) and when I returned to the story, i nearly cried because it was such a mess and I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. Finishing it was a struggle and I even remember one JnD fan friend being like “hey this chapter seemed really curt??? short?? not like you” and I was like YEAH THATS NOT ME ANYMORE god i hope

3) there was a sort of ... anti-JxD surge in my little pool from people I really respected and it made me think i was doing something wrong even just remembering it, so I cut off that memory.

4) it coincided with two ugly relationships in my life that marred it, and I just wanted it gone for my own mental health.

So anon, I’m very sorry that you never got to finish it. I had good intentions in mind and gave them a happy ending where they realized they loved each other, even if the journey there was difficult. 

It both touched me and broke a piece of my heart when someone came to me years ago and asked me why I had deleted it, saying the story had given them the courage to come out as gay to their family. In that moment, overwhelmed with how ProblematicTM the whole story was, I was really struck with just ... how subjective our world experience is, and how so many things can mean so many different things to every single soul and how terrifyingly VALID peoples experiences are, no matter how they come by them. We’re all so unique and convoluted, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure -- and one man’s trigger is another man’s key to Becoming. But no matter how inspiring, I couldn’t bring myself to repost it. 

Hopefully this will be the only fic i ever delete with relish. Jak and Daxter will always be a good memory for me, regardless. Thanks for the ask, anon.

(even more) personal stuff below the cut. tw for stalking, harassment, manipulation and emotional abuse.

So.

Im a firm believer in stories living beyond their authors (something that JK rowling doesnt seem to understand iykwim). I don’t normally delete past works, because while I wrote them, I also know that they’ve outgrown me as most narratives do: people are absolutely allowed to enjoy what they want to or need to, not just because I think said thing is reflective of my current work or jives with my current stage of life. 

However, JAM was a particular Thing that Had to Go.

The timeline is hella fuzzy to me because I’ve blocked a lot of it out, but I was coming out of middle school and struggling with my mental health. On the real life side, I was stuck in a situation with a close friend of mine who was very fixated on us being in a relationship and the pining was loud enough to hear from the other side of the country. Wounded people pleaser that I was, I flipped (exhaustingly) back and forth between “i dont like you like that” and “but I want you to be happy so what if I tried liking you like that?” and there was massive amounts of hidden hurt and resentment and tension and abandonment complex activation and just ... a strangling of anything that made our friendship good for either of us. 

Also she was a she. So. Yannoe, gay is difficult.

This definitely burnt me out on the “best friends pining” trope and is probably legit the ONLY reason I’m not equally in the erasermic and erasermight camp haha. That trope feels claustrophobic and draining to me, so I leave it for others to enjoy.

It also coincided with a married 45yo adult man luring me into a “platonic, ecstatic, boundary-breaking, you-are-my-beautiful-young-muse, words cannot express how much I love you” creative type relationship that inevitably turned possessive, domineering and manipulative. Within the bounds of the Renaissance Faire community, I thought he was a safe person and he was not, and his constant reassurance that I wasn’t like other women my age was absolutely hypnotizing to a undeveloped soul who really, really wanted to be special.

We traded poetry and tarot card readings over email. He bought me manga and shared stories about his time overseas and in the service. He made me props to go with my renaissance faire character and showed me where to find cheap leather so I could piece things together myself.

He also stalked me and owned me for the better part of a year and I only realized it once he started harassing a dear friend of mine overseas, whom I was visiting, about a package that he’d sent, which apparently he’d covered in original poetry to let me know how much he loved me But Not In a Hetero or Sexual Way Bro, so of course he didn’t want it to get lost in the postal system. So what is he going to do? Note my friend twice a day asking if its arrived until she inevitably, tearfully spills that this guy is stressing her out and who is he anyway?

My horrible secret was out, which only sounded horrible when I explained it to someone else. I realized this man was trying to follow me wherever i went and I got so fucking angry that he was messing with my friend that I had to stop it.

(He called me a cunt when I broke it off with him on the phone in the dark on the floor of my bedroom in the middle of the night so my parents wouldn’t hear, then sobbed and said he was sorry. I was so dissociated from the rush of anger and helplessness that it took for me to actually MAKE the call that all I could do was wiggle my foot and watch it in the reflection of the mirror on the back of my door, and think maybe I was a cunt but I wasn’t his cunt anymore. So there. 

Afterward I slammed my forehead into the mirror a few times to make sure I’d actually done it and it wasn’t a dream.)

During all of this, I was writing this stupid fic. I think. Honestly, I don’t fucking know, but I can’t think of it without thinking of him and how i was devoured.

The stress of hiding this “totally wonderful but NORMAL PEOPLE DONT UNDERSTAND WHAT WE HAVE!!!!” grooming shit from my parents was gutting me alive, and I was so far gone RE: worthiness/autonomy that I didn’t even consider why I BOTHERED diffusing his petulant accusations over notes on deviantArt again and again as he baited me into shit just to explode over how I didn’t love him and I figured out another way to soothe his engorged and tarry ego without explicitly lying that I loved him too. 

He made me regret my silver tongue and way with words as I used it to defend myself again and again, and crushed my love of writing. I would pace the neighborhood for almost an hour several times a week, claiming I was ‘exercising’ but really trying to understand why i felt so trapped, or where the lines between love and hate lay, or why I wanted to cry all the time, as i low key tried to get hit by a car just to force something to change in my life and jolt me out of his smothering, needy nightmare of constant texting and emails and notes. I couldn’t fucking flinch without him knowing about it, and asking me if I was okay. For this reason, I react very poorly to people fretting over me at length, and loudly. I get angry and feel violated, or just pinned to the floor by someone Performing their love on me with no real regard for my health.

This whole time, I was escaping into fandom. It probably saved my life, in one way or another, because I found friends who supported me and made me laugh in the JnD sphere. Especially the friend whose distress caused me to snap and realize This Couldn’t Continue.

This terrible man was the first one outside of my friend group that I showed my writing to, the first adult as well. It was on the dark side even then, but he said it was wonderful and amazing. He teased me for being stuck up in my authors notes on JAM (one of the reasons I’m just getting over ... talking ...) but said it inspired him to start writing as well. He used that writing to imagine hokey sprawling stories of him being a hot rod racer and me being his sexy girlfriend, Very Totally in Love. Why Couldn’t We have Just Met in a Different Lifetime??? not that its a relevant question for my young 16yo friend lol just something dreamers wonder lol lol here why don’t you take this traditional irish engagement ring aka claddagh i bought for you, lie to your parents and say I bought one for everyone in our renfaire group, and turn it toward your heart, to imply that you’re in love, so that I can keep your heart safe for you until you find a boyfriend?

FUCKER YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKER ok I’m done. Fuck.

JAM was a project of mine that spanned a year or two and is intrinsically tangled in those very bad relationships and very bad lessons. I deleted it because I needed to, for purely personal reasons beyond the fact that it was generally bombastic, over-long, tone-deaf and dealt with very serious issues poorly. Due to these experiences, you won’t catch me in a hot minute writing either best-friends-pining or heavy jealousy/possessiveness fic, but everyone else? Go crazy just tag your shit.

so. anyway. isn’t subjectivity actually terrifying? You never know what something can mean to someone else. So just ask, maybe.

Damn, son. Some fics you just can’t repost.

[bright-hao]

soft bias tag

okay, its been ages since i did a tag on here!! but my hermanita @hocidi(or hijita now? since you call me mom?) tagged me to do this soft bias tag!

my ult is still minghao, but bc most of this is romantic stuff(and i dont really have a lot of romantic feelings for hao) i’m gonna do my other best boy, seungkwan 

Who is your bias: Boo Seungkwan of Seventeen

What made you notice them: I always loved seungkwan, its so funny cause at first i used to be like “oh i wish seungkwan was my twin” and as time went on it was like “yes, seungkwan and i would be best friends we’d be a killer duo” but like...by the time boom boom era came around and he dyed his hair blond the first time? fuck dude, i knew i was in love. very specifically there’s one photo (here) that always comes to mind when i think about first falling head first for him, and well. now he’s my guy.

what’s your favorite thing about them: boy, everything! physically, i love his cheekbones/jaw combo, people really dont pay enough attention to his bone structure. and personality wise, i love his ability to just talk and command all the attention in a room if he wants to,especially because it’s not in a scary, authoritative way, and i feel it makes people comfortable while they also respect him and hold him in high esteem bc of it. I personally have a close relationship with words, so to see the abilities he has with just his everyday speech is...spectacular

who would initiate skinship more: i think both of us, but in different ways? i feel like i would initiate a lot of smaller touches, just so we can be in constant contact, and also id probably spend a lot of time thinking about something before i do it, but i feel like seungkwan would be like hey! let’s hug, and we’d...hug. he’d probably initiate bigger things, like hugging and hand holding, and it’d be more spontaneous for him.

who would hog the blankets more:  i don’t really feel cold easily and tend to get warmer as the night goes on, so what might really happen is seungkwan will often wake up buried under all the blankets because i pushed them over to his side in the middle of the night

who would be more clingy:   earlier on, it would be him, bc i dont let myself get overly attached to people, but maybe if we spend years together and i get used to him/his constant presence in my life, things might change

who would say I love you first:  oooohhh this one’s tricky. if i feel like he’s still sorting through his feelings and commitments, i’ll wait for him to say it first, but if i feel sure about him and where his heart is at, i’ll say it as soon as possible. possibly way earlier than most people would. it’s not a big deal to me when the words drop(bc it’s really not about words anyway for me, its about proving it with your actions, and if he loves me i should know even without him saying it), but if it is for him then i guess i’d wait til he felt right about it. granted, i think the more open you are to begin with the faster seungkwan himself would open up, so maybe it’ll just be a toss up bc we’ll both already be on the same page.

who would be more easily flustered: i’m a confident gay, so like, it would definitely be me making him flustered as much as i can for fun.

What cuddling position would you two have: okay, so here’s what i’m thinking: he’s mostly on his back, however he’s comfy, and i’m curled up at his side with one leg thrown over him and he has one arm around/under me, and my head is either next to his on the pillow or on his shoulder (like this). we can reverse the positions too we’re flexible

which colors remind you of them and why:  sunset colours!! i often call him my sunset boy, so sunset colours, and very specifically all shades of orange, make me think of him. they’re just...warm and sweet but also fiesty and bold colours which is...him in print.

which season would you like to spend with them: uhhh all of them for the rest of my life? Idk, I feel stupid answering this since I live in a tropical country but...mm, maybe the time period where it's not quite spring yet but it's not really winter anymore...like, imagine going on a road trip and you get to see the landscape change from white and snowy to bare for a little while and then everything blooms. gorgeous. i wanna do that with him. or maybe the summer season in the arctic where it’s light out 24 hours a day. or just mango season here in trinidad

who would bake cookies and who would steal the batter: seungkwan would probably make the decision for us to bake cookies together bc it’ll be a fun bonding experience or whatever, but he doesnt really know what he’s doing, so i have to give him all the instructions and explain everything to him, and then i let him struggle with all the dirty work and look on and occasionally snatch bits of the dough to ‘make sure it’s coming out right’

which one of you would make bad puns and how would the other react: i dont really do puns, so it’ll have to be him. he probably spends all his alone time trying to come up with them. over text, he might get a eye roll emoji or a ‘why are you like this’, in person i’d probably just ignore it completely and continue the conversation like it never happened. (which might make him pouty, but pouty seungkwan is adorable, so either way i win)

which one of you would nearly burn down the kitchen trying to microwave a poptart and who come to the rescue: i’m brown and poor poptarts have never been a thing in my house, so i suppose it’ll be me who screws up. wake up in the middle of the night hungry so i sneak into the kitchen as quiet as possible, not even turning on any lights, put the thing in the microwave for way longer than its supposed to be. when it explodes seungkwan runs outside half asleep bc he wants to know who got shot. he cleans the mess bc he loves me and tells me to leave the pop tart prep to him in the future. 

who likes to lean over tall railings and who pulls them back: it would be me, adrenaline junkie and lover of risks and high places, leaning over the railing of a tall building like ‘omg, i could jump right now it would be like flying’ seungkwan would drag me away and probably sit me down and lecture me about it too

what would you watching a horror film with them be like: i would never watch a horror movie, lol. next question.

who would be the cheesy flirt and who would be the smooth flirt: i think we could both be cheesy when we wanted to, but maybe more him than me since he’s the king of cheese. flirting is one of my favourite pastimes, so i’d probably be a decently smooth flirt. as earlier mentioned, my greatest joy would be seeing him flustered and at a loss for words bc of just how smooth i am 

who is more competitive: oh we are BOTH very competitive, it’s super fun when we’re playing a game or a sport and we’re on the same side and trying to crush the opponents, but i think we try to get on opposite teams bc its ten times more fun to try and beat each other. like just the thought of being better at him at something is already exhilarating to me ;;;)))))))

who would have to be given constant reminders: for tasks that are hard/uninteresting, i’ll have to have him remind me cause i’ll find 500 things that are more interesting to distract me when i just need to suck it up and get the thing done, and i’ll need the nudge. when it comes to just forgetting, i’ll probably have to remind him bc it totally slipped his mind.

who sends memes and who sends cute I miss you text at 3 am: he definitely sends the memes, im way too lazy to save them on my phone and then have to go looking for one that’s appropriate, that’s a lot of work. i’m happy to receive them though. and uhh...i wouldn’t send anyone a text like that at 3am and i wouldn’t like to receive one either, and i would tell him that. emotions get weird and warped at that hour, and i dont trust them on a regular basis, much less at 3 o’clock in the morning. i say, hold it in for now and if you still feel the same at 10am? then you go ahead and tell me you miss me. BUT if i get a message at 10am from seungkwan saying he misses me/loves me/is thinking of me? i would be on a cloud for the entire day.

this was really fun! my heart is warrrrrrrrrmmmm and ive been in soft stan mode for the past two days cause of it. so now i’m gonna tag @woozifi @minigum @mvpgyu @pabospoiler @seonyein @szrw @witchzi @yookik have fun friends!

[nevillelongsbottom]

highschool headcanons OMG i need one for Neville x Charlie pls and thank youuu

I ALSO NEED THIS IN MY LIFE THANK YOU

there is nothing quite as nerve-wracking as a high school student’s first christmas concert, and for neville, this is more nerve-wracking than usual: he’s way too old for this one to be his first, after all, and none of his peers are sharing his nerves

the first one he was meant to go to, he came down with the norovirus and hadn’t been able to move without throwing up for about a week

the second one he was meant to go to, he had accidentally dropped his cello down the stairs and broken it beyond repair and hadn’t been able to get a new one in time 

the third, he had gotten ill again: this time, the flu

so, somehow, in his fourth year, this is his first christmas concert: everyone his age has done so many they’re practically veterans, and just the act of placing the bow against the string to play makes him break out into a cold sweat

the worst part is, because he’s orchestra, for some reason he’s been drafted in to help out with other acts here and there

along with the wind section, for example, he’s been called upon to help play the orchestral sections in a performance of kasabian’s take aim (very christmassy, he thinks), and he thinks his brain might explode with how many new pieces of music he’s going to have to learn

he supposes that, at least, practising the kasabian is fun: it’s not a stuffy piece of orchestral music, and because it’s only the more experienced (he refuses to say he’s ‘better’ than anyone else, because that’s not true) to play in other performances, he’s not saddled with having to help tune up younger cellists or make sure they’re not fifteen bars behind him or playing on a rest

but there is a problem with playing the kasabian

and it’s the ginger-haired lead guitarist and singer, who stands right up at the front with his bright yellow fender, grinning into the microphone, who’s the problem

neville’s captivated with him the first time he sees him - all the other guitarists just look bored, drafted in for some fancy concert they don’t really suit with their monkey boots and leather trousers and side fringes, but this one looks positively thrilled to be there

and he sings so well, too: his passion is almost palpable, even though neville can only see him from behind when he can afford to look over from his music

he glances over to the other cellist in between playings, elbowing him; he’s not entirely sure what the cellist’s name is, but he thinks it’s blaise, who plays far too dramatically for neville’s tastes (neville’s interest is in playing the music, and playing it right) 

“do you know that guitarist’s name?” he asks curiously, because despite his disinterest in blaise’s playing, there’s a strange common bond that forms between members of an orchestra - they’re all in this together, after all

“what, yellow fender boy?” blaise laughs. “that’s charlie weasley. interested?”

neville goes furiously red. “no - just wondered who he was, after all”

he never builds up the courage to speak to charlie - that’s just not something that neville would ever do, after all, and life continues on in the build-up to the concert

the day before is both the worst and the best: it’s nice to get a whole day off school to help out with rehearsals, but all the waiting is draining - neville’s seen a lot of the stage crew napping around the hall, from the back of the stage to the corridors leading into the stands, and he wouldn’t mind joining them

he’s sitting in the stands, trying to make his way through the catcher in the rye for english, when he feels someone coming up to him: he looks up, and almost jumps when he realises it’s charlie

“anyone sitting here?” he asks, and neville shakes his head, watching in awe as charlie takes the seat next to him. “i keep seeing you watching me”

“oh god, i’m so sorry,” neville says, mortified 

“no! don’t be sorry,” charlie laughs, “i think you’re really cute, and if you want to, you know, you can just ask me out”

“oh,” neville says, too dumbfounded to actually ask, and realising that he’s an idiot in his silence, but charlie doesn’t seem to mind, just raising an eyebrow

“do you want to go out?” 

neville nods, still unable to form words, and charlie just laughs manically 

“you can speak to me, you know!”

“sorry - i mean, i just thought that you were totally out of my league... playing guitar and stuff...”

charlie shrugs. “i don’t see what guitar-playing has to do with anything”

“well, people who play guitar always have girlfriends because girls think that sort of thing is cool, don’t they?”

“i’m gay, so i don’t think i’m quite winning the girls over,” charlie shrugs. “but don’t - i don’t know, put me on a pedestal or anything. i’m just like you and everybody else. but with a guitar.” he puts an arm around neville’s shoulders, which just makes neville redden a little more because of how much he likes it. “you want to go get lunch after rehearsal?” 

“i have to get back for orchestra at three,” neville says

“we’ll make it back,” charlie assures him

and suddenly, when he’s seated with his cello in front of him and playing, he understands why blaise has so much flourish: it makes him feel happier, and better, and he’s so excited he doesn’t think he can play with any less extravagance 

he manages to regain the ability to speak like a human when they go for lunch at a nearby mcdonald’s; charlie’s funny, really, well-spirited and nice and he always tells stories with as much exaggeration and wild hand gesturing as possible 

charlie’s forgotten his phone, but he promises they’ll exchange numbers the next day - which, of course, he does, because charlie’s no liar

and, for once, neville’s not shitting bricks, despite it all: he’s sitting in front of hundreds of people, one of whom being his particularly judgmental gran, but he doesn’t even notice them - he just wants to play his best, and make charlie proud, because charlie loves this song and hummed it all the way down the road accompanying neville back for orchestra practise 

it feels amazing when he sits back at the end of the song and the audience roar with applause: charlie takes it all in his stride, of course, taking a long bow, and when they all shuffle back offstage, he’s grinning so widely at neville that he looks like his face might break with joy

he reaches out, ruffling neville’s hair

“that was amazing, nev,” he says, leaning forward to brush his lips to neville’s forehead for the shortest moment (too short, for neville). “i’m gonna go get a seat. can’t wait to see the orchestra”

and, because he’s running on the best adrenaline he’s ever felt, the notes just flow out of him; even the nervous youngsters next to him play well, as if spurred on by his confidence in both himself and the shoulder-squeeze he’d given them all before they came on stage

he sees charlie again as he’s filtering out to meet his gran, and charlie hurries over, trying his best not to bump his guitar case against neville’s cello case

“hey,” he says cheerily, “you did so bloody well, man, it was amazing”, and he reaches out and squeezes neville’s free hand, “i’ll see you at school on monday, yeah?” 

“of course,” neville says breezily, watching as charlie hurries out to find his family

neville finds his gran easily, and as they walk home through the cold and damp streets, she looks over at him: “that wasn’t half bad,” she says with a sniff

(and it’s probably the kindest thing she’s ever said about his playing)

(and, somehow, neville’s sure that charlie’s the reason)

i wrote this with my spotify on shuffle but i thought some of the songs really helped the feel of this (not lyrically, but just how the song ‘sounds’), so here they are: electric feel, two doors down, need ur luv

send me a hp pair and i’ll write high school headcanons!

[fyeahwynonnaearp]

What Just Happened?!?: Let’s Pretend We’re Strangers (S02E05)

So many things happened. So many things are happening. So many feelings were felt and so much screaming at the TV was done.

New Character(s)

Ewan (@unrealfehr): Volunteer firefighter by day and cult leader by night. Likes big shiny axes, red cloaks, bird masks, and working out.

Juan Carlo (@The_Real_ShaunJ): Re-introduction of the mysterious mechanic/watcher(?). Still uselessly helping and provides more questions than answers. Has a teleporter!Truck? because he drove in with it and disappeared with it.

The Order: A cult of volunteer firefighters whose motto is ‘Praesidium et Conservatio’. Under the (sometimes) guidance of Juan Carlo, they help protect the Ghost River Triangle.

Monster(s) of the Week

Miksun, or The Goo™: Have apparently infected a crap ton of people that The Order had to hunt down and kill. Put down by Peacemaker, but is it fully gone?

Final Thoughts (No Spoiler)

Game changer indeed. 

Although The Goo™/Mikshun was the focus of the episode, so many little things happened that may ripple out and have huge repercussions in the future. It was such an intense episode and, as of now, I have watched it three times. Back to back. I am emotionally drained.

Honestly, before watching this show I take one or two or three shots of Fireball and after the show I chain-smoke like Doc Holliday and hug myself to contain all the feels.

Jump into the rabbit hole for some spoiler-filled rants, theories, and fun!

10 Things That Happened/I Learned

1. Ewan and The Order - ‘Praesidium et Conservatio’: We find out that the Purgatory Volunteer Fire Department (or VFD, which makes me giggle because Lemony Snicket) has an impressive battle axe collection, hunts down Goo-infected citizens, and likes nachos as an after-beheading snack. Based on Ewan and The Plate™, it seems that The Order used to have a relationship with the Earp heir. Now in possession of The Plate™ and open to partnering with Wynonna, we will probably see more of Ewan (or FitBit, as Melanie likes to call him). How The Order and The Squad™ will butt heads will be very interesting and I’m ready for The Squad™ to have help because IDK if people remember/realize, but The Ghost River Triangle is a huge freakin’ area.

2. Nicole, the kicked puppy. The first-half of this season have completely REKT the Officer. Goononna was especially in top-shelf form with the emotional beatdown. I expect Nicole and Wynonna to clash because Nicole is clearly the (mostly) by-the-book rookie and Wynonna is the free-spirit protocol-lel-what-protocol Black Badge Deputy. Perhaps Nicole never understood how or why Wynonna got to be in the super secret government agency and was maybe a bit jealous, but damn! Goononna definitely knew her weakness and insecurities and hit where it hurts the most. I’m excited to see how they move on from this and how they form a relationship outside of Waverly. (I’ve read somewhere that Nicole was constantly being mean and a bit of a bitch to Wynonna; I honestly will have to rewatch, but I don’t remember Nicole being an outright massive bitch to her.)

3. IN MEMORIAM: AGENT JEANIE LUCADO.Goocado, or goo-infected!Lucado: Head exploded. Tentatively dead because regeneration is a thing and where the hell did her body go?!? 

4. Doc Holliday has a new car. It is red and has a cassette player and I wonder if he constantly avoids eye contact with Nicole while at the station because she knows he doesn’t have a driver’s license and definitely has an unpaid speeding ticket.

5. Purgatory Fair 1952. The plate is important enough that it was hunted down, wanted by BBD, and people were killed for it. It was definitely important to The Order. Not only does it bare their seal, but it might be connected to the broken seal because Ewan was talking about it to JC and it seems they are also responsible for maintaining it.

6. “I will shoot anybody for you”. Not only is Nicole whipped, but this line just cements the notion of the Officer being loyal to Waverly despite her position as a police officer. It might be nothing, or it could be the overarching struggle Nicole will face throughout the season and beyond. Being a good cop matters to her, and being involved with Waverly could mean ignoring things for The Squad, covering things up, and breaking protocol and maybe the law. And, I think we know how she feels about covering things up. I’m excited for this ride because this could be such a wonderful character development storyline and gives their relationship depth and substance many shows ignore. Because Nicole will never ask Waverly to be someone other than herself, but Nicole might have to change and compromise her morals for the woman she’s totally not-in-love with.

7. Hot Uniform for Officer Haught. Is Nicole being Lexa-levels of extra with her new uniform? Gone are the khakis and barely-buttoned long sleeves and the has-anyone-seen-me-this-season stetson. Enter the Black Widow-inspired, Alex Danvers-might-steal-this long-sleeved form-fitting zip-up top and is-this-gay-enough vest and no-really-is-this-too-gay boots and the I-am-a-gay baseball cap. I love it. I do. It would be equally horrifying and funny if the entire Purgatory Sheriff Department changed uniforms because Officer I’m-Too-Haught-For-This hates khakis, but I hope the department also forked over the cash for the super expensive extra-lightweight concealed body armor to wear under that tight-fitting top. Because Officer Haught did not ask for the most gay, hot, are-we-sure-this-is-not-a-sexy-cop-costume uniform just to be a bullet magnet.

8. MISSING: BLACK BADGE HQ. Honestly, I’m confused about the actual organization of the...well, organization. It is introduced as a joint task force between the US and Canada, even the badge shows both flags. Like, cool. But is Moody (AKA Orphan Black’s Art Bell), the Head of Black Badge or is he only in charge of the Purgatory/Ghost River Triangle branch or whichever branch is overseeing Purgatory? When Dolls, Lucado, or Jeremy mention HQ, do they mean the place where Dolls was broken out from? Because that means BBD HQ is near the Ghost River Triangle. So when Jeremy says Black Badge is gone, does that mean just the HQ/where Dolls was being held? Are there more BBD sites like in the comic books? Where are the other agents?

9. Waverly and her ‘dark corners’. Is Waverly an Earp? It’s the question that can be easily answered if only the Earp Sisters didn’t have major communication issues. In all honesty, all it takes is one over-due conversation and a saliva swab, then one DNA test later we get our answer. But, no. Waverly will probably never ask Wynonna “so, our mom was pregnant with me, right?” and Nicole probably won’t overstep and compare the Earp Sisters’ DNA behind Waverly’s back. I just want this issue to be resolved before Waverly crumbles under the pressure of meeting Wynonna’s expectations of what being an Earp entails. Because this season shows us that Wynonna does give being an Earp so much meaning and expects Waverly to act accordingly and this might cause issues between them and it might be hard to remember, but they just found steady footing with each other. If Wynonna keeps expecting certain things out of Waverly all in the name of being an Earp while Waverly is struggling with the idea if she even is an Earp, we might have the Earp Sis angst-fest we don’t really want but we might just actually love because it means they come out of it (hopefully) stronger together.

10. Baby Earp, the game changer. There’s a divide in the fandom: Pro-baby storyline and what-the-fuck-no!-pregnancy-storylines-ruin-everything. No matter what camp you reside in, you must admit and eventually realize that this baby-bump of a game changer is going to be the catalyst for several major character development. 

Wynonna: No longer can she numb herself and drown her issues in whiskey. Even though she says her job is to protect her baby sister, we have to remember that she’s been MIA for three year prior and have been mostly absent from Waverly’s life. Yes, she was placed in a mental institution when she was 14 and has been in juvie at least once, but she also willingly spent time away from her sister and ran with the Banditos, a gang that was mentioned in season 1 and explored in the comics. Wynonna joined a gang which could have placed Waverly in danger. With a baby, Wynonna has to be responsible for another life and now has to actually think about the possible consequences of her actions.

Doc: The chance of Doc being the father is really high. Let’s assume that he did get his best friend’s great-great-I-actually-forgot-how-many-great-grand daughter pregnant. Because he’s been established as somewhat traditional, in the loosest sense of the word, he will want to meet the duties and obligation of being a father. That means he can’t really just take off anytime he wants. It means being open and having an honest line of communication with Wynonna, which can be hard for him and his Slytherin ways. While he does let Wynonna be Wynonna, I think that will change when he learns he’s a father. Also, he might start actively searching for a way to reverse the Stone Witch’s curse on him. Meaning, he might have to dig out Constance from the salt flats and OMG is she still out there or did someone dig her out?

Dolls: As much as I would love for DocWynDolls to be one happy polyamorous family raising Baby Earp, there is a good chance that Dolls might feel the need to take a step back and let Wynonna straighten out her priorities. He will be there for her, absolutely, but he might emotionally distance himself and choose to focus his attentions on BBD and figure out how The Squad will continue without a government agency backing them and how to proceed without the power of a badge and probably start figuring out what exactly he is. 

Waverly: Protective acting-like-the-big-sister Waverly will be adorable and fluffy and amazing to watch. Waverly questioning her role and childhood and how she was treated will be heartbreaking and will make me leak from my eyes. I think Waverly will be worried about her place in Wynonna’s life now that there will be a baby. Waverly is so used to being pushed to the side that she probably won’t talk about her concerns and will just keep supporting and helping Wynonna. On the other hand, a baby Earp can just be the prompting for Wynonna to start reminiscing and talking about a Baby Waverly and the biological origins of Waverly will finally be settled. 

Nicole: A part of me hopes she won’t get shut out and Waverly will start incorporating Nicole into her life and that Nicole will help Waverly with pregnant!Wynonna, but I can see her being shut out. Again. I can see Nicole figuring it out for herself (like always) and subtlety helping Wynonna by giving her food and giving her coffee, it’s caffeine-free of course, but Wynonna won’t know that. I really hope Nicole gets to be involved in some capacity because it will be just one more thing that would strengthen her relationship not only with Waverly, but with Wynonna as well. 

Overall, I am happy this show is still true to itself. Some people have said that the show doesn’t treat its villains as actually villains and it all ends up being anti-climactic. To those people, I say to you, this show is not the episodic procedural of monster-of-the-week and one big bad a season kind of show. This is about the people that have to deal with those monsters and demons. This show is about their relationships with each other. It’s about how they grow as people and how they deal with their issues and personal demons. Sure, demons are killed. But unlike other shows, our heroine still questions her humanity and still have issues with the fact that she is destined to kill, whether they are demons or creatures or humans-turned-demons.

It is often overlooked and no one talks about it enough, but I think we need to remember that even though these revenants and demons are all trying to kill her, Wynonna Earp still tells them to “make your peace” and sure she sends them to hell, but she tries to make sure they get some semblance of peace in the afterlife. 

[garden-ghoul]

return of the blog, part.... uhhhh

“that’s right, I can’t even reliably count to three. or maybe I can and it’s four I can’t reliably count to?”

That aside, something horrible is about to happen.

THE SIEGE OF GONDOR

Gandalf wakes up Pippin at “the second hour,” which is either 2am or like 9am, depending on where they’re counting from. Pippin stares at his bread butter & milk breakfast miserably and says, “Why did you bring me here?” 

“You know quite well,” said Gandalf. “To keep you out of mischief; and if you do not like being here, you can remember that you brought it on yourself.”

Dude. He’s a teen and he was cursed. Give him a break.

He has to go see Denethor, who treats him rather rudely and then says he’ll be the lord’s esquire for today. Does he know any songs? Well, um, not many that are fitting here... Pippin does not want to sing comic songs or lewd songs to the Steward of Gondor. I just can’t get over this teen thing, he is like a college freshman who got out for the summer after a socially productive semester and now he works for the president. It’s fucking ridiculous. Well, he goes and gets some fancy livery so he’ll look regal enough for Denethor, and it only makes him gloomier. I love all the descriptions of Merry and Pippin being gloomy about being treated like ornaments.

Near sunset he’s finally released from his service (both boring and arduous, though I’ll wager he’s been doing a lot of good eavesdropping) and goes to hang out with Beregond and bemoan the fact that Faramir isn’t here. Oh! How convenient! There’s Faramir’s company right there (what’s left of it), being attacked by Nazgul! LUCKILY Gandalf, who vanished a while ago, seems to have foreseen this; he chases them away with light magic. Pippin runs to the gates to see Faramir coming home, and immediately gets a crush on him. He’s so noble! So tired! Yet so approachable!

Denethor does not really think so. He finds the smallest crack in Faramir’s demeanor as he’s making his report, and verbally eviscerates him in front of the guests. Y’know, for letting the Ring go into Mordor, and also for being alive even though Denethor is the one who told Boromir to go questing. Denethor and Gandalf yell at each other for a while, it’s rather frightening. As Pippin and Gandalf are leaving (Faramir has gone off to get some sleep, thank goodness!) Gandalf says he is filled with foreboding that Sam and Frodo are going via Cirith Ungol. How would YOU have gone, Gandalf? Through the front door? Secret tunnel?

The next morning everyone is gloomy again. They WERE excited about Faramir coming back--the text sort of implies that everyone in the city is a little in love with him--

But now Faramir was gone again. ‘They give him no rest,’ some murmured. ‘The Lord drives his son too hard, and now he must do the duty of two, for himself and for the one that will not return.’ And ever men looked northward, asking: ‘Where are the Riders of Rohan?’

Restless, restless, restless. Electric air. That Good Stuff. Faramir has been sent to Osgiliath to strengthen the garrison:

‘Then farewell!’ said Faramir. ‘But if I should return, think better of me!’

‘That depends on the manner of your return,’ said Denethor.

Ouch. Why do I get the feeling that Denethor will only think better of him if he returns in a coffin? As Faramir leaves, Gandalf tells him that his father loves him. Umm okay but how does that mitigate his awful treatment of Faramir. Doesn’t that make it worse? Right now I’m thinking about how Faramir is probably going to have to fight the Witch King since he’s leading the attack on Osgiliath, and thinking about how Eowyn is the one who kills him, and just being really excited for them to meet. Weary guy who hates to fight but must; frustrated enby who is chomping at the bit to murder some dudes. Honestly doesn’t that describe ALL the best Tolkien ships. Sometimes he does ladies right and it’s so #aesthetic. Wait I think the aesthetic I’m describing is just classic Jewish gender roles. Gentle studious men and women alight with the fire of direct action. I’m gay for both of these genders.

Anyway the next day the Black Host or whatever comes through the wall of the Pelennor Fields, despite the fact that Faramir is still doing his best to hold the rearguard off in Osgiliath. Including, yep, the Witch King. Actually they never refer to him as the Witch King in these books and I’m not sure where I heard it, but it’s an amazing title. Anyway mounted sorties start going out into Pelennor, with Gandalf at Prince Whoever of Amroth at their head. Denethor at least doesn’t let them overextend themselves; he calls them in very promptly so they won’t get trapped or too tired. I get the impression that for quick strikes they have the advantage because all of Sauron’s people are on foot. Oh, except a full third of them died anyway, because Sauron’s forces MASSIVELY outnumber them. Faramir has come back dead or wounded, and EVERYONE is crying. They bring him back to Denethor, who goes up into his tower and people see a strange flashing light and he comes down even more dead-looking than his dead son. I am beginning to suspect that the reason the text has alluded so many times to how far-sighted and well-informed Denethor is, is that he has a palantir. And this is some kind of secret, maybe?

The very last companies who can make it come back in through the gates, and they report that there is no way the Rohirrim can possibly make it in to help them now. The enemy is throwing fire over the walls. They’re throwing severed heads over the walls. Nazgul are circling. Denethor is weeping by Faramir’s body. Gandalf and the prince of Amroth have taken command of the city. There’s an aside here with Gondorians whispering about how elvish the people of Dol Amroth are--the people of Nimrodel. I’m glad there’s at least one version of the story where they found each other again and settled down, even if “the coast” probably wasn’t the land Nimrodel dreamed of that had never heard of war.

Hey, let’s check in on Denethor! Oh, uh, the palantir broke his will and he’s planning to set himself on fire in his despair. That’s cool I guess. Pippin goes to fetch Gandalf, as if he couldn’t possibly have anything more important to do than save one rude old man’s life. Or no, Pippin suspects he is going to kill Faramir as well. He passes Beregond and tells him to stop anything awful from happening.

OMG SORRY I FORGOT EVERYTHING I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PAYING ATTENTION TO BECAUSE WE HAVE FINALLY CONFIRMED THAT THE BATTERING RAM GROND IS INDEED NAMED FOR MORGOTH’S HAMMER. I CAN STOP READING NOW THIS IS ALL I WANTED TO KNOW.

No no jk I will keep reading. I’m extremely pleased though. I have “Grond! Grond! Grond!” echoing in my head nonstop some days. Um anyway the Witch King is there, casting an evil spell to help Grond along, and on the third go it BURSTS the gates open!

‘You cannot enter here,’ said Gandalf, and the huge shadow halted. ‘Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master. Go!’

The Black Rider flung back his hood, and behold! he had a kingly crown; and yet upon no head visible was it set.

Fuck yes.

Somewhere in the city, a cock crows, because having half of Gondor on fire in no way disrupted this chicken’s daily routine. Dawn. And with it, the horns of Rohan.

THE RIDE OF THE ROHIRRIM

The beginning of this chapter has a lot of fun sense description, since Merry is lying awake in complete darkness listening to the distant sounds of the Enemy’s hosts. Smelling the horses. All that. He thinks about how weird it is that everyone is just ignoring him because they know he’s not supposed to be here; Dernhelm seems to have some kind of “understanding” with Elfhelm, the marshal of their company. Sorry. Elfhelm? Elf? Helm? Is that a guy’s actual name? Elfhelm trips over Merry in the dark, and Merry asks What Is Up. As it turns out what is up is Woses, and what will soon be up is all the Rohirrim. I was gonna explain what Woses are but I think it’s way funnier if I don’t.

A Wose has come to offer help to Theoden, since he hates orcs as much as the next guy. Woses, he says, have “long ears and long eyes,” which isn’t especially relevant as far as I can tell but it’s delightful. The leader of the Woses, Ghan-buri-Ghan, knows a secret road! All he wants as a reward is... for the Rohirrim to stop hunting his people like beasts. What the fuck. I can’t believe Ghan-buri-Ghan actually prefers the Rohirrim to orcs. They go through the forest, and it takes all day, but the next morning before dawn they are ready to go do murders. Merry is upset again because he’s actually zero good at fighting and is just going to get himself and others killed.

The king sat upon Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith, as if stricken suddenly by anguish, or by dread. He seemed to shrink down, cowed by age. Merry himself felt as if a great weight of horror and doubt had settled on him. His heart beat slowly. Time seemed poised in uncertainty. They were too late! Too late was worse than never! Perhaps Théoden would quail, bow his old head, turn, slink away to hide in the hills.

Then suddenly Merry felt it at last, beyond doubt: a change. Wind was in his face! Light was glimmering. Far, far away, in the South the clouds could be dimly seen as remote grey shapes, rolling up, drifting: morning lay beyond them.

Nice nice nice nice nice that’s some top notch metaphor. Tolkien is sooo good at environmental metaphors and foreshadowing. IDK there’s just something about the way the whole world seems to get in on the narrative, it’s really good. Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered; a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Theoden grabs a horn from someone and blows on it so hard it EXPLODES. AND THEY’RE OFF!! Join us next time for

THE BATTLE OF THE PELENNOR FIELDS

[sovtwords]

i just read you found me and bestie 😳 i sat here for a good three and a half hours and read the whole thing in one go AND IT DID NOT DISAPPOINT AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT !! kind of a rant ahead so i’m sorry in advance hehe

the whole story was so beautifully thought out and i absolutely fell in love w each person’s characterization. the time atsumu frowned when he saw lilies on mcs desk flew over my head but i later on noticed and gasped so loud my dog woke up LOL i just realized you never used y/n (right or did i just never notice) and i think you are powerful for that. it just gives the mc more freedom and room to be interpreted in whatever way while still maintaining a personality that fits the story. also himari’s my absolute fave and she’s best girl sorry i dont make the rules

in you should have found me my heart absolutely broke for osamu because it’s so clear how different the twins reaction would be depending on who got the girl. osamu was always a bit more selfless in general but in that fic the way it was established that even years later atsumu would still be affected by it just screams ab how different they really are. i hope osamu got a happy ending w someone he loves and loves him back, he deserves it

the whole thing was a ride, the way that there was so much push and pull and frustration made me scream omg. the situation with tomi was so stressful and nobody should have to go with that kind of abuse (bc it is abuse no matter how anyone looks at it! and i love that you recognized it as so) and blackmail. the fact that mc didnt blame atsumu for getting with tomi because she too was with someone else (fuck daishou and mika too lw i thought she was cooler than that 😡) so its nice that she didnt outright blame him, bc i sure as hell would LOL but anyway. the way that these two felt so strongly ab each other and were so patient and still loved each other thru all the shit theyve gone thru makes me so happy bc a love like that is so pure

high school tsumu was a little shit and he (respectfully) needed to get decked but the way that he learned and did better and even tried to make tomi realize that too was much needed and appreciated. the thing with this fic tho is that no one can really blame anyone for how they acted (except tomi and daishou like cmon man do better) bc its so raw and human of them. atsumu was young and in love but didnt know it and was terrified of what everyone would think of him, which is valid esp bc his whole life, people have been telling him that osamu is the better twin with a better personality and whatnot. and you cant blame mc for leaving bc getting bullied like that and having the one person you trust turn their back on you hurts

still my heart absolutely goes out to osamu. i saw somewhere that atsumu is the one who gets seen and osamu is the one who is liked, so they both have this underlying resentment (i dont think thats the right word. jealousy?) to each other. bc when you heard miya youd think of atsumu but once they got to know both twins, it’s osamu they like. i feel like osamu is more known as atsumu’s twin sometimes bc he’s just the one thats more out there, yk? but atsumu just being grateful for osamu made me so happy and osamu being happy for his twin and mc made me even happier even tho he was hurting inside. give him a happy ending im begging you my tiny heart hurts after you should have found me pls tell me he’s happy and moved on

also let’s all thank yuta for getting along w mc to begin w LOL he’s second best after himari 😌 bokuroo dynamic was a much needed addition and i love them more than anything, same vibes as hanamattsun like chaotic gay bros who’d tear down the earth for the ones they love 😪

i feel like i still have so much left to say but this is already super long and im sorry for that. you found me is now one of my fave fics (probs my fave atsumu fic i loved it that much) ever and im so grateful you took the time to write it. thanks for the journey and im looking forward to your fics (im gonna binge rn 😈) and future works! stay hydrated <3

BESTIE EYE- KASJAASUDFHYAS I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START BECAUSE I'M CRYING

Firstly thank you so much for taking the time to leave such a long and detailed message with such kind words, i literally did not stop smiling the entire time I was reading it oml i was so giddy reading it

I'm so glad you caught onto those little tidbits i left in the story, i tried to have meaning in every tiny details so it makes me happy that you caught onto them! And you're right! I didn't use Y/N in the story at all, or any of my stories! I kinda feel at times using anything like Y/N or (name) feels a bit clunky? It kinda takes me out of the story, so I try not to include it in my stories at all, and either use a nickname or nothing! ALSO I'M SO HAPPY YOU LOVED HIMARI AND YUTA!!

Your analysis of how different the twins are and their dynamic with each other in not only HQ but my fic is just CHEFS KISS MWAH it's so good and you really hit the nail on the head. Like you said they're both winners in different ways; Atsumu is the star boy who gets noticed for his talent and charisma but Osamu is the better liked twin in the end because of his personality and calm nature. I think the twins are just so interesting to write about that way, how they love differently and approach life dasjfhasd will definitely write more with the two of them in the future

I really screwed over Osamu in 'I should have found you', didn't I? LOL I need to do my boy some justice in future stories i write, whether they're related to You Found Me or not. But rest assured he had a happy ending regardless of whether he's in a relationship or not! He's taking life step by step and finding success in his job and with his friends! <3

I guess the thing I wanted to focus on in this fic is that everyone goes through some sort of struggle in some way. Even someone like cocky, hotheaded atsumu feels the weight of pressure and to act a certain way because its expected of him. He may not have dealth with it well at first (he was a kid tbf!) but what matters is how he grows from the hurt and learns how to do right the second time. I am a sucker for 'right people, wrong time' tropes after all hahaha everybody deals with shit, so it's important that they all found someone to lean on

I don't ship much but Bokuroo is my SHIT i just love really stupid bros that are in love and every day is a wild ride, like matsuhana too ajhsdfhsd

Seriously, thank you so much for even reading my fic, let alone sending such a sweet message. I'm beyond happy that you loved it, and to call it one of your fave fics just makes my head explode LMAO

I do hope you enjoy the other fics (trash) I write, my mind goes in a million directions and I can only hope ppl understand what i write HAHAHA

THANK YOU SO MUCH MY LOVE, I HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY <33333