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horseshoegirl · 1 year ago

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Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 17 - Come a Little Bit Closer

📖 One of my friends who beta-read this for me pointed out there is a scene in here that is very similar to one in Ted Lasso (I've never seen it, though there are a lot of people in my life telling me I should now); so I'm just mentioning there might be a similarity.

There is also something in here that people have been waiting for. Albeit, it's probably not the one scene everyone wants, given recent events. But someone(s) gets karma'd 👀

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, angst, mentions of shitty family dynamics, physical fights, Ruthless Dagger Squad, violence, verbal fights, and mentions of blood.

#7k words

Part 16 | Masterlist | Part 18

“Are you a fucking idiot, Bradley?!”

You slapped Rooster hard on the back of his head, the thwack anything but satisfying.

“He is, indeed, a fucking idiot,” Nat quipped next to you. Bradley frowned at you, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought you would be happy I got to him!”

“You do not invert over another pilot on your team, catch them in a fucking corkscrew, and make them hit the fucking hard deck! Regardless if they are my ex or an asshole!”

It was hopeless to think you could ever stop swearing in Penny’s bar, not when Bradley was still pulling stupid shit like that. Therapy was a big step, but you knew deep down it would take a little more than a few sessions to make him less impulsive.

Maybe even more so from behind the joystick of his jet.

Rooster threw his hands up defensively. "I was just trying to teach him a lesson. You know what he did to you!"

You shot him a look.

Bob rolled his eyes and leaned against the bar, crossing his arms. "And what exactly did you accomplish, Rooster? Besides nearly killing yourself and him?"

Bradley gave him a death glare.

“I don’t care why you did it!” You snapped, tapping the end of the bottle opener hard on the top of the bar as you made your point. “You put yourself and a teammate in danger! You’re lucky Maverick stepped in before you got kicked out!”

You spun the tool in your hand while rolling your eyes, quickly popping the caps off the row of beer bottles lined up in front of you in frustration. Placing one in front of Nat, you handed Bob’s to him with a stern look.

“One, Robert,” You said, holding up your finger. “One, and then I am cutting you off.”

He grabbed the neck of the bottle, nodding and throwing his hand back in what seemed to be a 'yeah, I get it' kind of way. You held back on Roosters, holding it out of his reach, engaging him in a staring contest.

"Promise me."

"Liz."

You shook your head.

"This is not something I'm being funny about, Bradley. Promise me you will not pull that shit again."

"You're being unfair; it was just a dogfight."

You raised your eyebrow, purposely glancing over at the barbell for a split second. "I'll ring the bell on you."

Bradley cocked his eyebrow at you. The bell was something he prided on, never happening to him before. "I'll tell your manager you've been providing bad customer service."

You shrugged. "Go ahead."

Penny would legitimately not care. She'd do more damage to Bradley by chewing him out than you ever could.

"You should see the Yelp reviews when they mention me when I ring the bell on assholes. I don't care. Promise me you won't put yourself in danger anymore just to prove a fucking point."

Rooster made no effort to tear his eyes away from you.

"Bradley Bradshaw, do you promise me?!" you tried again. When he didn't reply for the second time, you raised your voice, "Lieutenant Bradshaw! Do you promise not to risk your fucking life over proving a point?!"

Bradley blinked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

You thumped the glass bottle to the top of the bar, sliding it towards him with a huff.

“Liz!” Jimmy called out. You turned in his direction with a smile, though you were anything but happy right now.

“The Jukebox is doing that thing again. Can you see what’s wrong?”

“Did you try hitting it?” you called back.

“Several times!”

You sighed. Walking to the other side of the bar, you stopped in front of Bradley, pointing your finger into his chest.

“You pull that shit again, therapy or not, I swear to god, Bradley..." You couldn't even formulate the rest of your sentence, throwing your hands up in frustration and letting out a garbled yell as you walked away.

You approached the Juxebox with a huff, grabbing the sides as you peered into the glass. The machine was turned on, but the needle hadn't touched the spinning disc.

Someone slung their arm over the top of the machine, startling you with an almost empty beer bottle in their hand.

"First, it was the keg, now it's the jukebox. What else is on your hit list, darlin'?"

You stiffened.

You hadn't seen Jake since that night. The minute you managed to get the courage to leave Rooster's Bronco, you cleared out your house of anything to do with him, his overnight bag sitting on your porch when you went to pick up Sadie.

It was gone when you came back home.

And It was suddenly like he hadn’t existed. You hadn’t found yourself going through what you assumed was the traditional aftermath of breaking up with someone. You hadn’t eaten a tub of ice cream, binged rom-coms or cried your eyes out except on the drive home.

And that had been it.

No calls. No texts. No apologies.

Without turning to face him, you remarked sarcastically, "Your over-inflated ego, but something tells me I'm going to need something bigger than a broken jukebox to take down."

Jake glanced at the machine, knocking it hard with the side of his boot.

You don't know what was worse, that the machine came to life or that it started up in the middle of the song, 'Come a Little Bit Closer' by Jay and the Americans, started up in the most ironic part.

Come a little bit closer. You're my kind of man, so big and so strong.

The quip fell easy from your lips. “Oh, what do you know, a knight in shining armour, solving all my problems.”

You don't know what you were trying to achieve by being like this. You just wanted him gone. But Jake didn't leave. Instead, he smiled at you. "You always have a way with words, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. Snatching the bottle from his grip, you turned on your heel.

"What are you doing here, Jake?" you called out, knowing he would follow you.

"I just want to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

He quicked his pace, jogging up and interrupting your path. You stopped, gritting your teeth and twisting your hand away from him in frustration.

"Liz, please."

You huffed. You finally met his eyes, your gaze hard. “What is there to say, Jake? What could you say to me other than I was another bartender on your list? I just wish you had the common decency not to involve my niece in this, you asshole.”

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a shout across the bar.

"Jake!"

George had called out to his brother, surrounded by a group of women. When Jake turned at the mention of his name, George was already waving him over.

You couldn't blame the women shooting him flirty glances, eyeing him up and down like a piece of meat. You just wished the pang in your chest didn't hurt as much as it did.

"Go ahead," you offered with a tense smile. "You made your intentions known. You are free to do whatever the hell you want now."

Jake faced you, his expression faltering as the edges of his mouth twitched, failing miserably to hold on to some semblance of confidence.

"You don't think I know that?" he remarked. "I think about it all the time."

“You should've thought of a lot of things before, Jake," you sighed, stepping backwards and away from him. "Don’t start on my account now.”

---

Why George had decided to stick around, Jake had no idea why. Maybe it was insurance that the damage he had done was permanent.

Jake just wanted him to get the hell out of dodge.

He wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation he’d been roped into when you walked away from him. He had no other choice but to walk over and let George introduce him to the two ladies he had been flirty with.

Jake knew what George was doing. He was trying to entice him back into his old ways. It was clear as day to anyone George would be going home with this woman tonight.

The other one, he thought her name was Bree or something along those lines, was trying to engage him in a conversation, batter her eyes or flirt. But he hadn’t so much as blinked, too caught up in how you shot him down and walked away from him.

It wasn’t until George opened his mouth to answer a question that Jake snapped out of his trance and caught the last end of his sentence.

“I guess having played football in high school makes it easier. My throwing hand is awesome when playing darts, though.”

That pipped his interest.

"Since when have you played darts?" he finally spoke up.

"Since we hired a few new ranch hands,” George shrugged. “All they want to do is drink, sleep, and play darts. It's great for introducing yourself to other ranch owners. I practically win them over each time," he remarked, trying to throw in a bit of modesty.

The gears started to grind in Jake's head. And slowly but surely, the cocky-ass Mona Lisa smile came back.

He nodded towards the dartboard. "Wanna play a game?"

George raised his eyebrow, taking a swing of his beer, "Want something else to lose your dignity to?"

Jake's grin didn't lessen. In fact, there was a certain glint in his eyes when he replied, "Something like that."

---

A crowd had gathered around the dart board while they had been playing. Practically, the whole bar was suddenly invested in this little game.

And you, leaning up against a pillar next to Bob, who had ushered you away from your post for a few seconds to watch the end of the game. Your arms were crossed, and you had a slight frown, watching him with sad eyes.

It was clear you wanted to be back behind the bar, not standing here, watching the person responsible for your broken heart play a fucking game of darts.

It wasn't even really a game. Jake could land a bullseye with his eyes literally closed. The regulars knew it, too. So, why was he purposely throwing darts with his non-dominant hand? You had no idea.

From what you could tell from when you were behind the bar, he still played well enough. They went for the long haul, starting at 501 points and slowly working their way down. Coyote and Rooster had decided to keep track, using the chalkboard on the side. George had led throughout the game and was still leading, but Jake was always close by enough to make it interesting.

Then George landed enough points that if Jake didn't get exactly what he needed to on his turn, George would win the game with his next. You didn't know why Bob pulled you over here; maybe it was to see Jake lose. Or to see George fail.

You have yet to determine which would be the better option at this point. And yet, you still couldn't bring yourself to step away.

You leaned over to Bob to ask, "What does he need to win?"

Bob sighed. "Two triples in the 20 slot and a bullseye. The bullseye needs to be last."

"What are the stakes?" you frowned.

Bob only shook his head next to you. "Nothing, from what I know."

George spun from his position, smiling at everyone cheering for him. He came to stand next to Jake, patting him hard on the back a few times.

"I don't know if you were trying to prove something, brother," he laughed, "But good game. We should do this again sometime."

Jake did the one thing he wanted to do his whole life.

He laughed at his brother.

"George, I never understood why you've had this grudge against me for my entire life," he said, stepping out of George’s grip on his shoulder.

Jake twirled the dart between two of his fingers, shaking his head. With a little sleight of hand, you watched as he switched his grip, the dart now in his dominant hand. You stood from leaning against the pillar and uncrossed your arms.

"You had it all. Dad's approval, the football career. All the girls flocking to your side in high school. You’ve spent your entire life under his thumb, chasing approval.”

He cut his eyes to you, seeing the frown on your face, and knew he had to continue. Stepping up to the mark, he squared his shoulders, eyeing the board.

“Trust me when I say this - you might've been the chosen one in Dad's eyes, but out here, in the real world? That doesn't mean shit."

Jake threw his first dart, the spike landing within the safety of the triple twenty. Everyone watching caught their breath in surprise.

Jake's smirk grew bolder, the fiery confidence he was known for blazing in his eyes as he looked back at his brother. "Do you want to know what I would have said to you the day you were talking shit about Liz and Sadie?"

A quiet gasp escaped your lips.

George's mouth twitched.

“I agreed with you for one thing and one thing only. I know I won’t be welcomed back,” he stated. “I couldn’t give a damn if I am.”

Something burned deep inside Jake’s chest as he pushed on, needing George to hear what he was saying desperately.

" Sadie? She sees right through your bullshit. But she will not hesitate to stand up for someone if she thinks they are being mistreated. She’s so mature for her age, and I am damn proud to be her uncle.”

He knew he shouldn’t have called himself that but was too caught up to care.

“And Liz? The world throws so much bullshit at her, and she still chooses to be kind, even when she still buries her grief, because she doesn’t want her niece to see her cry.”

Jake shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “I found people who, despite knowing my flaws, chose to stand by me. Not hold them against me.”

Jake threw the second dart, hitting the board next to his previous dart within the rim.

"I remember all the nights you came home, mirroring Dad's words, telling me how worthless I was.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “Now I just realize you were literally copying everything he had to say to you from that day. Making yourself feel better.”

He'd never admit Rooster forcing the both of them in a Corkscrew is what made him realize it. He had been regurgitating every diminishing word and sentence his father had screamed at him growing up back at Rooster's face, hoping it would make him feel better.

He picked at the tail end of his dart, the weight of it familiar and comforting, before glancing at George's face.

"You ever heard of Roosevelt?" he asked nonchalantly. George eyed him carefully, "What does a dead president have to do with a game of darts?'

Jake had a conceited grin on his lips. "Well, he had this quote, and I'm probably butchering this, but he said critics don't count. Or the person who points out how we stumble or how someone could have done something better."

Jake twisted from his mark on the ground, standing square in front of George as he continued to explain his point.

"Because the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly... and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly."

Jake's voice was steady, but his eyes bore into George's with a fire. "All my life, George, I've been in that arena. I've stumbled and failed, but I didn't listen to someone from the sidelines telling me how to live my life."

Jake lifted his hand, never taking his eyes once off George.

"It's time I remembered that," he said, thinking about Sadie. "You shouldn't have to either."

He flicked his wrist forward, letting his dart fly.

Bullseye.

He heard the thump of the dart hitting the board, and cheers erupted throughout the Hard Deck. Jake had thrown a dart enough times to know whether or not it had hit its mark; he didn't need to look. Even Rooster was laughing at the utter shock and disbelief across George's face.

"I'm living my life, George," he said, patting him on his shoulder, leaving his hand there. "It's about time you did the same."

For once in his life, Jake had managed to stand up to his brother. But the moment wasn't as satisfactory as he might have imagined - He found himself thinking it didn't matter.

Because as he stepped away from George to look back to where you had been, he realized you hadn't been there to see it.

---

Your shift came and went in a blur after Jake and George’s dart game. The squad still hung back well past closing hours, watching and even helping as you closed up the bar, except Rooster, who was messing around on the piano.

Jake was still here. And George.

They had been out on the patio for over an hour now, simply talking. You tried not to pay them much mind as you tried to get through your remaining tasks quickly, but you couldn’t help but look out the back windows occasionally, unable to take your eyes off the Seresin brothers for long.

George approached Jake soon after he escaped the crowds. There had been no fights, no punches thrown or someone storming out. In fact, every time you looked up, the two seemed to be inching closer to each other.

Damn him and that cocky grin. Why'd he have to be so... Jake?

You didn’t want to be a spectator to Jake’s theatrics during that display during their dart game. Leaving before he threw that last dart, you were now questioning yourself… if you walked away to shield yourself or to punish him.

While he stood up for himself against George, in the back of your mind, there was an insistent voice whispering that maybe, just maybe, that display was also for you too.

Some of you ached at the idea of him seeking validation and needing to prove himself. And that's what hurt the most: that deep down, under layers of stubbornness and hurt, you still cared for him.

If it was, you weren’t ready. Not for this. Not for answers or explanations. You deserved more than whatever that was.

But you still heard him. Heard everything he said to George.

You really didn’t know what to make of it.

The sound of the front door slamming up against the wall, rattling some of the portrait frames, startled you from your thoughts. There was a momentary thought of remembering you really needed to lock the front door when you were closing, but it was washed away just as quickly as it came.

You couldn’t take your eyes off Tyler’s body as he charged forward, finger pointed towards you with a seething glare. “You fucking bitch!”

You stepped backwards, the sharp edge of the sink hitting your spine hard. A few glasses jolted from the force of it, sliding off the ledge and shattering to the ground. Rooster’s playing stopped immediately, and the piano bench toppled to the ground.

Was it anger? Shock? Disbelief the past few weeks of not seeing him coursing through your veins responsible for your reaction? You knew Tyler was dangerous, but deep down, you hated how easily you cowered at his appearance.

Tyler didn't get very far in his effort to get to you. Bradley came out of nowhere, something out of a comic, with his fist flying, punching Tyler square in the jaw.

“That was for Sadie, you bastard!”

Unfortunately for Bradley, Tyler only keeled over briefly before taking a swing. Rooster had not been prepared for him to retaliate, thinking his punch would have been enough to put the asshole on the ground.

Tyler had taken more punches and hits to the face as a football player than the average person would in their life. While Jake had managed to get him on the ground when he tried to kidnap Sadie, and Rooster was fitter than the average person, it would take much more than Jake and Bradley combined to keep Tyler there.

The uppercut to Bradley’s jaw could be heard from miles away, and you could only stand there, watching helplessly, as Bradley crashed backwards into a wooden table, his name a cry on your lips as the pieces scattered.

Whether or not they heard your cry or the commotion, the rest of the Daggers swarmed the island bar as Tyler watched Bradley roll on the ground amongst the splinters in some twisted sense of pride.

Whether you could realize it at the time or not, that would be his biggest mistake.

Nat was the first one there, the first one to put herself between you and Tyler, readying herself in case he tried to leap over the bar to get to you. Javy, Fanboy and Payback had run from opposite sides of the room to surround Rooster and Tyler, Bradley finally rolling himself off the broken table on the ground and pulling himself up.

And Jake, almost breaking the sliding door as he bolted inside to get to you, George on his heels. Rooster was too happy to stand beside him as Jake placed himself before everyone else, this hand twitching in anticipation of a fight.

"This is the one who did all that?"

Jake side-eyed George as he came up from the back to flank him on his other side.

"What?" he remarked, puffing out his chest and not once taking his eyes off Tyler. "I'm not that much of an asshole to know that's not how we treat women. Or children. We should drag his ass back to Texas and show him some southern hospitality."

Nat cocked her head at Tyler, speaking up from her spot next to the bar. "You must be a complete idiot to walk back in here after what you did to them."

Tyler shrugged, a sickening smile on his face. "I've got nothing left to lose. Literally."

"What, Daddy cut you off and kicked you out?" Rooster asked, spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth.

With the presence of your friends, you managed to calm down a little bit. You were still scared, which would never change as long as you could see his face, but you could take in Tyler's state more clearly.

Dark circles under his eyes. Blonde hair, greasy. He was still wearing that same freaking white sweater, only it looked like it hadn't been washed in days.

Rooster was right. Tyler had been cut off, indeed.

Fanboy and Payback, having realized what was going on, went to either exit to stand guard. You weren't sure whether to keep people out or keep someone in. But Tyler hadn’t noticed. He was too preoccupied to remove his eyes from Jake.

You watched as Tyler glanced at everyone around the bar, obviously bothered by Rooster's remark but not addressing it. "Seeing a lot of protectors here. Must be that 'Navy bravado,' huh? All show, no substance. We've all seen how they fail when it matters most.”

Ironically, it was George who intervened first. “This isn’t your place, man. Walk away before you get hurt.”

Tyler flicked his eyes between Jake and George, a smirk playing on his lips, “This is interesting. Another misguided soul ready to join this little squad over here?”

George smiled at him, nodding at Tyler, cracking his knuckles, “Just somebody who doesn’t like your face.”

Your voice was hoarse, vocal cords feeling like they were being dragged over jagged rocks, when you asked, “What the hell are you doing here, Tyler?”

He didn’t even give you the courtesy of looking at you when he replied, “Respect! What else?

Jake scoffed with amusement, "By wearing that dirty sweater and showing up here drunk and messed up? You're doing a great job, really. I applaud you."

Tyler doubled back with that all-too-familiar smug smirk, " Alright, saw through that one, did you,” He chuckled before he teased. “I came to see how Sadie's holding up. It must be hard, having her favourite play-hero away. Unless you've moved up from being her 'uncle' to something more."

Jake's face immediately paled, his entire demeanour changing from cocky to pure rage in a fraction of a second. The atmosphere in the room grew dense with tension. "You say her name again, and I'll make sure it's the last word you ever speak."

Still grinning but with an undercurrent of faux uncertainty, Tyler raised his hands in mock surrender, "Just stating facts, Jake."

George, sensing the danger in his brother, whispered a warning, "Easy, Jake."

But Jake's voice came out as a dangerous whisper, all restraint seemingly gone, "You wanna dance? Let's fucking dance."

Jake charged, tackling Tyler to the ground as you stood there wide-eyed and in shock. Rooster and Coyote flanked the grappling pair while George kneeled, calling out to Jake all the spots Tyler was leaving himself open. The sound of flesh hitting flesh accompanied Jake’s punches, and you couldn't bring yourself to look away.

A startled cry escaped your lips as you felt someone put their hands on your cheeks, turning you away from the fight and wiping away your tears. Bob had somehow found his way into the bar with you and was currently forcing you to stare at his face.

“Nope, you don’t need to witness any of this.”

"How much trouble are they going to get into because of this?" you asked, scared out of your mind. Bar fights were a thing that could get you kicked out of the Navy.

Bob glanced over to the fight. Nat was walking towards the back door, her phone pressed to her ear, no doubt calling the police. As his eyes tracked back to Tyler, George and Javy had now joined the fight, the elder Seresin brother grabbing Tyler by the back of his neck and his belt, tossing him like a bale of hay onto the top of a nearby table as Rooster surprisingly helped Jake up from the floor.

The legs splintered under the force with a sickening crack. It wasn’t until you shuttered at the sound and let out a soft whimper between his hands he remembered you asked him a question.

"None," his voice was firm. "As far as anyone knows, he walked in here like that."

"Bob..." you whimpered. He stroked a piece of hair away from your face soothingly. "I'm not going to be the one that says he doesn't deserve what's coming to him. Tyler’s not walking out of here now. He literally signed his own death sentence."

Deep down, you knew that. Tyler against not one, but three navy pilots and Jake’s brother? There was no way he was walking away from that.

The sound of glass shattering caused you to jolt again.

"Penny's so going to fire me after this," you managed to say through tears. Bob gave you an affectionate smile. "No way, you're the best bartender she's had in years. You put up with so much shit, and Sadie would no doubt give her two cents. She seems to be doing that a lot lately."

"Bobby..." you huffed through a sob. "You've never heard you swear before."

He shrugged, wiping away one of your tears. "I guess there's a first time for everything."

Bob hadn't covered your ears. He was only keeping your eyes off the ongoing violence. So you could hear everything going on. There were no more crashes, glass breaking, or wood splitting in two. You could only hear the rhythmic sound of flesh hitting hard flesh.

The next cry out of Tyler's mouth made you stiffen.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth!" he gave an almost whine as Bradley laid a punch to his stomach. "I'm sorry for all of it!"

Oh.

Fuck.

No.

Where you were once scared, pure anger builds in your stomach. You pull Bob’s hands away from your face, swatting away his feeble attempts to reach for you. You marched towards the exit doors of the bar, rounding the corner to get to the group.

Jake saw you approaching first with a sharp lift of his head, tapping George on the shoulder, who looked up at his brother before his eyes landed on you, catching on instantly. He grabbed Tyler by the back of his sweater, hoisting him up onto his knees before changing his grip to the middle of his back. Jake gritted his teeth as he tugged Tyler's head back with a vice grip on his hair.

You kneeled down in front of him, taking in his face.

Even bruised and bloody, Tyler looked nothing like the egotistical sociopath you knew him to be. Nothing like the villain that stalked you months before this or when he walked into the bar all those weeks ago.

This version of Tyler looked desperate, unhinged, but on the verge of a last straw. You couldn't say seeing that white hoodie stained red was unpleasurable. To say he had nothing left to lose was one thing, but seeing it across his battered face was another.

“You’re sorry?” you snarked. “You’re sorry you abused my sister? Are you sorry you killed her? Sorry, you tried to kidnap my niece?!”

You wanted to nail him across the face. You wanted to know the absolute pain and heartache and suffering he had put you through. He took Ridley from you. He hurt Sadie. He hurt you.

But then you took in the room, Jake and George kneeling behind him. Bradley and Javy standing by, ready to pounce the second he might try to escape. And the state of the bar, the damage sobering your thoughts.

No questions asked.

You noticed the ties of his sweater were out of place. Lifting your hand, you fixed one back into place, smoothing the string down before looking him dead in the eye.

"I could fucking care less."

Approaching sirens could be heard outside the bar, making everyone hold their punches. You stood, turning your back on the display to rejoin Bob, who had followed you out from the relative safety of the bar.

You wouldn't give Tyler the satisfaction. Ultimately, he was still a narcissist, wanting a reaction.

"Tie him up," you heard Jake command. Despite Bob urging you not to look once again, you couldn't help yourself. You needed to see this. To see Tyler caught and unable to do anything but accept his fate.

You needed to know you and Sadie were safe.

Coyote was handing George a sailor's rope he had torn off the wall, having pulled the twisted pieces apart. Jake pressed his knee down onto Tyler's back, pinning him to the floor as George quickly hog-tied his hands together, not that he'd be going anywhere. The group of men had done enough damage. Tyler wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Everything happened so quickly in the moments after. The police burst through the front door. George was holding up some sort of badge, and you were suddenly rushed out into the parking lot by Bob and Nat.

Penny was already there, greeting you outside with extreme worry in her eyes, sweeping you up into a hug the second she saw you. She was trying to console you, tell you Sadie was safe with Mav and that you would be alright. You didn’t realize you started shaking until she pulled back in concern to ask what had happened.

Your breath hitched as you shakily joked, “I promise I’m not purposely wrecking your bar. I don't know where these assholes come from."

Penny huffed out a laugh and a sad smile. Biting her lip, she reached out and stroked your hair at the side of your face as only a mother could. She tugged you into her hold, refusing to let you go.

You don't know how long you stood there until Nat tapped you on the shoulder. She pulled you into her side and looped her arm around Penny's, holding you upright as the front door of the Hard Deck opened. A pair of Police officers were dragging Tyler out, still hog-tied and a mess. George was behind them, following them while speaking to another officer.

When you watched the police car containing Tyler in the back seat roll off into the distance, and a tow truck rolled that stupid white piece of machinery away, you finally felt like you could breathe.

Tyler's frightening hold over both you and Sadie was over.

And yet, it wasn’t as much of a relief as it should have been.

---

You wanted to stay away from the Choas unfolding in and around the Hard Deck.

Taking the first chance you could, you escaped when nobody was looking, eventually finding yourself sitting in Penny's chair on the beach.

Less than a year ago, you were sitting in the chair, unaware of what was about to happen to you. You who were desperately trying to get through a book by reading the same page twice. Gawking at a pilot playing Dog fight football who you knew was off limits, trying to get by till the following Saturday night.

Then Ridley's ex came for you and Sadie. You had fallen in love with said pilot. Learned your sister was murdered. Your best friend hurt your feelings. You had gotten your heart broken by said pilot.

You didn't know what was worse, the fact you had seen and experienced all this trauma, or that Ridley's death and abscene were still triumphing over all that.

You jolted when someone placed a blanket around your shoulders.

George Seresin retracted his hands just as quickly as he placed the blanket around you, holding them up in surrender.

You didn't have anything to say to him, choosing to remain stoic as he lowered himself into the sand, sitting with his back in front of the armrest of your chair.

It was a full minute before he finally spoke.

"I need to apologize, Liz."

You scoffed, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. "Apologize for the derogatory display of how you treat women? Or what you said to Jake to make him act the way he did?"

At least this time, George had the decency to look shameful.

"If his words at the dart game weren't any indication, I know you egged him on. He was trying to get you to back off, in his own twisted away.”

"I still need to apologize. For all of it," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "It wasn't my place to do that to the two of you."

"Yours is not the one I need right now," you spat, lifting your feet off the ground and curling into the depths of the chair.

Either one of you spoke for a few minutes after that. George seemed to ponder his thoughts, scanning the horizon but not finding anything. The waves were both loud and quiet, making the world smaller than it actually was.

You couldn't handle it.

"Do you realize the gravity of what you did, George?" you said heatedly, uncurling yourself from the chair and submerging your feet into the sand. "You weren't just egging him on. You were meddling in someone's relationship because your father asked you to."

"Yes, I know."

"Do you know how fucked up that is?"

"Jake doing that grand display with the darts painted a pretty clear picture in my head."

You rolled your eyes. "When was the last time you asked yourself if you were truly happy, George?"

George thought about it for a second before he replied, "When I became the livestock official back home."

"And let me guess, you made that decision all on your own, without any influence from your father?"

He looked down at the sand, grabbing a handful before watching it fall back to the ground. "Kind of. When I got the ranch, it wasn't by choice. But this felt like the first one I could make by myself."

"You just proved everything that Jake said, right."

You huffed, frustration evident. "How do you plan on making up to him?"

George took a deep breath, steadying himself. "By supporting Jake genuinely in whatever he chooses. And by ensuring our father doesn't come between you two again."

Your eyes searched his for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was raw honesty.

"Jake loves you. It's clear as day. Don't let this get between the two of you."

You spat out a laugh, a high-pitchy sound you hoped would tell him you saw right through his bullshit. "Right."

"Liz, he didn't agree with the BS I was spilling to agree with me. Don't hold it against him."

"But he went through with it," you countered. "Even if it was some twisted idea of dealing with all the bullshit you and the rest of your family throw at him save Janet, he still said those things. He still hurt me."

You threw yourself back into your chair instead. "I don't know anymore, George. I don't know what to think anymore."

George dropped his head to his chest, furrowing his brow. "You know, you didn't allow him to explain that day. Or today even."

That made you sit up. "Are you saying I should have?"

"I'm saying," he replied, "Whatever happened to giving someone a chance to know that people care? Even when other people think they don't deserve it?"

"That's different."

Maybe," he nodded. "But something is missing. I think that's only rooted in what other people think, not when they've done something to you."

George's words made your voice catch in your throat.

"Give him a chance to explain, Liz. Just listen to what he has to say. Then make your decision."

Suddenly you were wishing for the asshole from a week ago. Because, deep down, you knew he was right.

"George, I mean this in the nicest way possible. You have potential. Listen to what your brother told you. You can't have your father tell you what to do for the rest of your life."

He glanced down to the sand but tilted his head towards you so you knew he was still listening to what you had to say.

"Ridley and I... My sister... We went through the same thing with our father. And I was so young, I didn't know any better. But she got us out before any more damage could be done. You still can get out. You don't need him in your life."

"Is it wrong for me to want his approval?"

You bit your lip, surprised at his question. "No. He's your father. It's natural you'd want that. But you shouldn't have to change who you are. You shouldn't have to seek his approval when he hasn't been someone worthy of giving it."

George nodded, more to himself than to you, finally managing to mumble, "Jake is lucky to have you in his life. Sadie, too."

Even after everything that happened today, you still gave him a soft smile. "You're not that bad, George,” you said before adding, “When you want to be.”

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning upward slightly. "Don't let it get to my head. I might end up like Jake."

You reached over and patted his shoulder. "That wouldn't be a bad thing."

---

George left you a little while ago when an officer sought him out to take a statement. The night air was nipping at your skin, even with the blanket around your shoulders, and yet, you didn’t know how you would sleep after this, the adrenaline spike still showing no signs of slowing down.

You didn’t know what to feel, the myriad of emotions thrown at you over the past week, month, and even year - any one of them would have sufficed. But you couldn’t bring yourself to figure it out. To live through any of them.

You just wanted to get through the rest of the day.

Dragging your feet through the sand, you made your way up the back steps of the Hard Deck’s back patio, shutting the door behind you. Shrugging the blanket off your shoulders, you gently placed it on the pool table, readying yourself to take in the true extent of the damage Tyler had wrought on the place.

The bar was dimly lit, save for the neon flashes of red and blue pulsing through the windows. There were splintered pieces of wood from the broken tables still littering the room, chairs overturned and scattered menus. With shards of glass and the thick smell of alcohol, you hated seeing the bar in such a state.

And in the middle of it all, Jake, sitting on a barstool with his head bowed and his hands resting on his knees. It was a stark image, seeing Jake’s knuckles bloody and bruised, his hair dishevelled. Looking less than himself. Utterly defeated.

It was a moment you weren’t supposed to see. A moment nobody was supposed to see.

And yet…

He didn’t hear your footsteps as you went behind the bar to grab a clean cloth, nor did he hear you take a metal bowl from under the sink and fill it with water. Or the ruckus as you fought with the first aid box.

It was only when you reached for one of his hands, having come to stand in front of him to run that cloth over his skin, that he jolted out of whatever stupor he had found himself in.

“Liz, I…”

You shook your head, shushing him. “Not now, Jake. Not tonight.”

He let you clean the blood from his hands. Let you dab at the split skin surrounding his knuckles. He was stiff as you worked, eyes tracking your every movement, from how you delicately held the bottom of his hand to watching you ring the cloth over the bowl. The water had already turned red by the second time you’d cleaned the fabric.

You reached for some antiseptic from the first aid kit, tilting the bottle forward as your finger held the cotton swab in place. Jake hissed when you placed the soaked cotton swab on his raw skin, his other hand shooting out quickly to grip your wrist tight.

His touch did feel like Sandpaper. But it wasn't as coarse, not as rough as you made yourself believe. You halted your fingers, the cotton swab falling to the floor at the shock of his touch.

“Sorry,” a quiet murmur on your lips. Jake eye’s darkened, a flicker of something passing through. He loosened his grip on your wrist but didn’t let go, letting his fingers slide loosely down to your wrist. You followed his touch, watching as careful fingers caressed the palm of your hand.

"You don't have to do this, Liz," he stated, his voice rough.

"Yes, I do," you replied softly, keeping your eyes fixated on his hand. "Someone has to. You certainly won’t."

"You're always caring for me."

You reached with your free hand for another cotton swab, but Jake stopped you, meeting your hand with his. He brought it down, and you let him pull you gently into the space between his legs.

"Do I deserve it?" He whispered, playing with your fingers. "Especially from you."

You swallowed hard. "That's up to you. But I can’t stand by and watch you be hurt."

You finally gathered the courage to look up at his face. It was a miracle Tyler didn’t do much damage other than a slight bruise along his forehead.

“Otherwise, you’ll go crazy,” he remarked, recalling when Sadie was in the hospital. "Even when I've hurt you."

"Jake..." his name a quiet plead on your lips.

He let his hands glide up your wrists to your forearms, the air between the two of you heated as he leaned forward, hooded gaze intent on your lips.

"If not tonight, when?" he whispered.

Your foreheads met, you more than him, allowing yourself to press your weight against his skin. The two of you came together like this, a series of almost kisses and burning moments that left the two of you wanting more.

Except that was when you thought you couldn't have him when everyone was screaming at you not to get involved with him.

You're not sure what it is now. Because the person who swore so long ago never to let Jake be in a position where he could break your heart was crawling out from the depths, insisting you push him away and run for the hills.

But Jake's breath, mixing with yours, lulled you into his gentle pull, hands tugging you into him as you felt him lightly graze your lips with his.

What would it be like to memorize the touch of his lips one last time?

Penny’s voice startled the two of you, making the both of you jolt back and away from each other.

"Come on, all this wait till tomorrow."

Whether she was referring to the mess in the bar or your relationship, you couldn't tell.

You cleaned up the first aid supplies as Jake switched holding an ice bag you gave him between his hands and face. Penny locked up the bar behind the pair of you once you finished, always standing between you and Jake.

He followed the both of you hesitantly into the parking lot, unsure what he could say or do.

At the last second, you turned. You looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time since you yelled at him that day in the Hard Deck, a quiet mummer and a sad smile on your lips as you said, "Thank you, Jake."

Then, with Penny guiding you with a hand around your shoulders, you left towards your car, keys in her hand.

He could only watch every step you took, watching as the distance between the pair of you grew, left wondering if there was still hope for him to make things up to you after all.

Tag list: (I think I'm missing a few people, so if you want to be tagged, please let me know!)

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky @

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

-Wickett ;)

Part 18 - Sapling is in-process

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dylawas-reblogs · 1 year ago

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My sperm donor, literally the first chance he gets to see me as soon as he's back: So what's the update on the job hunting? Me:

Me: I am fine and normal

Also me: not getting hired anywhere despite having a degree and I turn 26 next year so I need insurance

Also also me: wildly depressed due to said lack of job hunting success and abusive father's lack of understanding

Also also also me: still stuck living in abusive parent's house, again, due to said lack of full time work

Also also also also me: constantly drowning in tasks beyond work and no longer know how to relax

Also also also also ALSO me: just dodged getting COVID from my mother two weeks ago by fleeing her house, but now my older brother has COVID and there's nowhere for me to go

Also also also also also ALSO ME: All plans to treat myself since abusive father isn't in the country are canceled due to brother's COVID and my potential exposure

ALSO ALSO ALSO ALSO ALSO ALSO ALSO ME: STAYED UP FOR TWO HOURS PAST MIDNIGHT TROUBLESHOOTING WIFI BECAUSE THE ISP SAID THERE WERE NO OUTAGES AND I NEED WIFI TO WORK FROM HOME, ONLY FOR THE ISP TO ANNOUNCE AN OUTAGE ONLY AFTER I CALL MY ABUSIVE PARENT ON VACATION

Me: I AM FINE AND NORMAL I AM FINE AND NORMAL

#if i make it to the end of the year i'll be amazed and maybe even slightly disappointed #dylawa rambles #dylawa rants #delete later #an outsider might see this interaction and think “gee why is asking for updates so bad”#I'd like to preface my points by saying I HAVE a job. It's part time with no benefits but I AM working #I'm not being 'dead weight' (which is a cruel term but whatever)#nevermind he takes half my monthly income for rent even though he SO does not need it #first of all he only ever bugs me about job hunting after asking me out to lunch so now i don't ever want to go anywhere to eat with him #or even worse right before i start work or during so i'm biting back tears for like an hour while making phone calls and leaving messages #it doesn't feel 'nice' it feels like a trap #it's NEVER any other time it's always those two-- either extremely inconvenient or leaving me with nowhere to run #second he thinks that i should just be trying to get an 'entry level' job in my career (animation/graphic design/film)#and when i tried to explain I am and they want 2 years professional experience he talked over me #nevermind the mass layoffs and the fact companies only want people who have already been employed somewhere in the industry anyway #can't get a job because i haven't had an internship; can't get an internship because i'm not in college anymore #I still don't regret keeping the same job throughout nearly the entirety of university but that's WHY i never got an internship #third this man has basically run his own (shitty) company his entire life and doesn't understand the modern struggle of job hunting #he SAID he 'doesn't blame me' for not having anything and I'm 'always welcome here' but I don't believe that for a second #why the fuck else would he be so persistent as to bug me every week or other week #Trust me bitch I want to leave probably more than YOU want me to leave #despite my savings going anywhere without full time work that barely covers half rent with a roommate is stupid #I have gotten THREE interviews in six months (eight or nine if you count the applications I was sending in college)#the next one is tomorrow and it isn't even in fucking animation or even graphic design it's in ACCOUNTING #talking to me about it isn't going to change anything it just makes me feel like a failing piece of shit #but hey fuck me for getting upset right? he's 'just asking' he's 'just trying to help'#so unbelievably out of touch and narcissistic while hiding behind the guise of 'care'#if i'm gone by the end of the year the letter will be all about YOU and how i could never be honest with you #how living with you was basically 24/7 customer service faking a smile and friendliness #and how I loathed you more than anyone or anything on the planet for YEARS before I finally checked out

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starry-eyed-steve · 7 months ago

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Okay, so normally, I scroll past any ridiculous Steve takes, especially when it comes to death theories or theories about s5 in general. However, I just saw such a bad take that it actually made me angry, I need to make my own post. (Warning, this gets a bit petty towards the end)

Basically, the OP claimed Steve needs to die in s5 for the following reasons:

He has nothing going on in his life. He works a minimum wage job and is stuck in his hometown

He only has Robin and the kids, nothing else

It would not be satisfying if he lived

Steve can't grow more as a character because he already had too much development, so it would be better to end it there

He's only useful for protecting the group and nothing else

His death would be great for other characters because if he scarifices himself, the others are then able to go out in the world, live their lives, and do great things

Okay, that's a lot to unpack here, and I'm kinda speechless people really have such a low opinion about him.

First of all, saying Steve has nothing going on because he works a minimum wage job and doesn't have a concrete plan for the future is such a weird thing to say. He has a job, and even if it's not the best paid one, he still has an income. It's not like he's has nothing to do after he graduated (which he did the first time). If you think Steve needs to have it all figured out by 19 in order to be allowed to live, kindly fuck off. Almost no character has a concrete plan for the future. We never see Robin talk about her plans as well. Besides Nancy wanting to go to Emerson, we don't really know anything about the other characters' plans. The idea that minimum wage jobs are considered as something not worth pursuing or that your life must suck if you have them reeks of privilege. Not everyone can or wants to get a college degree. The people who work in customer service or have manual labor jobs are very valuable members of society, and to imply just because Steve has a minimum wage job working at a video store, so he better dies, is a horrible take. But also again, he is 19 (!!!) and should be allowed to have opportunities to figure out his plans for the future. Plus, he explicitly told us his end goal, he wants a loving partner and kids, and that's reason enough to keep going. (Even if he wouldn't have this goal or plan, he deserves time to figure things out, seeing as he lived his life in survival mode for the past 4 years.)

I also really don't get the second point. What is wrong about Steve having a real friend and a group of people he cares about? Shouldn't that be reason enough for him to keep living? Shouldn't having friends who you care about and who care about you automatically count as something that is enough. Besides, again, he also has a job, likes to go on dates, and it's implied he's still into sports.

The other characters also have each other. They hang out all the time to play their dnd games. Jonathan only has one friend (who now isn't even in the show anymore) and a gf. Nancy barely has any friends as well, besides her bf, who wants to slow mo break up with her. Should they die because they only have like 2 people they are close with? Or is it different because they want to go to college and do well in school, which is the only good purpose characters are allowed to have in order to be deemed worthy of living?

Imo it wouldn't be satisfying if Steve would die after everything he has been through. The show beats him to a pulp every season. He was tortured, maimed, and he sacrificed already so much for the group. He has the most physical trauma, besides Hopper. Even if the show doesn't address it, it's still there. (I hate it sm, but also I blame mostly on limited time that almost no character gets to explore their trauma.) It would be such a disservice to his character if he went through all of that for nothing. What kinda message is that? Killing off the character who is the most hopeful despite everything he went through is not satisfying. None of the main characters' deaths would feel satisfying after going through the horrors like that. (Besides Murray because fuck him)

If you think a character or person can only grow so much until they reach some arbitrary point where they are the perfect version of themselves, you're pretty naive. Nobody stops growing. Even if someone goes through growth, you don't stop your whole life. Maybe start rooting for an arc for Steve, where he gets even better. Where he gets to figure things out, where he becomes a better version of himself. You wouldn't say this to any other character. Just because his growth arc was more noticeable doesn't mean all your other faves didn't grow. Do you want them to stop living because they made choices to be a better person?

You're really underestimating Steve's relationship to the group if you think he's nothing more than a punching bag to them. How can you watch the show and really think this. He's Robins best friend, he helps her grow and be comfortable. He's Dustin's older brother figure. He gives him comfort, and he will most likely help him in s5 with his grief over Eddie. Even with Max, he functions as a brother figure, especially in contrast to her stepbrother. Yes, his primary role in the group is fighter and protector, but he is more than that. He's a friend and important to so many characters.

I think the last point was the thing that made me angry the most. All those other takes I've seen time and time again, but this last one is just disgusting. First of all again to imply that Steve can't do great things because he doesn't have a career plan at 19, which is just gross. And then if you also think the other characters would be so appreciative of this as if they don't give a fuck about Steve. Like Robin and Dustin would be devastated, how much of his death would affect them and their plans to do amazing things? They would be severely depressed and untreated (lets be real mental health issues were not taken super seriously up until recently) they will live with those impacts for the rest of their lives. Trust me I know how terrible depression is and how it fucks with your life plans. Maybe some characters who are not super close to him might use his death for motivation and to achieve those "great" things. But for most parts, his death would have a negative influence on them, on top of the trauma they already endured. If you think his death would only benefit the group, you're underestimating his impact on people. Like Dustin already has a hard time getting over Eddie, Robin would lose the only person who completely understands her, Max would lose another brother figure and a chance to bond with him more. Nancy would lose yet another person who was close to her. How many people should she lose until she snaps completely? But again, it's the implication that Steve's life is worthless because he doesn't go to college or has a shitty job or only has a few friends, that gets me. His life is worth less than other characters' lives because they seemingly have things figured out because they are (book) smarter than him. And btw Steve has a dream for the future, he wants a family and peace, he wants to be a better parent than his own parents were, and if you think that's meaningless or less great, then fuck you!

With those points and logic, Jonathan should also be a contender for character death in s5 as well. He doesn't have a job, he gets high with his only friend who won't be there in s5, he didn't apply for his dream university, he's about to break up with his gf. Jonathan only has his family and barely any growth over the seasons. He is a very stale character. In other words, according to those points made by OP, he has nothing going on and should sacrifice his life for the group as some form of character development.

Or Robin should also die in s5 according to those points. After all, all she has going on for her is a minimum wage job she works with her best friend, school, and a so far miserable love life. We don't know any of her future plans so fuck her I guess. She better sacrifice herself for the group. Or is she allowed to live because she's smarter than Steve (which is a pretty ableist thing to say) and gets to embark on a romantic journey next season?

To sum it up, stop saying Steve has to die because you think his life is meaningless because he's a teenager who hasn't things figured out. Stop saying shit along the lines that Steve isn't smart enough to get to have a life. Stop implying that intelligence is the most valuable thing a person can have and anyone who might lack it is deemed as less worthy of living. Stop saying Steve can't do amazing things if he doesn't go to college and therefore shouldn't be allowed to live. And stop deeming Steve's dream of a family as less meaningful (or meaningless) than academic/career successes. He deserves to live like every other character in the show.

#i'm sorry for being so angry and petty about this #i just can't stand those takes anymore #just say you hate steve and go #and maybe stop putting that shit in the tags and disguise it as s5 speculation #sandra says stuff #if anyone has thoughts about it i'm happy to discuss it with you #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things steve #stranger things discussion

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luvtonique · 1 year ago

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Hot Take Time

Okay, I'm gonna make a hot take. I want y'all to understand that this is coming from a 34 year old man who draws furry porn for a living and has regularly interacted with well over a thousand customers in his life, as well as partaken in various online discussions, social media platform conversations, and I've been pseudo-canceled a few times, so there you go, now we know each other, run on sentence.

I need to get something off my chest and a lot of you (I'd very safely say over 95% of social media and people in the political system and even regular media) need to get this through your heads.

Here we go, ready? Say this out loud.

"Nobody is responsible for making you feel comfortable, except yourself."

That is something that people just don't seem to understand anymore. We're in this day-and-age of people doing everything in their power to convince other people to change how they act, change what they believe, change the words they can or can't use because they are "not comfortable" and they believe it will make the world a "better place" if other people adhere to a set of guidelines that these people have deemed are necessary for the comfort of the people setting the guidelines (at the expense, of course, of the comfort of the others who are being forced to walk on eggshells).

I don't know how so few of you have a basic moral of "Life isn't fair."

It isn't. Perfection is unattainable, and yet so many of you don't fucking shut the fuck up about how everyone "needs to act" or how other people need to "be better."

Shut the goddamn fuck up, holy shit.

Nobody needs to act different so that you can be comfortable, just fucking grow a spine, holy shit. I don't care WHAT they're doing. I don't care if they're transphobic, racist, sexist, misogynistic, LGBT activists, Trump supporters, Biden supporters, I literally do not give the slightest iota of a fuck. Do they make me uncomfortable? Of course they do. That's why I don't interact with them. For my own comfort I just don't. I do what makes me comfy, I eat pizza, I drink hot cocoa, I take a fucking nap, I take some painkillers for my joint pain, I do a weed gummy, I listen to music, I watch a movie, I sit outside and watch rain fall, I FUCKING RELAX.

I have rheumatoid arthritis and am in excruciating pain 24/7/365 and there is nothing I will ever be able to do about that. Do I complain about it? Sure I do. Do I appreciate it when people carry heavy things for me so I don't have to? Sure I do.

But do I stand there next to a heavy box waiting for someone else to pick it up and then go "EXCUSE ME. I HAVE ARTHRITIS. YOU SHOULD PICK THE BOX UP FOR ME. I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO TELL YOU TO PICK THE BOX UP" because I'm of some fucking delusion that everyone on earth has to cater to my disability?

FUCKING. NO.

You know why? Because I, unlike a fucking huge percentage of you all, understand that it is not everyone else's responsibility to cater to me and improve my level of comfort.

Especially if they're not getting paid to do that. If I were paying them, sure, that'd be fine. That's what maids are for, right? But they're not getting paid, and that's where it becomes a very bad thing.

Slavery.

But apparently y'all don't seem to understand that making people do special services or cater their behavior to you without any payment other than "not getting punished, canceled, attacked physically or screamed at" is literally textbook definition slavery. It is quite literally "Do this thing because I demanded it, and if you don't do it or if you do it in an unsatisfactory way, I will whip you."

Let's look at a hypothetical I made up myself.

Say there's a kid in school who, if they hear their name said out loud, attacks and bites the people who said that. There's been 15 incidents in a row, including two teachers being bit by this kid.

What's the solution?

Solution 1) Pull the kid out of school, contact their parents, suggest maybe therapy or putting them in special classes with a guardian of some sort, keep an eye on them, maybe they need to be medicated.

Solution 2) Tell the entire population of the school to stop saying the kid's name out loud and punish any kids who get bit because they broke the rule of catering to this psycho fucking bully.

How in the fuck do so many of you think Solution 2 is the correct solution? How the fuck do you think forcing 8 billion people to adhere to your specific demands via mass manipulation and forced control without any compensation other than "I won't bite you" is the correct course of action?

I have met people that literally their opening sentence is telling me how to talk to them and what things not to talk about around them, and when I asked "Why can't I talk about <completely mundane thing>" they literally had a fucking mental breakdown and got me banned from the Discord server I was in that they contacted me from.

And so many of you, SO MANY OF YOU will act like that's completely reasonable for them to have done and will say I AM THE BAD GUY for "DELIBERATELY ATTACKING THEM WHEN THEY ASKED ME NOT TO."

Holy fucking shit.

If you are so fucking bad off, so unhinged, that you have complete full fledged mental breakdowns over hearing a fucking word or because you scrolled past a text post you disagreed with or because someone voted for a politician you don't like, I'm sorry to say this but you desperately need to get your fucking head checked because that is NOT. FUCKING. NORMAL. BEHAVIOR.

"But Jay, being 'normal' is a social construct that-" SHUT UP.

Care for your own self, improve your own comfort and be happy with "Good enough" like the rest of the fucking world has been learning to do for fucking years, you actual fucking sociopathic manipulative shitfucks.

Thank you for reading.

~Jay (who has been labeled a transphobe for breaking up with a trans girlfriend after 9 years of her lying to him, manipulating him, forcing him to become trans out of emotional abuse, forcing him to attack his own mother, forcing him to pay for her HRT for multiple years and forcing him to be in a poly relationship while not letting him meet the other girlfriends she was fucking regularly while never meeting him IRL a single time. Yeah guess I shoulda stayed with her, I'm the bad guy for not continuing to let her abuse me because her abusing me was "making her more comfortable in the relationship." Listen. I hate to break this to you. But if you act like this, or defend these people, you are a fucking psychopath and I no longer give a shit what you think about me. You are a bad person.)

PS: I usually get people asking, when I make posts like this, "Jay, did something happen?" because y'all assume every time I wanna make a post like this, I just got out of a fight with someone and needed to vent. The truth this time is that this has been boiling up for the last 12 years I've been here on Tumblr, seeing more and more and more of this fucking manipulative sociopath behavior becoming more and more commonplace and accepted and more and more people are scared to speak out against it because if just one of you fucking psychos can damage our reputation and get us fired from our workspace, imagine what thousands of you could do. Well, I'm done catering to y'all. If you are my friend, I will gladly act a certain way around you to make you comfy because I always strive to make my friends, family members, ect. as comfortable as possible.

But if I haven't met you and I'm expected to cater to your comfort zone's rules before even saying hi to you? I'm just noping the fuck out of there because you are a sick, twisted pervert with a fucking power fetish who is blind to how much of a manipulative shitwad you are.

PPS: I know, the assumption here is "Jay's gonna start saying the gamer word to poke the beehive now! He's looking for a fight!"

No, I literally am not. Why would I? I'm trying to live and be comfortable why the shit would I go out of my way to rile the psychos up? I'm gonna just hang out with my friends and family and fans who love me and continue being a respectful person towards people who are respectful in return, rather than go out of my way to find horrible scumbag people and attack them deliberately because I wanna start a fight or some shit. Why would I wanna be in a fight? Why would I wanna deliberately troll or rile people up? That makes me feel bad. I was yelled at and beat by my father for 25 years why would I go try to get myself yelled at more? So take off the tinfoil hat, stop assuming I'm announcing I'm gonna be more openly disrespectful on purpose. I'm a respectful person, I don't attack people, I don't troll people, I don't do anything to deliberately harm anyone.

So I ask you very politely.

If anything you read here today has tarnished your opinion of me?

Please just block me and move on, holy shit. Do the right thing, make yourself more comfortable, stop interacting. Don't waste your time trying to "get through to me" just leave, it's not worth either of our time. Do that with everyone you strongly disagree with. If someone offends you so much you're shitting blood just block them. Why the fuck y'all gotta keep putting your heads in sharks' mouths and then complaining they keep bitin' you.

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shadowkira · 1 month ago

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Today is one of those bad brain days where I feel lonely and am definitely feeling the burn out.

I went two weeks without a proper break at work, I really could not be on my phone at work for like... At least a month, if not longer... Wife and I are on different sleep schedules and while I miss my family... with the looming election and their political views I am not really interested in expending what little energy I have to go and see them atm.

I felt very defeated coming home and once again having no parking... and on the walk from the car to the house had the dawning realization very randomly that I get it. I randomly realized when I was younger I had no idea how someone so funny and seemingly happy like Robin Williams could take his life.

No, i am not suicidal. But I am so incredibly sad and burnt out and yet spend most days anymore just literally trying to make people smile and laugh because otherwise I feel like I can't. Beyond my wife and small family, that is my joy right now. And I feel like I can't even really enjoy it.

I find myself reading every comment but can't bring myself to strike up conversation. Or, if I respond it is not usually to carry conversation. I don't feel like I really know how to do that right now, unless it's customer service me. The performative bullshit I can do. I say that but really it is because I care. I have considered lately, if the emotional tax of my current job is too high. I feel like it's contributing to these issues. To this bone deep fatigue that seems to follow me every day and that seems to be getting worse.

I've interacted with some funny and very talented people and feel like just social fumble after social fumble the last few years. And got more and more, this since moving to the city.

Maybe we'll get lucky and catch a break with an apartment back where I am from soon. Or maybe get lucky with my wife's attempts to get disability.

Yall are cool and fun. I hope you're doing well if you read this far. Just needed to thought dump somewhere after smoking. I do miss fandom I'm just so bad at being a person right now.

I did just text someone, which feels like a monumental feat. Hopefully, I can put effort into reconnecting with friends and family... Maybe work through some of this.

I have felt accomplished the last two days, going to bed and waking up earlier. Getting things done before work... but I feel like this won't be sustainable. I honestly might fuck up tonight with how off I feel. :/

#Personal #Vent #Thought dump

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arginnit · 1 year ago

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hi im an anon to yell at. uhhhhh whats something discoursey i can say.

so cool to see people drawing dsmp stuff even if its dead

have some anger release, wadds

hi anon that is pretending to be an annoying person, thank you for your service and sorry for what I'm about to say:

to say that a fandom is dead/ should be dead when the HIGHLY POPULAR piece of Media that potentiated it (not started.the roots of the dsmp fandom are in smpe, smplive,soothouse and og dteam fans) ended a year or two ago is SUCH A BRAINDED TAKE. specially if you yourself used to be a fan and are now "out of it" or "got better"

your own stupid ego boost you get by saying that is not worth disrespecting literally an entire fanbase for.

also, if you, as self declared EX Fan find yourself constantly moaning about how "great the golden days where" and keep liking fanart and replying with "ah I miss this fandom so much" then maybe you're not an EX fan... maybe you're just in denial brother.

you don't have to excuse yourself or cry to everyone that you swear you're not a dstan every time you praise/even mention anything dsmp related. specially BELOW DSMP POSTS.

learn to behave like a person. if someone irl told you they're into cars or something and you respond "oh I used to really like cars y'know... not anymore... not after I saw one run over a dog... I hate cars that run over dogs.. other cars are fine tho" <- THAT'LL BE INSANE.

BAD analogy specifically when it comes to the dream situation but you get what I mean right?? is so FUCKING annoying to be trying to enjoy what you enjoy despite the flaws and the name of an awful person attached to it and have ppl just say that shit to you.

you don't have to try and guilt other fans into adopting your weird self deprecating mentality of apologizing every time you even think of the server.

you also have to stop bringing other shit into it. if ppl complain when fans apply dsmp headcanons to qsmp then I should get to complain when ppl do the inverse.

stop demonizing the server and stop also putting qsmp in this high pedestal as if the fanbase is any better when it's literally THE SAME PPL WITHOUT THE DSTANS.

there's still harassment. there's still misogyny. there's still truthers. YOURE NOT OUT OF THE WATER BUDDY.

it's not fair to compare the both servers in terms of quality and I stand by that. specially when qsmp was an organized effort by a team with custom mods and a planned narrative since the beginning (as well as an owner that actually cares)

#hi rant over for now.#vent ig #you can reblog tho #idk why youll want to but whatever #wddy #anon!!

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izloveshorses · 1 year ago

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before you came into my life, i missed you so bad

one | two |

Anya is the movie star the entire world is in love with. Dmitry is some broke owner of a dying bookshop in St. Petersburg. Her face is on every billboard, he couldn't care less about the latest blockbuster. But when their paths cross, somehow their differences-- nor half the globe separating them-- don't seem to matter.

Or a dimya Notting Hill au no one asked for.

chapter 1 under the cut, otherwise read the rest on ao3!

Anastasia Romanov may have been a graceful star on film, but she wished the paparazzi knew Anya was actually rather ordinary.

In the last week of filming, she managed to slip away out of the city center of St. Petersburg and into a more quaint residential area. She wanted to explore on her own for a bit after a rather grueling schedule, maybe get a pastry and some coffee, and otherwise just live anonymously for a few precious moments. The locals left her alone. But the paparazzi, somehow, always found her. She wondered if they had bloodhounds on leashes on their payroll.

Anya didn’t think much of it when she quietly slipped into this bookstore. Hadn’t paid attention to what kind of shop she was entering, just saw a door and a way to escape the parasites with their cameras for just a few moments of reprieve.

She hadn’t expected everything to change.

Once inside she beelined behind a shelf with her back to the door and the collar of her jacket pulled up even higher. It was overkill, she knew, with her black beret and sunglasses indoors, but she just. She just needed a break. Growing up in this industry made her a little more than paranoid, and lately they’ve been relentless.

“Is there anything you’re looking for?”

She hadn’t noticed the man until he spoke. He was sitting at the cash register, thumbing through stacks of papers and typing buttons on a calculator, using a friendly customer service voice but not really looking at her, his tone implying he hadn’t seen her yet. Maybe she hadn’t run out of luck today.

“Just browsing,” she said quickly. To prove it she made a show of brushing her fingers over the spines along the random shelf, ducking her head so he couldn’t get a good look at her if he decided to lift his head.

She finally allowed herself to really study the bookshop, and decided she liked it. There was a quiet charm about it that you just didn’t see very often anymore. Hollywood had all of those shops that were manufactured to look vintage and rustic and trendy— decorated with distressed furniture, selling new releases, hiring handsome men who also worked at the coffee shops that were just the same, in buildings that were torn down and rebuilt a year ago— but this place actually was old. The smell was musty and thick, it reminded her of her grandmother’s apartment in Paris and her father’s study all at once. There was a hush that suggested she was one of few, if not the only, customers in here at this hour.

An old clock ticked on the wall. Seven more minutes in here should be enough to throw the paparazzi off her trail. To keep up the pretenses, she selected the first random book her hand could grab and opened it without looking at the title.

“Oh, that book is terrible.”

The voice made her jump, eyes snapping up to him. He was still looking down at his paperwork but there was a teasing smile on his lips. “The author definitely has never been east of Strasbourg, let alone to Saint Petersburg,” he explained, looking up at her finally and his grin widening, dimples poking through his cheeks. Anya decided she liked his smile more than the bookshop.

Her eyebrows rose. He had surprised her, but she wouldn’t give him much more than that. And then, trying to understand what he was saying, she read the title. Travel Guide: Saint Petersburg, the Heart of Russia. Oh. He was making a joke.

In her silence he stood from the desk. It was a small bookshop so it only took two strides for him to join her in the aisle, reaching for a different title. He was tall. Like, really tall. Granted, everyone towered over her, especially when she was working with actors like Zachary Levi, but still. He was broad and carried himself with confidence that rivaled the men in Hollywood. In just a button up and a t-shirt and jeans, his presence would still command a room. She noticed he had a paperback folded in his back pocket. His dark hair flopped down into his eyes and curled behind his ears. She decided she liked that, too.

“If I may,” he started, casually, like he didn’t care about her opinion even though he was clearly working very hard to influence her purchase. “There’s a much better one… ah, here it is!” He hastily slid a different book from the shelf. “I can assure you this author has at least been to Russia. Definitely knows what he’s talking about.”

Without warning a smile tugged the corner of her mouth. She still couldn’t decide if he recognized her or not. But he was so charming that she felt comfortable humoring him, taking the book from his hand to examine it. It wasn’t part of a dull and surface-level series from a famous publishing company like the one she had inconsiderately chosen, but something lengthier, something more personal. “You care an awful lot about what kind of book I’m buying from you,” she finally said.

“Oh, you’ve got it wrong,” he said, his playful voice making her look back up at him, “I care because if you buy this and think, ‘this is the most god-awful book I’ve ever read,’ you’ll never want to come back to my bookshop. Or worse, you’ll think, ‘Saint Petersburg is the most god-awful place,’ and never want to return.”

“Hmm…” she couldn’t help it, her smile spread. “Well, I appreciate the commitment, then.”

“I’m just doing my duty as a bookseller, ma’am.”

She opened to the first page. “I see it’s signed by the author.”

“I couldn’t stop him.”

That did it— that made her laugh. It was just a short huff of air through her nose, but still, that didn’t happen very often anymore. Not with strangers or anyone outside of her family, anyway. She shook her head. When she looked up again he seemed pleased, not in a predatory way, not in a gotcha way either, but genuinely delighted by her, for her. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at her like that.

His eyes found something behind her and his whole expression changed. “Ah, shit,” he muttered, “sorry— hang on.”

And he disappeared to the back section she didn’t even realize existed. Curiosity made her scoot down away from her hiding spot to watch what had soured this very nice and very normal man. There was another customer in here after all, an even more normal-looking guy. “Hey, man,” her new friend the bookseller said. “If you would like that book you stuffed into your shirt, you can buy it.”

The customer just stared. “I don’t have a book stuffed in my shirt.”

“You do. There’s a security camera back here and the monitor is behind my desk.”

Anya found the camera he was pointing to. Impressive. She made her way to another aisle, still pretending to browse while she eavesdropped.

“Look, man, it’s embarrassing enough to steal from a bookstore. But stealing from a travel bookstore? Come on. I’m probably more broke than you are.”

His back was to her, but he had his hands on his hips, his tone more disappointed and annoyed than threatening. She wondered if he knew how far he could get with such powers of persuasion. How he would do wonders in the film industry.

They went back and forth a few more times before the bookseller guy won out. She was facing the register so he gave her an aggravated yet humored smile, an inside joke smile, as he walked behind the desk. She didn’t know why she was still lingering here, now that she had been inside long enough.

But maybe she had overstayed because on his way out, the wannabe thief muttered, “Can I have your autograph?”

She winced. She should’ve seen this coming, but a lot of what had happened today disarmed her. His expression was shy yet unblinking. Staring at her with that strange want. He was already holding out his new book for her to sign. Without her control her eyes glanced over at the cashier, trying to read him. His brows were pulled together in puzzlement. It was nice while it lasted, she thought.

She accepted the pen with a sigh. “To…”

“Peter.”

When she handed the receipt back to him she started walking toward the register so she could speed up this part a bit. But the guy still lingered. “What’s the note at the top?”

Her sigh was thin. She looked up at him. Her handwriting was perfect, there was no way he couldn’t read it, but maybe he didn’t believe it. “It says, ‘To the shitty book thief, Peter’.”

Poor Peter’s face flushed red. “Thank you,” he muttered before nearly running outside.

The cashier’s smile was wide, surprised, his eyebrows high. But he moved slower now, more cautious, like he was trying to decipher the interaction that was daily for her and bizarre to him. “Just the one?” he asked gingerly as he scanned the barcode of the book and hit a few numbers on the register.

She fumbled in her purse for some cash, but she must’ve left all of that back in her hotel. Debit card it was, then.

Up until then she wasn’t sure, but now she definitely knew he wasn’t playing dumb at all when he acted like he hadn’t recognized her. Because he didn’t until now. As the receipt printed his eyes widened and he did a double take, up to her face and then down at the name printed out, the nearly imperceptible intake of breath making his chest expand. Almost reflexively his hand came up to push his bangs away from his face.

“Uh… I just need you to sign…”

She grabbed a little pen from the cup in front of the register and carefully signed her name above where it was printed. And then he surprised her again.

“This isn’t some gimmick to get your autograph, though, I promise.”

She smiled up at him, almost apologetic. “Thank you for your devoted assistance.”

She thought the joke fell a little flat but he still smiled, though she couldn’t tell if he was just in shock or was embarrassed he didn’t recognize her sooner or if he was genuinely laughing. She made sure to pick up a business card on her way out.

She didn’t look at the card until she was outside again, a bell ringing as the door shut behind her. Dmitry Sudayev, the card said.

Even though she knew she’d never see him again, somehow she found she had already memorized the shape of his name without trying.

~~~

Dmitry was an idiot.

No, worse than an idiot. Dumbass wasn’t even strong enough of a word for someone who met Anastasia Romanov in his own bookshop and didn’t even recognize her. For god’s sake, he flirted with her! Right to her face!

Not that he wanted her autograph or anything. He just… probably would have behaved more appropriately. And not pretend that a girl like that would ever give him a chance. Vlad had warned him his lack of pop culture engagement would bite him in the ass one day. Maybe this was it. Karma or something in the universe was laughing at him. Her face was plastered on every billboard and film poster and TV commercial and Oscars recap footage and he was so out of touch with the world he didn’t even realize one of the most famous Hollywood actresses in the world was standing right in front of him. She probably thought he was some loser.

Then again, she had smiled up at him, and it seemed so genuine…

The door chimed. “So sorry I’m late!” Vlad whistled his way through the shop, some tune Dmitry recognized from the radio. “The metro workers were on strike again, so the line was down.”

He looked up from his desk, where he’d been staring at his pile of paperwork in misery, hands folded in his own hair.

Vlad hung up his coat on the rack. “Did I miss anything?”

Usually, the mornings at work were so uneventful that this was their joke— that they would miss something exciting if one of them was late. But Dmitry didn’t know how to answer that in a way his coworker would believe him.

He stood from his desk, the chair nearly tipping over from the force of it. “I— need coffee,” he explained, shrugging on his own jacket. “Want anything?”

Vlad didn’t seem to notice Dmitry’s odd behavior and happily requested a latte— unless he was going to that place around the block, then he would rather have the tea, since their lattes sucked.

On the way back, drink carrier in hand, Dmitry was so lost in thought he wasn’t paying attention as he turned the corner and literally collided with someone.

“Oh my god— sorry—” he fumbled, and then his heart stopped when he realized who was now wearing his drink. She had her sunglasses on, but there was no mistaking it. It was her. “Shit— I’m so sorry, can I—”

“Don’t,” she said when he reached for her. Right. Fair. He uselessly handed her a paper napkin.

God. Could this day get any worse?

“Look— don’t take this the wrong way, but my flat is nearby if you want to change.”

She leveled a glare at him. How starkly different this was than their meeting this morning. Well, he would glare too, if their roles were reversed. “How near are we talking? Give me a numerical distance.”

He had to fight a smile. “Literally across the street. Look,” he pointed to the door of his townhouse. “See that maroon door? That one’s mine. My roommate isn’t home.”

Her expression remained the same. “If this is a trick—”

“No tricks,” he held up both of his hands. “Scout’s honor.”

She pursed her lips, looking left and right, then down at her stained top, weighing her options. “Don’t let anyone see.”

“Got it.”

They crossed the street when traffic broke, and he fumbled with his keys before pushing the door open, letting her walk inside first. He hoped she knew this wasn’t some play, he just wanted to make up for being so clumsy this morning.

“Bathroom is just up the stairs,” he said, locking the door behind them. “Take as long as you need. The sink works, but you need to turn on the hot and cold at the same time…”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” she said, brushing past him up the stairs.

“Do you need— clothes? Or something?”

“I’ve got some,” she dismissed. “I was going to change eventually anyway. To ditch the photographers.”

“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling more and more idiotic by the second. When he heard the door shut he scrambled to straighten up.

His flat wasn’t a mess, exactly. His roommate was tidy. Dmitry was tidy too, but the space felt a little too lived-in for company. He couldn’t remember the last time a guest stepped foot inside. His bike was by the door instead of in the closet, the throw blankets hadn’t been folded, a handful of dishes sat in the drying rack. He stopped racing around when he heard her quiet tread on the steps and he tried to lean as casually as possible against the counter.

Anastasia had changed from her black ensemble to something brown and patterned, still too stylish to blend in, in his opinion, but appropriate for the October weather. With her sunglasses off her eyes were the bluest thing in the room.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, then cleared his throat because his voice was strangely out of tune.

“No, thank you,” she answered. Her annoyance with him had dissipated a little, thankfully.

And then the lock of his door was turning and he bit back a groan. “That’s— my roommate,” he explained, “he’s harmless but— there’s no excuse for him, I’m so sorry.”

She raised her eyebrows, confused, before the door swung open. Gleb Vaganov had moved in about a year ago— there was no way Dmitry could afford the place without him— and could not have been stranger. He walked in without so much as a glance up from his phone. He literally walked between Dmitry and Anastasia, opening the fridge, like he didn’t notice either of them.

“I think the lady next door has stolen my package again,” he finally said, opening a bottle of kombucha.

Dmitry rolled his eyes. “Did you remember to check the tracking info?”

“Yes, it says it arrived this morning.”

“Sometimes they’re wrong. Or they dropped it off at the other neighbor’s again.”

“Hmm.” Gleb’s frown deepened, and he literally had to step around Anastasia to go back outside. Her smile was widening. Like she was biting back a laugh. The feeling was contagious.

“He seems nice,” she said.

Dmitry scratched the back of his neck. “He at least keeps things clean.”

“Important.”

“Right.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, unsure what to do now. “Are you sure you don’t want anything? I have tea, I think, and…” he opened the fridge. “The kombucha is off limits, I’m afraid, but we’ve got… uh, orange juice? Or leftover stroganoff if you’re hungry, or some peaches— no, those are rotten, actually— umm—”

“I’m really okay,” she insisted, her hand on his shoulder sending electricity through his body down to his toes.

He met her eyes and shut the fridge. “You sure? I feel like I’ve been a complete jackass to you today.”

“Hmm,” she stepped closer. “Other than dumping your coffee on me,” she started, and he laughed, ducking his head, embarrassed, “you’ve been quite lovely.”

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “You’ve been too. Lovely, I mean.” What was happening to him? Even as a teenager he didn’t bumble around this much. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

She tilted her head. “You as well.”

Still, she made no move to leave, and he made no move to show her the way out. A clock ticked.

“If…” he searched for something to say, groping for a chance to keep her here, just a second more. “If you ever need a travel book again, you know where to go.”

She gave him a smile. “I appreciate it.”

For a moment neither said a word. And then Anastasia rose up on her toes to press her lips to his.

He froze, eyes wide, gasping through his nose, completely surprised. It was quick, but his skin burned at the invisible mark she’d left, his cheeks undoubtedly red. When she dropped back down to her heels she was flushed too, perhaps just as surprised by her own actions as he was.

Well.

He tried saying something cool and funny, like, Is this how you say goodbye to everyone you meet? But all that came out of his mouth was, “Uhhhhmm…”

She took a wide step back, like stepping out of a trance. She tucked a loose hair behind her ear. “Thanks again, for the… Bathroom.”

Somehow he found his voice. “Anytime.” He blinked. “See you around?”

She gave him an odd look, and then he remembered he would probably never see her again. “Have a nice life, Dmitry,” she said instead. And then let herself out.

Dmitry didn’t know how long he stood there in the middle of his kitchen. A clock ticked. His fingers rose up to trace his bottom lip, feeling stupid and oh so giddy.

Gleb came back in with a box. “It was on the wrong doorstep!” He stomped through the kitchen with a satisfied smile. “We really ought to repaint the number on our door, that may prevent this mistake from happening again…”

Dmitry, understandably, didn’t return the enthusiasm.

He walked back to the shop in a daze, not even realizing his jacket fell in a limp pile on the floor when he tried to hang it on the wobbly rack.

Vlad frowned from behind the register. “Hey, where’s the coffee?”

#anastasia broadway #dimya #fanfiction #my writing #notting hill au #another wip!! let's go!!!!!#at least one that's presentable enough to begin sharing lol #but anyway #something light and fluffy to start our october <33 #i do appreciate Just Some Guy dmitry sudayev and Famous Person anya it has to be said

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tommyssupercoolblog · 8 months ago

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HERE ARE 55 FANFIC IDEAS/PROMPTS (some detailed, some not) that i wrote down in google docs to make septicinnit fics for but never did actually made full fics of; some are short one sentence ideas and others are full plots!!!

I posted these because there was a time period where we were super hyperfixated on writing together (almost like a d&d roleplay but you're yourselves and also it's just text) as like our main bonding hobby and wrote down way too many fucking ideas- we don't rlly write like that anymore (we do other stuff when we hangout or have dates) and so most of these have been sitting in our google docs for a long time and i felt bad abt wasting them. now though!!! they won't rot away in the secret depths of google docs!!!

soulmates switch bodies, (through TIME) on a specific birthday. So, when tmy turns (age), he switches bodies with a s3án of the SAME age. Neither of them will remember the experience after, so it's their job to leave clues or enlist friends to help them track their Soulmate down. tmy's friends gather the night before his birthday and vow to figure out who his soulmate is and help him find them. (Past!s3án is very confused about all the things that have changed (tech, gay marriage being legal) and also very awkward because he's still an anxious bean.) (can you tell we wrote this one after a Your Name rewatch)

2. THEY MAKE A LONG FURBY TOGETHER!!!!! They both help design, scrap, sew and put it together by hand, and they decide on a name together, and it ends up becoming their sort of child and now they’re gay parents of a long furby (maybe they aren’t together when they decide to make it but they end up bonding over the furby and it helps them get together in a way??)

3. Coffee Shop AU where s3án is the owner and barista at T0p 0f Th3 M0rn1ng C0ff3e, which in the fic is an actual physical coffee shop. tmy becomes his first regular customer and also flirts with him over the counter a lot.

4. The five times tmy tries to hit on s3án and fails miserably (except shhh no he doesn't), and the one time he’s actually successful.

5. Sickfic again (I wrote one already) but it’s established relationship and S3án'S one who gets sick this time. Tmy is very determined to take good care of him, help walk him around the house when/if he needs it, make him soup, etc. Maybe he tries to cook but is kind of bad at it and S3án eats it anyway. Maybe tmy brushes his hair out of his face to check his temperature,,, hhhh fluff

6. tmy and s3án going to the movies and having a good time. That's it. That's the prompt.

7. s3án teaches tmy about The Wheel Of The Year and a bunch of celtic pagan traditions and stories (and some catholic ones, of course, bc he grew up in that too) and tmy EATS THAT SHIT UP bc anything remotely s3án-related is precious to him

8. Tmy finds out that there's services where you can just. Pay to go on a date with some guy (or other person), like a rental-boyfriend type thing. He’s like, “Yeah. I can go on a date with some guy to try it (being gay) out. Why not?” and while you can make requests, he decides, “fuck it, why browse the catalouge and make myself more anxious, I’ll just have them send some random guy”. Turns out, s3án works there part-time. Also turns out, he gets selected to go be tmy’s date. Oops.

9. ICE SKATING ICE SKATING ICE SKATING ICE SKATING BARKBARKBARK

10. tmy pretending to purr every time s3án shows him affection to be annoying

11. They keep fucking flirting on stream and everyone is so annoyed because they will NOT stop hitting on each other and playing it up and it’s like. “Get a fucking room ohh my god,,,”

12. S3án goes to a party with his friends and uses an ouija board, but this accidentally lets tmy into the human realm where he follows him home and haunts him!!!! Does silly shit like moving magnets on the fridge to spell penis or drinking all the milk or going just solid enough to throw a pillow at him and then becoming un-physical again so he can’t retaliate. (the pranks and haunting are actually just bc he thinks S3án is cute tho. And S3án ends up warming up to it.)

13. s3án is TRYING to make cookies but tmy keeps attempting to steal batter from the bowl, and it escalates into a food fight for the history books (ofc they have to clean up after)

14. MAKING 👏 PLAYLISTS👏 FOR 👏 EACH 👏 OTHER 👏👏

15. tmy’s anxiety gets out of hand and he starts overworking himself. s3án’s been there (I mean, he used to upload every day for christ’s sake) and so he does his best to help.

16. s3án is crushing on tmy and gets pretty upset about tmy flirting with…. every guy ever on twitter (and also on stream) but tries to hide it. tmy realizes he's jealous/pining and confronts him about his feelings.

17. Animal Hybrid Au where tmy's like. A Feral cat (or smthn like that. Maybe a vulture instead?) and keeps bringing s3án (human or more domestic animal) dead things and at first s3án’s very put off by it but he warms up to it over time

18. tmy wants to do a storytime vlog of his first kiss but realizes he's technically never kissed anyone on the lips, so tries to convince s3án to kiss him (on camera) for the clout.

19. s3án gets into an argument with someone who's saying mean shit about tmy, and they turn to insulting s3án instead (maybe even making threats). It is at this point that tmy conveniently stumbles upon the conversation and immediately tries to THROW HANDS

20. tmy going to a party, having a hangover, and then s3án caring for him and helping him get better.

21. s3án helping tmy when he wants to try painting his nails for the first time <<<3

22. tmy tries to be flirty/romantic to s3án in Irish bc. He’s irish. But conveniently forgets that even IN ireland everyone speaks english because the language is basically dead. s3án is. Confused. And only gets like half of the words

23. tmy being emberassed abt how he hordes things and s3án showing tmy his own little weird quirks so he feels better

24. They’re both autistic and adhd - tmy has internalized ableism like younger s3án did and s3án helps him slowly realize it’s ok that he needs extra help and stuff for things.

25. Another autism one- tmy helping s3án through a sensory overload!!!

26. ANOTHER another autism one- s3án slowly piecing together some of why tmy does stuff he does, like learning he likes routines and sameness and figuring out he genuine;y cant tell when someone is annoyed with him (cough cough… mr b34st hates me video…) and helps him out, supports him, just accommodates him and tries to explain to other ppl when they don’t get it. Also sees himself in some of these things to a lesser extent and ends up figuring out they’re both autistic as hell

27. They start flirting and calling each other their boyfriends as a bit and then uh oh! It's not a bit anymore !!!! because they’re literally cuddling wearing each others clothes and everyone just reads it as actually being gay and because the jokes aren’t really jokes anymore the flirting is beginning to hit different

28. (Based on the Time Source!tmy had a beard for like. A bit) s3án hyping tmy up when he grows a beard bc tmy's so happy with it and s3án wants to support his weird fashion choice

29. Snowed in :0000 ??!!!!! SNOWED IN???? And eventually the heater breaks and they have to huddle for warmth????

30. Since tmy can sing and play piano, he decides to give s3án a little private concert to subtly (or well, not that subtly) reveal his feelings and. It’s very cute

31. s3án kisses tmy at a con when they think no one's looking, but the next morning it's all over the internet. s3án is definitely terrified but tmy is feeling even worse, so he comforts him and they take care of each other, staying in the hotel to wait for things to blow over and trying not to go outside

32. Fic where tmy speaks a fluent second language, and a mutual friend of him and s3án speaks the same language- unknown to tmy. This friend hears tmy confess in this language and now has to cover for him, KNOWING he has a crush on s3án. This gets worse when they are out shopping and s3án, talking in korean w a cashier who speaks it, shyly admits to the cashier that he’s buying something for a crush, ALSO NOT KNOWING that this friend speaks THAT LANGUAGE TOO, before handing it over to tmy as a gift a few minutes after they leave. So NOW they have to live with the knowledge that both of these fuckers like each other, but they also don't wanna be a fucking snitch. Comedy.

33. s3án and tmy are chilling when Uh Oh, Religious Trauma!!!! tmy cuddles him and comforts him until he feels better. Major angst and hurt/comfort

34. one of them goes on some sort of podcast and when the hosts mention the other he almost immediately accidentally leaks that they're together lol

35. tmy’s drawing, and for background noise, starts listening to music he knows s3án likes to try and feel closer to him.

36. s3án and tmy TRY to watch a Generic Seasonal Movie ™ (Christmas or Halloween) On Netflix to try and get into the spirit, but they’re too hyperactive to pay attention and so they give up halfway through and go out to get fast food.

37. They're talking to a third party when s3án slips in conversation and calls tmy “his” tmy. tmy is ELATED

38. AQUARIUM DATE *foams at mouth*

39. tmy gets kinda nervous that no one takes him seriously bc of how extra™️ and loud and hyper he is and also because he likes pretty childish stuff and s3án helps out and it's pog

40. :00 showering together /nsx

41. Soulmate AU where the first time your soulmate kisses you (anywhere), it leaves colors on your skin for a bit

42. Obligatory beach episode; s3án is shirtless and tmy is GAY or vice versa

43. s3án helping tmy through a thunderstorm (bc those are scary as FUCK)

44. S3án trying to teach tmy how to play 3ld3n R1ng or D4rk S0uls and tmy is...bad at it

45. Delirious giggly all nighter softness. Maybe w snacks??? They’re so eepy and sleepy,,,,, they’re so uwu,,,,,

46. Meeting!! tmy’s!!! Parents!!! s3án already met them at tmy’s show but now he’s meeting them as tmy’s BOYFRIEND and he’s lowkey nervous as hell

47. s3án realizes he likes tmy, and because he’s a hopeless romantic he starts listening to embarrassingly cutesy generic love songs about it. That's it that's the prompt I just think it's funny to imagine Jck S3ptic Eye, heavy metal fan, listening to 3d Sh3eran or even kpop like Twic3 or some other cutesy kpop group LMAOOOOO. His headphones unplug on accident or some shit and it's T4yl0r Sw1ft’s “You Belong With Me” and he's cripplingly embarrassed. like. It's so funny to me.

48. tmy1nn1t starts sleeping with a jcks3pt1c3ye stuffed animal (like the t0tm coffee one) and tries to keep it a secret because he's emberassed, but he goes over to s3án's house and s3án forgets to his his own tmy1NN1T stuffed animal, which tmy sees very obviously in his bed next to his pillow when he comes over.

49. In which people's hearts/feelings can manifest physically if they ignore and repress them enough, so tmy gets stuck trying to wrangle another, tinier little nonverbal chibi tmy (like three to four inches tall) that is extremely obvious abt his feelings for s3án and VERY intent about getting his attention. One day, s3án comes over and tmy locks the smaller tmy in a drawer, but this mini tmy manages to escape, hitching a ride in s3án’s bag so he can be with him and follow him around. When tmy realizes what's happened, he's HORRIFIED and tries to figure out where s3án's going/been to try and get the his heart back before s3án figures it out, and of course at the same time s3án ends up slowly realizing he has a little hitchhiker and taking care of him. He thinks the little tmy is very cute and is endeared by him, and also figures out he has a crush because tiny tmy is the opposite of subtle and very obvious on purpose (kissing him where he can reach and stuff, begging for attention by whining like a puppy and making happy little noises when it is RECEIVED) By the time tmy catches up with him his little self is like. Hugging s3án’s hand/finger all affectionate and squeaking happily while s3án, petting the little guy, looks up to the actual tmy and is like. “i assume this is yours lol?”

50. S3án realizing he likes tmmy and then being really shy around him after and kind of caught off guard/embarrassed by it. That being said he cannot get it together and stop acting like a nervous little kid w a crush, he’s so shy and flustered and it's so painfully obvious how he feels that he’s kicking himself. Thankfully Tmy is immune to social cues so it’s only obvious to literally everyone else. Tmy is harem protagonist levels of dense to the point s3án would think it was on purpose if he didn’t know him well enough to know he is just Like That- and he only puts it together when he is told DIRECTLY and CLEARLY that s3án likes him, where upon he is super starstruck and confused (really??? For real??? U like me??? ME???? omg???) like it hasn’t been on a billboard in bold letters for months. (this is a very autistic prompt. Autism wins)

51. Classic “truth or dare kiss and whoopsies i liked it too much” but the twist?? It’s drunk and on a livestream so they have to have the internal panic afterwords live and mask it despite being too drunk to do it well at all

52. Secret admirer trope,,,,, woah,,,,,,

53. You get a specific task you have to complete to reveal who your soulmate is. Tmy's task is to fold a thousand paper cranes. He enlists s3án for help, they hang out and bond and have a fun time, and S3án is his soulmate yippee!!! (S3án couldn't complete his own task when he got it for whatever reason, so he is also surprised)

54. DOUBLE LIFE AU. DOUBLE LIFE AU. LOOK ME DEAD IN THE FUCKING EYES. DOUBLE LIFE AU

55. S3án is a shapeshifter/changeling and Tmmy is a bard type magic user who finds out about this mysterious shapeshifter a few towns over and is VERY intrigued and then he meets him and he's not only a shapeshifter but also this silly loud guy who's honestly very weird and pretty and tmy is like. "I am going to seduce this funky little magic creature if it litterally fucking kills me".

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