#Which idk if I am I'll get there when I get there

[abusivelittlebunny]

“I got some plans for Liam”

Now I’m going to take a real risk here and guess that this maybe involves Carlos and then Liam ending up almost passed out in a hotel bed followed by a litter of pups

I mean you're not far off- but it's a bit more.... dark. Than that.

I'm gonna yap about this below the cut if you wish to be spoiler free I understand, I'm already in the process of writing 2 fics for this omegaverse au series so idk when I'll get to this line so might as well put out a little teaser here lest I forget.

Warnings for nongraphic mentions of dubcon/forced abortion/underage

This part is set after the busted condom fiasco so early to mid '25 season. Charles, Max, George, Oscar, Franco, Teto and Logan all had pups sired by Carlos at this point and Lando and Arthur are currently pregnant because of him too (Lando actually tried to get a baby by Carlos many times before but had fertility issues and only managed to keep a pregnancy now, and Arthur was knocked up on purpose by Carlos as revenge for something).

Carlos is still not within an inch of the reconciliation phase with Charles, however the divorce never passed through legally due to Charles refusing to sign and blocking every attempt at it therefore Carlos spends most of his free time bouncing back and forth between the different mothers of his children, because he is actually a good father and alpha and wants to take part in raising the kids as much as he can.

But he spends his most restful time with Max, who knows him better than anyone else due to their tragic intertwined past (which I am writing about currently) and he hears him out on anything that troubles the closest thing he has to a proper mate now even though Max is bonded and married to Horner.

One of these evenings, where for the better part of it Carlos just adores his tiny alpha twin sons that Max birthed for him in January, before putting them to bed and then finally fucking Max slow and loving into a sleepy mess. They were cuddling with the sweat still cooling on their skin, locked together by Carlos' knot when Carlos asked him what troubles Max so much. He's been frowning nonstop for weeks now and even after getting his brains fucked out the permanent frown seems to seep into his relaxed features and Carlos just wants to help any way he can to ease his worries.

Max sighs and confesses what has been bothering him. Liam.

You see, after Jos forcefully ripped Carlos and Max apart in their teenage years forcing Max to abort the baby they were going to have, he sold Max to Horner as a bride. Max was of course scared and broken, not even near 18 yet and Horner was a notoriously well, horny alpha (badumtsss) who kept flirting with Max even before. But through this sell Max got his redbull contract too! And it turned out, Horner wasn't that bad an alpha Max thought him out to be. Sure, he was a pervert and an asshole at times, but he was also caring and kept Max on a much looser leash than his father used to.

Max wasn't in love with Horner, or well, there was love eventually but nothing like what he had for Carlos; his affection had to grow over time with some babies added into the mix. Oh yeah Max already had 2 kids from Horner by this point an alpha son and an alpha daughter before he got knocked up with Carlos' twins. But yeah, after over a decade of marriage and two kids you will form an attachment to your occasionally very sweet husband that you like to ride after every race win or at least get a bit territorial over his knot.

A knot which Liam was very much coming for.

There's a very solid and evident reason why Liam got his seat; he was a little slut bouncing on Max's husband's dick like a ping-pong ball ever since his academy days. Max pretended he didn't care, it wasn't like he was I love with Horner or anything that would be stupid of course, and besides, Horner had a thing for letting, watching or even taking part in letting other men fuck Max. He was the first to suggest the post-win gangbangs Max got from his mechanics, he was the one who gave the go ahead to Daniel to fuck little Maxy's brains out on the regular to make him miss Carlos less, he also assigned Checo as a service top for Max to ride out his frustrations on.

And later on he even let Carlos visit on occasion but he was more careful with that. He knew very well of their torn love and didn't want Max to leave him once the contract his father wrote up ran its due course. But when Max got pregnant with Carlos' kids, he had to let him visit more often to keep their marriage intact. And Max didn't ask where Horner went when Carlos came over for the weekend. He assumed he'd entertain himself with some pretty thing himself in some hotel or their summer house, nothing serious.

Well. That was until Max looked at Horner's phone one evening while they were getting ready for a gala they were supposed to attend that evening. He didn't mean to scroll through his messages or anything, just grab the phone and bring it to the bathroom where Horner was getting ready; but then the messages that popped up stopped him dead in his tracks.

Liam: OMG I looove these♡ [4×jpeg attached] thank you daddy you treat me soooo well♡♡

Liam: can't wait for the weekend to show how they fit in person ;)♡

Liam: [jpeg attached] this one goes soooo well with my ring I think I'll wear it on our honeymoon ♡♡

On your fucking what now.

Opening the image attachments, there was Liam in various sets of expensive lingerie; looking like some onlyfans whore in pink, purple, red, and white satin and lace. And with a very prominent diamond ring on his finger almost jabbing Max in the eye through the screen.

Max was in utter shock; Horner only ever batted away Max's scoffs about Liam whenever he caught the younger omega slip out of his husband's office with a flushed face and fucked raw lips. He said he just liked to play with the boy a little, nothing serious. It helped Liam focus on making him proud on track and eased Horner's pent up tension. He was nothing more than a pocket pussy, is what he said; but since when are you putting a gaudy fucking diamond ring on that pocket pussy now raving nonsense of a honeymoon?

Max flipped through the rest of their chat, grimacing at the amount of tacky slutty selfies and pics Liam sent almost daily to his husband and Horner's dick pics in response, and he could only roll his eyes at the paragraphs of dirty talk. His focus was dead set on the messages where Liam was nagging Horner to leave Max and marry him finally.

The little whore couldn't contain his greed. Max was 100% sure he sucked his way into the red bull training academy and gave the sloppiest head on the daily to whoever he needed to on the daily to get to be second driver besides Yuki, and there was no question about how he molded his cunt to Horner's cock to get that red bull second seat. And now he wanted to go a step further towards dethroning Max and take his fucking husband away.

And Max was ready to gut a bitch before letting that happen. Especially now, months into his next pregnancy.

He of course threw a fit at Horner after the gala when he gathered coherence back and put the kids to bed, near punching his husband's lights out but Horner tried to reassure him that he wasn't actually going to keep his empty promises to Liam, he was just keeping him motivated with the next big reward on the horizon, Max has no reason to fear.

But Max knew the power an omega held between his legs; if Liam pulls a Charles maneuver, busts some condoms and disregards his birth control, Horner could be singing a different tune.

He saw it happen to George and he shudders to think about ending up like him; bending over backwards trying to please a negligent husband like Toto who spends most of his time in Kimi's bed still, even more obsessed with the kid since he got inspired by Charles too and announced that he was pregnant with Toto's child. George had to stomach having his husband move that little rat into their home as an official mistress so he could look after Kimi properly and demanded of George to get along with him. And all George got in thanks for it was their pre-scheduled fucks and Toto not completely ignoring their kids.

Carlos was there and tried to look after George as often as he could but he had other baby mamas to care for too and he couldn't marry George with Charles' death grip on their wedding rings.

He couldn't let such miserable fate befall him; he needed to put Liam down a peg or two, remind him just who was he trying to stab in the back and throw over and stop him from getting what he wants.

"Tell me what to do and I'll do it." Carlos kissed the words into Max's nape, rubbing at his belly to calm Max's anger.

"What you do best." Max snorted, tilting his head back for a kiss, caressing at Carlos' overgrown stubble. "His heat is in a week. I saw it in Horner's calendar. I'm scheduled away for that time and I can't keep him from seeing Liam unless..."

"I see him first." Carlos finished the thought for him, a matching smirk forming on both of their faces.

"Exactly. He will be in the factory up until Wednesday before taking time off. You going to his place might be too suspicious since you never talked before, but catching him at the factory where you tend to come to visit me less so."

"So I take him home and keel him occupied in my bed for the duration of his heat." Carlos hummed, already rolling over his own schedule; he was meant to take Lando out and give a visit to Charles and baby Jules that week. He could postpone, surely, although he can already tell Charles will sulk about it for months after.

"I need him occupied indefinitely." Max corrected and at Carlos' curious look he specified, "Don't bother with a condom. He's not been taking his birth control either since his nagging increased. He got hormonal acne breakouts and gives off an openly fertile scent, I can tell. You'll knock him up I record time, he's not Lando."

Carlos didn't mention how that jab wasn't necessary, only frowned, "I don't care for that kid that much to have a baby with him. I don't care for him at all in fact."

"You don't have to have a baby with him, just get him pregnant. Then you'll tell him you don't want hid baby and he will have no choice but to take himself to a clinic and get rid of it. And Horner will immediately feel differently about that bitch." Horner was many things but not a monster and he was always very sensitive towards the forced abortion Max had to endure as a teenager, hence why he always said he doesn't care who knocked up Max, he was ready to play stepfather rather than have him abort it. He was an old fashioned alpha.

Carlos was doubtful at first; he never asked any of the omegas he knocked up to get rid of his baby, the alpha in him was far too territorial for such a request, but if it was to hurt the boy that was hurting his Maxy, maybe he could manage.

"Leave it to me, mi amor."

If only things went according to plan that is.

[elchis-art-dump]

I love the baby seikret <333

+rant post

With MH Wilds finally out I wanted to rant about how I feel about it so far. For reference I just beat ray dau, which I feel is a good place to compare the full release to open beta 1 (I didn't play the others). The only other MH games I've play are World and Rise, but mostly World, so I'll be talking from that perspective and will be making a lot of comparisons to World.

Combat:

To preface this, I'm a hammer main and have been mostly playing hammer, so all of my more specific points may only apply there. I want to get my main issue so far out of the way, the game is really easy so far. I've averaged about 10 minutes a hunt on some of the harder monsters. My first ray dau hunt took about 9 minutes, while in the beta it took about 40 minutes + two faints. I know that I'm still early in the game, but the apex of a region being that easy kind of concerns me. The ratholos and diablos story quests in world, or even earlier monsters, felt far harder at the time. It's entirely possible that I've become more skilled over time, considering that it's been a few years since I did low rank World, but some monsters have felt way to easy. Now that that's done with, I think that the combat feels fantastic. Hammer over all combos better, the spinning bludgeon comboing from any attack really helps that. The dodge you get for charging is also fantastic (having evade extender with makes it even better), I honestly find it most helpful as a tool to close distances. Having only the walking speed while charging is kinda annoying, so having this dodge is a huge offensive boon despite it being a more defensive tool. I'm also in love with the wounding mechanic; it feels like what Iceborne was trying to do with tenderizing parts but better. It's no longer tied to having to use a somewhat risky option (although I miss wall bangs). I like how spontaneous it is and that their easily destroyed. These make it feel less like a free damage boost, rather it's far more deliberate since you need to actually target specific parts to break wounds. It's also a fun way to supplement the lower quest rewards since it gives you material.

Environment:

The game is absolutely beautiful and I'm in love with it. The environmental design is fantastic, each area feels super creative (big shout out to the oil basin). The weather changing the area itself is just awesome. I just cannot express how cool, beautiful, and creative the environments are. It seems to be taking a similar approach to World with the incredibly detailed areas, but unlike World everything feels as big as it should be. The open world aspect really makes everything bigger lol. I think the size makes everything feel more reasonable in a way. Unfortunately I don't feel like the areas are quite as memorable as world. Maybe I just haven't gone out of my way to explore them enough (we'll get to that later). I am very excited to get to explore the oil basin tho, absolutely wild area idea.

Two weapons + weapons skills:

I don't think I have much to say here other than that I really like this. No longer having my offenses being tied to my armor saves me from having to decide on if I value my defense or offense more (I still value skills more, but at least armor skills help keep me alive). Weapons skill in tandem with two weapons really incentives choosing weapons that synergize with each other and I just love that.

Performance:

I've seen people complain about performance issues, but so far it runs well on PS5 (idk about PC). I've had one hunt with performance issues, but it was multiplayer and I've only done two multiplayer hunts, soooooo idk what the issue was.

Railroading:

Definitely my biggest gripe with the game. I get that Wilds is far more narrative than other games, but I hate when games tell me I'm not allowed to do something. It just sucks that the game will force me into things immediately before and after a hunt. Considering that at worst it's annoying, this isn't a huge criticism.

Tracking:

Another small point, I just wish that you didn't immediately know where a monster is on the map. I like the scoutflies in world and gathering tracks since it made you explore. I just miss it, man...

Seikrets:

They're adorable and I love them <3333

[misstrashchan]

*rubs hands together* okie dokie:

1) okay okay I have a slight variation on the dance reprise prediction where they're sparring again but in a more serious, dance-fight manner than their previous sparring which is kind of clumsy and fumbling. this is in contrast with all the other main cast couples (bb, wk and rn) dancing at some party. just because both ruby and oscar wouldn't feel like they have the luxury of dancing still but still end up having fun in their own way. especially if oscar has changed the Long Memory in some way and by fighting Ruby with it they're showing themselves to each other.

2) ruby helps/suggests to oscar to forge his own weapon to add as extension to the Long Memory. something something "I'll be who you are and I'll be even more". would like to see the reprise of ruby being a weapons nerd and using that to reassure Oscar about his sense of identity. unlocking his semblance might not be something ruby can help with or that oscar can control when it happens, but weapons are also a part of the self too, and that is something oscar can put more of himself into showing/expressing, and that ruby can help with. (give him spear priveliges!!!!)

3) oscar unlocks a time related semblance to save ruby, and maybe uses it to support her in using her silver eyes so he can slow down time for her (complimentary to her speedy semblance) to feel what she needs to feel. in a more general prediction I guess oscar unlocks his semblance to save/support ruby in some way

4) going off the weapons stuff again just like. them complimenting each others weapons but the clear subtext is it's them complimenting each other indirectly. just because ruby's relationship with her sense of self and Crescent Rose was so strongly intertwined throughout v9, and the Long Memory is always linked to Oscar's sense of self interwined with Oz/the Merge.

5) forgive me but this is a bit of a long one: the headmasters all have a pattern with oscar in that he always ends up fighting/confronting them in some manner, but it's always after they've hurt/betrayed ruby in some manner. v5 we have him smacking Lionheart in a fit of anger after seeing Ruby hurt. he fights against Oz's control for his body to stop him from taking the relic from Ruby, and to entrust her with the relic's password. he confronts in v7 Ironwood after he's betrayed Ruby (technically yeah it was the whole group, but Ruby is the leader at that point soooo I'm still counting it). Then we have Theodore, who actually seems decent (a low bar for our headmasters but still) BUT he is very gung ho about fighting, and welcomes any to challenge him to a fight, even students, and if they win they can take his position as headmaster of Shade. literally all the other kingdoms have come together at Vacuo, and it's emphasized in the books that the only real authority in Vacuo is Shade Academy and its headmaster. (there's also the Crown and bringing up Right to Rule via reinstating the monarchy and lost kings and queens, and the set up to explore the Little Prince allusion which is. hmmm. idk I'm getting sidetracked now but there's smth there maybe). So like, basic prediction is Oscar fights Theodore for Ruby's sake, or they both fight him and end up as the two defacto leaders of the last resistance in Remnant. idk this one's a bit more far fetched but I am expecting an Oscar/Theodore fight, the subsequent overthrowing of the old headmaster and for it to somehow involve Ruby.

6) Ruby getting overwhelmed by her new fans and all the attention she's getting as this Messiah like figure and Oscar stepping in to help her get away from it all ("I'm sorry everyone but Ruby has an extremely important meeting she HAS to attend to right now so she can't stay"). I actually want her team to do this for her to show they have her back when she's feeling overwhelmed, but I would be happy if it was a RG moment too.

7) Oscar giving Ruby sand goggles to protect her eyes

8) Ruby blushing hard at something Oscar says and being a bit oblivious/in denial insists the Sun in Vacuo must be getting to her (gotta love that Oscar/sun symbolism) and Oscar immediately tries to get her to some water/shade

9) the moon and sun both being in the sky in the backgrounds when Ruby and Oscar reunite/interact.

10) Ruby takes Oscar to the Ever After to try and break the merge curse which I've talked about as a theory more in this reblog about semblance predictions here so I won't repeat myself.

send me your RG predictions. i wanna make a bingo card

[royalarchivist]

[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.

[ecoustsaintmein]

ghosts (part i of ????)

part two here

pairing: paddy x eoin; rating: M. slow burn.

this was the first time they'd had this conversation as eric and killian. but it was as if they'd had this conversation, many years ago, many times before.

(or, paddy mayne and eoin mcgonigal, reincarnated as eric love from 'starred up' and killian from 'angel'. they meet again, during the heights of the pandemic -- but they don't remember - until much, much, much later).

the next quack he saw after oliver was dr wilson, who was a no-nonsense scottish lady who struck fear more than deputy governor haynes ever did. she was young but wise for her years, with curly dark hair and spectacles and a soft dundonian accent. turned out she knew oliver baumer from some forensic psychiatry conference but it wasn't like eric to show that he's interested to know more. no, he didn't miss oliver, he said to her in their one-to-one session. he missed his dad, though.

--

seven years later, eric is allowed parole on the grounds of good behaviour. the world around him has changed, and so has he. is he fully rehabilitated? has that bloody posh quack oliver baumer cured him of his violence?

dr wilson told him she knew about haynes and cardew and the comings and goings of the previous corrupt prison regime. oliver blew the whistle and there had been a massive investigation and as a result, most of the inmates' cases were reviewed, including eric's.

'what would you do, then,' eric once asked, 'if you manage to rehabilitate me? then you'd be out of work, won't ya?' but now eric realized that there were worse evils out there in the world that subsumes the hearts of men.

subsumes.

ha.

there was once a time when eric would laugh in the faces of those who would use big words like that. but since he spent more time with tyrone, hassan, ashley, dr wilson, he'd started reading and expanding his vocabulary. he's even started reading poetry.

sublimation was a word he recently learnt. dr wilson was drawing a timeline of his life and a map of his thought processes and how he came to be the way he was. some things in his past can't be changed, she said, but the way he responds to things, can be altered.

neville died of stage four prostate cancer five months ago. dr wilson fought for eric to be allowed to attend his dad's funeral. he even has a social worker now, nate, who is about the same age as he is, but is a tall, strapping bloke from liverpool with a heavy scouse accent. they talk shite about football and how neither of their teams were doing well in the prem.

then oliver visited him in prison, only to tell him that he's moving to new brunswick. where the hell's new brunswick? nova scotia, oliver said. new scotland?

canada, oliver nodded. because he said they needed psychologists there and the nhs pay was shite and for all his pains oliver wasn't a saint.

jews don't have saints, eric said. oliver looked at him for a moment before they both broke into laughter. well, eric shrugged. you're a saint enough for me. you've performed a miracle. i don't punch people when they smile at me wrong now.

five months later his parole application was accepted and he was free.

except. two months later the whole country went into lockdown.

and this was how he met that irish waif, killian, with the dark curls and the dark eyes and the accent no one can understand, especially when he spoke, words swallowed underneath that blue mask that everyone's got to wear.

he never got to witness that wide, easy smile of killian's in real life, until six months later, but then, that's another story.

--

they met as hospital volunteers in south london, during the height of the pandemic. they both live two flats apart on the same floor, in the same council tenancy building, just ten minutes walk from st george's.

but they weren't friends, not straight away. there was nothing memorable about killian apart from that shocking mop of unruly curls on his head and that awful accent, though eric's learnt to keep quiet and let killian repeat himself several times to the staff and patients on the ward; 'it's killian with a k, not a c like cillian murphy,' he'd said, pulling at his ID badge and pointing at his name. 'this is how i look like under this mask, by the way,' he says, and the patients will laugh. it's a terrible photo, worse than eric's own prison mugshot.

they were wary of each other just as eric was often wary of strangers. he's sublimated enough by being kind to patients and their relatives on the wards -- he doesn't need to continue wearing the same mask with other people.

his new social worker, subodh, once chided him for this.

--

everyone seemed to struggle with lockdown, but eric thrived. he's so used to isolation that he never ran out of ways to entertain himself.

the internet is a beautiful thing.

--

he didn't realize who it was, not at first. eric has his allowances and benefits and saves them up -- he's got no need for new trainers or clothes; and even with food he's rationing them up like he did in prison, he's not a glutton for mickey d's or domino's or that chinese takeaway across the street.

but eric's got urges, sometimes -- an urge that started out as a curiosity, ever since he found out that neville and ashley were together.

the internet is a beautiful thing.

--

eric's watched too many of those videos, now, but to say that he has a favourite or a type would be a stretch too far. he's even tried jacking off to them, but he couldn't even get hard -- not when all he could think about when he heard the men on screen moan was to think of ashley and his dad, together.

no.

he slammed his laptop shut (yes, the same laptop that he got for free from that scheme subodh signed him up for). he learnt how to use vpn. just because he spent his formative years in and out of prison doesn't make him a technological heathen.

but the next night he decided to watch some solo videos instead of acted porn, and this was how he ended up clicking on the profile of user @/cuchulainn1995.

he never shows his face, and despite the irish handle he speaks with an english (sussex?) accent. the first thing eric noticed is he's got a low, deep, growling voice, and such big hands, long beautiful fingers. one of the videos started with cu chulainn (that's how eric calls him now) wearing a white button-up shirt and slacks, but slowly he unbuttoned it and palms at his slacks, deft fingers unbuckling his belt. the hand motion on screen was slow, steady, confident. eric was utterly mesmerised by the way those hands floated across, like butterflies, as cu chulainn stripped down oh-ever-so-slowly.

he's wearing a lacy bra underneath the shirt, flat against his chest, and a lacy thong that could barely hold in his entire length. he's well hung, slim, but he hasn't even grown into his full girth yet, as he begins to pump himself through the lacy fabric.

against eric's will, he got hard too, as he watches this stranger tweaking his nipple under the bra and whispering filthy things about wanting to fuck a bad boy and wishing to destroy something beautiful. this man who talked of not wanting to be fucked, but to fuck. all while wearing that lacy bra and lacy thong that eric wanted to rip up with his teeth.

eric's never come so hard in his life.

maybe that's why all of those losers raided the tescos for toilet paper. for wanking to videos this good.

--

killian's the one who approached him first, at the canteen, while eric was flicking through the copy of 'oxford book of war poetry' he found amidst the old magazine stacks of hello! and ok! in the nursing office.

the blt sandwich was a bit dry, and the coffee stale. this was eric's excuse for coughing up his food and spluttering them all over the table, when killian sat in the chair in front of him and asked, 'what passing-bells for these who die as cattle?'

'what the fuck?' was eric's only illustrious response.

'-only the monstrous anger of the guns,' killian replied, voice muffled under the mask. 'wilfred owen.'

'i prefer robert graves.'

'of course.'

this was the first time they'd had this conversation as eric and killian. but it was as if they'd had this conversation, many years ago, many times before.

killian tore up his roll and dipped it in his golden vegetable soup. he pulled down his mask and ate voraciously. like he hadn't eaten in months.

it was the first time eric saw killian's face, in full.

killian smiled, as he licked soup off his fingertips, inadvertently making kissy noises as his lips left each finger. 'i prefer yeats,' he said, oblivious.

eric tried not to stare, he really did. there was something about the movement that was so familiar to him.

but he couldn't place it.

he also thought, that birthmark on killian's left hand looked familiar too --

but surely not?

--

eric's throwing money he doesn't have to cu chulainn, subscribing to his live videos and in his head thinks that he's having a parasocial relationship with this faceless man with a beautiful body, like one of those marble statues the brits pilfered from ancient greece.

his colouring was dark, gingery, and eric wondered if they were as coarse as his own hair. eric wondered if he was as dark, or darker in real life.

in the busy chatbox filled with filthy comments from horny subscribers, eric once gathered the strength to type, 'if ur english why the name cu chulainn?'

eric watched the slight pause in the body language, face unseen from the neck above. and then, for a split second, the sussex accent switched to a soft irish lilt, 'who says i'm english?', and eric thought, 'i've heard this voice before.'

but eric forgot everything when cu chulainn started his show, and when he called his audience a 'good boy'.

eric thought it was a private message just for him.

--

they bumped into each other, at the aldi queue for the self-service checkouts, a metre apart. eric eyed the shite killian's got in his basket -- bananas, spinach, macaroni, yorkshire tea and a bar of dairy milk. eric eyed his own -- pot noodles, crisps, rich tea biscuits. then killian waited for him outside, humming mindlessly, a foldable umbrella in hand. it's started drizzling -- then raining, hard, unheard of for tooting, before walking up to their flat together.

eric pulled up his hoodie and made a point not to stand under killian's umbrella, although he's getting drenched like a wet soppy dog and killian called him out for it. 'stop being an eejit and get under the brolly,' he said, without raising his voice, and eric acquiesced.

--

it's only natural that when the government announced that 'members of a household could be part of another household' as a 'support bubble', that eric became killian's.

and killian eric's.

subodh told him that it's good that he's found a friend, though under no circumstances did eric admit that killian was 'a friend'. they had nothing in common, he said. apart from the poetry and the football (why does he support liverpool? he's irish, for fuck's sake).

eric's been in killian's flat, which was a mirror image of his own, except that they were filled with the most bizarre trinkets when eric's was more spartan. killian never let him inside his bedroom, though, and eric's never pressed further.

killian grew herbs in his flat. a pot of chilli, too. there was a time when he grew up on a farm, he'd said, and everything he ate was from the land around him, because he learnt how to grow them. he learnt how to forage in the wild, he learnt how to slaughter animals. he's good with a machete and an axe too, he'd said, before he realized he'd said too much and fell silent.

this was when eric knew that there was more beyond the softness of killian's visage - there were dark secrets there, hidden behind those eyes, underneath those long, dark lashes.

eric spent more time at killian's flat than at his, since the support bubble rule was introduced. killian can cook. and for some reason, despite saying that he's living on benefits too, he's got subscriptions to all the streaming services and has the latest games on his ps.

eric wondered where he got the money from.

--

it didn't take long for him to find out.

--

in eric's defense, it was killian who told him to fetch his phone charger from the bedroom.

killian's bedroom, which for the past three months had been off limits to eric, because the door was always shut and killian had never invited him in, not even for a casual 'this is my room' tour. boundaries. if there's one thing he's learnt from oliver and dr wilson and the likes of 'em, it's to learn how to respect people's boundaries.

it's the grey wall and the bedspread that caught eric's eyes first. his first thought was, surely not. his second thought was, surely not.

it wasn't as if there were toys splayed across the room for eric to see. the room was pristine, unlike the mess that was the living room, but eric had just seen one of cu chulainn's videos yesterday and this was where he had sat.

and the laundry basket was in the corner of the room. there was no weird smells, no bras, no lacy thongs - but he noticed the slacks and the white button down shirt. killian had never worn slacks and a white shirt to work, he was always in his casual stripey t-shirt before he changes into scrubs, and then, oh then, there's his belt.

the belt.

the images of killian's fingers, on the ps controller, or when he picks up a brown roll and dips it into soup during lunch hour, come rushing back. the birthmark on the back of killian's left hand, as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his slacks and touches himself. the way his knuckles disappear as he works his fingers up into himself.

and he hears killian's irish lilt, now, in cu chulainn's forced english voice. eric realizes now that he's one of the men who's paid for the way that killian's living.

eric doesn't feel anger. he doesn't feel panic. he's floating, in this room, because he's always seen it through the pixels of his laptop screen, but never like this. he doesn't even know whether he wants to hate killian or hate himself, because at the end of the day eric was the one who had been searching for it, again and again, like a man obsessed; addicted. killian was just there, doing his thing.

killian had been here, last night, doing his thing. and eric had fantasised of doing more, imagined that he could be touched the same way, on this very same bed. eric leans down and touches the ikea bedspread, clean - it's as if killian's washed all the stains off of it from last night, and the room itself smells woody, citrus-y. it smells like killian.

it smells nice.

killian barges in and asks what's taking so long, wooden spoon in hand, flour dust on his nose and cheeks. he's attempting to make sausage rolls from scratch, he says.

eric's eyes glaze over, like he's neither here nor there. he only ever had sausage rolls from greggs and his own mum was a terrible cook, so homemade pastries were out of the question.

the phone charger is still plugged in at killian's bedside, where he's dumped his camera and lighting equipment in a storage box. eric pretends not to see it, and hands the phone charger to killian, careful not to let their fingers touch.

'you ok?' killian asks, concerned.

'yeah,' eric lies. 'it's just that, i've never been in your room before. it's nice,' he says --

-- which isn't a lie.

killian softens, as he tilts his head to one side and squints at eric. 'aye, because you never asked, ya daftie.'

it's almost fond.

--

some nights eric will wake up, alone in his bed, grouching. he remembers the night he was about to be executed by the prison guards, to make it look like he's hung himself, before neville saved him.

he dreamt of walking out of prison, with no one to greet him but a dreary, empty council flat near tooting broadway.

some nights, eric will wake up, alone in his bed, grouching. but this time, he doesn't remember that night when he was about to be executed the prison guards, to make it look like he's hung himself, before he ended up walloping all of them, before walking out into the hot desert sun.

he dreamt of walking out of prison, but this time killian is there, saying, 'the dead arose and appeared to many,' -- except this isn't killian and he isn't eric, and eric struggles to remember the name of this man who looks so much like killian and yet just isn't.

his mannerisms are still the same, though, from the way he stretches and yawns and grins like a cheshire cat, and he is as generous with his touches as killian was. this man laughs at his unfunny jokes about sweating in hospitals and nightclubs and getting someone's goat, and serves him soup from the gazelle that eric-who-is-not-eric has allegedly shot.

killian-who-is-not-killian smiles, as he licks the soup off his fingertips, inadvertently making kissy noises as his lips leave each finger, and eric thinks, oh.

oh.

--

paddy, he says.

eric wakes.

--

at lunchtime, killian shows him an empty notebook that one of the elderly patients had gifted him, on late shift last night. it's worn and battered, faded ink on the yellowed pages.

'she stopped me in the corridor and told me i had to have it,' he says, 'and then she was gone.'

'which ward was this?' paddy asks. 'maybe she's just a bit off, ya know, with delirium.'

'aye, it was off rodney smith ward,' killian nods, before leafing through the pages again, carefully.

a note falls out.

'from paddy, to eoin,' killian reads out loud, squinting to make out the words.

'eoin,' eric says, weighing the word on his tongue, before deciding that he enjoys the way his lips have moved, the way his throat has closed, to form the lovely sound ringing between them.

'paddy,' killian agrees.

--

'so, the sand of the desert couldn't keep your soul buried, eh eoin?'

--

killian thinks, when he was growing up, his real da used to say: 'coincidence was god's way of being anonymous.'

but this isn't what he chooses to believe.

he believes it's more like poker: life won't always give him easy hands, but it'll be down to killian how he chooses to play it.

so he chooses to believe that it was out of his own free will that he chose to sit at that table and quoted wilfred owen at eric love.

he chooses to believe that it was out of his own free will that he chose to wait outside aldi in the pouring rain, umbrella in hand, to walk eric love home.

he chooses to believe that it was out of their own free will that they became friends, despite the dreams that he had been having lately: of quiet conversations in flimsy tents, of secret trysts under the desert moon.

'when it was the desert, and you, and me,' killian thinks --

only those words weren't his, nor were they eoin's, but from a fragment of eoin's soul that paddy's carried with him.

from egypt to sicily to normandy.

from dublin to ballymena to newtownards.

and now, to fucking tooting, of all places.

how poetic.

--

he couldn't find the woman again. she was, he thinks, not of white-european descent, and her accent was foreign, but killian had thought nothing of it when she handed him the notebook--

-- and disappeared.

the nurses had never seen her before, when killian attempted to describe her. and with everyone wearing masks, it became even harder to identify who killian was talking about, and the nurses looked at killian as if he was still hungover from whatever he'd smoked the night before.

killian will call her 'eve', he thinks,

and the notebook his forbidden fruit,

these phantom memories are akin to a serpent.

'take a bite,' they call out to killian;

-- and so he does.

this way, at least, he'll live.

--

tbc.

part two here

[ineed-to-sleep]

I'm still working on this btw. Chipping away at it one little panel at a time 🥲

[deoidesign]

.

[bookshelfdreams]

Hey, probably a question you have heard a thousant times. But what is the best way to get into any of the fiber arts? Books? Youtube? Actual people teaching you? (and if so how in the hell do you find them)

I started crochet and knitting but I pretty much can't get out of the basics, I can't managed to finish something that I have started cuz I always get frustrated that it's starting to look bad...

Hi! That's actually a really good question. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, depending on how u look at it) the only way to get any better at fibre crafts, is to keep doing them. Practice really does make perfect. There is no book or video tutorial or in-person teacher that holds the one ultimate secret that will make you Good At Crafts. All of these can be valuable resources if you struggle to understand how to do a specific thing; you can be taught stitches, and how to read charts, and such things. But the only way to really learn is to practice.

This is because there are more skills involved in crafting than just knowing how to do certain stitches. Confidence, patience, frustration tolerance: you can't learn that from tutorials. These are essential skills that you need to build. And the best way to build them, I'm afraid, is to actually finish the damn thing. Even if it has mistakes. Even if it "looks bad". You need to learn how to tolerate imperfections, if you ever want to get anything done.

Now that doesn't mean you should bully yourself. If you get easily bored and frustrated, leave the scarves and sweaters for now, and start small. Potholders, dishcloths, scrubbies or coasters are all projects that finish up quickly and yield usable objects, even when they are not perfect. If you never allow yourself the dopamine rush of Fuck Yeah I Made That, how do you expect yourself to build up the resilience to stick through the parts where it is slow and difficult and makes your fingers hurt?

Here are Ravelry searches for free dishcloth and potholder patterns.

Of course that doesn't mean you should only do those projects. You can do whatever you want. The most important thing is to teach yourself that you can have success, and the only way to do this is to successfully make things.

Also, it should always be fun. If it's not at least a little bit fun, maybe the technique isn't for you. This is also an important skill to develop: To learn when to stick through a bout of frustration, and when to abandon something.

There is a very steep learning curve. But you can and you will get there. I believe in you, and I also believe that what "looks bad" to you is perfectly fine.

[eggsistential-basket]

thinking about the person i could have been if i tried a little harder to find my own way

[rimouskis]

can I be so open and vulnerable with you guys. the card I was given from people at my old office was sincerely so nice and really validating but also I feel like the main impression I left other people with was "she's really nice" WHICH IS GOOD, I DO WANT TO BE KNOWN AS NICE but also part of me is like... should I maybe strive for "innovative" or "creative" or "a go-getter" because being The Nice One just feels a little mealy-mouthed of me y'know?

[todayisafridaynight]

i cant explain it but daigo being subtitled to just be like 'you're making me look like i have no balls' feels so illegal and wrong. hilarious but something's off

[weaponizedmoth]

Been meaning to do another one of these for a second, but didn't have any cool outfit pics--until I remembered these blurry pics I had from 2021 that I could never do much with. Libbyframe is the inspo for these as usual,✨️

[oh-meow-swirls]

it's kind of weird to me that they didn't bother releasing sushi and tempura internationally at all but at the same time i'm kinda glad they didn't cuz like. yo-kai watch was financially failing in the west by the time 3 released. i feel like if they had released sushi and tempura the franchise would've completely tanked before we got sukiyaki which would've sucked. honestly if anything i feel like it's more surprising that we got all three versions of 2 instead of them just releasing psychic specters but tbf i think yo-kai watch was doing well in the west when 2 released. 2 is just inexplicably what killed the franchise despite being a masterpiece-

[skrunksthatwunk]

so i didn't finish the paper on time but on the plus side i Almost know how to play mahjong now

[pulquedeguayaba]

Been crying regularly since June last year but these last couple of weeks damn, specially this one that just ended.

I dont think I've ever cried so much in my life

[icannotgetoverbirds]

made beanut butter cookie dough. hell yeah