#and like. that would be fine (without the passive aggressiveness) if it was more about explorers fans giving the 3ds games a chance

[spyres]

op turned off rbs but is this about that dark past fangame that everyone is now lauding as basically pre-canon explorers despite it literally being just a fangame that also happens to be extremely racist with some of its messages

[redflannelsheets]

.

[neverendingford]

.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt III good omens but i STILL SOMEHOW haven't watched it (and i'm increasingly passive aggressive)

i'm now basically held hostage adopted as mascot by this fandom. it's fine i'm fine *SIGNALS FOR HELP DESPERATELY*

Alright fuckers I swear this time I'm going to get some shit right. Without further ado, here's my third attempt at a good omens summary:

Everything everywhere is queer all at once

Angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley on earth likey each other

The car is a bentley and it is BLACK not silver and everyone is very upset about this. my bad yall it was reflecting light therefore i guessed more silver than black but I'm not Anish Kapoor take your black.

Then it is yellow, and aziraphale likes it. crowley preferred the black because he's a flamboyant emo.

God is a deadbeat absentee parent and you are all children of divorce.

There's a naked archangel and they cause problems for the husbands somehow. By being naked? By being an archangel? By being at their doorstep? Who knows not me

They were actually married for 6000 years, they just are the last to know about it.

Crowley is on fire. Like, he's slaying for sure, but also he is literally on fire, like Aziraphale's bookstore.

The actors like I said before are Michael Sheen and David Tennant but this is the place where I finally admit that I don't actually know who is whom. I'm going to assume Michael is Aziraphale because Michael sounds angel-y and David is Crowley because uh Michaelangelo made David and was gay for him.

Terry Pratchett is not fictional.

He co-wrote the book with @neil-gaiman, who IS fictional, because he does not have social media. Several of you have assured me that he is in fact a fandom inside joke. I like to think he would be proud of me.

They adopt a preteen and Crowley gives him bad advice.

At some point a baby was delivered to someone and was exchanged for the son of Satan. Idk if the baby is the preteen, or the son of satan is the preteen, or neither. This could be a fanfic, I have no way of differentiating the fanfic from canon on tumblr, except that the canon is weirder.

Crowley does not go down a chute. He goes down a telephone cord after making himself microscopic to pole dance on a pin with shroom-induced backgrounds.

During this his stage name is Disco Tony. Get it king go slay you're making better life choices than I am tbh.

Aziraphale is a biblically accurate angel, and you have all gone to extensive lengths to prove this to me. I understood nothing, but there you go.

It's all very queer, just like the fandom.

Crowley is a retired demon but he still sins by breaking the speed limit.

They eat at fancy restaurants and bicker but like in a sexual undercurrent way.

Crowley gives Aziraphale a private dance that is not a lap dance, it is an apology dance, but not in a kinky way, until it is.

Their haircuts keep changing and range from 'this is acceptable and gay' to 'i let a drunk chimpanzee take gardening shears and a blowtorch to my hair'

It's all ineffably queer my good fellows

Everyone keeps trying to convince me Neil Gaiman is the villain yeah no guys I know it's really you. Y'all be like 'SEASON TWO BROKE ME' and then you're making headcanons to make it sadder yeah I see you mmhm.

There is a final fifteen. It is sad. What is it? No one told me.

The demon turns goats into crows and the angel turns them back and then children are turned into newts (does the angel turn them back? who cares not yall) and the demon was the snake in the Eden garden and everyone's furry game seems to be on point.

There are a rather lot of children. I have not seen them. But I am assured they are there. They are, guys. I assume they were turned into the alcohol Aziraphale and Crowley drink or something.

There was an apocalypse plotline. It was averted. It is not important. You don't talk about plotlines in this fandom, no sir.

Crowley doesn't want to go to heaven. Aziraphale is sad.

The kiss is not nice, just like this fandom. It is queer, just like this fandom. It is sad and desperate and masochistic, just like this fandom.

Aziraphale doesn't want to stay back with Crowley. Crowley is sad.

Season 2 ends. Fandom is sad.

Everyone's sanity is hinging on the promise of a happy ending in season 3. Good luck guys.

Y'all better appreciate this. I can't even boast to my mother about this legacy of mine, hey mum your son has been held hostage kidnapped inducted into a cult adopted by a fandom he's not part of look he's winning at life.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I am a little creature largely made up of anxieties. There have been times in my life when it was worse. It’s currently significantly better. This story takes place at a time when it was pretty bad.

Food was a prison for me. I moved out early with very little idea of how to feed or care for myself. Every meal was a question mark. For three years I had Brendan doing most of the cooking but when things ended between us I moved in with some other friends. I suddenly had no way to feed myself again.

I was working at the sex shop and living with all my coworkers; a premise that would make sitcom writers weep. In that house, at the age of 24, I learned how to fry an egg. It was the only thing I knew how to do but by god, I mastered egg frying. I was so proud. I could now have one stress free meal a day of an egg on toast.

The problem was my roommates. Living with three other people is already tough but messes pile up alarmingly fast, especially in the kitchen. No one sees the whole mess as their responsibility but the one person who’s responsibility it absolutely wasn’t was mine, as I only ever cooked eggs. Glaciers moved quicker than the dishes got done, mountains of greasy unwashed dish ware were fixtures across the counters.

My friends occasionally cooked for me and each time I happily cleaned all the resulting dishes. This seemed fair.

But on my own I only used three implements for my egg. When I finished with my spatula, pan, and plate, I carefully washed them and set them to dry. Every time I came back to the kitchen there was nothing clean.

Crusted on ketchup, dried food, and unsavory residues plagued everything I needed to touch. So I ended up doing all the dishes twice, once to use my three implements and again once I was done.

I started to realize I’d come home, see the filthy pile of dishes, then go to bed without eating because I didn’t have the energy to wash it all. So I finally addressed my roommates about it. Please, I beseeched them, can these three things always be clean. I cannot function like this, and eating is already hard for me.

The answer returned: no. My request was deemed unreasonable and a counteroffer was made to turn off the small space heater I ran in my room in exchange for them magnanimously cleaning up after themselves. I declined, as my bones ached with cold everywhere except my room since no one else wanted the heat on. The impasse continued. I went to be hungry.

I noodled on it. I schemed. I plotted. And on my day off I went to a thrift shop and acquired a nice little pan and spatula. I squirreled them away into my closet. The plan was just to wash and dry it after meals and keep it in my room.

This is not how it went down. On day one of my pan coming home one of my roommates popped into my room to chat, glanced into my three quarters shut closet and immediately said, “What is that?”

I sighed and admitted my plan. All three roommates roundly condemned my plan as extremely passive aggressive. I tried once again to explain that I wasn’t eating, but my secret pan was now a source of contention, a precious resource held back from the collective.

Their discontent reached a fever pitch and I finally declared, “Fine! I will put my pan in the kitchen. On one condition. If I ever find this pan dirty, ever, I will scrape whatever is left on it into your bedding. I swear to god, if I ever come home to it being dirty there will be a reckoning.”

Terms were agreed.

The first month or two went okay. On the third month I awoke to eat breakfast and found my precious pan sullied. I grabbed it and marched upstairs. Betty was named as the culprit. I strode into Betty’s room and stood over her sleeping form like the vengeful ghost of dishes past.

“If you don’t get up and clean this right now I’m going to dump it on your bed.”

Betty groggily regarded me. “Seriously?”

“I have never been more serious.”

“It’s one time, can’t you just clean it yourself?”

“No. You promised.”

With much huffing and grousing Betty arose from bed and tromped downstairs, hastily cleaning my pan while I watched. “Happy?” She demanded.

I was. I made my egg, cheerfully cleaning the pan afterward, leaving it to dry.

[ohara-n-brown]

Questions I wish I could ask without Allistics thinking I'm being randomly rude, a growing list:

What are you talking about? - 'Too blunt, rude.'

Do I know you? - 'Forgetful, rude.'

Who are you and where do I know you from? - 'Really forgetful, rude.'

What's your name again? - 'Even MORE forgetful, rude.'

Am I boring you? - 'Passive Aggressive, rude.'

How do you want me to react to this? - 'Apathetic, rude.'

What do you want from me? - 'Defensive, rude.'

How long is this going to take? - 'Impatient, rude.'

Are you trying to change the subject? - 'Passive Aggressive, rude.'

When can I leave? - 'Dismissive, rude.'

Why am I here? - 'Antisocial, rude.'

What is the point of this? - 'Arrogant, rude.'

Is this absolutely necessary? - 'Lazy, rude.'

What does that even mean? - 'Too blunt again, rude.'

Why would you do that? - 'Criticizing, rude.'

Are you talking to me? - 'Aggressive, rude.'

Are you trying to start a conversation? - 'Unfriendly, rude.'

Like no fr what are you talking about I'M BEING DEADASS

And they say Autistics are ones that are bad at communication 😐

my Sibling in Christ y'all are the ones that refuse to answer very simple and very clear questions and almost every time without fail I just go

'That's not at all what I just asked you, but okay. Alright. It's fine.'

You ask them 'What are you talking about?' and they act like you've questioned their whole intellect and IQ score 😭😭

Like no sis I just genuinely have no idea what the fuck you're trying to say and honestly you're making very little sense

What, Do I look like Professor X to you??? Want me to read your mind?? What's happening????? What do you mean??!!!!

[intairnwetrust]

Things I wish to see in Onyx storm

That they sit down and have a honest and open convertation! (Like duh idk how many times I rant about this on my blog)

Xaden brushing Violet's hair

Or regarding Violet's hair, a moment where Violet now indeed thinking about cutting her hair because it's simply more practical and Xaden has half a heart attack because of it (I love how obssesed this man is with her hair)

Xaden in general just simping for Violet

The dynamic between Xaden and Sgaeyl

Overall the dynamics between Tairn, Violet, Sgaeyl and Xaden because you have the combination of rider and dragon and two mates (Xaden and Violet are the human equivalent)

Dain and Sloane (sorry not sorry a girl can dream lol) but not necessarily in a relationship tho (this would be most unlikely anyways) but I want to see something be it just Sloane being passive aggressive to Dain

Finally to know what Garrik's signet is (or rather if the theory is true he being the distant wielder)

Violet and Xaden having tender moments together

but good sex is also fine 😛 hope they will find a good balance

I hope we will get a detailed recap of Tairn's and Andarna's conversation where Andarna told him that she is her own den

I would love to see Xaden's and Violet's friendgroups to interact with each other outside of class and training

no catriona

Jealous Xaden (Halden being indeed Violet's ex 👀)

More Sawyer and Jesinia 💙🐢

Garrik and Imogen??

I hope Violet and Dain start to rekindle their friendship

but also more moments between the Sorrengail siblings

That Violet and Xaden getting engaged. Like hear me out I envison it like a small, intimate engagement, perhaps even in secret with just the two of them (or maybe with only their dragons playing busy body) and that it is done because obviously they love each other but also with the motivation 'stay alive so that you can marry me later'

Violet (with or without Xaden) setting the record straight with the Assembly because of dare they pointing the finger at my girl when she is the one actually doing something to help

[reareaotaku]

Jealous Miles Fairchild Headcanons

Oh, hahaha... You are so fucked

He does not take jealousy well

Granted, he doesn't really take any emotions well [Expect like anger]

You can feel his glare on the back of your head

You don't know why he's so mad, you just need notes for a class you missed

"Why did you ask him, when I'm right here? I would of given you the notes"

You know he doesn't take notes. School is the last thing he cares about, so you're confused what he's talking about

He's still very angry at you and refuses to talk to you without making passive aggressive comments

Accuses you of trying to get with everyone that looks in your direction

And if you're not loving towards him after his frustrations, it'll only further his suspicions

"So what, you don't love me anymore?"

You're taken aback, because where the fuck did he come to that conclusion

"What?? I never said that. Of course I, you know, love you."

"Sure doesn't seem like it"

Deadass gaslights you with a sprinkle of emotional manipulation

Reminds you of an angry girlfriend after she asked you if you'd still love her if she was a worm

He'll ignore you for a while, playing silent treatment until you make it up to him, UNLESS you're hit on again

You just need to stay away from all people, because it only pisses him off more

He'll eventually come here, because he doesn't want you to leave [As it's his biggest fear], but he needs you to come to him first, so he'll hold out for a while

He knows everything about you, so he knows exactly what to say to get you coming back to him

Just do what he wants and you'll be fine... Maybe... hopefully-

[messiahzzz]

i’d briefly like to talk about the “it was fine” dialogue option that happens the morning after gale’s Last Night Alive scene in act ii and about the fandom's general reaction to it.

gale is a character who evidently enjoys the occasional teasing. taking the piss out of your partner every once in a while can certainly be a way of showing affection. however, it is important to consider the context of the situation: what is at stake for him and his current emotional state, as well as what exactly had transpired between the two of them prior to said conversation.

gale: forgive me. these were already trying times before elminster delivered his missive. now, for me at least, they are potentially end times.

after he and tav had spent the night together and confessed their love to each other, gale is once again showing himself utterly vulnerable and is carefully asking them for reassurance.

gale: [..] i hope that night meant as much to you as it did to me.

gale: but you - you led me away from the edge.

gale: without your words, your touch... i fear i would have sought purpose and solace in that void. you reminded me what living can feel like.

he wants to check in with them, after both of them have shared something tender and very intimate, something he might even consider life-altering.

gale: we didn't just make love. we bonded, body and soul. i got lost in you.

it’s not even about gale “not being able to read social cues” and “not recognizing the fact that it was meant in jest.” in fact, i’d argue it is a rather tone-deaf, inconsiderate response and just genuinely a REALLY BAD TIME to joke at your partner's expense when they are actively baring their feelings to you and are asking you for reassurance.

i have seen people write off his reaction as “unwarranted” or “overtly dramatic” but in my humble opinion, it is pretty understandable given the nature of their conversation and what he is asking of them. it's also sad how there seems to be a general pattern of gale's emotions and boundaries getting played off as a joke, while other companions get shown the courtesy of thorough analysis/understanding. he is proud of his skill as a lover and the fact that he was able to bring them pleasure, yet his inquiry is less about him wanting tav to stroke his ego and more about him, once again, asking if you indeed share the same feelings for each other… after the emotional high has now passed.

gale has an ever-present need for clarity in his relationships, very likely due to the fact that this was something he couldn’t request of mystra. he might appear more sensitive in that regard compared to the other companions. he doesn’t want to take himself too seriously, but this still often clashes with his general feeling of inadequacy. where he is able to take criticism as long as it isn’t related to his performance, overall prowess and usefulness.

yes, his response is passive-aggressive and yes, he IS obviously hurt by what tav said. yet merely repeating “it was fine” in response to a heartfelt, genuine question could’ve as well been interpreted in that manner. if tav does clarify that they have only been joking, he apologizes to them instead. otherwise his dialogue remains the same, albeit said in a more embarrassed & awkward tone.

gale is a character who is dealing with deep-rooted self-worth issues and yet that doesn’t mean that he wants to be handled with kid gloves, far from it. he craves a relationship in which his emotional needs are recognized, respected and cared for, where he can be unabashedly open and vulnerable without facing ridicule nor pity for it. and he is more than willing to give the same in return.

also y’know — there is a time and a place.

[pinguwrites]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔' 𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆 ⸻ Chapter Two

series masterlist. previous chapter. next chapter

𝒑𝙖𝒊𝙧𝒊𝙣𝒈 | francis mosses x reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 1.5k

Warnings: lowkey hating on a girl, mention of church and God bc it's the 50s and that's what they did

A/N: Would you guys rather me upload short chapters frequently or long chapters but it takes more time in between?

It was twelve in the afternoon, and you hadn’t seen Francis yet. You were worried that something had happened, maybe he got hurt in his apartment, hit his head and was bleeding on the floor, or maybe slipped and sprained an ankle, but you couldn’t just call his number to make sure — that would be unprofessional. Not only that, but the most likely case was that he left earlier than you got to work, which used to happen a lot when you first started working here.

In the meanwhile, you sat at your desk, trying to pass the time. There wasn’t much to do, and you found yourself thinking of Anastacha and what she had said last night. You reasoned with yourself that she was just getting your hopes up high. She was a little girl and didn’t know anything at all. But now that she had said what she said, you couldn’t get it out of your head. The thought of Francis liking you back . . . did he daydream about you like you did? Get nervous when talking to you? When he worked, did he miss your presence?

Ugh. How come he could torture you like this, consume your mind and heart without knowing what he was doing? It wasn’t fair. For once, you’d like for someone else to feel that way about you. To spend their every waking hour, every slumber, feeling the way you did. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the elevator bell rang. Attention perked, you hoped that it was Francis, and as if your wish was granted, it was.

He walked out, glancing over at you. You tried to look nonchalant, but inside your worries were relieved. So he was okay. Everything is fine.

Before he could approach you, however, he was blocked by another woman. You internally rolled your eyes as you saw Selenne strike up a conversation with him. The Svertch twins were models, quite famous, actually. They were well-known within the city. The most tiresome part of your job was probably shooing away the paparazzi, convincing them that it was another Selenne and Elenois who lived in Sama Place, not the celebrities they were thinking of. 

Elenois was nice enough. She was a little full of herself, but you were sure that came with the job. After all, if you earned money just because of how pretty you were, you would have an ego as well. But her sister . . . oh, her sister was far worse. She was always rude to staff, making passive-aggressive comments all the time, and you knew for a fact that she didn’t like you. It may have been because you were a woman, and she didn’t like women very much, despite being one herself, but you were sure it had to do with much more than that. 

When you thought about how grateful you were to work in a place like this, you always forgot about Selenne, and how miserable she made you feel. Maybe that was the price of having a reasonably good job. There was always a downside to everything.

You watched as she flirted with Francis. He looked mildly uncomfortable, a little stoic in his expressions, but that was how he always looked. What Anastacha said last night was true — he was nice, but a little aloof. Maybe he was enjoying whatever conversation he was having with Selenne, only it didn’t show on his face. You wondered if that’s how he looked when he was talking to you.

“Ah, there you are!”

You looked to the side and saw your boss approaching you. His name was Samuel Brogan. He was a rather short man, with a tanned complexion and thin lips. He had coarse, straightened hair, and a stubble on his chin. He was the one responsible for hiring you. He owned Sama Place — at least, he was in charge of this specific building. 

“This is where I always am,” you responded, and he laughed. 

“Sorry, darling. I don’t expect a person to be able to sit in that chair all day.”

You gave a polite smile. You never really liked Samuel, call it instinct, but he was your boss, so you had to be nice. 

“You’re not busy this weekend, are you?” he asked, leaning his arms against your desk. Shifting uncomfortably, you glanced over at Francis again, but he was still talking to Selenne.

“I was planning on . . .” Not able to come up with a lie quick enough, you gave up. “Not doing much. I just want to go home and relax — it’s been a long week.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand. You’ve been a wonderful employee, I want you to have time for yourself.”

You stared. Where was this going?

“But I need you to work this weekend,” he finally said, and your heart dropped.

“I don’t understand. What about that teenager you hired?”

On Saturday, he didn’t need someone working full-time. Sundays were reserved for Church and God, obviously, so for that one day, he hired a kid who was willing to work with little pay to just sit at the desk and make sure everything was going smoothly. 

“He got sick,” Samuel explained. “It’s just an extra day, and it’s only half your usual hours.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. You were sure you wouldn’t get any compensation for it, but it wasn’t that bad. 

“Oh, and I need you to run a few errands for me,” he added, setting down a list of items in front of you. “Whenever you can, but have it by the end of this week.”

He left, and you sighed. 

Picking up the list, you scanned through it. Wallpaper, a toolkit, canned fruit? Surely he didn’t expect you to pay for this out of your own pocket . . .

You folded the note and put it in your pocket, just in time for Francis to approach you. You looked around for Selenne, but she was already walking out of the building with sunglasses.

“What were you two talking about?” you blurted out, feeling immediately ashamed of yourself afterward. What were you thinking asking that kind of question? What would he think of you?

Francis looked taken off guard for a moment, but he answered anyway. “Oh, nothing. What were you and Brogan talking about?”

“Nothing,” you responded pettily. 

It was quiet for a moment, that kind of awkward silence that you hated.

You relented. “Alright, he wants me to work tomorrow, and run some errands. That’s it.”

“Selenne was curious about my work. I told her that I had taken a day off and was going to visit my parents,” he said.

“Now, that wasn’t too difficult, was it?” you teased, reveling in the way he averted his eyes.

“No, ma’am.”

God. The way he said it. He was so beautiful, in every possible way. Sometimes, you wished you could keep him in your room forever.

“Do they live nearby?” you asked. “Your parents, I mean.”

“Somewhat. I’ll be back before nightfall. I’m sorry Brogan is making you work the weekend. If you want, I’ll convince him to change his mind.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. It’s not like I was planning to do much tomorrow. Just fix some furniture and do a bit of housekeeping.”

“Fix furniture?” he repeated. “I don’t think you should be doing that. You could get hurt.”

You giggled. “I’m not a dainty princess.”

He frowned. “I know. I don’t mean to undermine you. You’re a very capable woman. It’s just that . . . I would feel better if someone was there to help you.”

“Mhm. And who’s gonna do that?”

Francis looked up at you with expectant eyes. “I’m free Sunday.”

You paused, not believing what he was saying. Was he offering to come over to your place? Him? Inside your house? The place you slept and changed your clothes and took baths . . . Lord, you didn’t know if you could handle this intimacy. Was it even right? Oh, who were you kidding? You didn’t care if it was acceptable or not. If Francis was offering to spend time with you (help you fix furniture, but whatever) there was no way you were going to turn down that offer. 

“Yes,” you said, more eagerly than you liked. “I could give you my address and you could stop by around eleven?”

He smiled. “Mmm. Alright, then,” he agreed. “I look forward to seeing you.”

“Me too.”

He gave a slight tip of his hat, a motion you could have fainted at had you not been sitting on a chair, and left, leaving you with nothing but the anticipation of this Sunday.

Imagine him — shirtless as he nails screws and lifts planks of wood. I’d give him cool lemonade as he worked and watch him as he wipes the sweat from his forehead . . . For the rest of the day, you couldn’t get the image out of your head. You greeted your neighbors as they walked by, and helped the occasional person with a problem, but all that was floating around in your head was Francis, Francis, Francis.

Taglist: @Meetmeatyourworst @hanawrites404 @Emimurphy2008

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Home Again — Vox × Reader

Warnings: Valentino existing, fluff, maybe they're slightly ooc, implied bow-chicka-wow-wow at the end, literally just a drabble — no real plot

Word Count: 692

Summary: You come home after a trip to visit your brother in another ring and Vox is happy to see you.

You weren't sure what to expect when you arrived home from your annual trip to the wrath ring to visit your brother.

Maybe, just maybe, Vox snapped and demanded Valentino to stop appearing in the penthouse whenever he pleased. For all you knew, Vox finally snapped properly and the porn demon was dead.

It was wishful thinking on your end as you eagerly entered the elevator that would take you to the penthouse where you lived with your husband, just in time for your phone to ping in your purse.

Grabbing it, out with your free hand, Valentino's name lit up the screen as another message came through with yet another ping that sounded more passive aggressive than the previous one.

'Your husband is a dick.' Read the first message. You couldn't help but snort in agreement. Vox was a dick, especially since Alastor rolled back into town after his seven year absence, but he was good to you, so you ignored his dickish tendencies and focused on what good he had deep within.

The second message was an image of Vox glaring deadly at Valentino's phone while Velvette took a selfie in the background. Even with the constant pink haze clouding the image, you could tell exactly where they were sitting by the wall of nothing but windows behind Vox.

For a moment, you debated sending a message in return to announce your arrival, but if the blinking red camera in the corner of the elevator was any indication, they already knew.

You're proven right when your husband's nickname with a blue heart behind it appeared at the top of your screen. You clicked on the notification immediately, leaving Valentino on read like you usually did, whether it was intentionally or not.

'Welcome home, gorgeous.' It read, making your heart flutter the same way it did when you first met. You smiled in a loving way only he got to see.

Before you could reply, the elevator began to come to a stop, so you clicked your phone off and slid it neatly back in your purse.

When the elevator doors opened, you stepped out immediately with your suitcase trailing behind. The sound of arguing as well as the smell of one of your favorite candles burning met your senses.

Ironically, it was a gift from Valentino for yours and Vox's eighth wedding anniversary.

Berry Bondage and your husband's raised voice. No better way to arrive home after a long trip.

Leaving your suitcase unattended in the alcove, you rounded the corner and approached the living room.

The clearing of your throat alerted the others. "This is quite the welcome home party." You mused, dropping your purse in the chair furthest away from Valentino.

"You're finally back!"

"About time." Velvette sang happily, removing her phone from in front of her long enough to watch the endearing moment. Finally, she didn't have to listen to him bitch about you being gone!

Vox didn't hesitate to stand and greet you with a long awaited kiss as he practically wrapped himself around you. Six days without you felt like six lifetimes.

When he finally released the kiss, he looked you over closely to make sure you were fine — not a hair out of place or a scratch on your beautiful face.

"Voxy, honey, I'm completely fine." You said assuringly, a smile blossoming as he let out a sigh.

He eventually nodded and guided you to where he had been sitting before, pulling you onto his lap before your ass could hit the plush cushion beside him.

You raised your eyebrows at him.

"It's been six days, you're sitting right here." He said. You obliged, leaning into his chest as lighter conversation began flowing within the large room.

Though within an hour of you being home, Vox began finding reasons for the other Vees to leave. Some got the hint sooner than others.

Once it was made clear, both were gone and he began trailing kisses down your neck and shoulder. . . The rest was history.

You couldn't help but be happy that you were finally home again. Home with your husband, your love, your Vox.

[chippedshake]

Based on a prompt by @amethyst-writer

It's been a couple weeks since Darry and Ponyboy agreed to stop fighting. Of course, months of a strained relationship, of barely contained hollering and silent tears at night aren’t going to vanish with a simple conversation. They're going to keep on arguing, no one could believe anything else, but at least Soda won't be forced to be a middleman anymore. They won't tear their family apart anymore because they're communicating and talking to each other and not bottling up their emotions until they explode in a slap and running away and two of their friends dying.

But old habits die hard and Ponyboy is late again.

"Where've you been?" Darry asks, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

"M'I late?" There’s a testy undertone to Ponyboy's voice, daring Darry to disagree. Is he the only one putting any sort of effort into this whole "no fighting" thing?

"Yeah, buddy, you're late."

They aren't screaming. Two months ago, they would be screaming. Now they're trading tense, passive-aggressive statements with long stretches of silence in between.

Darry doesn't know which one he prefers.

"Sorry."

"Can you stop with the sarcasm for a second and actually talk to me?"

"I am talkin' to you, Darry, you just don't care about what I say 'cause you already got your whole speech prepared."

A scathing reply is crawling up Darry's throat and dancing around his tongue, tickling his gums and pulling at his teeth, trying to force his lips open.

Pony ran away and Soda ran away because you can't keep your temper down.

"Right." He shoves it back and down his throat "I'm sorry, Ponyboy."

Ponyboy can't meet his eyes and shifts his weight to his right leg.

"Don’t worry 'bout it, Dar. I'll try an' be on time next time."

He is. On time, that is, the next time he goes out. Which is the day right after, by the way. As if he didn’t want to spend time with his brothers.

The problem this time is that he's gone out with Curly Shepard and TPd their principal's house.

Pony didn’t even tell Darry. He had to find out when the school called him because they got caught.

"I just can't believe you were this stupid! Don't you ever think, Pony? How do you expect to get out of here when all you ever do is get into trouble with Curly Shepard, who spends more time in the reformatory than in his own house?" Darry takes his coat off aggressively as they walk inside the house and Ponyboy flinches back on instinct.

Darry freezes.

"Shoot, Pony, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I swear I didn't mean to scare you." His voice is soft and careful now; he's talking like he would to a scared child on the street who's missing his parents and scared of the big stranger talking to him.

Oh.

"I'm sorry, Pony." His voice is pleading and he's forcing tears back because he knows it won't help anything if he starts crying now. He's apologising for so much more than just taking his jacket off and they both know it, but Ponyboy won't meet his eyes. He looks anywhere but at Darry, his face drawing back awkwardly as his shoe tries to make a hole in the floor.

"S'fine Darry, I know you didn't mean to."

Pony may say it's fine, but nothing about their situation is fine.

Darry starts noticing. Every time he pulls a chair back. When he wanders out of the kitchen with a knife. A quick hair-ruffle without warning.

It all feels violent. Reminiscent of that night that gets further away with every day that goes by but still haunts Darry's mind the moment he closes his eyes.

And he's trying, he's really trying, to make sure Pony knows he doesn't mean it. Blubbering out apologies, moving slower, announcing actions.

None of it's enough.

Ponyboy doesn't seem to spend any time at home anymore. He's always out. With Cathy or Curly or Mark or even Bryon, who seems to hate him for some reason Darry can't wrap his head around.

He gets home right for dinner and hardly says a word.

It's Darry's fault, if course. No matter how much he apologises, no matter how much he tries to take back all the stupid yelling (and that night, that goddamned night that haunts every night that's come after), it's never enough. Ponyboy isn't going to forgive him and, honestly? Darry can't blame him.

But they promised. They promised Soda that they would try and that they wouldn't hurt him anymore.

And now they’re back in the same place: unspoken tension strung tight in the air whenever Ponyboy and Darry are in the same room, Soda trying his best to dissuade it without taking sides.

Darry doesn't know what to do anymore.

Is there even anything of his family left to save? Did their last hope at functionality die with their parents on those train tracks ten months ago? How can he get his little brother to forgive him?

Does he even deserve forgiveness?

Soda's gone to sleep and Darry's own eyelids are heavy but Pony isn't home yet and he's waiting up.

Ponyboy's fine. He's come home late before, always in one piece. Darry himself used to come home at ungodly hours of the morning when he was still in highschool, and his parents never waited up.

No one waits up for their kids when they go out with friends.

But the moment Darry thinks about going to bed, Ponyboy appears in the park, drowning because Darry trusted him to cool down and come back.

Sue him for being nervous.

The door squeaks open as Ponyboy comes inside and Darry leaps to his feet.

"Where the hell've you been?"

Ponyboy shrugs his jacket off and hangs it on the hook by the door before answering.

"Out."

"Out," Darry repeats sarcastically, "like you always are these days. I'd be surprised if you spent a single minute in this house that wasn't so we could feed you! You ever think about your brothers when you're off on joyrides with Curly Shepard – don't look so surprised, you know I talk to Tim –"

"If you know where I am all the time then you don't gotta worry about it, do you?"

"Yes, I do hafta worry about it because you’re my little brother and Curly Shepard is nothing but trouble."

"Like you ain't friends with Tim–"

"That’s different and you know it. I don’t know how you'd even know who I talk to since you never spend any time at home anyway, but–"

"You ever think that maybe I don’t wanna come home because all I ever get for doin' it is you hollerin' at me? Oh, it's all better now 'cause you apologise fer yellin' all day, but that don't change the fact that you do!"

"What else am I supposed to do? You know damn well we can't keep tearin' Soda apart and God knows you ain't puttin' in any of the effort. Tell me, Pony, what do you want me to do? 'Cause that's all I do, aint it? Just follow your every–"

"I want you to be a better brother!"

A beat of silence.

Ponyboy's breathing quickly, his chest shaking, and Darry can hear the tears he won't let fall.

"D'you remember when I lost your football a year ago?" His voice is fragile, tense, barely audible over the silence that's rushing through Darry's ears. "The one the whole team had signed. You hated me for days. Then we bounced back a week later without even a sorry. And now–" His voice breaks and a faint hiccup makes it through his defences. It takes all that Darry has not to wrap his arms around his little brother "–now ya can't even say two sentences without a sorry bein' in the middle of them and I'm sick of it! I'm sick of it because I ain't fragile and I ain't gonna break if ya tell me to do my homework! I just didn't want you on my case all the time, but even that's better than whatever this is.

"You wanna know why I'm always with Curly? 'Cause he calls me an idiot when I mess things up and he wrestles with me and only says sorry when he actually hurts me. 'Cause he don't treat me like I'm made of glass. And I'm not!"

Ponyboy ends his rant with a little stomp that looks so absurdly childish after their fight that Darry almost laughs.

But it's a stark reminder of the fact that Ponyboy is just a kid. He's just a kid and he's gone through about as much as Darry, who still feels unprepared for it. Ponyboy's fourteen but he isn't, not really. Fourteen-year-olds don't have to worry about their friends crumpling under streetlights or drinking so aggressively they end up in a hospital bed they can't pay for. They don't have to worry about carrying out their best friend's dying wish.

Ponyboy's sick and tired of everyone around him treating him like a kid when he can't really be called one anymore because kids are innocent and what part of Ponyboy can be called innocent right now? He's gone through enough loss to know what he can handle and how he should cope, and yet everyone's assumed he doesn't because he's a scrawny little kid.

Darry walks – stumbles – over to the couch and sinks down into it. He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and runs a hand down his face.

He can't look Pony in the eyes, not now. Not if he really wants to say it right. Instead he stares holes into the couch in front of him, trying his best to find where to start.

"God, I–" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "I'm so sorry, Pony. You're right. It's stupid, I wanted to protect you from the world, at first, make sure you got outta here." He laughs humourlessly. "Can't believe I didn't realise how pointless it was. You can't protect someone from the world they live in. Then I wanted to protect you from myself, which was even stupider, I don't even know what I was trying to do, but I was trying–"

He's cut off by a small body – too small, hasn't he been eating? – ramming into him as Ponyboy sits down on the couch next to him.

"I know," Ponyboy whispers as his arms snake around his older brother, his head buried in Darry's shoulder. "You're tryin' and you ain't perfect." He takes a deep breath. "And I also know I ain't exactly helped much."

Darry gives a breathless laugh. "It's fine, Pony. I wasn't a saint at fourteen either."

He wraps an arm around Ponyboy.

"We'll figure this out, someday, right?"

"'Course we will." Ponyboy's voice is muffled by Darry's shirt so he turns his head to awkwardly look up at him. "We did that thousand-piece puzzle that one time, remember? We're invincible."

He laughs again and ruffles Ponyboy's hair.

"Fuck yeah we are."

[actually-well-written]

THE HASHIRAS ARE ALL VIRGINS AND HERE'S MY ARGUMENT

Ok, ok, first of all, we should get something out of the way.

Tengen Uzui is NOT a virgin.

He might be the only one that isn't. He has three wives, first of all. pretty attractive ones too but it's not just that he's married either.

The characters have stated and acknowledged the fact that he's really attractive multiple times, not to mention even before meet his wives he was still a ladies man. So it's safe to assume even before beening his wives he was still NOT a virgin.

And besides, he has a son. So even in the rare case that he was, he's definitely not anymore

R.I.P. Uzui you would have loved saying Rizz 😔😔🙏🙏

Ok now, let's begin.

Shinobu kocho is a virgin.

First of all, she's a workaholic, she had to be a hashira, the head of her 'hospital', the teacher to Kanao, and not to mention she has been working on the poison for Domua and Muzan as well as the cure. I doubt she has any free time and if she did, I wouldn't be surprised if she used it to sleep or something, no time to go out and find someone poor girl is working herself to death og

Another thing is, she doesn't seem like the type to even what to get some action. First of all, there's her little obsession with poisoning people and threatening to kill people all the time, so that might be a bit of a repellent.

All though, characters have stated and treated her like a godness, because of her beauty. Therefore I believe if she was offered a chance she would decline probably a little passive aggressively also I feel like she believes that kind of thing just doesn't matter for her, given the fact she's been planning her death for years and probably just wants to stay pure enough for heaven when her short time comes to an end.

R.I.P. shinobu, you would have loved true crime documentaries 😔😔🙏🙏

Obanai Iguro is obviously a virgin.

He's literally had a fear and hatred for women because of his past, it's even been stated that he has a hatred to the demon slayer women, because he believes they are emotionally closed off. Which causes me to safely assume, that even if he wanted too, he believes that you can't have sex without the love.

Which also makes his love for Mitsuri even more pure, because he would absolutely still love her the same if she where to tell him he could never touch her again. He loves her for her soul and her love ❤️

R.I.P Obanai you would have loved Internet stalking 😔😔🙏🙏

Mitsuri Kanroji is a virgin.

Need I prove it? Fine, it's literally stated that before joining the corps, she has no luck with men dumbasses and she also explained that the reason she joined the corps was to find a man that would want a women like her. This proves that Mitsuri has not met a man that wants to be with a woman like her idiots therefore, she has no experience.

And I have the feeling that she also believes that you can't have sex without the love and if she was given the chance, she would politely decline. She would want to save herself for a person she would want to spend her life with. She also seems like the type to want a men to just hold her hand for 6 months getting to know her until they were to do something that intimate.

R.I.P. Mitsuri you would have been a Hello Kitty girl 😔😔🙏🙏

Kyojuro Rengoku is a virgin.

Alright, at first, I was sure this man was NOT a virgin. He's kind, he's handsome, and multiple women have admired him, but then I thought about it more.

First of all, almost everything he's done was to please his father, granted he eventually stopped trying so hard, but still. Given that mindset, he would want to be with someone that his family would approve of, and he couldn't do that with just anyone.

Say what you will, but I believe Rengoku's the type to get too attached to a person if he were to be intimate. Sex is a very vulnerable bonding moment after all. Also, before the death of his mother, it's very implied that he witnessed true love through watching his parents, he would want to have that for himself as well.

I feel like if he wanted to have that kind of intimacy it would be because he is married to them and because he wants to have children, therefore I believe he is a virgin by choice. Probably waiting for marriage or at the very least, a person he knows will be the mother to his children.

R.I.P Rengoku you would have loved buffets 😔😔🙏🙏

Giyu Tomioka is a virgin.

You would assume that he is a virgin. I mean, he's very closed off, quiet, accidentally comes off as rude, and he's very clueless, and is seems he spends a lot of his time being depressed.

Another thing is also that inferiority complex he suffers from. I believe that it goes farther from jaut believing he doesn't belong with the rank of the other hashira's, but it also goes into his daily life. And probably also makes him believe he doesn't deserve the 'cravings' of a man.

I also have this feeling that if he was given the chance, he would be very clueless or decline in a pretty dull voice he doesn't mean too, not to mention he makes a pretty big deal when people talk to him, implying he's not used to people demonstratimg behavior that shows they have interest in him

The thing is though, of he really wanted too, he could easily get as much game as he wanted too.

I mean, throughout the anime is implied that even the other hashira's notice how attractive giyu is, which might I add, says a lot, considering they all think he's rude.

And besides, he doesn't exactly act like he doesn't know how to pull, I mean come on, we can see that attitude he gets when Sanemi pushes his buttons far enough or when he grows some confidence for a few seconds 👀👀

R I.P Tomioka you would have loved animal crossing.😔😔🙏🙏

Sanemi Shinazugawa is a virgin

I know some people are gonna get a little butthurt on this one, but here me out.

Ok, first of all, there's that attitude of his. If you were on the street and a man was yelling at his younger brother for some stupid reason, would you find that man attractive after? I don't think so. And it's not just that, he's pretty aggressive, he's inpatient, and frankly he's scary looking. If a women were to be able to handle that trauma coping personality then I kinda doubt that in this area of time, all his scars would have been an attractive factor to some people.

I mean think about it, if your a village girl and a men looking like him come out of no where, wouldn't you be jumpscared?

Ok, but let's say it's a women from the corps, surly they would understand scars happen right? Well, sure, but here's a thing people keep forgetting. He's shy. Gyomei has stated that Sanemi is actually very shy at times. If he looked at a women that way, he would get really ashamed or embarrassed by it, and would probably avoid the said person. That been said, if he was given the chance then maybe he would take it.

Nah, who am I kidding, he would most definitely take it, but then here's another thing. I feel like he would get attached. Like I said, sex is a vulnerable bonding moment, no matter the situation. If he got with a women I'm pretty sure there is a huge chance he would end up being very close to that person and then feel conflicted but he doesn't want to get attached.

Therefore sex with Sanemi would have to be with someone he loves, because he would be aware that he would catch feelings. Argo, he's a virgin, because he refuses to risk losing another person that he loves. poor baby

R.I.P. Sanemi you would have loved raging at little kids in video games 😔😔🙏🙏

Gyomei Himejima is a virgin.

He's a virgin by choice. That's it. If he wanted to he easily could. But he doesn't want to and never will. Why? Well, probably because he wants to focus his attention on more important matters, like training, protecting children, prying for the departed souls, fighting demons.

And also, he has the sexual desires of a buddhist monk. He just doesn't care for this stuff. The end.

R.I.P. Gyomei you would have loved prayer rooms in airports 😔😔🙏🙏

Muichiro is a minor.

Thank you for listening to my argument and I hoped I have proved my point. Everything I have said today, is my opinion and should not be taken so seriously. Please don't attack me.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I hate that the fanon idea of Ed as someone with a small vocabulary/someone who is "bad with words" is still presented so often without criticizing it in fanworks.

It's just not supported by canon at all. Ed speaks very casually, but that's true of every other character on the show (including Stede, who's so often made into someone who talks like the poshest of Brits, but that's a topic for another day).

The only times we see Ed stumble over words, it's more that he's unfamiliar with the concepts they represent. He doesn't know what "retirement" means, but he's a pirate from a low-class background, so it makes sense he's never heard it before (and that he assumes other pirates, like Izzy, wouldn't know what it meant). He stumbles over "passive aggression," mishearing the first word as "massive," but if mishearing one very similar word as another is a sign of a limited vocabulary, I'm sure we're all guilty there - and the way Ed corrects himself and acts a bit embarrassed makes it clear he's not used to messing up his words like that.

Ed's vocabulary is often shown to be absolutely fine, bordering on impressive, in the show itself! He sure as fuck never needs Stede to explain big words to him (please stop making me read that). Ed frequently chooses larger/less commonplace words to describe things (diabolical, optimal, intercourse, etc.) when smaller words would do fine. He does not have a limited vocabulary. In fact, the way Hornigold chides Ed for using "purgatory" to describe the gravy basket when he thinks a simpler term would be better makes it seem like Ed's even a bit insecure about how other pirates might think his vocabulary is too hoity-toity.

Now, writing Ed as someone who is self-conscious of his ability to come across as good with words is something I've seen done very well as a commentary on race and class, especially by other fans of color. Writing about Ed thinking he's "bad with words" while at the same time being very obviously eloquent is a great deconstruction of this theme. But I hate when it's used uncritically, and especially when Stede has to explain perfectly commonplace words to Ed. Ed doesn't need Mr. "Calm down mr. wavey blade" over here to give him vocabulary lessons.

[obsidiancreates]

Bad Day

Shawn Spencer, Head Psychic of the SBPD, doesn't have bad days. He had exciting days, setback days, annoying days- but never bad days.

Shawn Spencer, the ADHD and CPTSD riddled human man, does have bad days. He had them Fairly often from ages 0 to 8, Frequently from ages 8 to 18, and Near Daily from ages 18 to 28.

But he'd tucked the Regular Human Man away when the Head Psychic became a real, viable option, so if you asked him "How often do you have bad days?" he would put a finger to his head, smile, and say he never has bad days because he can see them coming to avoid.

At least, he usually would.

Today though. Today started with a groggy morning escape from a Greatest Hits Roll of his most upsetting moments in life posing as "dreams", then an empty fridge, his go-to cafe being closed for a health code violation, the office fridge being empty, and finally a voicemail from his dad scolding him about some thing. A case, maybe, Shawn doesn't know- he's already lived a full day, as far as he's concerned, and now it's time to lay in the empty office and reset.

So he lays down on the couch, closes the blinds, and lays his slightly-pounding head on the armrest.

Running through woods, sweating in a trunk, failing the math test and knowing the bully did too, gun to his face, gun to Gus's face, tape on his Mom's face-

"Shawn!"

Shawn's eyes snap open, taking a breath like a barb that stabs the back of his throat. Great, he slept with his mouth open and now his throat is sore and dry. Just what he needed today.

"The Chief just called me, she's been trying to reach you all morning." Gus picks up the office phone, and tsks. "How many times do I have to tell you which way the phone goes in the charger?"

"You could try telling me when I care." Shawn throws his arm over his eyes.

"Wha- Shawn!"

"Wha, Shawn!"

"You better knock that off before we get to the station."

"Sure, Dad."

"I'm serious, Shawn! Get up! She said it's important!"

"She always says it's important."

"And it usually is!"

"And sometimes it's her needing a babysitter!"

"Fine, then I'll go get the case, and keep your part of the check."

"... Fine."

The ride in the Blueberry is quiet. Gus keeps looking over at Shawn, and it makes his skin prickle. It's not the first time- Shawn loves attention, but sometimes someone looks at him in just the wrong way at the wrong time and it feels worse than having a weapon waved at him.

They pull up, and they walk in, and Lassie and Jules are already in the office.

"Gentlemen, nice of you to finally join us," The Chief says, her controlled tone the perfect example of Passive Aggressive.

"Sorry, Chief, it's just that we have lives sometimes."

She pauses her flipping through files, and looks up at Shawn with narrowed eyes and lips pressed thin. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Gus begin his Lamaze breathing, Jules's eyes widen as she dips her head, and Lassie smirk a bit at the oncoming trouble Shawn's surely just invited for himself.

"Well, Mr. Spencer, so do we, but-"

"But you're city employees, aaand we aren't." Gus elbows Shawn, hard, and Shawn just grits his teeth and pushes back.

Lassie looks at him with equal amounts shock and wicked delight, Jules with just plain shock. The Chief blinks, letting out a huff of what could be laughter, but probably isn't.

"I don't know what's got you in a mood, Mr. Spencer, but I suggest you sort yourself out now. This case is looking like a high-profile murder at the moment."

"Looking like?"

"We've got blood, a broken-in door, and a knife missing from the residence. The body is missing, but our victim was one of the top, tobacco production CEOs in the entire west coast, and he had enough enemies to fill the station and more."

Lassie whistles. "Impressive."

"And time-consuming. We need-"

"Me to get a reading on the suspects, right, can I see the crime scene photos?" Shawn grabs them without an answer. Jules gasps like she just witnessed a stabbing- or is about to, which she very well may, given the look The Chief gives him. If Shawn's head didn't hurt, and he didn't feel like every emotion he's ever felt in his entire life were all compacting into one horrible apathetic brick in his chest, maybe he would care enough to scale back a little.

He flips through. Standard crime scene, terrible photos, worse than the time the murderer was the one taking them. "You should fire whoever took these. I mean it."

"Shawn!"

"Shh." He waves his hand in Gus's face. Knife missing from the knife block, no evidence of it anywhere else in the house, blood on the bedroom rug, smearing suggests a body being dragged, but ooooh, what's that?

"Who checked this crime scene?"

"We did." Lassie looks at the photos over Shawn's shoulder- well, head. "Why?"

"We were really thorough."

"Do we both think that word means the same thing?" He doesn't want to say it, but it slips out, and Jules looks hurt instead of shocked this time. But he's not wrong.

"The victim isn't the victim, he's the killer. Oh, I see it." he half-heartedly waves a hand and closes his eyes. "Yeah, the blood spray, the victim was attacked by someone laying in the bed. And this one-" He flips to another photo in the stack, eyes still closed but knowing it's right. "-This one shows the knife block, I can see there are no grooves in that slot of the block, it wasn't regularly removed and returned but all the others were. I think our 'victim' knew someone was after him and probably slept with that knife under his pillow."

"We did find a journal with some paranoid ramblings," Lassie mumbles.

Shawn opens his eyes. "Seriously?"

"Well, they were written like a whackjob. Just pages of the same thing over and over."

"What thing, Lassie?"

"I don't know, some bull about being watched and being ready."

"Like maybe by an enemy? And being ready to kill to defend himself?"

"Geez, Spencer, what is wrong with you today?"

"You're right, I'm sorry. Clearly, we should throw out all the important evidence because it seems just too helpful!"

"Watch it-"

"That is the usual procedure around here, right? Just sort of miss and ignore evidence until I show up? Follow all your worst leads first?"

"That's it!" Lassie grabs Shawn by the collar.

"Detective!"

"Carlton!"

"Shawn, say you're sorry!"

"You've been an ass before Spencer but this is- CHRIST!"

Lassie yanks his hand away, and Shawn makes a face as he wipes at his teeth with his shirt. The fabric comes away slightly red.

Jules pries Lassie's good hand off the hurt one, and then looks at Shawn like she's never even seen him before. "Do you even know what you just did?!"

"Assaulted an officer!" Lassie growls, accepting tissues from The Chief to press to his bleeding knuckles.

"Not my fault you have thin skin. ... Literally."

Lassie reaches for his gun.

"Enough!" The Chief slams both hands on her desk. "Mr. Spencer, out. I am letting you off with a warning this time but if you ever, bite one of my officers again-"

"He won't," Gus says quickly. "Right Shawn?"

"Did everyone miss the part where he tried to choke me?"

"Shawn!"

"Right, sorry, I'm sorry, everyone, I forgot that Lassie gets special privileges when it comes to police brutality."

"That's a serious accusation, Shawn!" Jules is backing away now, standing closer to Lassie's side.

"Wow, I had no idea! It's not like I know everything about police procedure because I was drilled on it my whole life!" Shawn knows he's out of control now- he knows, he hates it, this isn't fun out of control, this is bad out of control, this is that Out Of Control that pushed him to steal a car and run away without goodbyes and try to just burn every bridge. It's building up, brick after brick of compressed bad days and weeks and years, and it's not fair to take it out here and now but he can't help it.

"Mr. Spencer, you are officially withdrawn from this case."

"Got it, uh, good luck, detectives, with actually arresting the right person."

"MCNAB!" The Chief's shout makes Shawn flinch even through the foggy, half-aware state he's slipped into. He's just... mad.

Buzz comes running in, almost slipping, barely avoiding hitting his head on the door. The laugh that sneaks out of Shawn is ugly even to him, and he hates it, hates everything he's said and done this whole day, but it happens away and Jules looks at him with unfiltered contempt and Lassie looks ready to actually kill him and Gus looks like he might help out.

"Escort Mr. Spencer out, of this station."

Buzz points at Shawn, mouth slightly agape as his eyes travel over to Lassie cradling his hand and Jules now refusing to look at Shawn at all and Gus holding Shawn like he's a misbehaving dog.

"Careful, I bite." He's not really in control of his own mouth anymore. He feels more like he's dreaming now that he did earlier. Is this the part that isn't real? Is this the nightmare? God, he hopes so.

"Oh, geez." Buzz hesitates for a second, and then tentatively puts an arm behind Shawn. Shawn smiles at him. The look in Buzz's eyes makes him think there's still some blood on his teeth.

He jerks at Buzz a bit. Buzz only startles, but Lassie, Jules, and The Chief all brace to get in the way. Why did he do that? This is getting dangerous. He should just stop.

"Um, just, this way." Buzz puts only a little pressure on his back, but it sends a shock through Shawn's system like a car battery. He has a full-body convulsion away from the touch, and in the shocked silence that follows it he shoulder-checks Buzz as he storms out the door through the station. Eyes are on him, prickling and stinging at his skin, brick on top of brick and-

... Ow.

He blinks at the blood on the rough wall of the station lobby, and looks at the mottled skin on his knuckles.

Gus catches up to him and takes in the scene. The whole station is probably staring too. A numb feeling in his hand starts to spread, but it's not numb-numb, it's pain-numb.

"I think I broke it." His voice sounds jarringly solid and steady to him.

"Yeah." Gus approaches carefully. "Are you uh... feeling better?"

"... No." Shawn clenches his fist and watches the skin stretch, fresh blood beading across the wounds. That should be bothering him. It should be snapping him out of it. It's not.

"Are you gonna do something if I try to touch you right now?"

"... I think so."

"So this is bad-bad."

"And I thought I was the observant one."

Gus tsks. "Will you go to the car? Without anyone making you?"

"... Maybe." He wants to say no. He's just barely holding back from saying no, from calling the car stupid and pointless like it's driver and he doesn't want to think that but he's barely here right now and it's just ringing over and over in his head and-

"Can you stop yourself from punch the car?"

"Yes!" It comes out a snap, a shout, and Gus backs up, and Shawn feels sick but he can't seem to do anything about it.

Gus is about to say something more but Shawn is moving and slamming the door behind him and he could get shot he could get shot but he does and he avoid The Blueberry and just walks. Away from the station, his apartment, the office-

His phone chimes and his hand is shaking as he rips it out of his pocket and throws it against a wall, gritting his teeth so hard as he walks away from it shattering that he breaks a tooth as well. He hears it happen. The phone is more of a good solid bam! while the tooth is a smaller crrrk!

The wandering is the most dreamlike he's ever felt. Just passing buildings and people and seething over nothing and going nowhere.

And then all of a sudden he's Back.

He blinks, and stops, and sucks in a breath, and it all crashes down on him.

The bricks blocking up his chest crumble, their dust clogging his lungs, and he can't breath as it all replays with a sharper clarity than he'd had in the actual moments. He sinks against a wall in some... somewhere, and stares at a tree while it all plays over and over and his head screams to go back and face it an apologize while his everything-else screams to just leave, just go and keep going and never look back-

It's nearly dark out when he sees The Blueberry come into view, but he just stays like he is, arms on his knees and head leaned against the dirty concrete wall. Gus slams the door as he gets out. Shawn feels a flinch try to make it's way to the surface, but now he's in a different dream. It's not so mad, but it's still not good. He's still not here. He was, for a few minutes, and then he'd sat down and... when exactly did he go away again?

"Dude, you have problems." Gus is sweating, breathing hard, eyes bloodshot. "You have serious problems!"

Shawn would nod, but his neck is stiff. He hadn't really noticed until now.

"... Get in the car." Gus's voice is a little softer this time. "I'm taking you to see someone tomorrow, I mean it. ... Chief's orders. It's that or we never work for them again."

"That's fine with me." It's not fine. It's not fine! Why'd that come out of him? He didn't say that.

"No, it isn't." Gus moves out of his vision. Shawn hears fabric against wall, so Gus probably sat down next to him. "... What is this, Shawn?"

Shawn swallows. His throat is dry. He hadn't noticed that, either. No, not hadn't noticed- hadn't been capable of feeling it. Like how he can't feel his body, really, and can't seem to control his words, and can't even control where his thoughts are going.

He has to try a few times, to be able to say anything. To even pry his dry, cracked lips open. To even wrestle back control of his vocal cords. To even identify the problem.

He licks his lips, and Shawn Spencer the ADHD and CPTSD riddled human man, speaks.

"... I'm having a bad day."

[aleppothemushroom]

Inside Out 2 review

It's a rare thing to have a Pixar sequel that's as good as the original. Now, would I say Inside Out 2 is better than the original? Uuuhhh...no. Not really. Do I still think that it's an incredible film that does right by its predecessor? Absolutely.

For one thing, it doesn't conveniently forget the main character's arc from the first movie. Joy no longer passive-aggressively dismisses Sadness for being "useless." She treats the latter like an equal now, even letting her go on an important assignment.

The movie's message is also unique in how it's not "every emotion is important" and more about self-love. And what I really appreciate is that they don't tell you to practice self-love. They show you how to self-love. They find a way to perfectly visualize how being too hard on yourself is bad for you and how to treat yourself nicer. True, it's probably the only movie that can visualize that, but still it's so refreshing. Really hit home for me (I cried a little but not a lot because I'm a man [totally]).

Speaking of emotions, they're all just as entertaining and fun as they were before. There's a scene with Joy and Anger that particularly stands out. I love the new emotions too. Well...most of them, but we'll to that in a bit. Ennui and Embarrassment are both huge moods. Anxiety steals the show by a landside. She's funny, she's relatable, and she makes a great antagonist without being a "bad guy." She has her place in Riley's mind, she just doesn't exactly know what it is yet and is trying to do what she thinks is best.

Cool transition alert, Riley feels more like a...character in this? In the first movie she felt more like a vessel for the emotions, while here she feels way more independent and her own person rather than just an extension of the emotions (which is actually a major theme in the story).

The movie is also very funny. I'd even say it's more funny than the first. (Riley's hidden secrets are a huge highlight).

Now, what's holding Inside Out 2 from being better than the first movie to me? Well, let's get the minor nitpick out the way, I don't like Fear's new voice. Tony Hale's doing a fine job, but it does not sound like Fear. Which is weird because Disgust's new voice sound fine. Could they have not found someone else who sounded a bit more like Bill Hader? Like, there's gotta be a voice double you have on speed dial somewhere.

Now for actual criticisms, Envy. I like the concept behind the character. I like the design of the character. I do not like how they use this character. She doesn't really feel like "Envy" to me. The movie mostly just treats her as second-in-command to Anxiety. There's a few moments where she acts more envious, but it feels more like the movie is trying to remind us who she is rather than having her be consistent throughout. By the way, I'm gonna get into some spoilers, just to let you know.

SPOILER WARNING! ABANDON YEE WHO BE WITHOUT KNOWLEDGE!

That scene where Joy breaks down and Anger helps reinvigorate her spirits comes way too early. Which makes the scene where Joy is at her lowest moment and doesn't know what to do get resolved way too quickly.

Joy's arc in this one seems a bit undercooked. Like, I can see an inkling of her starting to believe that she's useless in Riley's growing mind, but it's only an inkling that gets resolves anyway.

Another arc, a story one, of the emotions learning to let Riley grow and develop on her own is also not fully developed. The movie tells us that's what the characters learn but like...did they? I like the idea, I like the resolution, I just didn't see the build-up. And if it was there, it was not that noticeable.

But while I had some complaints, I think the positives outweigh the negatives. This is an excellent Pixar sequel and I would not mind (HA!) if this became their new big franchise. I just hope that Disney doesn't learn the wrong lesson from this film's destined success and starts pumping out sequels like crazy.