#and then i got myself killed for fraud

[doorp]

like,,, them finding out Lenore’s name is vandernacht and going. You’re THAT LENORE?? and then making the connection that. Oh it might not be a coincidence that you and Annabel Lee both magically have the names of those two Victorians that died on their wedding day.

or if Lenore was erased from the history books them being like. “Wait they had a daughter?? Who the hell are you??” and Lenore having to realize that oh wow she was erased from history books - and subsequently having to explain herself

or if Lenore died on their wedding day and her identity wasn’t revealed to the public having to explain that, aha, yes, the Lenore that died in a fire? 😏 that was ME- i set the fire. ….And escaped into the night with my brothers stolen clothes. and cut all my hair off and then committed fraud.

oh and at some point eula is probably going to ask Lenore what Monty meant when he said she burned her house down and ran into the night -we kinda glossed over the fact bee and Eula know she committed arson- if they even remember it, a lot of shit happened that day

Do you guys think that once the characters of nevermore start remembering their timeline and where they were and who they were

They’ll eventually get wind of others, like if they knew Duke was an illusionist , he would be sorta famous right ???

And it seems Pluto knew but he could’ve just gotten that from the poster

But still

What if some of them got news or knew about Lenore and Annabel’s death?

Like if it were in some news papers or a known tragic story among the future before dying out as just another tragedy ??

[neodiekido]

sooo sad we don't get the option to play as kaede in the salmon team mode. i wanna see the rest of shuichis ftes and see fully how kaede interacts with everyone else....

(also i think some of the more fucking insane shitposty dialogue options fit kaedes temperament more than shuichi "anxiety disorder" saihara)

[suiana]

SHUTUP I GOT AN IDEA BECAUSE OF THIS TUMBLR POST I SAW

imagine being the spouse of a high ranking court judge. the problem is that you're a big ass criminal (like, tax evasion and stuff idk) and you finally get caught by the police.

thankfully, your yandere! judge has decided to save you.

"you are convicted for several accounts of tax fraud and love scamming. do you plead guilty?"

"yeah, i did it. I'm not trying to lie or defend myself. anyway, is it really my fault if those guys were so gullible-"

"silence in the court."

you can only stare awkwardly as the judge enters the cout room and silences everyone. why was his voice so- oh. it's your husband..? IT'S YOUR HUSBAND?!

you weren't really sure what happened throughout the rest of the court session. you heard something about how you weren't in the wrong and how your husband would often go on tangents about why your crimes weren't considered crimes because it was you who did it.

before you knew it, you found your lawyer cheering in joy as the judge announced the results of the case.

"partially guilty. punishment is to be on house arrest for a month and to give their husband attention. case dismissed."

"s-sir! there is clear evidence of them committing-"

"you heard me the first time and i won't repeat myself. case dismissed."

you were in a daze the rest of the way home. was it... really that easy? i mean, you knew your husband would bend the world and back for you but to blatantly excuse your crimes like that... in front of tons of people too! isn't that-

"honey, you-"

"why would i put you in prison? that would be a punishment for me as well. also, have you forgotten who i am and my status? i'd break any law ethics for you, and no one would be able to say anything."

wow.... you never knew he was so... romantic.

i mean, you knew he was obsessed and loved you when he stalked and practically forced you to marry him but this had to be the ultimate act of love!

"also, i killed the guys you love scammed."

wait what?

[foldingfittedsheets]

No one made any distinction to me when I was growing up when a word wasn’t English. Andale was just another way to be told “hurry up,” and I was certain other parents told their kids, “Watch your cabesa,” when getting into the car. I laughed myself sick the first time I saw Dragon Ball Z because a ladies name was Chi Chi and I only knew that meant boobs.

All my moms family was brown and I desperately wished I was too. I wanted beautiful black hair like my mom and dark skin that didn’t burn. I didn’t like when people asked my mother if she was my nanny when they saw us together. I didn’t like that people told me I looked like my dad. They just meant I was pale.

I’d proudly announce to people that I was Mexican and become furious when they gaped or disbelieved me. My dads side has no cultural roots. When questioned my dad shrugs and says, “English maybe? I dunno.” I just wanted to be Mexican growing up. Alas, I’m only a quarter descendant of an immigrant family who vehemently didn’t want to be Mexican.

My great grandmother announced that we were American now, not Mexican. She embraced American culture as much as possible, while never learning English. My nana was put into school and punished anytime she spoke Spanish. She got caught halfway between both languages. Forced to spend her childhood raising her younger siblings she never learned to cook tamales with her mother and her friends.

When she had her own children she didn’t teach them Spanish. She used it to gossip with her own friends about them on the phone and resisted teaching them more than to come running when she shouted “Araña!” to kill a spider for her.

Thus came my mom, with her brown skin and dark hair, adrift from her culture but treated as lesser by her adopted one. My great grandmother would rejoice to see me as her descendant, white, ignorant of Spanish, the perfect American she wanted her family to be.

When I was born my nana shouted, “What’s that red on her?” only to realize it was my hair. She delighted in her palest grandchild, telling me often I was her favorite.

I’m used to the disbelief now when I tell people I’m Mexican. I can laugh and show pictures of my mom. My friend from work joked to me that I’m always coming out of the closet, over and over, because both my minority statuses aren’t as visible as her black skin.

I was recently lamenting this to a white southern friend the same one I cast psychic damage on during a DnD day. “I wish I could feel more connected to my culture, but I’d be such a fraud pretending my life is the same as other Hispanic people.”

“Skin color doesn’t matter,” he announced blithely to the choked outrage of our Indian friend in the kitchen, “You’re just as Mexican!”

I regarded him in astonishment and said, “I think skin color matters a lot. I am Mexican, but I don’t have the same cultural roots or experiences of people who are perceived as Mexican. My family didn’t pass the cultural heritage down. I think a lot of immigrant kids feel this way but it’s different for me.”

He rambled about how I’m just as valid and I quietly disregarded his advice. I could try to reconnect with my roots, but I know I’d just be another white girl pushing into a POC space.

Instead I make tamales by myself, sweating over the steaming corn husks, and I snap at people who make racist jokes about my family to me, feeling safe because my skin is the same color as theirs.

[happy74827]

Prisoner of Love

[S6! Mike Ross x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Making the effort to explain himself, Mike certainly has a lot on his plate, including breaks, not just from jail.

WC: 3205

Category: Slight Angst, Slight Fluff

This was an intrusive thought that I just wrote up last night… so, enjoy! (thanks for your wonderful feedback @yoursacredqueenmother)

『••✎••』

“Mike?”

You were in utter shock to see your friend Mike standing in front of you. Your best friend, the one person who always seemed to be there for you no matter what had turned out to be not only a complete fraud but also now a criminal. You were in such a state of disbelief that you hadn't realized you were standing there, looking at him, with your mouth agape and eyes wide.

After you said his name, you didn't know what else to say. Mike stood there with his hands on the door frame, not wanting to take one step forward and risk coming inside your apartment. He looked nervous, his head darting all over, trying to avoid eye contact with you. His breathing was quick and short as if he had just run a marathon, and his lips were pressed into a fine line, which meant that he was thinking of something to say.

Mike was arrested, he was in jail for two years because of a plea deal, and now here he was, standing in front of you only weeks later like it was any other day.

The silence was killing you. Mike still wouldn't make eye contact, and you were starting to feel the anger boil up inside of you. You felt betrayed. You had spent almost four years working at Pearson-Hardman with him and Rachel, and you considered yourself friends with him and his “on a break” girlfriend, so this came as a huge shock to you. You never saw him as a fraud, never would have suspected it in a million years, but here he was—a liar, a con artist, and now a fugitive.

Mike finally looked up at you, and the first thing he noticed was the tears forming in your eyes. Seeing you cry hurt him, but not as much as the words that came out of your mouth.

"Go away."

His eyes gave away the fact that he clearly was expecting this, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. The blue turned a dark gray, the way they always did when he was upset, and his eyes fell back down to the floor.

"Look, I— I’m not here to make excuses. I know that I just… Don’t you even care to know why I’m here? What happened to me?" He asked, finally finding the strength to keep eye contact.

"Could be more bullshit," you said, folding your arms across your chest and leaning against the door. You didn’t want to admit that you did want to know what happened to him. You were concerned; of course, you were. That was part of the reason you were so upset with him. Even after all that he put you through, the worry for him was still there.

"Can I at least explain myself?" Mike asked, and you rolled your eyes at his question.

"You already did, Mike. Well, everyone except me, apparently. You, Rachel, Harvey, Jessica, Louis. All of you knew about this, but I didn't. And why is that?"

"I told you I didn't want you to get involved," Mike replied. “You don’t deserve to go down for my mistakes. It was selfish of me to do that, I know that, but I thought I was protecting you."

"Yeah, well, you just stabbed me in the back instead," you said.

"Can I come inside? I only have so much time before—"

"Oh, so you’re protecting me again?" You asked, not waiting for an answer. "By breaking out of prison and coming to my place. I don't even want to think about what would happen to me if someone found out I'm hiding a fugitive!"

"I’m not—” Mike took a second to compose himself and start again. He couldn’t blame you for being so mad, not after everything he did. "I didn’t break out. I got released… sort of. It’s a bit messy, but to sum it up, I’ve got six hours with an ankle monitor."

"Then why are you here? Why not with Harvey?" You asked. "Or Rachel? I'm sure she’d be glad to see you, and she's better equipped to handle this."

"’Cause we need to talk. Now, can you let me inside, please? I’m feeling a little exposed out here," he said, his hand motioning towards the outside hallway.

Jokes. Of course, he would use jokes at a time like this.

“… Fine. You have an hour, tops. Then you have to leave," you said, taking a step back to let him inside.

Mike wasted no time stepping into your apartment, and as soon as you shut the door, his hands were on your shoulders, and he was pulling you into him. Your eyes went wide, and you had no idea what was going on. It was only when you felt his wet cheek against your own that you realized he was crying.

"I missed you," Mike said. “So so much."

It was like your brain went on autopilot, and suddenly, your arms were around him, and you were squeezing him tight. It was like nothing had changed. It was like no time had passed since you had last seen him, and it was so overwhelming that it had brought tears back to your eyes.

"I missed you too," you said, your voice quiet and barely above a whisper.

Mike pulled away from the hug but still had his hands on your shoulders. He was smiling at you, and his eyes were no longer that dark gray they were before but back to that bright blue.

"I’m sorry I never got to explain why I did what I did," Mike started, his voice a little shaky. "I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I couldn't. I didn’t want to put you in that position."

"But you were able to tell Rachel, Donna, and even Louis?" You asked.

"To be fair, Rachel figured it out on her own, and Donna knew from the moment I started working at Pearson-Hardman."

"What about Louis?"

"That was a whole different thing," Mike said, chuckling a bit. "He was a bit… theatrical, to say the least."

"But that still doesn't explain why you were able to tell them but not me."

At this, he looked away from you, his head turning and looking out the window. The night sky was beautiful, the way the full moon shone, and how the city lights made everything glow, including his face. The reflection of the moon against his skin made his eyes stand out, and the streetlights made him look like he was glowing.

"I knew you would understand," he finally said. "You would be the one person to listen to me and actually give me a chance, and I was afraid of that. If I had told you, I would've been afraid of what would've happened, and I would've probably ended up convincing myself to leave."

"Leave and do the right thing," you said.

"Maybe. But it doesn't matter. I'm here now, and we're talking," he said, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smile. “I’m making up for it now."

"Yeah, yeah," you said, rolling your eyes. You couldn't help but smile as well.

"But, there's one other reason why I didn't tell you. And it's not because I didn't trust you, because I trust you more than anyone. It's just that I— I—" Mike stopped himself, taking a moment to figure out his words. His eyes were looking everywhere, but at you, and the more he avoided your gaze, the more concerned you became. "I just, I wanted to protect you. Because I—"

Before he could finish, a knock came from the door. Mike looked at the clock, and the time read 2:04 AM. Who would be visiting at this time? You didn't have to wonder long as Mike's watch started to beep, and the knock became a more forceful bang.

"Mike, let's go!" Someone yelled from the other side of the door. A very familiar voice, too.

"Who is that?" You asked.

Mike ignored your question, instead walking towards the door. His hand was on the knob, and he took a deep breath, preparing himself.

The door flew open as soon as he opened it, and a very angry Harvey Specter stood on the other side.

"Where the hell have you been?" He asked.

"Calm down, Harvey. I was with her," Mike said, motioning towards you. "We were catching up."

"Catching up? Mike, do you not care about getting out of this mess or not? I told you I had a plan, but if you go running off on your own, it's not gonna work."

"Oh, is this another one of your great plans? The ones I get left out of?" You asked, moving past Mike and standing between him and Harvey.

Mike practically face-palmed himself when he heard you speak up. This was definitely not the way he planned things to go. Just as he finally was on the path of making things right, things went downhill once again.

"I would be happy to explain the details of the plan to you if someone," he glanced over at Mike, who looked down at his feet, "cared to follow it. Now, can we get going? The car and Cahill are waiting."

"Five minutes, Harvey.”

"Mike,” Harvey said, his tone showing how frustrated he was becoming.

"Five. Minutes."

Another minute was wasted with the two men staring each other down, and the air was filled with tension. It was a stare-off, and neither seemed like they were going to back down. You stood there, watching and wondering whether you should make an escape or not, but were too intrigued to move.

Harvey broke the silence with a sigh, his head dropping.

"Fine. But if you aren’t downstairs in five minutes, I'm dragging your ass down whether you like it or not."

And with that, Harvey turned around and walked away with that sense of confidence he always seemed to have. You watched him until he turned the corner, and when you turned back, Mike was smiling.

"What are you smiling about? Your best friend is still mad at you," you said. It came out more sarcastically than you had hoped, but you didn't really care at this point.

“Are you? Still mad, I mean," he asked, ignoring your snarky remark. “It seems like you aren’t."

"I am. I still feel hurt, but I can't stay mad at you. You know how much I suck at staying mad at people," you said.

"It’s a problem, yeah."

"Hey!" You exclaimed, hitting him on the shoulder.

"Well, it is. You have a tendency to let people walk all over you and forgive them for the shitty things they do. Which, might I add, is not always the right thing to do."

"So, I shouldn’t forgive you? Logic isn’t really logicking, Michael," you said, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"It is, and that’s not a real word," Mike laughed. “Besides, Michael? When did that start happening?”

"You’re the one with the photographic memory. Shouldn’t you know?"

Now you were both laughing. Like the good old days, the two of you would sit in his office or at his apartment, cracking jokes and laughing about the most ridiculous things: movies, TV shows, music, whatever.

You missed this. You missed him.

"I have to go," Mike said, the smile not leaving his face.

"Yeah," you said, the same sad smile on your lips. “Hey, is uh… is prison any fun?"

"Why, you wanna come visit?" Mike asked, chuckling a bit. You could tell he was faking his laugh, though. He was putting up a front, trying to seem like everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t.

"No, I mean… You’re okay, right? Harvey’s been talking about this Gallo guy, and it seems pretty bad," you said.

"I’m okay. I’ll be okay," Mike said, placing his hands on your shoulders. You couldn't help but notice how cold his hands were, and he couldn't help but notice the sadness in your eyes.

"Don’t look at me like that," he said.

"Like what?"

"Like that. The thing that you do when you know that something bad is going to happen," Mike said.

"You can't know that for sure," you said, your eyes not meeting his.

"But I do. Look at me."

You lifted your head, and his eyes bore into yours. It was almost as if he was trying to look straight into your soul.

"I will be fine. I promise. As long as you're not mad at me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Mike," you said, staring into his blue eyes. They were brighter than ever despite the situation.

Mike's hand reached up to cup your cheek, and at first, you thought he was just wiping away a tear, but he didn’t move. He just kept his hand there, and his gaze never left yours.

"Mike..."

He was staring at your lips, and his eyes had a look in them you had never seen before. It was almost like a hunger, a longing for something.

"Yeah?" He asked, his voice just as quiet.

"What are you doing?"

Mike moved his head closer to yours, and the distance between you was getting shorter.

"Mike," you said again, and he finally looked back into your eyes. The longing look was still there, but this time it was more prominent, and there was a slight fear. “What about Rachel?"

Mike's thumb stroked your cheek, and he let out a long breath, closing his eyes.

"She knows."

"Wha—"

But you couldn't finish because, in a split second, Mike's lips were on yours. His kiss was soft, and his hands were pulling you in closer. Your arms found their way around his neck, and one hand ran through his hair, which was much shorter than before. It didn’t take long for him to part his lips and allow your tongue to meet his.

Your heart was racing, and the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy. This wasn’t like any of the other kisses you had before, not like the quick, rushed kisses you shared with your ex or the ones that felt like dead weight against your lips.

This kiss was perfect. A well-crafted masterpiece that was made to make you feel loved. You didn’t realize just how badly you needed a kiss like this. You didn't know that was what was missing, but now that you had it, you realized how empty you were without it.

And when the two of you finally pulled apart, Mike was smiling. It was a big, genuine smile that lit up his face and made his eyes bright. It was a look that could light up a dark room.

"Rachel and I talked a lot while I was inside, and we decided that... that she deserved better. I couldn’t give her the life that she deserved. She was still stuck with me, even when I was away. We were both miserable, and it was time to put an end to it," he said, and a sad smile made its way onto his face.

"So…”

"She's okay. Really. She also knows about how much you mean to me, and she's okay with this."

"Really?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She also told me a wonderful piece of information about how you apparently love me."

"You did not just—"

"I did, and now we have to talk about that."

"Nope," you said, popping the 'p.' "You have a prison to go to and a plan to complete. So, get going. You've already wasted enough time."

"Aw, but I love talking about how much you like me," he said, a teasing smile on his face.

"Out."

Mike's smile widened, and he gave you one last quick kiss.

"Okay. I'm going."

Mike took a few steps towards the door, but then turned back to look at you. He didn't say anything, but instead just stared. He didn't have that hungry look in his eyes anymore, but a more content look.

Like he was taking in the last few moments he would have with you. A picture in his mind to cherish, and to remember you by.

"Mike?"

He took a deep breath, and looked at the floor, preparing himself for the next few moments.

"I don’t regret anything. And, if I had a chance to go back and do things differently, I wouldn’t change a single thing. Except maybe not getting caught," Mike said, his laugh coming out dry. "But, besides that, I don't regret any of it. Everything that happened, the people I've met, and the things I've done. The only thing I regret is not telling you sooner… about my feelings. How much I care for you. But, I want you to know that, I would do everything a million times over. If I knew that, in the end, it would lead me here, to this moment, with you, I would do it.”

He paused, and took another breath. It was clear he was struggling with his words, and the way he was looking at the ground showed that he was trying his best not to cry.

"I just wanted to tell you all of this before I go because I don’t know what will happen next. When I see you next, you know? I'm I just— I needed you to know, and I hope that, wherever I end up, and whatever happens, I’m glad we worked things out. At least, a little bit.”

You just stared. You knew Mike could feel your eyes on him, and that he probably didn’t like the silence, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Instead, you just took in everything that was him.

He was standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. He looked so casual, despite the fact that he was about to go off to prison… well, not at that moment— but soon. It was like it was a normal day, and he was just hanging out with his friends.

His blue eyes were no longer on the floor, and instead were back on you. He gave you one last small, sad smile, before turning around and leaving the apartment.

You watched as he turned the corner and disappeared from your view. It was quiet, the only sounds were your own breathing and the sounds from the city below. You could hear the cars driving by, and the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

Everything was so different now. Everything was so strange.

Before, your world revolved around Mike. No matter what, he was always there. He was the thing that held you together and what tore you apart. And, for the past couple of months, everything had fallen apart. You were in a state of chaos, and nothing was right.

And yet, in just a matter of minutes, everything changed.

You weren’t sure if everything would work out, and you weren't sure what the future held. But, at least now, things were back to how they should be.

Or as close as they could be.

[mcsm-confessions]

I think apart of the reason why this fandom has such a skewed understanding of what a Proship is,

Is because we have a lot of minors in here

Not trying to bag on y’all I just turned 18 myself last year

But here’s the definition so maybe we can stop some of this curfuffle of a debate

It is a ship that involves pedophilia, incest, and abusive relationships

Keep in mind it would have to be CURRENTLY/STILL abusive To fall into a proship

If you lumped ships that have had past abuse into proships then a lot of canon relationships in media would be proships. (Scroll past green if you don’t care for the other media examples)

Tiny List for those who care:

Katniss x Peeta (he choked her/tried to kill her)

Luz x amity (Amity tried to get Luz dissected and has attacked her during the witches duel)

Adora x Catra (fought each other for seasons)

So why should you care to use the correct definition instead? Because one day it could get your ships too

So here’s a list that includes some ships from this fandom that if you used “old abuse counts/caused trauma ” they would be considered proships:

Jesse x Petra:

- attacks Jesse while being controlled by pama (trauma)

- attacks Jesse while being forced to by Romeo (trauma)

- constantly yelling/taking anger out on Jesse for her problems (yelling at Jesse in the portal hallway for being the leader because she wanted a turn then running off, yelling at Jesse for their success over shadowing her’s in Stella’s treasure room, ect. Not saying Petra can’t vent but she yelled at Jesse like it was their fault when it was something they could not control) (yes mental stuff counts)

Jesse x Lukas:

-Lukas was apart of the gang that bullied Jesse

-attacked Jesse when controlled by Pama (trauma)

-Surrounded Jesse with the new ocelots when he thinks that’s the real Jesse to “show them how things used to be” (which btw, has a weird undertone cause like Jesse was NEVER part of the ocelots so does he mean how he used to have a gang of friends that could mess them up?) (trauma)

Soren x any old member of the stone:

- tricked them all into being frauds/didn’t tell them he was controlling their skills

-almost got them killed by the dragon, brought them there to slay it knowing well exactly what their skills really are

I can go on and on

And before anyone says “YOURE LOOKING TOO MUCH INTO IT” that’s exactly how much you guys look into the people you’re harassing

So please start using this word correctly before your ships are next <33

~~~

[applesaucesims]

After work, Niall took his car a bit further than usual, following Franklin to his home that he shared with Laura. He needed somebody to talk to about his doubts, and Franklin was the one who understood the topic the most of all.

Once inside, Franklin led his friend to a sitting room and lit the fireplace. Niall's eyes immediately jumped to a bottle of whisky that had been placed on a small table in just the right position to have a relaxing night of drinking on the couch. Although he had been trying to stay away from alcohol, Franklin seemed to be making a good point that he could just have a sip or two. Surely that could not cause any issues.

After a number of whisky glasses that Niall had lost count of quite early on, he slowly opened up to Franklin about the worries he had about Louis. He told him about the dream that his son had told him about, and how that had released feelings of doubt he had been pushing away rather than working on them.

As he listened to Franklin's words of encouragement, Niall felt his head getting heavier and the world around him seemed to be getting blurrier by the minute. Suddenly, his body seemed to act on autopilot, and he pulled his friend in for a kiss, just as he was about to turn away from him.

Thankfully, though, Franklin pushed him away immediately. They might have been together like that in the past, but that was all it was - the past. Neither of them actually still had any feelings for the other, and they had moved on a long time ago.

Bringing some distance between them, Niall scooted away in embarrassment. In doing so, his eyes fell to the photograph of Franklin's partner, Maxim, whom he had actually introduced him to, and then, just above, another photograph of himself with Emma, his wife. What was he even doing here? Was it really that easy for him to slip into old habits and make it worse at that? What would she say if she saw him like this now?

[TRANSCRIPT]

Franklin: "So, may I offer you a drink? Let me just light the fireplace."

Niall: "Erm... what sort of drink?"

Franklin: "You still like whisky?"

Niall: "Uhm... technically... but I haven't had one in ages."

Franklin: "Really? I can't imagine."

Niall: "I swear! I haven't had alcohol since... some time after Louis was born?"

Franklin: "Maybe that's why you're so stressed out."

Niall: "I mean... I can't say it isn't."

Franklin: "Right, surely one glass won't kill you. To take the edge off, you know?"

Niall: "Right."

...

Franklin: "So, you're worried because of a dream?"

Niall: "You're gonna tell me it doesn't mean anything, aren't you?"

Franklin: "Maybe not, but either way... That's got nothin' to do with you in the end, does it?"

Niall: *sighs* "I don't know. I guess I just hate to face that part of myself."

Franklin: "You're never gonna find peace that way, Niall."

Niall: "I know. And I love Emma so much, but thinking about this makes me feel like a fraud." *hic*

Franklin: "That's ridiculous. You just like both, and most of all you like her. It's that simple."

Niall: "Easy *hic* for you to say."

Franklin: *laughs* "How are you this drunk already? I need to catch up! Let me just top up my glass and- Mh!"

Franklin: "Niall, stop! What the fuck are you doing!?"

Niall: "I- I don't know."

Franklin: "That's enough drinking for you then."

Niall: "I'm so sorry! I don't know what's come over me!"

Franklin: "You really need to start properly working through this shit. I'll help you if you need me to, but I'm not here for you to fool around with for some distraction."

Niall: "I know, I don't even want that from you. You know this."

Niall: "I'm so stupid! I never should have come here. I tell you, this thing is causing nothing but trouble in my life."

Franklin: "Look, it's fine. Just figure yourself out. Your damned sexual preferences are not the issue here."

Niall: "Right. I'll- I'll try my best. Thanks for the talk."

[itsbubbleteataro]

Radio and the Reporter

Hello everyone! This is the last of my Radio and the Reporter (for now 0-0) I hope you enjoy! NOT PROOF READ

“So my darling doe, why in the world are you in hell?” Alastor asked, propping his elbows on the table, folding his long spindly fingers folding nicely so he could rest his chin on them. He cocked his head to the side, his smile ever wide and menacing. You snapped your fingers. From the same two ink pots, two little creatures spring from the ink. He watched the creatures, taking in how they never stopped bouncing to imaginary music, even as they poured tea for the two of them. 

  You keep your eyes on the deer man in front of you, “I’ll tell me if you tell me how you ended up down here as well. You’re quite the sweetheart, I'm tickled pink to see you again, but I'm worried.” You watched as he nodded his head. You sat back in your chair, sipping tea from your tea cup. “Alright. I was a reporter when we were alive, writing articles behind my fathers back under the name  ‘Roger’” You studied his expression. No hints of cracking or anything. You sighed, lowering your cup down to the table. “But you already knew that part, I'm guessing you went through my room after I passed?”

“Took me quite a while to do so, around three years give or take” Alastor sat back and crossed one leg over the other, his head tilting a full 90 degrees before straightening back up. “I honestly would not have guessed you were doing so much behind both your father’s and well, everyone’s back my dear. You were quite sneaky. How did you pull that off?” He watches you for a moment more, lingering on your face. 

“Oh that? I wore my brother's old shoes and stuffed them with enough weight to make footprints look natural. I wore his old clothes, did not speak unless I had to. But crossdressing isn't why I ended up in hell” You pull out your hand, counting on your fingers, “Let’s see, there's arson, bribery, extortion, forgery, little bit of fraud, stocking, robbery, oh and more theft” Glancing over to Alastor, watching as his eyes seem to light up with each crime listed.

“So did you ever stalk the Bayou Butcher?”

“Oh that killer? I got close” You chuckle, " but he always got away. Never got a good look, only saw his footprints, a few of his victims, but never him. I was so close to figuring out who he was before I died.” You noticed his smirk draw a little wider, enjoying himself and in turn you raised an eyebrow. “I do think I managed to narrow down what profession he was in, he was in media, just like me”

“Correct! Oh my doe is just the smartest!” He grinned as you watched in curiosity. “Would you like to know the true identity of the Bayou Butcher?”

“Oh would I ever! It's one of my biggest regrets!”

“I’ll do so only if you tell me if you were behind the theater burning down that one July”

“Deal!” You started to lean over the table, face getting closer to Alastor. “Yes I was! I had a lot of dirt on the owner of the place, and offered him a deal for me not to publish it. To prove I was serious I burned the place down!”

“Oh my devious Doe! I would love to hear the full story over tea.” Alastor chuckled and sipped his tea before also leaning closer. “Very well, I was the Bayou Butcher” You gasped as he chuckled once more. “You gave me plenty of scares when I saw just how close you were getting, I mean you had my shoe size correct! Quite amazing work, better than the fuzz who we looking for me, even more so after your death”

“Oh yeah? What happened after I died? When I woke up I was here with you ring around my neck”

“Oh you know my Doe, adding to my numbers. For the first two years I was beside myself with grief, I killed any man who spoke bad about you behind my back in an animalistic manner” His shadow showed itself, looking curious as a kitten at your little ink creatures. Alastors eyes looked lost in thought. “Then after third year I came home from hunting one such man, and figured it was time to finally look through your things. I shed my coat, hat and shoes and washed my hands of the blood before going to your room. I saw the work on your typewriter. I read it, saw in the closet, went through old articles, everything just made sense. I’d be the first to admit that it did convince me to keep my killing the same, and go back to just killing abusers. You crossed one leg over the other in curiosity, tilting your head as he went on. 

“Even then I did end up getting sloppy. I lost my touch without my favorite reporter hot on my heels. One swampy evening I was burying the body on some sap’s property. The fella had dogs, they sniffed me out quickly. The owner mistook me for a deer and well, I’m here now. Rest assured such a careless mistake will not happen again.” 

Alastor studied your face as you digested the information before nodding your head slowly. 

“Now my Doe, I do believe you owe me a story about how you managed to shack up in such an old warehouse with a little stalls dotted over Cannibal town and more”

“Oh those? When I arrived I was bored out of my mind and none of the several acts of violence spoke to me, quite frankly seemed uncouth. However I did notice a distinct lack of newspapers all over, so I figured that I have experience in being a newshawk, so may as well put those skills to use. I opened a small paper company with Rosies help. I made deals when I could in exchange for not placing all the little secrets on the front page, just as I did while I was alive, and look at me now! I run a well oiled machine!” You beamed with pride. A long toothy grin met yours. 

“Say my Doe. I can think of something that would aid us both. We did have our run of our respective media forms, so why not join them in a twisted way?”

“I’m listing Al” You waved your hands, your little ink monsters jumped back into the pots of ink to give you both some quiet. The presses slowed to a halt, leaving silence. 

“Well, you are awfully good at finding out information, and I wish to punish those who are not moral as well as start up a new radio show of sorts. If we were to work together you my dear could get your paper more out to the masses and have more information at your fingertips” “Information that you want?” You pause to think. “Sure. I accept. We are not shaking or forming a contract however.”

“My doe I would never ask that of you, it seems to harsh even for me”

Smiling, you slip your ring onto your finger as did he. Reunited in hell the two of you went on to form one of the best media parings. That is, till he disappeared for seven years. 

[levmemes2]

the front bottoms sentence starters

sentence starters from the album you are who you hang out with, as well as various singles, by the front bottoms. feel free to change wording, pronouns, etc. as desired.

"this whole thing feels like a fraud."

"and we're both trying, you gotta give us that."

"this is not what i would do, but this is not about me."

"you know that i would go anywhere for you."

"get some of this rage out you have deep inside of you."

"you seem to see through whatever it is about me that's trying to be tough."

"this is the life that almost killed me."

"life moves in circles."

"i'm always afraid of knowing what to do."

"you don't know me, not how you used to."

"if we keep it simple, then we'll get it right."

"it may or may not be always on my mind."

"one day you'll be proud of us."

"i couldn't get it to look this good with all the editing in the world."

"i have always been sort of an embarrassment."

"you are who you hang out."

"i want be good to the people that i love."

"i want them to think of me as someone that they can trust."

"one crisis averted, now on to the next."

"behind your anguish pools a passionate rage."

"i will love you until my hair falls out or all turns gray."

"Everything i do negatively affects my brain."

"now is not the time to get numb."

"i need to lie about the things that make me who i am."

"how rich are your parents?"

"maybe i could be one of those things that you hate at first but eventually learn to love."

"you're pretty, but you hate yourself."

"how was i supposed to know i'd need it so bad?"

"take it easy, everyone already knows."

"i've never felt so brave and strong and sexy at the same time."

"i've never felt so cold or scared or lonely at the same time."

"it’s not such a bad thing, it’s just not what it used to be."

"the things i thought were dead in me are coming to life."

"i could see myself dying for you."

"we could both stay up and try to watch the sun rise."

"we both got smart, you in your head and me in my heart."

[doctorsabedoria]

I'm sure this has been said, but it's worth reiterating because this nonsense happens a lot. James Somerton's apology video wasn't an apology to the people he stole from or hurt but he was apologizing he got caught. Apologies are supposed to be about the people hurt, but he started his with "I tried to kill myself" which was used to garner sympathy as a manipulation tactic. There's another controversy going on with The Completionist and accusations of charity fraud. His video addressing the allegations had a lot of the same things in James' video that marked it as a fake apology such as constantly bringing up his (The Completionist) dead mother for sympathy points. We are relatively removed from these people and they are bad at these apologies, so the fakeness is easy to spot. However, I hope we can take these lessons to see these fake apologies and manipulation tactics from people in our own lives as our biases help blind us to such things.

[lianobody]

Warnings: Worshipping behaviour, yandere platonic hashiras.

[Name] was a Goddess a very powerful one she cared for her people and gave them blessings her worshippers cared for her deeply but a certain group of 9 say they worship [Name] more then anyone or anything.

At night all the Hashira goes to an altar with your picture on it when they saw they picture all the Hashira smiled even Giyuu. with a lot of offerings on it. It can be roses or your favourite things. All the Hashira were very devoted to you and they all have there reasons for it. “Let’s pray for our loving Goddess!” Gyomei said all the Hashira nodded.

“Dear divine thank you for making us live another day. Without you we wouldn’t feel any emotion we hope we can forgive us for all the sins we did and if you can’t we promise we do anything for you to forgive us”

After the Hashira were done praying they got the gifts they got you and they placed it down on your altar. “I wish one day our divine one could come to Earth” Giyuu mumbled but yet all the Hashira could hear him. “I hate to agree with you but I want her to come down to Earth to” Sanemi said glaring at Giyuu rudely. They were about to go home until..

Someone dropped down from the building and fell face flat! It left a hole in the wall and the Hashira were mad and wanted to kill you for destroying your altar. The person taught they were a demon as they had black horns. “This demon destroyed our goddesses altar. We have to kill them brutally” Muichiro muttered madly. “I’ll make sure to torture them with a heavy poison!” Shinobu smiled in a menacing way. Obanai was about to stab you until you woke up. They looked at your appearance and you had star pupils? Only there divine one has star eyes! And you also have black horns? Do they think your there goddess? NOPE! They think your a copycat! “This copycat had the urge to copy our divine one appearance!“ Obanai madly said. “These are the people I helped when they were in a rough time. I remember but I don’t blame them for thinking I’m a identity fraud I wouldn’t believe myself either” you taught to yourself. “Wait I’m actually not a fraud!” You said! You were not scared as you were immortal. But not to your surpriseyou were “lying” that you were the God they worshipped. “You have guts to lie that your our divine one your nothing but a demon” Sanemi said smiling in a menacing way. You we’re going to defend yourself until Mitsuri’s blade scratched you. “That’s what you gets for disrespecting our God! >:(“. Gyomei about to finish the final blow until your Black blood was shown. All of them were thinking “Wait I taught demons had Red blood like us? Wait! That means!” They all went down all their knees immediately after they realized. “Please forgive us our divine one we were foolish and mistaken you for a demon and a fake” Gyomei said while crying. “It’s ok guys I forgive you all! You guys can stand” All the Hashira signed in relieved and they stood up. They wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t forgive them they were grateful that your such a forgiving and nice God.

“Our divine one we are so grateful you ascended to earth!” Rengoku said coming one step closer to you. “I hope we will be of worth to you!” Tengen said. Meanwhile every Hashira was already thinking of a way to kidnap you. “Would you like to come with us. You don’t hav a place to stay..” Muichiro curiously said. “Oh don’t worry I’m good! I can just Uhm use magic to make a building” all the Hashira was mad at that! They needed there Goddess to stay with them! So Gyomei knocked you out and you were bleeding a little your very strong but physically weak. Sanemi went to go check on you “Lets hope she will still forgive us..” wiping your Black blood away.

Headcannons

Remember it’s platonic

• Some of the Hashira didn’t worship you in the beginning but after you went into there lives they couldn’t find a way for you to get back out.

• Sanemi didn’t worship you and often ignored the posters of you until after he killed his mom. While we was walking home still sad about his moms death he started to cry until he saw a poster of you. He felt happier? But why did he his mom died because of him. Until it clicked he felt happier because you felt pity and sadness for him you wanted to be his new mom. And he accepted that rather quickly. When he was still a kid and was killing demons by tying them up he said some lines such as “This is for [Name]” or “[Name] is proud of me” and after he kills the demon he says “I know your proud of me my divine one” or “My divine one are you proud of me? Why am I even saying this I know you are..right?” Sometime he kills people for sacrifices to you surely you enjoy the things he does for you?

• Even through he is colourblind he can see you in colour

• Tengen’s clan worshipped you so he was forced to worship you but he didn’t pray to you or participate in any religion related stuff since he didn’t participate in any religious stuff he taught you hated him. But after his clan died he felt lighter in his body and he felt Happier when it was raining he didn’t have an umbrella but an umbrella flew his way untouched and he taught you gave mercy on him. You still loved him you gave him a second chance he must make it up to you! He prays every night for forgiveness for 2 straight months. When he thinks he’s forgiven he does rituals. The rituals are that he kills people and puts their blood in a cup and prays hoping you will ascend to earth.

• Giyuu knew about you in the beginning but he really didn’t worship you he barley paid attention to you until his elder sister died he taught that was you punishing him for his ‘sins’ but he hated you he despised you after Sabito died he hated you more for not blessing him with luck until he ears a voice in his head saying “I’m sorry please forgive me” and he taught that was you. Why are you begging him to forgive you? Your the god not him but it doesn’t stop him from obsessing over you. Always praying to you and begs for blessings once in a while and you give them to him but not exactly.

• Giyuu is also the second one closest to you he taught you human things and took care of you. You see him as a dad. But he sees you as a fragile thing that needs to be protected.

• The day before Kanae died Shinobu saw Kanae having photos you everywhere the house and she was mad at her for this “Big sister! If [Name] was a really powerful god then why didn’t she save our family!” Kanae was smiling and just patted her head which made Shinobu rage intensify. After Kanae died Shinobu saw this as a warning to worship you and she did praying to every night but then she guilt tripped herself that you were her saviour and she convinced Kanao and Aoi to worship you to.

• Mitsuri didn’t worship you in the beginning as she didn’t know who you were but after her failed marriage courting she was walking and saw an altar she went in it and saw a picture of you. She saw how you were the most beautiful thing to exist she needed to worship you. She found out your name, your family member, your favorite things and your backstory she cries when she saw how you were so mistreated by your parents because you tried to go to Earth. she needed to protect you! And she did by killing people who spoke badly of you.

• Obanai was the first one to worship you while all the females in his family was worshiping the serpent demon he worshipped you. He had a dream of you and you were talking to him how he will escape one day. He woke up he didn’t want the dream to end. Before he met Mitsuri you were the only female he liked (Platonic) he kills people who dear disrespect the first women who helped him thru his trauma. He dreams of you 4 times a month and your the ones giving him dreams and you make sure to check on him daily.

• Muichiro didn’t really like you only because Yuichiro didn’t like you so he listened to Yuichiro but then after Yuichiro died he hated you more. Until he randomly started to forget things but why did he remember the hatred he has for you? Until it clicked. He only remembers you because you matter to him.. He’s happy he doesn’t forget you he prays to you daily and goes to your altar a lot.

• Muichiro clings onto you often when your in the basement no where to run.

• Gyomei Didn’t worship you as he worships Buddha but then one day we was walking past your altar he didn’t have any intentions to go in but he had a gut feeling to but then something unexpected happened. He acutally could see how you look like but he couldn’t see the people around him.. only your picture. This much be a sign he has to worship you! He worships you and prays to you daily. When he’s eating he always leaves a chair beside him as your sitting with him.

• Rengoku didn’t worship you in the beginning as he taught your the reason his mom died and his dad is an alcoholic until one day he saw senjuro praying to you. He didn’t like that one bit but he didn’t confront him but then the next day he saw Senjuro so much happier Rengoku knew it was your doing he decided to worship you. Whenever he’s in a conversation he always brings up you but if a person says anything rude about you ex: “She’s not the divine one” the only thing that will save them from death if there in another religion or they just say there joking and say compliments about you and Rengoku will join then into saying compliments.

After you ascended all the Hashira were so happy and they needed to kidnap you to make sure your ‘safe’ you can’t be rude to them its impossible for you to! You allow them to be clingy to you and kill people for you even though they disturb you. To make it even worse they are delusional to! They read all the scriptures about you they say no one can compare the worship we have to anyone else. They think you enjoy the things they are doing to you.

[drdemonprince]

your reblog of that post reminded me. i have no connection to my indigenous culture on my father's side because i want nothing to do with that side of my family. the people i know from that side of my family are all horrifically and violently abusive. and what i often have to sit with is that this is one way various cultures are subsumed into a hegemonic whiteness. i have little doubt that the substance abuse and violence from that side of my family can be at least partially attributed to white supremacy. what little i know of my paternal grandfather is that he treated his kids and women largely the same way my father treats his kids and women. white supremacy turns trauma and the consequent violence into our culture, which (of course!) we want to separate ourselves from. so we're left with this hole where culture should be. i'm lucky enough to have (some) cultural polish roots via my adoptive grandparents on my mom's side, at least.

This is a very common story -- a friend of mine who is reconnecting with their Indigeneity has a similar struggle. In my family, the violence of assimilation and the violence of abuse, neglect, heavy substance use, and even interfamilial murder are all inextricably linked. There is this big hole in my family life, an occluded spot taking up more than a quarter of the page, but in the background so it's easy to be tempted to ignore. The family that had a distinct culture separate from the dominate white middle-class one is also the family that has almost no historical records of itself, erased much of the history that remained, took deliberate efforts to pass as white, and sometimes literally killed one another because they were so poor and traumatized and dysfunctional. Every healthy, loving, supportive link that i had to that family legacy died very early, as if marked by a curse. And my dad, who was uhh not so healthy, did too.

I can only connect to that history by doing things like talking to my one surviving uncle, exchanging foggy memories with one another to try and clarify things as best we can, reading about the region, doing geneaological research, and connecting with local tribes as well as heritage groups that preserve some vestiges of the culture, and cultures tangentially close to what once was there. I find it healing while also feeling like a fraud and an interloper, but I have settled on the understanding that keeping these words and practices alive and giving to them without demanding anything for myself is the right thing to do. And a whole lot of mourning. But if you are Indigenous at all, then mourning what is lost while fighting to preserve what is not is kind of the very culture itself, too.

On the other side of my family, it is harder. They were more present in my life, and less dysfunctional, but there is a profound hollowness there. My dad, my grandma, my uncle, my relatives who died before I got to know them, they were marked with trauma...but they were outspoken, and distinct, and so vibrantly alive. I can take the good with the bad of them and see a rich, full humanness. It sounds so terrible to say, but i find it very challenging to locate the humanity in my mother's side of the family. They do nearly all that they can to choke it out. I'm trying to not be resentful anymore of what they never learned how to do. So instead I will just be sad. Being around them is so cold. It's so lonely. Except for my sister.

Sorry, I made all of this about myself, but I hope some of this is resonant. I think there are ways you can connect with your Indigeneity even if your feelings toward your direct relations are quite negative. There's a lot of talk in Native spaces about pretendians and people not knowing their people and having no family ties and that exists for a reason, but it can sometimes scare the wrong people away, much as talk about straight people in queer spaces can drive the wrong people away. There are ways to forge new connections and practice a culture and find your people if you do not have them already, and some of my friends have shown me that. But you also do not have to if all the associations with that background are just...too upsetting and too linked to trauma. It might be healing to find your own way of relating to it, or maybe just connecting with the culture that you have fond warm feelings and associations with is the path for you. I miss my parternal grandmother so much. She was a truly radiant and special person. Decades after her death, my uncle, her son, still says she was his very best friend. And it's not even in a toxic way. she was just that wonderful a person. ive never been loved quite so actively, nurtured and made to grow while also listened to. i am so thankful i got that even for just thirteen years. and sometimes honoring her is just being a searcher and having a fiery spirit inside me and going to yard sales and crushing at trivial pursuit.

[cielsosinfel]

Deeply obsessed with Rolan which means I'm also deeply obsessed with all the little details in his room (which honestly there aren't that many details, there isn't that much willful characterization happening here probably on the parts of the devs, but I'll read into the simultaneous mess and sparseness anyway)

Also still kind of dying that he has one of Lorroakan's rejected autobio manuscripts... I wonder if he got handed a copy by Lorroakan the first day he was there, Lorroakan completely unaware the rejection note was still in it.

What I'm most curious about right now is why he has that note with a riddle leading to the Annals of Karsus, because I struggle to believe Lorroakan would have shared anything about the secret rooms of the vault with him... or maybe would have bragged about possessing such powerful, illustrious tomes but actually showing him how to GET to those tomes...?? But it does say "In the Hand of Ramazith" so perhaps Rolan found the note while cleaning up around the tower, and was trying to decipher it...? idk idk.

EDIT: OK I FOUND OUT WHY HE PROBABLY HAD THAT NOTE. I was flipping through the Descent Into Avernus adventure book again, to see what was mentioned about Ramazith's Tower, and it has a whole section that goes into Lorroakan:

"Lorroakan's ever-pressing need for money has led the mage to begin looking for hired hands who might be willing to venture into the long-shuttered heights of Ramazith's tower and uncover the secret of the late wizard's wealth. That Ramazith's secret may have brought him to an untimely end, and that Lorroakan is himself no more skilled--and perhaps significantly less--than the tower's previous master does not seem to concern him."

OK my reading of this: Lorroakan knows there is untold wealth of magical artifacts hidden in the tower. He also knows the tower's defenses are extensive, the artefacts that are likely fatal high in number, and there is every possibility Ramazith got killed by something in his own tower. So what better way for Lorroakan, unskilled hack and fraud that he is, to uncover the treasure trove he's laid claim to without harm to himself, than hiring eager apprentices with enough magical skill to possibly power through the protective spells and traps and wards... And if they can't and they die, it's no skin off his back.

I guess this is headcanon territory lol but I've sold myself on it, I'll just believe the note was found among Ramazith's various affects by Lorroakan, and handed off to Rolan to figure out, to eventually send Rolan off to possibly die trying to dig up the key to Ramazith's wealth.

Also also, the amount of paper scattered across the desk the riddle-note is found on, and across the floor around it... Wondering how much of that is Rolan desperately trying to work out riddles Lorroakan gives him. the rest of his room is pretty clean in comparison, it's just all the paper around that desk.

[lisbeth-kk]

Continuing the May prompts with a letter story. Thanks for the tag @calaisreno

Healing letters

After grieving Sherlock for months, John decides to write down his feelings, just like his therapist, Ella, advised him to. First he tries to actually write. Physically. It’s too strenuous. He’s not used to writing by hand anymore. Besides the pages more often than not, gets soaked from his dripping tears, and the ink gets smeared all over the paper.

He'll use the blog, but he’ll disable comments. Although he does it for his own sanity, it may help the few friends he’s got to understand what he’s going through. He hasn’t exactly been socialising since Sherlock jumped off that roof, and he rarely answers his phone. 

He wants it to be a system to this. Each blog post will have its own topic. If not, John’s confident it’ll be just him babbling, not even making sense to himself. Today he feels a bit less depressed, and he can start with the anger.

I’m so angry with you, Sherlock. How could you kill yourself in front of me? Making me witness my best friend jump off a building to his death. Did you think I wouldn’t mind? That I wouldn’t grieve you just because I was pissed with you when I left you? You, the most observant man who’s ever walked the earth. How could you not know, you meant the world to me? What do you think it was like talking to you when you stood up there? I heard the tears in your voice, and you must’ve heard my despair as well. When I saw you lying at the pavement, my life ended too, you know. My whole world shattered. You were taken away before I could say a proper goodbye. How do you think that made me feel, Sherlock? Damn, you!

John’s mentally exhausted after posting the entry. He’s shaking with anger against Sherlock. Without giving it a second thought, he grabs his jacket and heads out to get some air. He walks quickly wherever his feet carries him. He doesn’t care much, and he must look quite intimidating, because other pedestrians are clearly avoiding him.

He makes tea and toast when he gets back. The anger has dissipated a bit. It’s actually liberating to feel something again. For weeks he’s just been numb. Haven’t cared about anything. He startles when his phone buzzes. A text from Molly. He deletes it without looking. She has most likely read the blog entry and wants to comfort him or something. Mike and Greg texts him a few hours later. John deletes those texts too. 

***

A few days later the anger is long gone. Another feeling has emerged in his mind the last couple of hours. His faith in Sherlock. It’s always been there, but never as strong as it is now. Curious, that.

From the first day I met you, I had faith in you, Sherlock. That drug bust at 221B told you that much. Perhaps I put you on a pedestal for a while, come to think of it. Nevertheless, despite all your odd habits, sulks and annoying behaviour, I always believed in who you were. The core of you. Not to flatter myself, but I think I knew you quite well. Perhaps not as well as Mycroft, although he once said that I knew you best of all. All that’s been said about you after you died, makes me believe in you even more. Because I know, Sherlock, that you never were a fraud. You may have shammed and tricked people for a case, but you were never a fake. To the day I die myself, I’ll deny that with everything I’ve got.

Again, John’s mentally exhausted after posting the new entry, but in another sort of way. The adrenaline doesn’t zing through his veins. It’s more like he’s poured out his soul. And in a way he has. He’s never uttered those words to anyone. 

Before the day is over, his phone buzzes with texts from Molly, Greg and Mike. He deletes all of them without reading. This quest is something he wants to execute without input from anyone.

***

A week passes without the urge to write. When the familiar nightmare appears one night, John knows it’s time for another blog post. He had waked screaming Sherlock’s name, seeing him fall from that roof again. His heart pounded like he’d run a marathon and his face was wet from crying, sobbing really.

How did I fail to see that something was amiss, Sherlock? I loathe myself for not observing you more thoroughly. Moriarty clouded my vision. You were so absorbed in his endeavours to get your attention. Flattered maybe, that another genius wanted to play with you. I should’ve seen that his only goal was to destroy you. He said so the first time. At the pool. “I’ll burn the heart out of you.” Whatever he meant by that. He certainly burned the heart out of me, if he had anything to do with your suicide. It must’ve been that. You would never do what you did unless you had no other choice. Am I right, Sherlock? I think I am, which makes it even harder to bear. The thought that if I’d been just a little bit smarter, more alert, less stubborn and angry with you....I might’ve saved you.

John shuts his phone off and drinks half a bottle of whisky after posting that entry, or letter as he’s started to call them. 

***

This will be his last letter. John knows that this also will be the hardest one, and maybe it’ll be the one that starts his healing properly. His grief’s still raw. Some days are better, other worse. This one tip more in favour of the latter.

How much can a man grieve before it destroys him, Sherlock? All I know is that I’ve grieved enough to last a lifetime. That said, I’ll never stop grieving you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Being in your orbit, saved my life. I was so lost back then, and now I’m even more lost. Because now I know what it’s like to be whole, to have a purpose, to wake every day, feeling excited about what may await me. A new case, a severed head in the fridge, listening to beautiful music from your violin, having takeaway from our favourite places, or dinner at Angelo’s, bantering with you about the lack of milk, or nagging you to eat something. There are so many things that vanished from my life when you died, Sherlock. Are you aware of that? I’m just existing nowadays. The amount of tears I’ve shed could fill the pond in Regent’s Park. I’ve hid them here at Baker Street. Out and about I put on a mask. Motionless. Stony. Speaking of. I’ve only been to your grave once since the funeral. The stone fits you. Polished, black with golden letters. Only your name. No dates or quotes. I talked to you when I stood in front of that stone. Asked you for a favour. To do one last magic trick. For me.

For an unknown reason, John enables comments after this entry, but hours go by, and the comment sections are still empty. Maybe he’d miscalculated people’s interest in him. After all, the readers of his blog were all interested in Sherlock, not in him, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

He takes a shower and heads for the bedroom when he hears a sound he hasn’t heard for ages. Someone’s commented on the blog. Probably Molly or Mike. His curiosity gets the better of him, though. The comment is on the last entry.

I heard you. SH

A bit angsty. I can reveal that I shed my share of tears throughout alongside with John...

@totallysilvergirl @notjustamumj @raina-at @meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear

[fanby-fckry]

Like I had a dream of Season 2 last night, and weirdly it seemed exactly like what Season 2 might actually be like in terms of reveals. Like it turned out Alastor was actually a fraud, he didn’t kill all those overlords when he first got to Hell, but rather lied and said he did, and began attaining some power over the years with that rep, never a lot but enough to beat out smaller names, that being why he was so dependent on smaller deals like those he had Rosie keep an eye out for. He wasn’t pacing himself but desperately trying to live up to the myth of the Radio Demon. And it turned out Husk had been more powerful than Alastor when he acquired his soul, and the day he did was just as stressful for Alastor as it was for Husk. Then Vox tried to have him join the Vees, Alastor turned him down since he didn’t want to truth of his power being much lower than thought being found out, they got in a fight, and Alastor was legitimately hurt but managed to hide it and leave before Vox realised, just as he did with Adam. Alastor then encountered the real force responsible for those overlords going missing: Eve, the first woman. Basically in the world of ‘Hazbin’, before Heaven and Hell, there was simply Good and Evil, literal personifications, concepts given awareness. Good was the first to gain mass, becoming God, creating the angels and then Earth, Adam, Lilith, Eve, while Evil was left a simple force, until Lilith formed the apple of free will and gave it to Eve, infecting her with Evil, and so she became its embodiment, God’s counterpart in evil. Who could be seen in the opening storybook in the first episode, Go(o)d a closed eye amongst clouds, Evil a red eye(s) and smile amongst darkness, I checked once I woke up to ensure that shot was real. So basically all descendants of hers, humanity, would have both good and evil within them: the reason Adam was in Heaven was that in spite of being a jerk, he never had Evil as a concept within him. So what neither Alastor or Eve would have known was that because of this, he was among the few that could ever kill her (Evil), and now that Niffty took him out of the picture, the only ones left who could do so are Lilith and Charlie, the only ones of human descent not to be infected with Evil on some level (angels not having the right stuff to make it work). Anyway my dream had it that Alastor and Lilith hadn’t really met, but once Alastor made his deal with Eve, and she got herself a representative, Lilith felt it, and immediately fled to Heaven. And we would find this out since in Season 2, overlords started to go missing again as they once did before, only this time Alastor couldn’t really claim credit. My dream ended before it was clear who had killed them, whether it was Eve trying to find a new rep (the process having dissolved the souls of most whose wills were not powerful enough to escape her, before she had found Alastor, who would have spent the seven years he was gone attempting to escape her mass, regain corporeality to act on Eve’s behalf), or whether it was Lilith trying to figure out which overlord was Eve’s rep and wipe them out, but it did feature Vox be killed later on in the season, and Valentino and Velvette had a beautiful mournful ballad in response to this, like with her being the source of all Evil in this world I could have seen Val apologists in real life saying all he did wasn’t his fault because of her, what her influence did, which wouldn’t be great, but the scene my mind came up with was (great). So anyway Alastor’s purpose would have been to prevent redemption within Hell from being possible, since it would ruin Eve. It seemed surprisingly plausible to canon as we know it: I was thoroughly impressed with my subconscious mind on waking up.

Anon, I am going to dramatically throw myself in between you and Apollo’s dodgeball like I’m taking a bullet.

Your subconscious is incredibly thorough and well-written, but I swear if any of that becomes canon I will cry.

Ok, so some of it seems fine, but my poor Alastor loving heart cannot take it if he turns out to be entirely a fraud.

Don’t get me wrong: The smile is a mask, he’s hiding his weaknesses, he’s hiding his Deal, and he is not infallible by any means. But I can’t see him having faked the whole thing to begin with, and I will be fucking devastated if that was the case.

Now, at the risk of getting this post as a copy-pasta in my inbox:

Yes, I am going to critique your dream.

In regards to Rosie offering up “smaller deals,” I just kinda have to say, they don’t sound very “small” to me?

I got a premo-connect on a guy with about eight blocks of territory and not enough goons to run it. Prime pickin's for a deal to be made, my friend.

I mean, sure, it’s not another Overlord, but eight blocks of territory is still a pretty big achievement. It’s possible the guy has some Souls in his inventory that Alastor could get access to, or that his Soul is worth more (either in terms of power or just for the bragging rights, lol) than your average Sinner’s.

Meanwhile, the Vees appear to be picking up ordinary, less powerful Sinners one at a time through exploitation and/or capitalism.

Of course, Alastor didn’t actually go for the guy Rosie offered up, which makes me think either:

He didn’t think it was worth his time.

He wanted to focus on Extermination 2 Electric Boogalooo.

He thought that discussing it in front of Charlie would damage her view of him.

Something in his own Deal prevents him from getting the most out of it. (People have talked a lot about how despite having a reputation as a Soul-stealing Dealmaker, none of the Deals post 7 year disappearing act have actually resulted in Alastor getting someone’s Soul.)

I think option 1 actually further supports the idea of Alastor’s power. He’s powerful enough that he can be picky about what Deals he chooses to go pursue.

Meanwhile, 2-4 don’t necessarily say anything one way or the other about his power before the 7 year disappearance.

And the one Soul we know for a fact Alastor owns is Husk’s. Who was 100% an Overlord. So it’s not like he hasn’t gotten at least one Overlord, one way or another.

As for the disappearing Overlords, while we don’t have definitive proof that Alastor was the behind it in the form of like video evidence or eye-witness testimony, nobody else came forward to claim the kills.

If it wasn’t Alastor, and Alastor took credit anyway, why is he even still alive? Er, after-alive? Why didn’t the mysterious Overlord killer kill Alastor for taking credit for their kills?

I’d be pissed if that was me. You think you can show up and claim my kills? Nuh uh, you’re next, radio deer.

Alastor is hiding something. And he’s coming apart at the seams trying to keep his secret, trying to maintain an image that does not tell the whole truth. But I don’t think it goes that deep. I think if it did, he would’ve crumbled decades ago.

[autumn-foxfire]

More Sera content!! Because they didn't just want to do an intro for her, we get to see more of her!

Sera is here to collect her wife from the awful hands of her actual love interest!

Ah, there is the one thing I don't like what Gosho does with Sera... he makes everyone comment on her breasts because she's flat chested which fuck you Gosho, breasts come in all shape and sizes, the only reason Sera should be talking about breasts is because she has an interest in Ran's. I probably shouldn't have made a joke there because this is actually a serious issue I have with Gosho's misogyny.

ANOTHER GREAT THING ABOUT SERA.

If Shinichi was here, he'd coddle Ran and treat her like she would be a hindrance and then do the "oi-oi" face when she proves she's not but Sera immediately recognizes Ran's strength and directs her on how they can take down the criminal together.

But when the situation takes a more dangerous turn, that's when she goes to defend Ran from the harm.

Beautiful. Just beautiful.

Get jealous Shinichi, Sera in less than one episode has shown us how much more she actually respects Ran as a person than you have in the last 600.

Sera is so goddamn smart T-T Why didn't you introduce her sooner Gosho?

That hack is an inspector because of you, Shinichi.

Sera once again diving in front of Ran to protect her. She's like: I've just met Ran but if anything happened to her I'll kill everyone in the room and then myself.

The kids: Conan is committing identity fraud again (except this time he isn't)

Ai: Yep and it's time for you guys to go to bed.

If the kids know he does this often, they've probably figured out that Shinichi is the one who mimics Agasa's voice (they saw him do so even) and solves the cases but just don't question it. Honestly that would be hilarious.

Sera, I can't love you anymore than I already do but you really want want me to love you more.

They don't need to drag out these episodes by repeating the info we just learned last episode. I remember.

Sera understands Shinichi better than Ran does T-T

Shinichi and Ran caring about the life of everyone, despite who they are, is very admirable but one day they're going to encounter a criminal that can't be talked down and that won't stop until they're dead. Sera was just trying to save their lives because having a brother as a sniper she would know this lesson very well, what Ran did was stupid and could have gotten them all killed.

It should be the last resort but at this point Shinichi had shown no sign of being able to talk the criminal down and Sera was just doing what she thought was right.

It's nice that despite this, Sera is still just thinking about Ran, and how she would feel if Shinichi's actions got two people killed in front of her.

And again Sera trusted Ran to help take down the criminal together because they're a beautiful couple. The way they both used the advantage Shinichi gave them, that small moment, to act without even needing to speak was glorious.

Hanging up the phone to the girl you "like" is so normal of Shinichi to do.

Sera keep flirting with Ran!