#and then i hit the halfway point and i realized oh. oh this is sort of a horror game. isn't it. it scared the hell outta me

[rindomness]

BTW I genuinely love that night in the woods does not, in the end, tell you if it was all real or not. It does not even explain whether the goat was real. It gives you mundane explanations - mae's mental health history, gas leaks, the strikes and structural instability in the mines - but also it's juuust legitimately supernatural enough that you end the game going... well. was that all imagined? how much of that was legitimate? the cultists all talk about getting abilities from the pit, and mae's friends are there and are confirming this is actually happening, and I think that was the first time in the game I actually approached the idea that there really was something else going on and it wasn't all just things we the player are experiencing because we're getting it from mae's perspective and mae is a truly intense unreliable narrator.

But: how much does it matter if there's actually an eldritch goat god underneath possum springs, or if it was all just a delusion on mae's behalf, or if it's a gas leak? that isn't the point. that was never the point.

also that maintenance guy is a ghost im 90% sure

[merrybloomwrites]

One Direction - Health Scare

Summary: When the workload leads to a medical emergency, the boys are there to take care of you.

Word Count: 941

CW: seizure, hospitals

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Being in One Direction is a dream come true.

It’s also the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. The work is incredibly fun, but also extremely grueling. You have expectations on you for every waking minute. There’s hardly time for a break or rest.

When you do sleep, it’s often on a bus, and never quite as restful as you hope. 

Halfway through the current tour, you begin to really feel the exhaustion. Not only are you and the boys doing a show nearly every day, but you’re also recording the next album. On the rare occasions when you have a night in a hotel, you’re often woken up to re-record something.

You can tell you’re not the only one who is getting run down, but you also feel like the boys are handling it better than you are. 

So you keep quiet, not wanting to complain to them when they all have their own stuff going on as well.

What you don’t know is how they’ve noticed how drained you are, and have talked amongst them about it. They’re worried, but they have no clue how to help. So they try to take care of you in subtle ways.

Liam is always making sure you have water or some sort of power drink, reminding you how important it is to stay hydrated.

Niall gets you food any time he grabs some for himself. He’d noticed you would skip meals on occasion and decided he couldn’t allow that on his watch.

Zayn asks you to meditate with him, saying that he does better with a partner. You don’t realize that he often does this when you’re most stressed, and he really wants to get you to take a minute to breathe. 

Louis gets into shenanigans, making you laugh and reminding you that not everything needs to be serious all the time. 

Harry asks you to hang on the couch with him on the rare times you get breaks. He’ll wrap an arm around you and tell a story. Sometimes you sit and listen, sometimes you take a power nap. Either way he’s happy to help you get some rest whenever possible.

But all of that isn’t enough. There’s something going on in your body that no one can see. You start to get dizzy, and these spells become more frequent.

Each of the boys have caught you more than once at this point, always helping you sit down to make sure you don’t get hurt. Their worry heightens every time this happens.

And then things get worse.

It’s early morning, and you had yet another fitful night of sleep on the bus. You head to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, and find Harry and Liam already there. They wish you a good morning, and you go to say the same, but find yourself unable to form words. That’s when your world goes dark.

Harry rushes to break your fall, and notices this isn’t like the other dizzy spells. Before he gets you safely to the ground you begin to shake in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Liam says. “She’s having a seizure. Get her on her side, quickly!” The two of them move you, cushioning your head and making sure there’s nothing nearby you can hit as you continue to have convulsions. 

The other three boys rush into the kitchen, having heard Liam shouting. 

“What the hell is going on?” Louis asks.

Liam is quick to explain, saying, “She’s having a seizure. Louis, call an ambulance, Niall call management and tell them what’s going on. Zayn get the driver to pull over.” They all do as they’re told while Harry continues to support you. After nearly two minutes, the seizing stops, but you’re still quite out of it. 

You don’t fully come to for a while, and by that point you’re in the hospital, Harry by your side and security standing by the door. 

“Hey there,” Harry says. “How are you feeling?”

“Uhm, okay I think?” you reply. “What happened?” 

“You had a seizure. Scared the shit out of us,” he answers with a chuckle, letting you know he’s not actually mad.

“Sorry about that.”

“Hey, don’t apologize. We just want to figure out what’s going on with you and help you get better, okay?”

Before you can answer, a doctor walks in. She introduces herself and asks you a bunch of questions. When she asks if you know where you are you reply, “Unfair question, I never know where I am.” Your cheeky reply let’s Harry know you’re feeling better, and you share a smile at the inside joke. 

After a full workup you’re discharged with orders to see a neurologist. The other boys are waiting, somewhat impatiently, for you to get back to them. You’re informed that the upcoming week of shows have been postponed so you can rest, and you know that the boys fought hard to make that happen. 

You spend the week in a hotel, and though you each have your own room, everyone piles into yours. They watch you for any signs that you’re about to have another seizure, and Liam goes with you to your neurologist appointment in order to fill the doctor in on everything that happened. 

You don’t have answers yet, but you find that you’re not worried. Not when you have the biggest support team there to take care of you. And though your job is hard, and at times overwhelming, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not when it led you to find the people who will be there for you, no matter what.

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AN: Hope you enjoyed the final One Direction ficlet! Full series and longer oneshots are coming soon!

[drunk-on-dk]

[Teaser] Over the Country Club | Yoon Jeonghan (M)

pairing: best friend!Jeonghan x afab!reader genre/tags: fluff, angst, smut (minors do not interact), friends to lovers, a bit of unrequited love, a slice of life au, college au, post-grad au rating: 18+ (minors do NOT interact) w/c: ~3k TEASER (estimated ~15-20k for full fic, currently this may be my longest fic yet and it feels so good to really be writing again) warnings: mentions of alcohol (underage is not condoned), future smut

Summary: Jeonghan and you have known each other for as long as you can both remember. From the years spent working at the country club, to your university days, there has always been this aching feeling that neither of you can quite understand. Someone falls first, but the other falls harder.

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts on this teaser! I've been working hard to get back into writing in the new year and wanted to get comfortable with diving more into the plot. Things may change when the full fic is posted, but not much of what's in the teaser! I hope you enjoy it, and of course please message me if you'd like to be on the tag list for this fic!

I. 4th of July, the Summer Before the First Year of University

Just like every other high school student in your town, Jeonghan and you found part-time jobs at the oh-so-prestigious country club located in the next town over. One could argue it was practically a full-time job since most part-timers worked upwards of 40 hours a week due to how busy the club got during the summers. 

Not that you would complain about the hours; to be fair, you had to save up a substantial amount of money for the upcoming transition to college. The realization hit soon after graduating high school, you only had enough pocket change to fund some expenses,  which was not nearly enough to get you comfortably through the upcoming semesters. You had worked at the club most summers, but this year you took all the hours they offered. 

Plus, you’d be crazy to admit that summers working at the Lakewood Country Club weren’t some sort of fun. Plenty of your peers worked there, including Jeonghan, your longest lasting friendship due to the proximity of living next door to one another and growing up attached at the hip. 

Jeonghan worked as a caddie on the golf course. He’s gentlemanly in appearance, has just enough knowledge about what type of club to use at each hole, and has a never-ending spunk that entertains whatever group of golfers he’s assisting for the day. Jeonghan made decent tips working as a caddie, earning a couple of hundred dollars from some of his return golfers who specifically requested his assistance for an 18-hole outing. One could assume that most members of the country club were very well-off, or at least living comfortably. 

Luckily, you were stationed at the halfway house most days this summer. It’s located in the heart of the golf course, and the club consistently blasted cool air conditioning in the exposed, open bar area that was meant for golfers to stop by. Jeonghan, as scheming as ever, would ensure that his golfers stopped by for a quick refreshment at some point, knowing that he’d get to spend some time with you and help you earn some extra cash in tips from his already rowdy crew. 

You’d mix up some Manhattans or Old-Fashioned’s for the golfers, knowing the usual orders for each club member as if they had been engrained on the back of your hand (in hindsight, a freshly graduated high schooler should not have been pouring alcoholic beverages, but the country club didn’t care - your labor was cheaper than hiring a professional tender and you learned just the basics just fine). Nonetheless, your cocktails were a treat for the golfers who had been drinking beers for most of the course, most of them lukewarm or gone by the time they made it to the halfway house. 

Today is the Fourth of July, marking the mid-way point of your last summer before college. You had made your fair share of tips this summer working at the halfway house, especially due to Jeonghan’s consistent sourcing of clientele at your bar. It was a particularly hot day, one of the hottest of the summer and plenty of customers had stopped by, leaving hefty tips, feeling generous either from the heat or the holiday. 

Jeonghan approached the bar area with a heavy sigh, parking his cart hastily, but still had his typical mischievous smile etched onto his features as a crowd of familiar golfers followed behind him. Your nose scrunched in feigned disgust, a teasing smile mirroring his upon noticing just how tired and sweaty the group was from the relentless summer heat. 

Part of you thought he looked angelic from the way his sun-kissed skin gleamed, but you’d never admit that, nor would you dare to speak those thoughts out loud, not even to your closest friends who weren’t Jeonghan. However, the other part of you remembered he was just your silly best friend who smelled slightly like fresh-cut grass, sunscreen, and a hint of whatever remained of his tropical cologne. 

“The usuals?” You beamed, flashing your best customer service smile at the group, already reaching for the bottle of top-shelf whiskey displayed behind you. You received hoots and hollers along the lines of “Yes, please” from the group. Jeonghan slips behind the bar as you expertly begin to prepare drinks for the parched golfers. Normally, this was frowned upon, but Jeonghan had most of the country club supervisors wrapped around his finger. 

Jeonghan’s quick to sort through the fridge right off to your side, squatting and contemplating his options, but you have to smack his hand away from the cooler once you notice his deft fingers are reaching for a plastic shooter of whiskey.

“Y/N,” Jeonghan practically cries out, whining similar to a little boy being scolded, but he’s just your immature best friend who has a knack for trouble and stealing. You can’t always let him get away with everything. 

“You kleptomaniac, don’t you dare,” you joke, routinely preparing the drinks, laughing at the puppy dog eyes that are flashed in your direction and then back to the cold fridge. You bend down next to him, whispering quietly so that no one but Jeonghan can hear. “Wait until later, today’s manager has been keeping inventory of the alcohol as if they personally own it all. I can sneak some after my shift when I cash out.” 

Jeonghan’s pout morphs into a smirk, a devious glint in his eyes as he holds out his pinky finger. You comply, wrapping your pinky with his to silently promise that you’ll follow through later. 

“Meet at hole 12? Right at the hill behind the trees? It’s still the best spot for fireworks.” Jeonghan speaks as if it’s a secret mission - as if it’s not the same spot you’ve met to watch fireworks for the last few years working at the country club. 

“Oh, I thought we’d check out the views at hole 17 this year,” you roll your eyes mockingly, Jeonghan knows you’re messing with him, but it’s your smile that betrays your teasing, “Duh, Jeonghan. I’ll catch you there later.” 

“You know hole 17 is where Mingyu and Arin lost their virginity to each other last year,” Jeonghan pokes, settling on bottled water from the fridge and standing back up, towering over your own figure. You feel your cheeks flush, a bit flustered he’d drop that information so casually, and sure as hell hoping he didn’t think that you were suggesting anything. 

You didn’t see Jeonghan in that way, he didn’t see you in that way. Plain and simple. You two were only best friends and that’s how it would always be. 

“That’s gross, Jeonghan,” you scowl, willing away the blush that is still burning your face as you finish garnishing the drinks. “Don’t air out people’s secrets like that. That’s personal. Plus, why would I know that?” 

Jeonghan chuckles, shrugging as he helps you carry the drinks over to the golfers who have made themselves comfortable among the shaded seating outside the bar area, an outdoor fan helping cool them down. They all clamor in delight as Jeonghan and you emerge from behind the bar with the chilled drinks, quick to "cheers" each other before savoring the first sip of their beverages. 

There are smacks and sighs of delight from the group, your pride growing as they approve of the drinks, and gather up some cash for a tip. Jeonghan nudges you, urging you to accept the bills from Mr. Choi, a polite older man who continues to take care of Jeonghan and you each summer. He’s never been creepy, and he tips very well. You still feel slightly guilty each time you accept cash from him. 

“Thank you, Mr. Choi,” you speak graciously, accepting the tip, quickly shoving it into your pocket without checking the amount, and earning an approving thumbs up from the man as he takes another sip of his cocktail. 

“Save it wisely, Y/N,” Mr. Choi chimes, humming in thought, and eyes flickering between where you and Jeonghan stand. “Jeonghan tells me you’re both attending the same university in a few months. Heard you’ve both received a pretty good scholarship, even one from the club?” 

“That is correct, sir,” you nod excitedly. Not only had you both received an academic scholarship from your university, but all your years working at the club have paid off in a way you wouldn’t have imagined, earning a scholarship from the Lakewood Country Club members' foundation. “I am grateful to have received such an award. Don’t worry, I’ll make good use of it. I know Jeonghan will too. You’d never guess, but he’s a straight A student,” you tease, hiding your mouth only for Mr. Choi to see as if Jeonghan can’t hear you, and elbowing your friend in the rib cage, earning a pained groan from him. 

Mr. Choi nods in approval, a smile creeping onto his face as he chuckles at the dynamic between you two. “Glad to know my money is going towards two bright futures.” Jeonghan is pushing your bony elbow away, annoyed at your enthusiasm and teasing, further amusing Mr. Choi. “Jeonghan, make sure you don’t lose sight of Y/N during University, all sorts of partners will be chasing her. She’s intelligent and beautiful. Don’t want her forgetting about you now, do you?”

Jeonghan would groan if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Mr. Choi speaking to him. He has to restrain himself from shoving you away as well, knowing that Mr. Choi has inflated your ego a bit too much with his praise. Nonetheless, Jeonghan plays into it. “Nope, she’s stuck with me, so don’t even worry about it.”

You almost laugh out loud, reminding yourself to remain professional on the course as you fire back. “As if, Jeonghan couldn’t get rid of me even if he wanted to.” 

“Valid point,” Jeonghan grumbles, teasingly pushing you back towards the bar as if reminding you of your duties, sick of hearing the constant praise that only you’re receiving, even though there have been no additional visitors since Jeonghan’s entourage of golfers arrived. He’s quick to enthusiastically round up the crew, realizing daylight will quickly dwindle by the last hole if they don’t start back up soon. “Welp, we better let Y/N continue to work. Ready for hole 10?” 

The men are quick to gather, knocking back the remainder of their drinks, and returning to their carts as Jeonghan helps you clean up the finished glasses, your shoulders bumping into each other as you two push your way back into the bar. Mr. Choi sends a knowing look Jeonghan’s way, neither of you catching it as he wishes you a nice Fourth of July. 

“Thank you, Mr. Choi!” You wave to the man, bidding the rest of the golfing crew a nice holiday as well before turning to Jeonghan who’s finished carrying over the rest of the empty glasses. “Catch you later, Hannie?”

“Of course,” Jeonghan’s eyes lit up yet again upon hearing his childhood nickname, and is reminded of the nearing shenanigans later this afternoon. Maybe he’ll steal some snacks from the members gifting table for tonight. “I’ll see you then stay cool, Y/N!”

“You as well! Make sure to reapply your sunscreen,” you shout back, watching as Jeonghan hops in the cart with Mr. Choi and rolls his eyes at your nagging. Mr. Choi gets one final laugh before Jeonghan drives off, the entourage of golfers following closely behind. 

You’re finishing cleaning up the bar, pulling the cash from your pocket earlier and gasping upon realizing just how much Mr. Choi had tipped you. A five-hundred dollar tip. It was surely the most you’ve ever made in one round of drinks, absolutely unwarranted, and it made you feel a bit teary-eyed. You knew you couldn’t dare to return it, as Mr. Choi would definitely be offended, but you felt extremely lucky to have such nice members visit you at the halfway house, you’d have to thank him eventually. 

The rest of the day went quickly, and, much to your delight, you had made enough tips to support a chunk of your tuition and expenses for the year. Also, your manager had swapped shifts with another supervisor mid-day, who was not as hawklike. 

Leading up to the completion of your shift, you had snuck a pair of alcoholic shooters into your uniform skirt. Even in your attempt to be rebellious, you couldn’t just steal the shooters, using some of your tip money to cover the cost of the alcohol and you felt less criminal. You knew Jeonghan would tease you relentlessly about this if he was here, each shooter was no more than $3 each, but you had a knack for doing the “right thing,” or else you feared karma would get you in the long run. 

Upon reaching the end of your shift, you stopped back at the employee locker room to safely store your tips in your purse. The day had been hot, but it was cooling down now that night was approaching. 

Ultimately, you opt to throw on a sweatshirt, one that Jeonghan had purchased when you two had toured your university, which was the same one that he’d worn so many times that it’s the most comfortable piece of clothing you own. One that he couldn’t deny you of when you begged to keep it, secretly thinking that you looked cute in it even though you were practically swimming in the fabric. Disgusted that he’d even thought that, he dismissed you quickly and said you could keep it. 

The sun was setting minute by minute, meaning that Jeonghan’s shift would be finishing very soon, and you packed away the remainder of your items in your employee locker, double-checking that your skirt still had the tiny plastic alcohol bottles hidden away. 

After confirming you had said shots, you headed out to hole 12 with a spring in your step. It was a meeting spot you and Jeonghan had found your summer after freshman year of high school. There was a hill behind a bunch of trees that overlooked the valley where the main portion of the country club was located. No one was allowed on the course during after-hours, but this spot was so dark and secluded that you two hadn’t been caught yet. It was also the prime viewing spot for the club’s fireworks show, and it was your little secret. 

You were first to make it to the spot, plopping down on the hill and huffing in relief. Your legs ached a little from standing all day. The grass beneath you was dewy from the cool nighttime air, the humid heat from the day settling on the greenery, and it was almost enough to make you feel itchy. However, you don’t mind it, not when you have the fireworks show to look forward to. You would never mind the damp grass, especially not when you had a favorite summer tradition to share with your favorite person, your best friend. 

Jeonghan’s shift ended a bit later than yours, but he didn’t arrive at the spot much later than you. He meant to grab a bag of popcorn or something, but he didn’t want to leave you hanging for too long. 

Jeonghan tried to sneak up on you, but you’re too smart, too knowing of his antics. So when you turn around knowingly, with two opened Whiskey shooters in hand, he chuckles almost maniacally at your annoyed expression that doesn’t fully translate into your impish eyes. You two were one and the same. 

“What are you waiting for, Hannie? These shots aren’t getting any colder. Not when they’ve been in my skirt for the past hour.”

“Eugh, now you’re the one oversharing,” Jeonghan groans in disapproval, sitting down next to you on the grass, and gratefully accepting the shot regardless of your TMI comment. Your knees knock each other as you turn to face him, but a friendly touch isn’t foreign to either of you. “You’re the gross one, Y/N.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you giggle, holding the shot out in front of him and teasingly shaking the plastic bottle. You sing song, “The night’s not getting any younger either.”  

Nodding in acknowledgment, Jeonghan smirks and shares a few words, “Cheers to our last summer before we’re miserable college students. Cheers to fewer hours spent in the heat at this country club. Cheers to our everlasting friendship.” 

With his final words, you’re both knocking back your shots, groaning in unison as the spicy drink burns and settles in your stomach, instantly warming your body at the sensation. Your face scrunches up at the taste and Jeonghan can’t help but laugh uncontrollably.

“Stop it,” you whine, your voice a bit hoarse from the alcohol but smiling nonetheless. “You aren’t any better than me. Anyways, that's enough for me tonight.”

“True,” Jeonghan contemplates, but he’s quick to poke you. “But I didn’t struggle as bad as you did.” 

“Touché,” you hum, nudging Jeonghan’s shoulder excitedly as a warning firework darts into the sky, indicating the show will be beginning shortly. “It’s starting!” 

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan is groaning at your bony elbow yet again digging into him, but he’s delighted by your excitement regardless, shoving you back as you begin to readjust for the show. “Calm down, it’s nothing crazy.” 

“No, Jeonghan,” you grin, turning your head to fully make eye contact with his wide eyes, joy flickering in your own as you peer at your best friend. “It’s nothing crazy, but it’s absolutely so special because once again we get to enjoy it here together.” 

Your emphasis on the word together almost makes him shiver, a foreign feeling rushing through him as you continue to gaze at him with those wild eyes of yours, gulping as he hesitantly nods, even though he wholeheartedly agrees it is special, but he’s not exactly sure why. “Very true,” and as if on cue, the fireworks show begins, relief flooding through him as you redirect your gaze and squeal in excitement. 

Jeonghan doesn’t understand why, but his heart pounds in his chest throughout the entire show. He thinks maybe it’s the alcohol (you and he rarely have dared to sneak alcohol before), maybe it’s the overstimulation of the fireworks, maybe it’s the thrill of knowing the golf course guards could spot you any year and escort you away, or maybe it’s the way your knee keeps brushing his thigh reminding him of just how close you two are. How much you are together here alone, just like every other summer. 

It’s a feeling he decides to ignore for the rest of the fireworks, letting himself lay back on the damp grass with you and listening as you enthusiastically point out your favorite fireworks, bickering with you when he thinks a different type of firework is prettier. 

It’s a feeling he continues to ignore as the finale comes and goes, chest fluttering at the way your eyes sparkle with golden reflections of the fireworks in the sky, and once again quickly redirecting his gaze to anything but you. 

It’s a feeling he tries his damnedest to ignore as you both continue to lay in the grass post-fireworks. Neither one of you making the first move to go home. Maybe you thought this would be the final moment of normalcy between you and Jeonghan before starting university, knowing that all friendships are bound to change with such a new chapter. Maybe he thought he’d figure out whatever it was he was feeling if he just stayed here with you a moment longer. 

It’s a feeling he struggles to ignore as you both fall into deep conversation. The one shot of alcohol makes you both loose-lipped as you reminisce on embarrassing high school stories. Reminiscing on your shitty boyfriend who broke up with you before the summer. Reminiscing on your years of friendship. 

It’s a feeling he no longer can ignore when you roll over, lips pouting and eyes teary as you start to feel emotional about your recent breakup. Something in him feels like it shatters when you ask, “Have you ever been in love before, Hannie?” 

[drivestraight]

did anything major change when you started writing ETA to when you finished?

from here

oh yeah. so many things. here’s a list:

max (v) and lando were supposed to have History. yea That sort of history (pre-2024), that max was going to hint at throughout the present narrative, and it would come out during the qatar fight, but i thought it would muddle the fic too much + wasnt necessary to bring out the tension i wanted. its an abandoned plot point for sure, and i’m glad i didnt do it

i toyed around with the thought of having max return to f1 post 2025 (ferrari moment…) but that was also a short lived plot point that i decided 1) went against the spirit of his character in this fic, and 2) was a little too self-indulgent…

a lot of the plot points were in the back half of the fic (spa, monza, las vegas) were developed about halfway through me writing the fic, so i guess you could count those as “changes”

originally i didn’t know where i would end the fic. i thought i would end it right after qatar, like leave everyone on a low, mostly bc qatar at the start was like, the last Plot point i wanted to hit/i didn’t really have any interest in writing past that, but then as i wrote the fic, things developed more + more and i realized that i had to do oscar and everyone justice and tie up loose ends. and then i was like. wouldnt it be super funny if max shows up… :)

maxcar weren’t supposed to be romantic !! i had originally intended for them to just be like max and george in winning mentality, just fwbs who grow fond of each other + get each other, but then the more i wrote and developed the idea with lia, the more i realized… yeah… this works like a romance too

overall though, i’d say that the core of the fic stayed the same — hungary + abu dhabi 24, silverstone 25, zandvoort+qatar 26, all were there from the start

ty for the ask! this was a fun one

[meldarkthrop]

Francesca and Michael from the Bridgerton series remind me of Elucien at some points.

Michael is an ex rake; a charming, sarcastic and handsome man, who is the spare, not the heir. Lucien coded.

Francesca is the sixth sibling, quiet, elegant and beautiful; often ignored or overlooked by her family, but she possesses a dry sort of humour. Elain coded.

Obviously, there are differences in the story, but here are some moments from When he was wicked by Julia Quinn that are not just giving Elucien vibes, but fit Elain and Lucien individually as well:

• "In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and clear that one feels as if one’s been hit in the chest, all the breath knocked out, and one knows, absolutely knows without the merest hint of a shadow of a doubt that one’s life will never be the same.

For Michael Stirling, that moment came the first time he laid eyes on Francesca Bridgerton."

So very 'Lucien meeting Elain's gaze for the first time' coded.

—

I can imagine Lucien telling this to Elain

• “I can’t bear this halfway existence,” he said, his voice so low she wasn’t certain she’d heard correctly.

—

Francesca talking about her family overlooking her. Also the banter here could fit Elucien. Lucien teasing her and Elain glaring at him.

• “It’s as if I don’t exist,” she said, irritated enough to shoot him her most ferocious glare.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say—”

“Oh, yes,” she said with great flair, “Francesca.”

“Frannie…” He sounded quite amused now.

“Has someone told Francesca?” she said, doing a rather fine group impression of her family. “Remember her? Sixth of eight? The one with the blue eyes?”

“Frannie, don’t be daft.”

“I’m not daft, I’m just ignored.”

“I rather thought you liked being a bit removed from your family.”

“Well, yes,” she grumbled, “but that’s beside the fact.”

“Of course,” he murmured.

She glared at him for his sarcasm.

—

This screams Lucien Vanserra

• She didn’t have to love him. But she did have to feel free. Free to be happy.

Because if she wasn’t happy…

Well, that would kill him. He could live without her love, but not without her happiness.

—

Francesca's confession to Michael. Now tell me this isn't Elain confessing to Lucien—

• She looked up at him, her eyes bright. “I love you.”

Michael touched her cheek. “I have no idea what I did to deserve you,” he said.

“You didn’t have to do anything,” she whispered. “You just had to be.” She reached up and touched his cheek, the gesture a perfect mirror of his own. “It just took me a while to realize it, that’s all.”

—

This quote from Michael = Lucien gets emotional over finally having a happy ending with his mate.

• “For the rest of my life,” he vowed, “I will love you. For the rest of my life. I promise you. I will lay down my life for you. I will honor and cherish you. I will—” He was choking on the words, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to tell her. He just wanted her to know.

“Let’s go home,” she said softly.

—

And a letter in the epilogue where Francesca's previous mother-in-law talks about them:

"I do not profess to understand metaphysics, and in truth, I rarely have patience for those who claim that they do, but there is an understanding between the two of you, a meeting of the minds and souls that exists on a higher plane.

You were, it is clear, born for each other."

/end quotes

I just—

[bearwriting]

Topstitch

Start Here Previous Chapter

Summary: Bruised and bloodied, you end up with the last person you thought you'd turn to, and now you're on the road with him.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Cursing

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You opened your mouth to protest, but he had already hauled your duffel over his shoulder and was halfway out the door. When he realized you weren’t behind him, he turned back to face you.

“Well? I don’t have all day,” he drawled.

You gave him the dirtiest look you could manage, but he hadn’t left you much choice.

Making your way into the parking lot, you and Sweeney fell into the familiar rhythm of sniffing out cars that would be easy to steal and hopefully wouldn’t be missed. Your hand instinctively went to the pocket of the hoodie Sweeney had given you and you sighed when the familiar weight of your keys wasn’t there. Your car was missing in action after the Jötnar had done gods knew what to get rid of it. Fortunately, you had been smart enough to take it to Circe when you’d gotten it to have her help you ward it. She had cast the proper protection spells but had also shown you a nifty little locator spell that you could use if it was ever separated from you. If the car was somewhere it could be found, the locator spell would point you in the right direction. If the car was at the bottom of a lake or stripped for parts, the spell would simply wink out.

Gods, you hoped they’d only sold it. The idea of your beloved car sitting at the bottom of a lake or being completely taken apart made you nauseous.

Sweeney waved you over to a particularly shitty old Toyota Corolla that he had popped open. He slung your duffel into the trunk and folded himself into the driver’s seat.

“So where’d you stash the old man’s trinket?” He asked when you had settled into the passenger seat beside him.

You shook your head. “Before we do that, we need to find my car.”

Sweeney stared at you. “And how d’you plan to do that? Do you have any idea where it is?”

You gave him a look. “Do you seriously think I’d get a car like that and not have a locator spell on it?”

He huffed. “Well, excuse the shit outta me, I didn’t realize you were a witch now.”

You swallowed the urge to clock him, forcing yourself to remember that he was the reason you were alive right now and not dead in a ditch on a backroad.

“I was not the one that put the spells and wards on it, dickhead. I took it to Circe.”

“Oh.”

“She just taught me the locator spell and how to maintain the wards. Bet you feel like a dick now, huh.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line and he stayed silent.

“I can do the spell now before we hit the road, just give me like fifteen minutes.”

He grunted and pulled out a cigarette, stepping out and leaning against the car to smoke while you worked and the scent of cloves filled your nostrils.

Asshole, you thought. Yet, despite your annoyance, you found yourself replaying the feeling of his warm hands carefully caressing your face as he dressed your wounds. Replaying the fuzzy memory of his bright green eyes filled with worry and anger on your behalf and the way all pretense of not being able to stand each other fell away as he tried to keep you alive. Your cheeks grew warm at the memory and you snuck a glance at him as he leaned against the car, puffing lazily at his cigarette.

“Goddammit,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

Pushing all thoughts of Mad Sweeney aside, you turned your focus to the task at hand. You weren’t sure entirely how the spell worked. Other locator spells you had seen used burned away a map until the only thing that was left was the place they were looking for or had used a pendulum to indicate the whereabouts of what was being looked for. The spell that Circe had used didn’t involve a map at all. She had explained to you that your end of the spell would connect with the magic in the car and would just sort of…deposit a vision of the vehicle into your head. You’d never tried it before and you were nervous that it wouldn’t work. There was warding magic on that car that even the old man couldn’t wrap his head around and it kept you protected from all sorts of nasty things. You didn’t know what you would do if you couldn’t get it back.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, letting yourself begin to drift into the space between sleep and wakefulness.

You had almost settled completely into your meditative state when Sweeney knocked on the window, jerking you out of your reverie.

“What’s takin’ you so long?” He asked. “We got places to go.”

You ground your teeth and stuck your head out the window. “If you would just shut up, I’ll be able to do this faster.”

He held his hands up and returned to brooding over his cigarette. You leaned back into the seat, once again letting your mind settle in the in-between space. You held an image of your car in your mind, focusing on the tiny details and the things that made it yours, like the protection sigils hanging from the rearview mirror or the small hole on the passenger seat that had been burned into the upholstery the first and only time Sweeney had broken your “no cigs in the car” rule. In his defense, you had slapped a lit cigarette out of his hand when you realized what he was doing, but if he hadn’t lit it in the first place, you wouldn’t have had to smack him.

With the image and the details in your mind, you began to repeat the make and model of the car, along with the name you had given it, and projected your intention to find it as much as you could, as per Circe’s instructions.

An image of your car flashed through your mind, beautiful and shining, with the skeeziest-looking dude you had ever seen sitting in the driver’s seat.

Thirty miles east in the parking lot of a Circle K, came a voice at the back of your mind.

Blinking out of your trance, you stuck your head out the window again. “Strange things afoot at the Circle K,” you said to him.

He stared at you blankly.

“Really?” You asked. “Bill and Ted? Most excellent?”

He shook his head and you sighed in exasperation. “Okay, there’s a movie night in our future.”

He looked at you in surprise. You were surprised at yourself, but you pressed on, ignoring the subtle shift in the energy between the two of you. “Car’s thirty miles east at a Circle K. The Jötnar sold her to the slimiest motherfucker I’ve seen in a while and I just know that asshole is stinking up my upholstery with cigarettes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Thirty miles seems awfully close.”

You shrugged. “I dunno, but can we get a move on? He’s as like as any to be gone by the time we get there.”

Sweeney opened the door and folded his lanky form into the driver’s seat. “Do ye have any idea how many Circle Ks are along the next thirty miles? How will we know which one is the right one?”

You shrugged. “Go thirty miles and find a Circle K that’s got a gorgeous car and a scumbag in her driver’s seat. ”

He grunted and started the car, peeling out of the lot. “Dunno why I thought you’d have an actual plan.”

You glared at him. “I gave you our next steps, seems like a plan to me.”

“What if he’s gone? What if it’s the wrong Circle K?” He demanded.

“Then I do the fucking spell again,” you snapped.

“How much time are we going to waste looking for your damn car?”

You took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose as you squeezed your eyes shut. “However long we need,” you said, your voice tight with annoyance. “The old man’s been alive for millennia, waiting on us for a little ain’t gonna kill him.”

“No, but it might kill us,” Sweeney grumbled.

You smiled smugly. “You, maybe. The old man loves me, as far as he’s concerned I can do no wrong.”

“Must be nice,” he said bitterly.

“It is.”

His lip curled in a sneer.

“Look,” you said, “I’m not doing anything until I find my fucking car. If you need to go to Eagle Point, no one is stopping you. I didn’t ask you to come with me, you did this to yourself. If you want to go, by all fucking means.” You refused to acknowledge the twinge in your chest at the idea of him leaving you.

He didn’t say anything, but pressed his foot to the gas a little harder. “I’m not leaving you by yourself,” he said quietly. “But if Grim—“

“Don’t say his fucking name,” you barked. “I don’t care if it’s not his true name or what the fuck ever. Names have power. You’re one of the Fair Folk, aren’t you? Why do I have to explain this to you?”

“Be serious. Are you really going to refer to him only as—“

“As the old man? Yeah. Names have power and he certainly does not need any more.”

“Fine. If the old man tries to string me up for it, I’m throwing you under the bus,” he said.

You cocked your head to the side and looked at him for a moment. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were on the road, but the tips of his ears had the barest hint of a blush.

“No, you’re not,” you said finally. “You won’t do that.”

His eyes stayed on the road. “Are you so sure of that?”

You turned your gaze to the road in front of you. “Your ears go pink when you lie.”

tagged: @@imaginethatneathuhpartdos @kind-wolf

[aerodaltonimperial]

that spooky lighthouse au epilogue

(idk man i re-read this fic and was like oh, i love that universe still, that was so much fun to write, maybe i should write a little ending? so here you go.)

Darby wakes before the sun.

At this point of the season, not that much before, but enough that the glow coming in through the blinds is still a muted, reddish hue. It’s learned behavior, really; he was always woken up when something went wrong, or when the lighthouse turned itself on, and now, the instincts are slow to fade. Except that now he wakes up and stares up at the textured ceiling tiles of a just off campus apartment that’s far too small for the amount of people currently living in it.

There’d been a nightmare at some point last night, the kind that worms its way down into his bones. He runs a hand over his face and sighs. Then he rolls over to slide his arm across Jack’s waist. Jack is an indulgent sleeper—he never fails to curl around Darby’s hold, scooching back against him without waking up. He’s the sort of person who has never had to worry about his well-being while he slept, never had fear tickling the back of his neck even in his dreams.

Darby envies him, but more than that, he’s determined to make sure that stays true. He curves himself along Jack’s spine, slotting his knees behind the other’s. Presses a kiss to Jack’s shoulder, the little bit of skin peeking out from beneath his shirt collar. Sometimes, Darby can fall back asleep and catch another hour or two. This morning is not one of those times.

When it’s obvious he won’t be able to get any more rest, Darby slides out of Jack’s grasp and creeps quietly out of the room. There’s only one main room, separated into the living room and the kitchen; counter space is severely lacking, but neither Hook nor Jack seem to be much for cooking. The coffee maker holds a space of honor in the corner. The timer hasn’t switched on yet, so Darby flips it manually.

He’s sitting on one of the unpainted kitchen chairs, staring out the sliding glass door, when the door to the other bedroom opens. Hook makes it halfway out before he realizes Darby is there. Then he frowns, blinks, and sets his phone on the counter. “You’re up early.”

“So are you,” Darby returns.

Hook shrugs. He’s dressed in shorts and a tank. “Going to the gym. Can’t sleep?”

“Happens sometimes.”

Hook nods. He goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle filled with an obnoxious green smoothie, one of those ridiculously expensive things both of them tend to buy without even thinking. He seems as though he’s getting ready to leave, but pauses before he hits the door.

“Hey,” he says, to get Darby’s attention. “I know you saved his life. So...thanks.”

“Thanks?”

“He’s annoying as fuck, and I swear he doesn’t have an ounce of sense in his head, but he’s my best friend,” Hook says. “I don’t know where I’d be without him. So. Yeah. Thanks.”

Darby nods once, slow. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re still an ass,” Hook tells him.

“Feelings mutual.” Darby jerks his head back towards the bedroom door. “He up yet?”

“Nah. He’s pretty lazy sometimes.” Hook doesn’t bother to wave when he leaves, just grabs his keys from the holder nailed to the wall. But the coffee is done, so Darby gets a cup. It’s some organic brand; the bag boasts that it was grown, like, beneath only blue lights that had been locally sourced in dirt flown in from a tiny island in the Pacific or some shit. Darby doesn’t know where the hell they buy this crap. Tastes good, though, so maybe he shouldn’t complain.

Halfway through the cup, Danhausen wanders out from the room. He squints blearily at Darby for a moment before waving a hand. “Ah. Good morning.”

“For an all-powerful entity, you sure would be easy to kill in the mornings,” Darby says.

Danhausen grumbles out something unintelligible when he goes to the counter to hunt down a clean coffee mug. “Yes, yes. Be sure to put a big neon light up when you invite things in. Danhausen will hardly be the most interesting specimen in the apartment.”

When Darby makes a face, Danhausen offers a wide smile. “Darby has been touched by an otherworldly. He is considered a delicacy in some realms now.”

“So has Jack.” Darby frowns.

“Huh,” Danhausen replies, with overly false surprise. “An added bonus.”

That makes Darby think a little. He takes another sip. “You keeping everything away?”

“Perhaps,” Danhausen says. “But it is not a full-time job. We are not very high on anyone’s lists. And right now, Danhausen will go shower, so that we remain that way: unnoticeable.”

Darby doesn’t really know what a shower has to do with not being noticed by dangerous entities from other worlds, but whatever. He finishes his coffee, pours another cup, and goes out onto the balcony. Dawn has broken, painting the sky red. Here, they are far enough from the coast that the smell of the sea is hard to pick up, but Darby lived his life by the brine, and he’d know it anywhere. It’s strange to be looking out over the morning and not hear the roar of the waves or the screams of the gulls.

Eventually, the door slides open behind him, and Jack pads out onto the metal. “Hey. When did you wake up?”

“Not that long ago,” Darby replies.

“I’ve only got Lit and Calc today, so I’ll be back early.” Jack leans over the railing, both elbows propped up against it. “Wanna hit somewhere near the beach for dinner?”

“Sure.”

Jack studies him, chewing on his bottom lip. “You okay?”

Darby turns, back hitting the rail. He loops an arm around Jack’s shoulders, mostly so he can pull the other in closer, press his face against Jack’s hair pulled back in a messy bun. The coconut scent of his shampoo is strangely grounding. His t-shirt covers none of his arm, the tattoo that’s still healing to hide the shadowy marks that will never go away: overlapping ocean waves against the rocks.

Against his better judgment, Darby misses those rocks.

But he’s here, standing on a balcony overlooking the sprawling student apartments that carry far too high a rent, drinking overpriced coffee that Hook will bitch about having to buy more often with more people drinking. Darby drops a kiss against Jack’s temple as Jack curls in closer, fingers sliding up beneath the hem of Darby’s shirt.

“Yeah,” Darby murmurs. “I’m okay.”

And for the first time in maybe forever, he really means it.

[hinamie]

oh my god ok so i know im late I didn't talk about it because it happened during one of my Offline Eras but . but listen ok lisn the new former vandal album sent me THROUgh the FUCKINNG ROOF to be fair i knew it would like i joked about going upstairs to listen to it and cry when it dropped but i didn't think that every fucking song would hit me so hard in the kokoro it made me wail because I too have immense religious guilt ANYWAY im gonna rant incoherently and at length now hope u all missed me

ok first of all gotta shout out the fuckin album title i knew it was gonna be devastating when I saw it . fuckin. divine interference????? music for god's playthings indeed i eat that shit up i was like yoooooo hes also got a bone to pick with jesus go off bestie <333

so former vandal are artists visionaries kings so ofc tracklist is all mythology n religion-inspired (lazarus/goliath/ouroboros etc) and i think its so cool that theyre all in caps until u get to the end and the final song is denial and it's in lowercase and maybe its simple but i was like ART. ARTTTTTT. and it made me go back and look at the tracklist of their previous album and I realized that the whole thing was about vices and unhealthy coping with an overwhelming and forsaken existence but then the final song was Get Right (still my go-to comfort song to this day tbh tbh tbh) and it's like an acknowledgement that ok maybe none of this is the answer and something has to change anyway wrong album oops back 2 divine interference

i made a point of listening to the songs that hadnt been released as singles first so the first song i listened to was Lazarus and tbh probably my fav song on the album maybe tied with parables and maaaaybe even icarian. BUT LAZARUS SLAPS SOS SOSOOSO HARD god the theme of not knowing how to leave something behind even when it's bad for you,,, both criticizing but also mirroring the actual story of lazarus in the lyrics being like "wow kinda fucked up of god for resurrecting u without ur consent" but also acknowledging that he himself is guilty of holding onto the things that kill him.,,, GOD ITS SO FUCKING G GOOD I FDFGSADFGDG

salt also !!! BANGER not quite up there with the likes of lazarus but it gets bonus points because a. i lov the idea of starting to recognize that you're coming into yourself n an identity apart from your vices n traumas and b. for having two of the most RAW lines in the entire album imo which is reaaallly saying something: "now that everything's bright I guess I'm fine/but there's an art in the dark that took years to refine" and "the spark of divine intervention/that I'm still terrified I've left behind" (ALBUM TITLE DROP ALBUM TITLE DROP) god these two just dont miss and i love it but i am far too neurodivergent to contain myself they need to give me a break pls i am v i b r a t i n g

ok gonna move into the Chill(tm) tracks I think with goliath as well as shame/rotten I vibe more with the lyrics than the actual songs because i prefer my angsty alt pop to be Upbeat thank u very much but can i just say. the lyrics of these two songs ESPECIALLY SHAME/ROTTEN LIKE ok first of all i love the tonal shift halfway through that manages not to make them feel like completely different songs it's just jarring enough like there's been an acceptance of sorts,, like omg same i too am like 'god i feel like the scum of the earth might as well own it a bit',, "the fear of god/the need for blame" fuckin bullseye ow,, "I starve to feed the parts of me/far from who i oughta be/tell me are you proud of me yet?" FUCKIN BULLSEYE OWW

I know i just said i prefer my angst upbeat but crocodile tears (very upbeat very rock wuaw) is probably my least favourite track if i had to pick but it does have a lyrical BANGER of an opening verse ("holding the hand that's holding me under" g o d) i think i just don't dig the overall melody too much and find the ending a bit repetitive fr my tastes,, who knows though it took a while and many re-listens for ouroboros to grow on me maybe this'll b a similar story ,, but then again ouroboros had the advantage of echoing mine own mental health and self-destructive behaviours shdgj

ok so i was crying from the beginning right but the songs that made me ugly bawl were growing pains (very similar vibes to get right but in a "i know that i'm healing" way rather than a "i need to heal" way) and denial,, but starting w growing pains,, my god idk What they did with the mic/vocals after the bridge but it felt like the music was being injected directly into my ears secret direct path 2 my bloodstream god I hadnt felt chills like that in such a long time and idk just the whole Mood of the song having been hurting for so long and only now starting to recognize the damage you've done but also appreciate the progress youv made,,, i have so so many emotions but DENIAL (its funny saying it in caps bc its the only track in lowercase getit getit) oh my god ths going straight on the list of Songs That Make Me Think About My Relationship With My Dad but also Songs That Make Me Emo About All The People I've Grown Apart From and i think its so powerful to frame a personal transition away from faith as growing apart from an old friend and missing them despite any hard feelings holy shit though holy shit . the first listen by this point i had already been emotionally devastated by the Whole Album so i was like ok surely ill get a break by the last song lol nope sorry i ended up crying so hard i think i gave myself a headache

I think I must have yelled about the songs that they released as singles when they dropped individually but it's been so long that i forget what i said but honestly parables and icarian are still just as good as when i heard them for the first time (when parables dropped i spilled my tea on my fucking notes bc i was vibing too hard),, I love parables' msg of accepting the lessons ur (traumatic) past taught u and how it shaped u as a person even if u recognize that that person is someone hurt and in need of healing and maybe that has to happen alone! and i know for a fact i've gushed about icarian (still one of the most gojocore songs Ever imho dont fight me on this) but now looking at it in the context of the rest of the album i love that it's first cause it really frames the whole icarus thing of having flown too close to the sun or to god and getting burned and that pain essentially being the catalyst for the entire Journey tht the rest of the album outlines (obsessed w the fact that the next song is jaded like fr having these two songs one after the other is literally "fucked around/found out" gsfhjsh)

but all that being said not to b dramatic but this album destroyed me it rearranged something deep in my soul and i don't know who i was before it but i probably wont ever be the same :) i literally love these two so much im so appreciative of them its so rare to feel so Seen by a piece of media so to have an entire album hit so incredibly close to home for me and slap while doing so????? i feel so lucky . this entire album feels like taking the first step to address years of hurt and self destruction it feels like losing a friend it feels like finding yourself and i just . i love it so much

[lunaremy]

Always had this idea that blacks a really good combatant when he wants to be. I mean, if I remember correctly bro used to be whites arch nemesis (unless timeliness are different)

That would require SOME kind of battle prowess, right?

It's debatable, but thanks to R2 I think they still have a sibling rivalry.

"Really? You have nothing to show?"

"I told you already, White. I don't DO training. Im already perfect."

"No! You! Aren't!"

White stood over Black, his face red with anger.

"You always say junk like 'im so perfect'," He imitated Black's suave voice. "but it's NOT TRUE!!"

Black stared back, no remorse present on his face.

"Really?! It isn't true?" Black raised his voice accordingly. "I'll show you perfection!! You've lied!!"

"Then show it to me in a battle!" White pointed his finger at Black, his voice brimming with great amounts of rage.

"Oh, I'll show YOU a battle."

"Then it's on!!"

One might ask what this duel is about, and the answer is simple.

Black skipped out on doing the chores again.

It was his week to do the chores, as denoted by White's handy dandy chore board (in which his name was listed for most of the tasks most of the time). White was really too tired to do everything this week, so the tasks automatically went to the second oldest; that being Black.

Except Black really doesn't care for doing chores.

"Why would I do the dishes? It'll soil my beautiful complexion if i'm exposed to such dirt."

"Sorry, but I only do my own laundry. You can ask Pink to deal with it."

On, and on, and on, and on....

White had had it.

Before long, the two had made their way to a sort of training arena; a vast plane of grass filled with various blocks to break apart.

White felt the data required for such a battle load itself as a countdown began.

It's on.

The beginning of such a fight was slow, as to be expected. White could hear Black's explosions from across the map.

BOOM. More bombs.

BOOM. More firepower.

BOOM. More speed.

Before long, most of the blocks had been destroyed by now, and White quickly had to devise a plan once the blocks separating him from his opponent were destroyed.

A bomb appeared in his hand, and he quickly adjusted to the weight of it, before chucking it over the Block.

"Guh-!!"

He heard a muffled shout of pain from behind the blocks.

That's the plan!

White produced another bomb and threw it over the blocks again, before placing another bomb at the block to break it.

But it broke before his bomb went off.

"Huh?" He mumbled it under his breath. There was no indication of Pain from Black, who was not present when White's bomb exploded and he looked out from the smoke and ashes.

Through the thick smog of smoke, White saw a bomb heading towards him, and quickly shot back to his hiding position as it slid past him before exploding in a spectacular fashion.

Black was silent. White couldn't even hear his feet hitting the ground.

"Yo, White!" It sounded far away. White moved out of his hiding spot and began searching for him to engage battle.

"Show yourself, Black!"

"Why? So you can have the advantage?"

This time, Black's voice was towards the left of his position. White moved accordingly. There were some blocks that had yet to be destroyed; perhaps they contained some power ups. So far, White could only throw, and Black seemed to only be able to kick.

White hesitated for a moment.

"That kind of thinking's only for losers, yknow."

White hears Black's voice move, and he's seemingly halfway across the map by now.

He hears the sound of a powerup data-chip being picked up.

No....Black's voice is getting closer.

White bolts from his position, but before he can flee from the brick his back is up against, his vision goes blank as he feels a bomb land atop his head.

It rolls forward, and White collapses in pain, struggling to regain awareness.

"And boy, you seem like a loser right now."

It's...behind the brick.

When White comes to, he quickly realizes that there is a ticking bomb in front of him.

And he can't escape. No matter how much he pushes and prods at the bomb blocking his path, he can't escape.

In one final shout of desperation, White yells;

"YOU CAN DO ALL OF THIS,"

The bomb explodes, sending White flying, but he continues in despair.

"BUT YOU CAN'T DO CHORES????"

Once White's out of sight, Black scoffs, pretending to flip his nonexistent hair with great sass.

"I told him. Chores simply ruin my beauty."

-- -- --- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - -- - -- - -- - -- - --- - --- - --

The door slides open in front of him, and Black enters his home. Yellow's already doodling something in the living room. On the couch rests White, lying

Wow. just how hard did I throw that bomb? Perhaps I don't realize my strength.

"Well? Are you feeling any better?" White complains.

It seemingly flies over Black's head, as he responds like White doesn't have an issue with him.

"I feel INCREDIBLE, White."

"Glad to hear, because I'm stuck here with a blinding headache thanks to you."

White sighs in pain.

Of course, using your antennae to return to a safer position doesn't alleviate the pain that blasted you away entirely. Right now, the pain seemed almost blinding as White's internals struggled to reorient themself following such an intense battle.

At least Black's good at one thing.

He'd used the smoke from the bombs to mask his movements, uttering annoyances to throw White off.

White had realized that during his time spent on the couch. His emotions got the best of him, causing him to suffer a lapse in focus. That lapse ultimately led to him losing the battle, resulting in the throbbing headache that he's suffering from as they spoke.

"LISTEN to me, Black." distress was apparent in White's eyes as he looked up at him. "You gotta do the chores...you beat me pretty badly back there. I'm too sore to finish them. So you gotta use that skill you displayed to do the chores."

"But I said..." Black started, but White interrupted him again.

"Cmon, dude. If you're so perfect, use that perfection to help me out."

"I'm perfect, you say?" There he goes, fishing for compliments.

"Yes, you're perfect." White plays along, if only for the sake of getting him to do the damn chores.

"Then I'll bestow just a bit of my perfection unto you, White. To the chores I go!!"

Finally, he leaves.

White sighs with relief instead of stress this time.

At the very least, I know Black used to be quite motivated to become better than me...

I wonder if he'll pick up that behavior with the chores, as well.

It's silent.

Jesus christ, the headache is real, though...

[forcebookish]

Sometimes I think. You know. I probably would have enjoyed only friends more if I didn’t see people saying stuff like “Boston and Nick had the healthiest relationship among all the couples!” On this hellsite.

I actually don’t think it was terrible. Especially after rewatching it. But I can see the flaws and things that could have been done better.

I saw someone say that it’s a show that feels like halfway through airing someone edited the episodes badly not caring about continuity. Like that there was meddling somewhere along the way. And honestly I sort of agree. Something feels. Off. About the way things were handled. Like if the Top and Mew smashing stuff scene was removed from its episode, why was it still in the trailer for that episode? Was it that down to the wire. That seems like a bad idea to edit major scenes out that close to air time.

I will forever mourn the loss of a scene of Force acting his ass off as Top while realizing he isn’t over Mew cause he can’t hook up with someone else.

Anyway. It was still nice to see the actors all get to stretch as performers and go outside of high school and tell slightly more mature stories, even if it was far from perfect.

oh, p'jojo literally confirmed that they were re-editing every week based on fan reactions. it doesn't just feel like it was meddled with, it straight up was! and definitely to the detriment of the story.

however, there are some glaring issues that still would have been present without the hack-job the series got, because it's not just the editing that goes off the rails in the end: the writing suffered as they ran out of ideas while also trying to cram ideas that didn't fit into the narrative (read: boeing's pointlessness). they should have spent more time workshopping and fleshing out boeing's character. in a series full of well-rounded, realistic characters he just felt tacked on and couldn't even serve the purpose of developing said characters. it's like they couldn't decide between being a show that actually explored these relationships and friendships or being a show where everyone just kissed for no reason. you can thread the needle between horny and well-crafted storytelling, but it fell apart.

it is HYSTERICAL to me that people think that nickboston was the healthiest. yeah, the couple where one of them bugged the other's car out of jealousy then listened to the sounds of him fucking another guy on repeat, leading to the other shouting at him and hitting him at his place of work... only to end up together literally only because nick was the only person left in boston's life who loved him... broke up because boston, despite saying he wanted a relationship, kissed some rando while on a date with nick. they only ever talked about what they really wanted out of the relationship in subtext and code or when it was too late.

yeah. picture of health.

i really need fandom, BUT BL FANDOM ESPECIALLY, to stop measuring couples based on their "health." although it can be a perk to certain ships, it's not the point. nickboston being unhealthy is what makes them interesting! they're both super fucked up and the unpackable baggage between them makes them fun to watch! that's not to say that a fictional couple who are healthy can't be interesting, but that just doesn't apply to nickboston.

THAT BEING SAID, topmew are easily the healthiest couple in the series, but a fandom that focuses on top having to "change" for mew (soooo, quitting drugs for someone is only good when ray does it?) of course isn't going to notice the way they navigate the relationship through talking about their feelings and desires while setting boundaries is what a healthy relationship actually takes. and even without the inciting incident, that dynamic was still interesting because there was still tension within the relationship. that's what actually makes relationships in media interesting: tension. the characters have a give and take, either they clash or play off each other. a healthy relationship is about wanting the same thing out of it and working toward that goal together: that goal can still be interesting.

and i'm not just saying that because i prefer them over the other couples, because I WANT TO REITERATE, THE HEALTH OF A FICTIONAL RELATIONSHIP IS NOT SOMETHING NEEDED FOR IT TO BE APPEALING. and it's really annoying how fandom will just say that a ship is healthy when really they mean, "i like it." you can just like things, mary.

and yeah, i probably would have enjoyed the series more if i hadn't seen this fandom's bullshit every week - but even if i'd binged it those last episodes would have driven me crazy with how much they lost the plot. and i just... really can't get over how annoying ray is. if i do rewatch it, i'm probably going to skip most, if not all, of his scenes because i truly cannot stand his whining. i see those "na, naa, naaa, naaaaaa" compilations and i go ????? really???? you all like this??? "you would give in too" no i would the fuck not

maybe i'll just stick to that topmew-only cut for the time being🤷‍♀️

as always, i wrote too much and i mostly just repeated myself, but thanks for stopping by and giving me an excuse to rant, anon!🥰

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Some thoughts on Tree:

- Apparently Daniel Kitson wrote this entire play because he was annoyed about people pruning trees on his street, which I find amazingly funny. And I get it. I also get annoyed when people let adult responsibilities mess with natural beauty, just because we don’t want overgrown trees falling on our property or whatever. Maybe I’ve occasionally fantasized about digging my heels in and refusing to let it happen. But I’ve never responded to that by writing that fantasy down and then performing it in a theatre with Tim Key. Good for him for going the distance with it.

- That bit of the story where Lee loudly announced that the trees had to be cut down, but then stood under the tree and said quietly enough for only Daniel to hear that they were going to cut down one every week until he got out of there – I’m pretty sure this is the only show Daniel Kitson’s ever written with a genuine villain in it. And it turns out that Daniel Kitson can write a hell of a villain. That one bit made me hate that guy more than I’d have thought it possible to hate a guy who doesn’t even appear in the play where he’s a character – in fact, he may well not even exist within the play where he’s a character, and may be just something a tree surgeon is making up. Seriously, all the way along that was a strong villain. Fuck that guy.

- So, I know there isn’t actually an answer. I’m thinking of a bit in David Mitchell’s autobiography, when he said he gets asked all the time about this one part in Peep Show. Super Hans comes out of a party looking horrified, doesn’t tell them what went on in there but says it’s too wild even for him. David Mitchell said he gets asked all the time about what was happening in that party, and the answer is… nothing, because it’s fictional. They didn’t write a whole wild party and then choose not to show it to the audience. They made a joke so the audience could imagine what they wanted.

I realize that Tree is like that – there’s no objective answer to what really happened, because the story didn’t really happen, and what really happened is Daniel Kitson wrote a play with some ambiguity. Having said that, I think what really happened is he didn’t really live in the tree, but he did really used to date Tim’s wife, Tim worked that out by halfway through the play and just didn’t let on because, as has been established, his character is a dick. Kitson didn’t work it out until he heard the phone call at the end, but he did work it out then, which is why he ended it by yelling the same thing that was said to him at their wedding.

Though if you’re really looking for clues, there’s an argument that he really was living in the tree because there’s so much stuff earlier in his story that lines up with what came later. If he were making it up as he went along, he wouldn’t have mentioned early on that the brother-in-law who works for the council is all right now, only to bring that back in more detail near the end. I mean, at this point we’re getting into forgetting it’s a play in which those facts got dropped early on because that’s how fiction works, and if we’re going to forget that then we could say Daniel Kitson could not have lived in that tree because it’s not a real tree and they use that theatre space for other stuff. But if you like to believe he lived in the tree, which I rather do, then there’s evidence for that in the way the story came together a little at a time.

I mean, I think what really happened is Daniel Kitson sort of wishes he could live in a tree.

- Whatever you decide is the truth behind the unreliable narrator, that ending was genuinely intense. Well done to both actors for carrying that off so well. Getting hit with three twists at once (Tim’s got a wife, his wife shares a name with Daniel’s ex-girlfriend, oh shit he may not even live in the tree), at the same time as they pay off the emotional stakes they’ve been setting up for the whole play by having the “here’s what I really think of you” moment, including multiple callbacks to lines from earlier in the show – that is how you bring a story together.

- I said this before, but seriously, it’s a hell of a tree. The camera did a good job of showing us how big it was, and that’s quite an impressive set for a fairly small-scale play. Its size did require the entire play to be shouted, and it’s impressive that they kept that up for 90 entire minutes.

- Daniel Kitson climbing all over a tree for 90 minutes was so much funnier than I’d expected it to be. I kept thinking he’d get tired of it or run out of directions to go, but no, he kept moving from branch to branch the whole time. And it kept being funny.

- What do people think about whether this was intentionally referenced in The Horne Section TV show that came out last year? When Tim Key asked Alex Horne which band member is his favourite, Alex said he didn’t have a favourite, and Tim kept repeating “Who��s your favourite” until Alex admitted he had one. Almost that exact same thing happened in Tree, with Tim asking Daniel Kitson who was his favourite person on the street. It would be weird for that show to reference a play that hadn’t been performed for seven years, and that wasn’t released anywhere so only people who were in that live audience could get that reference. But I also thought that Horne Section show had John Oliver say a line that referenced a Bugle joke from 2012 – I know that reference couldn’t have been intentional, but that show did have a lot subtle references to other things its actors had done. So it’s possible that this one was intentional. Or if it wasn’t an intentional reference, it could just not be a coincidence for other reasons. Maybe Tim Key suggested that part in Tree because he liked it, and did the same in the Horne Section TV show. It was a very good bit of dialogue either way, both times.

- Normally, my view on this website being full of people who want to fuck Tim Key is that I’m really glad everyone’s having a good time, that sounds like fun, I do not remotely understand why anyone would feel that way but that’s fine. He’s not at all my type, but my type is almost (not quite, but almost) entirely women.

However, I think for the very first time, I may have been very briefly attracted to Tim Key. I think I was attracted to Tim Key for 0.8 of a second when, after spending quite a while joking about how re-doing the throw is silly and it would be a problem to eat the other grapes because if they’re going to go through this whole silly charade he’ll at least need a few chances, Tim Key suddenly dropped the silliness, stepped back and put a knee down like it was a clearly perfected technique, and expertly caught a grape in his mouth. God damn. Someone inform the Christian church that I’ve found a cure for being gay.

- Anyone who liked that play would probably also like these things, particularly The Interminable Suicide Of Gregory Church and It’s Always Right Now Until It’s Later. Similar style of narrative by the same writer, though unfortunately they are sorely lacking in Tim Key. The presence of Tim Key added quite a lot to this one.

[robertdowneyhiddlesbatch]

Change of perspective {1/2}

Triggers: implied baby loss

Summary: Stephen's girlfriend takes a pregnancy test and reminisces how they got together.

The stick with the two lines on it was maybe the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Eliza was a realtor, so that was saying a lot. She loved, and got paid for, finding hidden jewels. That's how she had found Stephen in the first place. 

Eliza Gonzales was a top tier realtor, and true to her career, a pompous ass. Half the cast of Selling Sunset were her best friends. So when she set her sights on Greenwich Village, she wanted it. 

“Hello,” the familiar looking man answered before she even knocked on the door.

Eliza quickly tried to recall who he was. “You're… famous, aren't you?” She pointed an inquisitive finger at him. 

The man smirked. “You new to Greenwich?” his smirk told her he was intentionally being smug, and it irked her. 

Eliza chuckled to cover the scowl growing on her face. “Sort of. You haven't always lived here, have you?” For some reason, he didn't look like he belonged in an old money neighborhood. He looked like he would appreciate a penthouse better. 

“I haven't personally, no,” the man humored her and took a look back inside the house. “But it's been in the business for, well, forever.” 

Damn. “I see. Well, I was just walking by in the neighborhood and I am absolutely in awe of this beautiful brick stone. I'm sure it's equally gorgeous inside. Mind if I can get a little peak?”

“It's not for sale,” the man held the door and pulled it behind his shoulder. 

Eliza’s jaw dropped. “But I didn't…”

“I'm quite familiar with your type…”

“Well that's rude,” she didn't even try to hide her grimace as she folded her arms. 

“Says miss intrusive. Buh bye now,” he closed the door and she found herself in front of her car. What the?

Oh, did she hate this man! And she would never let him live it down. She was groveling about it for days, so her friend insisted on taking her out on a double date. Eliza dressed up to humor her friend and went, only to be blindsided when her friend's date was the man from Greenwich.

“Stephen, this is Eliza, my best friend. Izzy, this is Stephen Strange, and this is Matthew Perrywood. They're both doctors!” Janice introduced the two men. 

Eliza ignored Greenwich, who was clearly her friend's date, and smiled as she introduced herself to the one she was set up with. The plan was to not even acknowledge him, but halfway through the night, they could only acknowledge each other. Not positively, of course, as every topic of conversation was an opportunity for passionate argument for both of them. Janice tried to intervene at some point, but gave up and redirected her attention to Matthew. At some point, Janice and Matthew hit it off and left, leaving Eliza and Stephen with the bill.

After realizing they were ditched, Stephen and Eliza finally settled into silence. Stephen asked for the check and Eliza took out her wallet to split her meal, but the former doctor waved her aside and paid off the entire meal. Eliza blushed and reached out for her wallet, blindly putting her card back in before tucking her wallet back in her purse. 

“Thanks for footing the bill,” she told him as they were walking out. 

“The least I could do after ruining your date,” Stephen said, acknowledging the events of the night. 

“Well, clearly they didn't mind,” Eliza chuckled. 

“At least someone had got something out of it. I'm not really one for blind dates.”

Eliza gasped. “You didn't know her?” 

“Not before tonight. Matt dragged me out.”

“Oh. I see what happened. You were something once, weren't you?”

“Once,” she noticed he put his hands in his pockets.

“I…it's getting late. I should let you go. It's a drive back to Greenwich from here.”

“I'll catch a cab. How about you?”

“OH, I drove us here. I'll be fine. Have a good night, Dr. Strange,” she bid, heading toward her car.

“Good night,” he replied. 

She was keying into her car, parked in the lot beside the restaurant, and she saw him still standing there. He whistled, and a cab obediently pulled up, as if it was waiting for him. Eliza shrugged as she got into her own car. A cab in the first call, in New York city, was almost magic. 

The next morning was a Saturday, and she had planned to get up late, if the doorbell would let her. She groaned when the knocks started and threw off the blanket.

“I'm coming! I'm coming,” she shouted as she went down the stairs to get the door.

“Yes?” She asked sternly as she opened the door, not caring for whoever it was.

It was Stephen. 

“W-what are you doing here?” She asked, rubbing her eyes to clear up and make sure she was seeing right.

“I'm here for my wallet,” Stephen replied.

“Excuse me?” Eliza retorted.

“You took my wallet last night,” he explained.

Eliza scoffed. “Oh, you are so not accusing me of stealing!” She exclaimed and stormed into her kitchen to get her purse.

“W-well, you see how I got here…” he didn't get the chance to show her wallet in his hand. 

“Now look here, mister!” Eliza shouted as she was back with her purse.

“Doctor,” Stephen corrected her. 

“Whatever! This is clearly not,” she whipped out a wallet and thrust it in his face, but was able to clearly see it herself, “my wallet.”

Stephen smiled as she turned bright red in embarrassment of being caught in the wrong. 

“I… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to take yours. I thought I had grabbed mine!” 

“Oh, I wouldn't usually mind. It's just this one, it's an heirloom,” he pointed at the red and black checkered wallet she had again put back in her purse. 

“Ah, sorry. I'm still sleepy. Here's your wallet back,” Eliza finally handed him his item.

“Thank you. Here's yours,” he returned the favor. 

“It's still early. Wanna come in for breakfast?” She stepped aside to invite him in. 

“I won't say no,” Stephen smiled and helped himself inside. 

“Kitchen's down to the left. I'm just gonna go change real quick.”

Eliza ran upstairs to freshen up and put on some real clothes, and came downstairs to breakfast. He always made breakfast for them now, and had pared down her pompous realtor personality and made her smell some roses. Not that they didn't still quarrel. She actually loved the snide quips they shared. 

And she absolutely fell in love with the main staircase when he finally invited her in. 

But then she fell down it. And she hated it. Because it had taken away the two lines. The worst part of it all was that she was home alone.

Stephen had gone on another mission saving the world, and here she was losing hers. She had no idea how she would tell him. And if she would tell him. Normally, she didn't make an issue of him being gone most of the time. She figured that since she was busy with work too, it didn't matter much. They had made it work. 

But now her perspective had changed. Being physically alone, and then also emotionally all by herself, had her reevaluating their arrangement. Maybe he should've been home more. Maybe he should've given her more time. More attention. Maybe she wouldn't be going through this alone. Or maybe, he would have caught her when she tripped. 

But he wasn't there.  

Stephen was never there. And now it was a problem.

[zeemczed]

You know about homestuck? Man I don't wanna sound demanding but I would really to know what you think of a EGS/HS crossover. Because I really like the idea, either the EGS cast dealing with sburb and troll bullshit or the HS cast dealing with magic. Of course if you don't have any that's fine.

I was there DAY ONE. I got into Hussie's stuff vis-a-vis Team Special Olympics and And It Don't Stop, I was reading Problem Sleuth live through the last 500 or so pages, and I was STOKED to see Homestuck start. BUT YEAH I have extensive EGStuck thoughts. FIC IDEAS POST-BREAK.

So I have two ideas, one leaning EGS flavor, the other leaning more Homestuck flavor. The first is THE UNIVERSITY.

Sburbless. The game constructs (IE Sylladexes, Strife Specibi) are a kind of magitek, same as the TF gun. The EGS crew and the kids knew each other via the internet through their formative years (Rose was Ashley's internet girlfriend), and arranged to go to college together at ANDREW HUSSIE UNIVERSITY (home of the Fightin' Weasels!). The trolls landed the year before, refugees of a broken empire that was in its death throes... oh, and they used the same magic. Publicly. Though some forms of transformation (EG bloodcaste alteration) were punishable by death before. The Uryuoms (who ARE interdimensional space aliens, same as the Alternians) had tangential contact with them and were able to sort of guide first contact so it didn't end in immediate war (and the Uryuoms come out of concealment at that point).

The story is mostly a slice of abnormal-life, with Tedd's magic lab trying to get to the core of what makes magic tick, Rose writing treatises on troll culture and how it's adapting to earth, and Karkat inadvertently (or possibly deliberately?!) flirting pitch with Justin (spoiler: they do, and it's messy and weird and awesome).

Other loose ideas for this setting:

Vriska is WAY more comfortable with human culture than troll culture after a very small amount of time. She's part of a small and vocal "fuck Alternia, we're earthling trolls now" movement.

Grace's origin is almost unchanged, BUT they used troll genetics for some of her brothers. Damien had tyrian-based mind control abilities that he used to make the researchers submit to his will.

Terezi decides she's going to be Sarah's friend five seconds after she meets her when Sarah slings Dresden-level snark back at her.

Sarah, meanwhile, is part of a WEBCOMIC CLUB... that only has her and Dave in it. She does The Wizard Sarah. Dave does Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff. The club does very little.

Elliot and Nanase take over the college STRIFE! club. They need to get a prof to be the official head of the club... and Tensaided isn't doing anything...

The JUST/HEROIC rule applies... to any fight with strife specibi involved. Hence why there's a STRIFE! club. You can't die in a college club sparring session. That would never be heroic, and if it's just you must be an INCREDIBLE piece of shit.

Vriska steers clear of the club. She knows what she's done.

No god tiers.

Idea two is a lot less... structured right now. Basically, the EGS crew sit down to play a game at the same time as Egbert and company. Things change dramatically from the Homestuck we know.

Tedd - who is really good at speedrunning - manages to save the Earth by functionally captchaloguing the entire planet before more than a few meteors hit. It's safe in his sylladex the entire story.

Ellen is Elliot's alchemized ecto-clone. It shouldn't have happened. It did. She's irritated about that, but... y'know... EXISTENCE, can't be too pissy.

TF happens via alchemization. There is a LOT of human alchemization in this timeline.

John and Tedd are the heads of the "Totally Cisgendered 100% Men Yup Totally Club Also This Isn't A Club". This goes about as well as you can expect, with John becoming June less than halfway through the story and Tedd realizing their genderfluidity.

Grace is TECHNICALLY Gracesprite^2, but ain't no one gonna remember that. She's Tedd and Sarah's sprites.

The looming threats in the background - Lord English and Lord Tedd - obliterate each other before they can become more than lore and signal noise.

By all means, GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS ON THIS.

[closetoyou1970]

how fast the night changes!!!!

road trip wip my beloved!! 💜

ask meme: [here]

fic inspo tag: [here]

excerpt under the read-more:

(Context / recap: post-15x19; Cas is back; established destiel relationship at this point. The angels and Amara are having a family meeting in heaven to sort out the cosmology. Dean, as a mortal alive-boy, is not invited to Super Heaven Conference 2021, so he has to drop Cas off at the heaven portal which is also a playground.)

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Sneaking into the playground in the middle of the night is easy, despite the sign proclaiming Park hours: 7:00 A.M. – 7:00 P.M. daily, and, if they weren't trying to get to the portal, it would almost be fun. It would almost feel like they were a couple of teenagers sneaking out after dark to have a drink and a smoke on the swing set, getting into the kind of kid trouble that doesn't really matter.

But instead he's here to say goodbye to Cas, even if it's just supposed to be for a few days – although, when has anything ever gone to plan for Team Free Will? – and it's not fun. It's shitty, and Dean keeps trying to blink back something that he keeps telling himself isn't the start of a crying jag, even though it's making his eyes feel all hot.

He wants to ask Cas to stay. He wants it real bad, even, but that's stupid. As much as the other angels all suck sometimes, they're Cas' brothers and sisters – hell, Jack's in the middle of this whole mess, and Jack is his kid. Jack is their kid, even if Dean can't go see him in the same way that Cas can. Cas has to go do this, the same way that Dean would show up for Sammy or Claire without question, even if Dean kind of wants to be a girl about it right now, kind of wants to cry and beg for him to stay. Kind of wants to start blubbering about how, "Cas, it's not fair. I just got you back," which has been rattling around his head and behind his teeth for the last two hundred miles of highway.

Cas hasn't left his side since Dean found him in the Empty.

Dean tries to breathe through it.

Get it together, Winchester. He needs you steady right now.

"Okay, well…" He turns to face Cas and claps him on both shoulders out of some aborted impulse to pull him close and hold him, reining himself in halfway through as he realizes that if he gets Cas in his arms right now, he's just not going to be able to let go any time soon. "You be careful up there."

Cas lays both hands over Dean's, strokes over both wrists while he talks him through it, low and soothing. "Dean, I'll be at Jack's side. There's nowhere safer."

Dean wishes that he didn't need to be gentled like a nervous horse about all this, but he kind of does, and it's kind of working. 

"Yeah?" he volleys back, contrarian for no fucking reason except that he's scared and doesn't know what to do about it. He's trying to snap like that less often, these days, but he's also trying to do less shit that puts his heart in his throat like this in the first place, and he already failed step one. "What if the Empty comes back?" 

Isn't that how the Shadow got Cas the last time, ambushing him in heaven and shaking him down for a deal?

But Cas just smiles a little, not unkindly, but with that soft, amused look he gets when Dean's said something funny on purpose, even though he hasn't.

"Dean. Do you think that the Empty has only stayed away because it's afraid of you?"

Dean puffs out his chest in response, and he's only halfway joking about it. Tries out that cocky, lopsided grin that used to charm all the girls back when he was twenty and pretty. "Could be, right? I got in some pretty good hits when I came and got you."

Cas does laugh at that, and Dean feels like maybe being stupid is worth it, if he gets to make Cas laugh. The moonlight makes him look all soft, and the laugh lines make him look all lived-in and touchable, and Dean just wants him to stay.

"Oh, dearest love." Cas smooths Dean's hair back and kisses his forehead, and the gentle pressure settles something in Dean in a way that sex never has. "I'll come back to you. As soon as I can."

Dean sees him off, all flaring sigils and holy light in place of wings that just don't work anymore, and then, after Cas goes, lets himself sink down heavily into one of the abandoned playground swings. Even though it's been years since he grew up too big for all the kid-sized equipment, all of a sudden, he can't help but feel small.

[nottooldforthisship]

oooh larry fic recs!

of mates and men by @bananaheathen is an absolutely wonderful fic !!!!!

darling so it goes by @disgruntledkittenface oooh this one!!!!!! incredible

ive reread those fics recently and fell in love all over again

and if ur looking for a shorter fic than those two i would suggest alien roadtrip by helloamhere (it’s from 2018 but i recently read it & loved it!)

im not sure what kinds of fics ur into! but i hope something there interests u!!!! & i hope covid doesnt hit u too terribly and that u feel better asap☺️

Oh this is great ! Thank you :)

Of Mates and Men : In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of. Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance. Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

(WTF THIS IS 630k !!!)

Darling, so it goes : Harry Styles is a world-famous actor at the height of his career but a personal low point when he meets His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Monaco by chance. He doesn’t think they’ll ever see each other again, but after striking up a correspondence, it turns out they have more in common than he thought. Then they start to fall for each other. Louis is different from anyone Harry has dated before and their relationship moves fast as Harry realizes he’s ready for a change. Soon Harry finds himself adapting to an entirely new life, in a country where he doesn’t know the rules, the customs, even the language. Harry is used to people underestimating him, and he’s more determined than ever to prove them wrong.

He just needs Louis to meet him halfway.

Grace Kelly AU.

(I actually read this one I think?)

Alien Roadtrip! : roadtrip with desert feelings, too much snack food, and empty motels. Harry is definitely absolutely not an alien. That would be ridiculous.

(I didnt read this et I love this fic)

#Please rec me some fics from 2020-2022

[zezacle]

I just had a weird dream and I'm gonna try to recall it for you:

High-school gymnasium. Playing baseball and being way too serious about it. Especially since the bases are random objects and the ball is a little plastic football. Its our coach as our manager and another coach as other manager. For some reason the coaches step out halfway through the game and leave us to play.

We're sitting down on the sidelines (dugout) waiting for our turn to bat when I realize I am getting skipped. My (mostly girls) team is just skipping me because they know that I'm terrible. (I haven't had batting practice since my Tee Ball years after all) Next inning, I take up mantle as player-manager since Coach is gone. No one argues me. I put someone out and say I'm on deck.

She hits a triple and I walk up to the plate and pick up the red plastic wiffleball bat that is basically weightless. I focus in. I can't be shown up in this sport I claim to love. I gotta produce. Drive in this run... or at least not strike out. I stare down this massive senior girl pitcher who is intimidating as hell, take my stance...

Hit-by-pitch in the leg. (Doesn't hurt because again its a tiny plastic football) Oh thank fuck. I take my base. On first, I start to zone out and don't notice the grounder to pitcher who then walks to the baseline to get the tag out on me. She's standing there, menacingly, tossing the ball up and down to catch it, just waiting for me. I start walking, accepting my fate when I turn my head and see our runner score. She turns to look and remembers "oh shit there was someone on third" which makes her drop the ball. The football. The weird, egg-shaped ball that is known to bounce unpredictably.

I immediately sprint past her as she's chasing it and make it safe to second base. Second base is a plushie, so it slides around the gym floor as I step on it. My brain skips the next play (again dreamscape) so now I'm on third, bases loaded, 1 run scored, 0 outs. This giantess pitcher is mad, and most if it is directed at me, the worst player, who she HBP, then errored on, and now is about to score.

Suddenly she charges the plate and tags it (there isn't a catcher, its gymnasium dream baseball), she points to me and yells "You're out! Force out!" Everyone is a bit confused, including me. I'm like uh, no? That's not how it works? I'm safe on third (which is the end of a pool noodle btw) and the batter isn't on the basepath yet, so he can't force the runners to advance. An argument ensues. I call time and say I'm gonna get Coach to sort this out.

I walk over to the adjoining gymnasium (my HS had two gyms) to find the other gym class sitting on the floor while our Coaches (managers) are in a screaming match with each other about something. Not wanting to interrupt, I notice two adults spectating the argument, a female black teacher and the School Officer (who in the dream wasn't the white dude we had at our school, but instead an older white woman). I approach them, "Hey, either of you know baseball?" Black teacher says yes.

I explain the conflict that's happening in the other gym and ask who's in the right. She shakes her head at the situation and pulls out a massive pad of paper (the kind teachers use to draw venn diagrams and shit) and a sharpie, presumably to illustrate whatever she was about to say. This black woman then says: "That's what Joe Biden'll do to ya." And begins drawing her diagram.

"What?" I respond, incredulously. "The fuck does that have to do with anything? I'm asking about baseball, not politics."

She gives me a dumbfounded look like they are clearly one in the same.

"I don't give a fuck about Joe Biden! I justed wanted to know what the rule is when a pitcher steps off the mound and- wait a minute. That's a balk. Batter goes to first. On loaded bases. I score a run. Nevermind."

And that's when instead of turning around and returning to the other gym, I must've been raptured from the perspective of these dream people because I woke up after that realization.