#anyway i deleted threads and i am not looking back

[safifonhasstrel]

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[awsugar]

speaking of questions that exercise very mcr specific muscles in your brain. i was perusing mychem tumblr the other day and came across a masterpost about the SS/mayo blog frerard lore (i’m aware frerard is not PC these days thanks obama). i’ve been a dedicated fan for over a decade now and my brain is an mcr lore bank but i had literally never heard of this. do you know about it and if you do what are your thoughts

omg yea. ss/mayo is crazy. and unfortunately a lot of it has been lost to time and its not even saved on wayback. theres some stuff thats convincing, theres some stuff thats not.

so like lets preface this by saying that the ft willz myspace? confirmed to be frank. and obviously the stuff posted on skeleton crew, those screenshots of ft willz works that look like theyre on burnt paper? yea so those are confirmed and those are real fully frank no questions.

i personally am a skeptic of other accounts that claim to be ft willz. like the tumblr? i do not think thats frank. and i think that came at a time when people had already really speculated or figured out that ft willz WAS frank. so like i think the tumblr is honestly just someone who was pretending to be frank and managed to sort of emulate his style but yea i don't think it's him. i think the reason some of the stuff hits so hard in a frerard sense is because that was intentional by the person writing it. you know.

anyway ss and mayo. there were two blogs on blogspot started in 2007 i believe that fans thought were frank and gerard. well it started with mayo (its-mayonaise.blogspot.com). that blog is still up and so are a lot of the posts but i think a lot of them have been deleted as well, and not saved anywhere on wayback. im sure theyre on someones hard drive out there but i haven't seen them. then a blog appeared called iamthemodernprometheus.blogspot.com. some of those posts are still up but most are gone. that was ss/sss/shitsubou shita/frank (allegedly). ss started interacting in the comments on mayo's blog. and i think i may have read some mayo blog posts back in the day but i haven't been able to find them to answer this one. i just remember when i joined the fandom most people thought it was gerard.

now here's a couple things of evidence. THIS is a blogspot comment thread where people who have saved some of ss' blog posts put them in the comments. and yes obviously it could be an elaborate hoax by two fans who were invested in frerard. but like these things were being posted as it HAPPENED. you know? idk i wasnt there in 2007. but 2007 was when the fanfic took off and we really informed a lot of our perception of what happened with frerard on things like ft willz/stuff that happened on stage/and a lot of these posts really fit into the timeline. i would recommend reading that because its kind of hard to believe its like. a teenager pretending to be frank. it really just SOUNDS like frank. and he's really writing blog posts. basically to gerard lol. it gives the impression that they were on tour together (projekt rev) and doing the Thing but like there was def tension going on behind the scenes and we already know that thats true. frank didn't like eliza and thought gerard was moving too fast, the imnotokay.net post came from someone in mcr's camp that ppl thought was frank (or maybe brian) and then tbh its happening again?? just months later? it makes complete sense that if frank thought gerard was moving too fast with eliza that he DEFINITELY thought he was moving too fast with lynz getting MARRIED to her backstage just a couple months? after breaking off his engagement with eliza. anyway just read the comments. its very easy to believe its frank.

and then the other peice of evidece i found in this reddit thread: x comment in particular by u/ReallyKapu. they say that they have always gone by Kapunua online and that they met frank at a lm show, gave him a hat with the inscription 'sss' inside and later on he thanked them for it on the blog.

sure enough:

from what i've read it seems like the blog was actually a community. there were people who followed it and made friends in the comment section. and it does seem implausible but it looks to me like frank saved all of his gifts from tour and then made this post specifically thanking people for them. the person who claims this is them also says that they don't think mayo is actually gerard but that frank thought it was.

and i've seen stuff saying that if it wasn't gerard it was probably someone close to the band because they had like information that was posted on the blog that wouldn't come readily available (or make sense) until the show the next day.

anyway, i wasn't there for this. i was on the forums and twitter and tumblr for a LOT of mcr history but this was a little before my time and i think if i had been there OR if the blogs had actually been preserved in some way that i might be able to form a better opinion. i think theres a lot of evidence for frank, not sure about gerard. but i won't claim that it's true either bc we really don't know and this one i don't think we ever will!

[weaselbeaselpants]

I'm tired

It's hard to call myself anything more than an observer of drama because that's absolutely what I am. But I have been here awhile in both the Helluvaverse-critical spaces and the Lily Orchard-call out ones. It hurts seeing the people I trust and consider resourceful in one space be bad-mouthed, lied about and called horrible things in another over their support/dislike of SaiScribbles.

Sai is not an essayist. She's a reaction-channel art steamer. I personally didn't even care or could really make it through her pro-SU vids taking down Lorch's bs, and I like that show, so I don't really care what she says in simping for the show and fandom that grinds my gears. Since she apparently hasn't gone into KenDraws', Faustisse's*, Salem's* or Malcom's* accounts I personally don't think she knows everything she thinks there is to know about either Viv or Rebecca Sugar. I think Sai thinks she knows better than everyone else because she happens to be better at understanding media she likes than Lily Orchard does the things she hates.

This attitude, and also that time a few months back where she agreed with the rube telling me that Palestine-campaigns are all scams, really rub me the wrong way and it's why I blocked Sai. She legit she hurt me by talking down to me (regardless of if she meant to or not) and I don't want anything but to personally not look at her icon as much as I can. I think Sai's Lily coverage is a net positive but I personally don't like her. It just sucks because there are a lot of those other people I do think are better resources about Orchard's abuse, and those people do like Sai. I'm not gonna tell them what to do and how they're evil if they don't do what I want them to do or whatever cuz ohmyfuckinggodwe'reADULTS why are we acting like this??

I also definitely know that Sai DID NOT "dress up as Lily" or "give money to Lily". In reality another critic of Lily gave Lily a superchat, not 'for the lulz' but to confront Lilz on why she sent him a multiple death threats, (which is also the current reason Lily's been banned from Tumblr, I believe). What Sai did was make a parody of Lily's video style for April Fools. Courtney Orchard, Lily's irl abused sibling whom everyone in the critical sphere does believe the accounts of, lashed out at Sai and anyone doing parody artwork of Lily, insisting that it's the same as "giving Lily fanart". I have to highkey disagree on that, regardless of how I feel. Courtney and ILoveKimPossibleALot -who's leaked a lot of private calls and info she was told to keep private- are lying that Sai ever supported Lily in anyway. That is untrue. For all the biases that may exist in me that part is just untrue, sns.

A sad fact is even without Sai, Courtney has been very volatile of different people including other victims of Lily Orchard's ab*se. Courtney's also (as of this time) set on partnering with LioConvoy to take Lily down, a streamer Court disowned but then backtracked on and is supporting despite his own bigoted/abusive behaviors.

There's in-fighting. And I just hate it. I can't ask us all the work together and be besties I'm not your guys' lifecoach. I only know, because I know how quick others are to start accusing people of saying this, that Sai nor Viv nor Courtney are the same kind of beast as Lillian CD-Call Orchard. They are nail bombs; Lily's atomic. SU and Helluvaverse is what I come to rag on cuz I don't have a life; Orchard (also Patricia Taxxon) need to get out of my damn life and my mind. I want to unsee them and the work they made so much. They're what this is actually about.

***keep reading

If you're wondering why the I put an asterisk * on those links above it's because sadly a receipt/drama thread on twitter is the only places you can find Malcom, Salem's and Faustisse's accounts on what it was like working at Spindlehorse on. All of them were forced off twitter/deleted their accounts because of harassment from Viv's base. Don't @ me over how I chose I 'biased source', it's sadly through archiving, call outs and KiwiFarms threads that the "proof" people are talking about is often able to exist.

If Sai has the right to read Erin Frost's receipts and call them bull than I have the right to read through those same receipts and say "this really doesn't look photoshopped/out of context to me:"

[roxannarambles]

What are on your thoughts the cut storyboards especially on the hollow mind episode, where Hunter blushed at Luz from her comment? Or your thoughts on how the we don’t see Evelyn fully in person but just her in the photos in belos mind?

Hmm, Hollow Mind blush? Let's see . . .

This? I assume it took place after he said he reads about Mindscapes. Nothing too odd about that on its own, he's just embarrassed over admitting he's a big giant nerd, presumably. There's a similar instance in Hunting Palismen where he's nerding out over wild magic and in the storyboards he blushes as well. I don't think it's inherently shippy that he wants to seem cool in front of Luz or other people. Though it is a little interesting they always delete it when he blushes around Luz. Personally, I think they were a little . . . paranoid about potentially giving fans the impression he might have a thing for her.

Which is my personal explanation for how BADLY Hollow Mind ended and the rest of S2B went. Among those cut Hollow Mind storyboards is a scene where Hunter confronts the truth about Belos (inside the Mindscape) and Luz comforts him.

These were changed for story flow reasons, favoring the idea of Hunter confronting the truth closer to the end of the episode, when he promptly has a panic attack upon leaving the Mindscape. The problem is that um . . . the comforting part wasn't put back in? Luz just frickin' lets him run off and doesn't even try to chase after him? Which is wildly, wildly out of character no matter how you look at it?

The most sensible, intuitive, and satisfying course for the plot to run was that Luz pursued him and had him stay at the Owl House and they'd comfort each other over such a massive revelation. Not this randomly weird 'oh he stays at Hexside like a hobo' story. It's so awkward and weird. The show also shoehorned in a forced ship for Hunter at the last second. (maybe if the ship had been allowed the space to develop it would have felt organic and a decent ship, but it really didn't for me.) It really does feel like they suddenly went, 'oh crap we can't have him too close with Luz, it will look bad for our power couple of the show. do everything we can to distance him from Luz'

That's what I am choosing to believe, anyway, because that's a more generous assumption than 'it was just really badly written.' ¯_(ツ)_/¯

Buuuuut that's enough talk about S2B. To be honest, the end of Hollow Mind and everything past it is dead to me-- I didn't even watch S3 and never plan to. People might think that's an extreme reaction but I don't think so. Actually I highly recc trying it out. If you stop enjoying a show just stop watching it, if it sucks hit da bricks!! Why keep watching something just to complain and for it to sour your memory of the parts of the show you DID enjoy? I get to (mostly) keep my fond memories of this show, I call that a win

As to Evelyn, idk man, there's all kinds of threads that were never tied up, but to be fair that's 'cause the show was pre-maturely cancelled. Presumably she had ties with Eda's family though, it's what we've always assumed.

[supernova-stardust]

A Habit to Kick (The Age-Old Curse)

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 after the break wip | rated M | jegulus | wolfstar | rosekiller | total word count: 19,273 full fic also on ao3

A few weeks ago, Regulus Black jumped off a bridge. It's not that he really wanted to die, but he didn't really want to live either. He didn't think anyone would care one way or another, if he's honest. Now he's stuck learning how to live.

James Potter was used to seeing Reg every day at the cafe he worked in, until one day he stopped coming in. When he finally sees the guy he's been crushing on come back into the cafe, he knew he had to take his chance at asking him out on a date.

***This fic deals with heavy themes of depression, lack of a will to live, and suicide, but will have a happy ending***

Regulus threw himself onto his bed and let out a heavy groan. He thought that nothing his brother did could surprise him anymore, but here he was, shocked. Sirius hadn't acted this immature since they both lived at home with their parents and Regulus had always assumed that it was in act of defiance more than anything else. He couldn't help but wonder what had triggered his brother to be so over-protective when he had been the one encouraging him to go on the date in the first place. He had to know what going on a date meant, right?

He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the text thread with James, staring at the glaringly bright screen in contemplation. He started typing out a few messages before promptly deleting each one.

sorry about my bother

you're a great kisser

hey i had a nice time, sorry my brother ruined it

funny story, a few weeks ago i jumped off a bridge because i was so desperately lonely that it felt better than living with the fear of being forever alone, anyway that's why my brother is a fucking menace to society right now

He continued to stare at the open thread, wondering what he could even say, when a text from James popped up on the screen.

[James]: hey, i had an amazing time with you. i'd love to go on another date, is later this week too soon? i really want to see you again.

Regulus fumbled his phone from shock and then immediately began spiraling. Had James watched as Regulus typed and typed and typed, never sending a message of his own? Of course having the thread open, James would have seen that Regulus had read the text immediately. He quickly typed a reply.

[Regulus]: i would love that, my treat like we talked about. how's friday? [James]: friday's perfect, you plan and let me know details, but i'll plan to pick you up since you don't have a car? [Regulus]: sounds perfect, can't wait

James reacted to his message with a heart almost immediately and he felt a flutter of excitement in the pit of his stomach. Then, another text came through and Regulus nearly screamed. He probably would have if his brother and Remus weren't in his apartment to judge him.

[James]: can't wait to kiss you again [Regulus]: you have no idea how pissed i am at my brother for interrupting us [James]: i have some idea *exhaling emoji*

Regulus laughed, imaging James' face making the same expression. He heard a soft knock at his door and locked his phone as he placed it on his nightstand. "Go away, Sirius."

Sirius opened the door anyway, a sheepish look painted on his face. "Look, I know you don't want to see me right now—"

"You're right, I don't. Leave."

"I want to explain myself. Please?"

"I don't want to listen right now. Whatever it is, it can wait until I'm less pissed."

"Yeah, sure, I mean… I wanna believe that. I do. Except we both know that you don't get less pissed. You just ruminate."

"Let me ruminate, Sirius."

"Listen—"

"No, fuck off." Regulus grabbed a porcelain trinket tray from his bedside table and dumped the contents onto the surface before holding the tray up in his hand. "I will throw this at your head if you don't fuck off right now."

Sirius held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll be here when you're ready to talk." He left the room, closing the door gently behind him. As Regulus laid back, he overheard his brother and Remus talking in hushed tones in the hallway, but he wasn't able to make out what they were saying.

He appreciated both of them, he really did. He would even go so far as to admit to himself—never to Sirius—that they were a huge reason why he decided to follow through on all of the treatment he's been participating in. Sure, a huge lesson in therapy was that he needed to do it for himself, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about himself enough to get better right now. He did, however, care about Sirius. He cared about Remus. Maybe it was pathetic to consider his only reason for carrying on to be his brother and his brother's boyfriend, but it was the truth.

Fuck, he was pathetic.

***

In the morning, Regulus mindlessly went through his routine before going to the café, driven solely by the motivation to see James. As he hurried through the door, he immediately deflated upon seeing his least favorite barista behind the counter instead. Peter.

It wasn't that Peter was unpleasant, in fact the problem very well might have been that he was too pleasant. He was boisterous and what he lacked in ability, he made up for in friendly discussion and remembering every detail about each person who came through the door. He may have routinely burned himself with steamed milk, but he always had a laugh at himself about it. Regulus found him to be absolutely irritating.

"Want anything other than your black coffee, Reg?"

"No, thank you." Regulus replied curtly as he took out his cash.

"You sure? I know you don't usually grab anything to eat, but the almond croissants are especially good today." Peter gave him a smile that was far too cheerful for the early hour as he poured the cup of coffee.

"I'm good," Regulus deadpanned. He held out the cash for his coffee in a polite attempt to end the conversation, but when Peter placed the coffee on the counter, he reached into the pastry case. He placed an almond croissant on a plate and set it on the counter next to the coffee and Regulus gaped in shock.

"On the house," Peter said cheerfully. "Have a great day!"

When Peter didn't take the cash in Regulus' outstretched hand he placed it on the counter and picked up the coffee and the croissant. He stared at the abomination of a pastry the entire time he walked towards the back of the café. Placing his things down on the table and sitting down, he continued to glare at the croissant. It wasn't that he didn't like croissants—he did, very much so—but almond? Who on earth had thought to put the least impressive nut inside something so decadent as a croissant?

He sipped his coffee—it tasted terrible—and decided that today was going to be awful.

***

This was the first time Regulus had participated in group therapy that wasn't mandated by the hospital as a part of his treatment. Participated was a strong word, really. He sat in a metal folding chair and disassociated as everyone around him shared their traumatic backstory, a valid reason for their attempts at ending it all.

He couldn't help but to feel inadequate. First, his reasons for jumping off a bridge were trivial at best, and then he couldn't even kill himself properly.

None of his backstory was nearly as traumatic as anything he had heard here today. Here were people who had been terribly abused, neglected, and in one case quite literally tortured. Yet here he sat, among these people with real reasons to give up on living, with nothing but a little bit of religious trauma and loneliness to fuel his suicide attempt.

The group leader, Poppy, looked to him next. He had been so self-indulged in feeling sorry for himself that he hadn't heard what she said. "What?" Regulus asked, making it clear to the entire room that he hadn't been paying attention. He heard a few people laugh under their breath and he did his best to ignore them.

"Is there anything you'd like to share with us today, Regulus?" Poppy was kind, her voice gentle. He hair was pulled back in a way that would make many look severe and cruel, but on her it accentuated her softness. Everything from her face, to her voice, to her body was soft and sweet. She exuded a type of maternal energy that Regulus had longed to feel his entire life.

He resented her for it. It made him feel weak in the face of her questions.

"I— Well, I fired my therapist this week."

"Did something happen?" She asked, probing him to elaborate.

"Not really? I just…didn't like him." He answered like it was a question. When she didn't say anything he continued. "He was late to the appointment. He didn't bother to take the time to read my chart before our session. I just didn't feel like he cared, so I fired him."

"I've fired therapists before," a girl with platinum hair said in an airy voice. "The least they can do is be likeable. Awful of them to not be likeable, really."

"Pandora, we've talked about this. You can't villainize people because you don't like them. People are all individuals and not liking someone doesn't make them bad," Poppy admonished.

"Yes it does." Pandora answered so plainly that Regulus choked out a laugh.

Poppy leveled a reprimanding look towards Pandora before turning back to Regulus. "Have you found a new therapist then?"

"Uh…"

"Regulus, group therapy is a great tool to help in your recovery process, but one-on-one therapy is very important. Stay after for a few moments so I can give you a list of therapists who are taking new patients, okay?" Poppy said with no room for Regulus to argue.

Group therapy continued with Regulus staying silent throughout everyone else updating the group about their weeks and their goals. When Poppy asked Regulus what his goal for the week was, he said to find a new therapist, taking the easy way out so that he didn't have to think any further. He had been intending on it anyway, but now he was going to milk it for all that it was. As everyone got up to leave, Pandora gave him a smile and a wave before heading out with a skip in her step. Regulus followed Poppy to where she had left her belongings and she rifled through her bag to find the list of therapists she promised him.

"I try to keep this list up to date with therapists who are currently open for new patients and who would be able to see you soon, so you shouldn't need to call too many in order to get an appointment in the next week or so." Poppy pulled out the list and held it out to him. He hesitated for a moment before finally taking it in his hand and scanning it over.

"Do you know any of them personally?" He knew it was a bit of an invasive question, but Poppy was kind and if she knew any of these therapists herself, he hoped that her knowing them would be a bit of a filter in his search for the right therapist for him.

"I went to school with Sybil Trelawney. She's… Very kind. Different. She tends to be a bit outside of the box for most, but she means well. I find that sometimes it's refreshing to see things from her perspective though."

"Thanks," Regulus said and he meant it. "I'll give her office a call to make an appointment. I could do with a new perspective, I think."

"I hope it works out," Poppy said with a gentle smile as she grabbed her bag and followed him out the door.

When Regulus stepped outside, he saw Remus leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette and let out a groan. "I can walk home alone just fine, you know. It's only a fifteen minute walk."

Remus took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled, avoiding looking at Regulus as he did. "I know, I'm not here to babysit you."

Regulus leaned against the wall and held out his hand in a silent request to share the cigarette Remus was smoking.

"I didn't know you smoked," Remus said.

"I thought you weren't babysitting."

"Fair enough." Remus handed him the cigarette and watched Regulus take a long drag. When Regulus exhaled without coughing, Remus took out another cigarette from his pack and lit it. Regulus raised an eyebrow but continued to smoke. "You clearly need it."

"I do," Regulus laughed, a hollow and humorless thing. "Why are you here then?"

"I wanted to talk about your brother."

"I'd really rather not."

"I know, but we all have to live together for the next week or so and I'd rather it be peaceful. I can't handle the stress."

Regulus took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes fixed on the scars painting Remus' face as he mulled over his words. Life hadn't been kind to Remus—not when it came to the body he was forced to live in. Even at his young age, there were days where he struggled to get out of bed. Plagued by rheumatoid arthritis and lingering injuries from a childhood car accident, his joints would flare up in agony whenever the weather was particularly cold or when the stress was too heavy on his shoulders.

"You should quit smoking if you're so concerned with your health."

"Sure, and you should talk to your brother. We both have to do things we don't want to, I guess."

"Oh, come on." Regulus complained as he tilted his head back into the wall and stared at the overcast sky.

"You walked into that one, I'm afraid." Remus pushed himself off the wall and stubbed his cigarette out, pocketing the trash and giving Regulus a look that said let's go.

Regulus followed suit and the two of them walked towards his apartment in silent understanding. Neither of them were chatty or wanted to spill their guts out to one another, but they had always understood each other all the same.

"He didn't mean to ruin your date, you know." Remus said, breaking the silence when they were nearly home. "He just says shit sometimes, doesn't even think about it before it comes out of his mouth. I know you know what I mean, you grew up with him. He's mortifying sometimes. And protective. I know the impact overshadows his intentions, but he really does mean well. What you did—the whole jumping thing—it really fucked him up. He won't say it because he's trying not to make it about him, but it did. Fucked me up too, if we're having an honest moment here. I think you need to give him a little bit of grace to act childish right now. We're all coping the best we can."

"I'm not acting—"

"I'm not even gonna let you finish that sentence, you've been petulant and childish. You literally shoved him, Reg. And that's okay, we've been letting you act out. But you need to give Sirius the same grace, this happened to him too. He nearly lost his little brother and now he's doing the best he can to be strong and act like it didn't hurt so it's easier for you."

"Can we go back to unhealthy coping mechanisms? I want another cigarette."

"Nah, we just quit. Besides, we're home. I can't be seen as an enabler."

"We did not—Ugh, he's gonna smell it on us anyway." Regulus groaned as they walked up the walkway to his apartment. "Just one more, then I swear we can quit."

Remus rolled his eyes, but he reached into his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter anyway. "You're awful, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Regulus smirked, taking the cigarette from Remus' outstretched hand. He put it in his mouth and leaned into Remus' space as he lit the cigarette for him. "I can't help it though, I'm a byproduct of my upbringing. Just look at what a mess my brother is. Therapy can only do so much."

Remus laughed before lighting his own cigarette and taking a deep drag. "How was therapy anyway?"

"It was therapy? I don't know. It never seems to make much of a difference."

"You get out of it what you put in, you know." Remus shrugged. "Not saying that you're not putting in the effort, but you're not exactly known to be the most vulnerable guy around."

"I've already had terrible coffee, gone to therapy, been babysat by you, and now you want to give me more therapy?" Regulus inhaled his cigarette. "I'm gonna get a fucking migraine before I even talk to Sirius."

"Hey, I said I wasn't babysitting."

"Could have fooled me."

Remus chuckled and stubbed out his cigarette. "Fair enough, c'mon." He walked away and flicked his finger between Regulus' brows. "Sirius was in a good mood when I left."

Regulus trudged up the steps behind Remus and they walked inside together. He shoved his hands into his pockets in search of something to do with his body. Talking to his brother wasn't something that he was exactly pleased about—Sirius wasn't known to admit when he was wrong, but then again, neither was Regulus. Growing up, they couldn't show any sign of weakness, and admitting they were wrong was a huge weakness that they couldn't risk. He was trying to be better, though. The two of them had made huge progress in the last few years in regards to their relationship, but they also hadn't had many opportunities to fight as they had. Something about living together brought out the worst in both of them.

"Hey," Sirius said from the couch in the living room. His voice sounded small and unsure. "How'd it go?"

Regulus wasn't sure if Sirius was talking to him or to Remus, but he answered anyway. "It was fine. I got a new recommendation for a therapist. Gonna call tomorrow, I'm too beat to do it today."

Sirius nodded. "Good, that's… Good. I'm glad you found someone new."

Regulus sat on the couch next to him and watched Remus walk past the living room into the kitchen to busy himself. Close, but not intruding. Just present enough to help diffuse the situation if the brothers blew up at one another.

"Look, I— I'm sorry I shoved you."

"It's fine, Reggie, I get it. I'm sorry I ruined your date."

Regulus scoffed. "You didn't ruin my date, asshole. I'm seeing him again on Friday."

"Oi, then why did you get so pissed?"

"I said you didn't ruin my date, I didn't say you didn't ruin the moment. Which was amazing, by the way—"

"I really don't want to hear about how great making out was from my baby brother," Sirius complained.

"Then you shouldn't have interrupted the moment." Regulus leaned back into the couch and rested his head on his brother's shoulder. "I really like him, you know. He's not just in it for the sex, I think he actually wants to get to know me."

Sirius pulled him in closer, hugging his body and resting his head on top of Regulus' dark curls. "That's good, Reggie. I'm glad, honest. I want you to be able to come to me and talk about it, just… Don't tell me about your sex life. You can talk to Remus about that. Deal?"

"Deal."

"So… are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"You stink like cigarettes," Sirius said solemnly into the quiet room. Regulus heard Remus choke on a laugh in the kitchen—clearly, he was eavesdropping.

"Don't ruin the moment. Remus and I quit today." Regulus said, including Remus in the whole concept of 'quitting' as punishment for babysitting and eavesdropping.

Sirius hummed. "Glad to hear it, he's needed to quit for a while."

***

"Oh, thank God it's you today," Regulus said as he walked into the café to find James working behind the counter.

"Well aren't you sweet," James said, laughing and pouring Regulus' coffee.

Digging through his bag for cash, Regulus snorted. "Peter is a fucking nightmare, James. Why does he still work here?"

"What, you're just happy to see me because Pete can't manage to brew a cup of coffee?" James gave him a mock pout and held his coffee just out of reach. "And here I thought I was special."

"You are, but Peter is so intolerable that he overshadows your greatness."

James stared at him in horror. "What did he do?"

"He made me take a croissant yesterday, wouldn't take no for an answer, and while I may have excused a plain croissant, he insisted that I try the almond one. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Almonds? In croissants? An abomination, truly. I swear he watched me the entire time I was here to see if I'd eat it." Regulus shook his head. "I didn't, for the record."

"What a terrible person he is," James said with mock outrage. "How dare he give out free croissants."

"Almond croissants, James."

"Yes, yes, you're right, love. Almond croissants. The horror."

Love. James said it so casually, Regulus was determined not to visibly react to the pet name, but internally he preened.

"Glad to know you're on my side on this." He said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I-I wanted to warn you that my friends are stopping by here today to meet up. They… might be insufferable."

"Your friends? Evan and Barty?"

Regulus nodded. "We haven't touched base in person in a bit and since this is the only place I go to besides my apartment and therapy these days, they're trapping me into hanging out. I can't break my routines and they know it." He paused, realizing too late how much he had just divulged to James in that moment. What was it about him that made Regulus feel as though he could say anything that came to mind?

"I think that's good of them," James said.

"Good of— Huh?" Regulus was speechless.

"Yeah, I mean, we all want to be seen, right? Seems like they see you for who you are and work with you."

What was with this guy?

"How are you so fucking perfect all the time?"

"I-I'm not, but I have done a lot of therapy myself. Teaches you things, y'know?"

"Yeah," Regulus said softly. "I suppose it does." He grabbed his coffee from the counter and hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder. "Are you working tomorrow?"

"I'm not, but I'll see you tomorrow night? What time should I pick you up?"

"Let's shoot for 6, but I might be a little anxious and take a few minutes longer. Just… text me when you're there this time? I'll come out. I don't really want to have my brother ruin another date for us already."

"Can't wait." James gave him a soft smile. A blush dusted his cheeks and Regulus couldn't help but stare for an extra moment before turning away to allow James to continue his work.

Regulus settled into his usual booth, pulling his headphones on and placing his laptop and coffee on the table in front of him. He opened the outline of his novel and stared at the screen, hoping that a revelation to the plot would come to him. It didn't, of course, but staring at the screen while sipping coffee was a necessary component to writing a novel.

After working for a while, he glanced up to see Evan and Barty enter the café hand in hand and waved at them. Evan waved back as Barty walked up to the counter. Regulus' hearing was still impaired by his noise-canceling headphones, but very quickly he could tell that Barty was being a menace. He pulled his headphones off and pushed his way out of the booth towards his friends.

Evan immediately pulled him into a hug, which was… strange. They weren't huggers. In fact, he couldn't remember ever hugging Evan when he was sober.

"Uh, hi?" Regulus tried to pull away, but Evan just pulled him in tighter.

"I need you to promise not to kill Bee," Evan said under his breath.

"Sure."

"He's hitting on James."

"I take it back, he's dead."

"Reg, you promised."

"I lied."

Evan locked his arms around Regulus and spun them around so he was facing Barty. "Bee, I can't hold him back any longer, abort mission."

James and Barty laughed in unison and it immediately soothed Regulus' frayed nerves. He was worried that his friends were going to be too much. He knew that they were loud, silly, and overall a lot to handle. Most people were surprised by the fact that Regulus was a part of their group, but those people didn't know any of the trio well enough to know how perfectly they all fit together. Three completely different people perfectly designed to balance each other out.

"Aw, Reg, are you jealous?" Barty teased. He came up to where Evan was still hugging Regulus tightly and wrapped his arms around both of them, sandwiching Regulus between them. He planted a kiss on Evan's lips and then on the top of Regulus' head. "You have nothing to fear, James rejected me. Can you believe it?"

"Well, now that I know the three of you are that close," James said suggestively.

"Now you've done it," Regulus said.

"Done what?" James asked.

"Barty isn't gonna rest until he's gotten you into bed with us now," Evan sighed. "He practically begs Reg for a blowjob at every opportunity."

"Speaking of—"

"No." Evan and Regulus said in unison.

Regulus looked up to James in an attempt to gauge his comfort level. After their conversations around sex and dating, Regulus was nervous that Barty's forwardness and constant flirting would be abrasive, but James' eyes were crinkled with laughter and his expression was open. He wriggled his way out of his friend's embrace and glared at the two of them. "Can't you act normal for five minutes? At least long enough to properly greet someone?"

Barty and Evan adjusted themselves so that Barty had his arm slung over Evan's shoulder and Evan nestled himself into the crook of Barty's body. They couldn't help but to touch each other at every possible moment they were together. Two halves of a whole, with just enough space for Regulus and their mildly codependent queer platonic relationship.

"What's normal, Reg?" Evan asked. "Don't tell me you're getting boring in your old age. You used to be the wildest of us all."

James watched them carefully as he worked on making their coffees, silently observing and absorbing every detail that the three of them revealed.

"I was not," Regulus gaped. "Don't make shit up just to embarrass me in front of James."

"No, he's right," Barty said. "I might have always been the one that people expected to be crazy, but you're the one who always encouraged me and you can't even deny it."

"How crazy are we talking here?" James asked as he placed their coffees down on the counter in front of them. "Threesomes crazy or passing out from drinking crazy? Drugs?"

"Yes," Evan and Barty said in unison. Regulus had the fleeting thought that maybe he should have tried harder to kill himself—at least then he wouldn't be stuck in this conversation right now.

James laughed. He was expecting to be judged, but instead James said something that surprised them all. "I've been there too, I just wouldn't expect it from Reg—He's so quiet and unassuming."

"Not once he's had a few shots," Evan teased.

Regulus' eyes widened in shock, ignoring Evan in favor of finding out anything new he could from James' past. "You told me—"

"That doesn't mean that I've been a virtuous priest my entire life, Reg."

"I like him," Barty said with a maniacal grin plastered on his face.

"We know," Evan smirked. "Let's go sit, yeah?" He moved to grab his coffee. "Thanks, James. It was great to meet you. Let's all get together sometime when you're not working and you can tell us all about your party days."

"Sounds great, it was nice meeting you guys too."

"Bye James," Barty sing-songed. "I'll miss you."

Regulus smacked Barty upside the back of his head as they walked together towards his table in the back of the café. "I could kill you, you know. I'm rich enough to pay off the cops and no one would ever find your body."

"You'd miss me too much and we all know it," Barty said.

They piled into the booth and Regulus put away his laptop to make space for his friends.

"So, how's writing going?" Evan asked, always one to start with a safe subject with Regulus. He was aware that his friend did this to help him put his guard down and while a part of him resented it, a bigger part of him appreciated that Evan always went out of his way to soften the blow of whatever heavier conversation they were about to have.

"Not great, honestly. I haven't been feeling inspired, I guess. Haven't written much the last few days."

"Maybe it's because you need to stop writing about murder and start writing romance," Barty suggested, leaning in conspiratorially. "How did the date go?"

"Barty, he's right there," Evan whispered.

"He can't hear us all the way over here. C'mon, spill."

Regulus sighed and took a sip of his coffee to delay the inevitable. "It was amazing."

"Why do you sound so put out by it?" Evan asked.

"Because, I just— He's so sweet, I'm afraid I'll ruin him."

"Was the sex good? I just know that man fucks like—"

"We didn't have sex." Regulus said quickly to avoid hearing whatever Barty was going to say next.

"You— What?" Barty sputtered in complete shock. Evan, however, looked pleased.

"We didn't have sex. He's… I think he's demisexual? He told me he hasn't gone on more than one or two dates with other men before, which… I was worried meant that he was just experimenting by dating me, but he says he's sure that he's queer so… I don't fucking know. He's sweet and fucking beautiful and I can't stop thinking about him, so I'm just gonna keep going at whatever pace he sets. Follow his lead."

"I'm impressed. Dare I say, proud?" Evan said. "I think this will be great for you, Reg. Even if it doesn't go further, just going on dates with someone without the expectation of it leading to sex is so important. And god, he really is beautiful. Did you guys kiss? Please tell me you kissed."

Regulus groaned. "You're never gonna fucking believe this."

He recounted the story of how amazing their first kiss had been, and then how it was immediately interrupted by his brother being absolutely terrible. The three of them laughed and made fun of Sirius, and caught up on everything they had missed out on in the last few weeks, completely ignoring the elephant in the room that was Regulus' attempt. It was like they had all made a silent agreement to never talk about it again, so long as Regulus was continuing his treatment and seemed to be improving. And he had to admit, at least to himself, that things did seem to be improving.

For the first time in a long time, Regulus felt content and was looking forward to the next day.

[vqrtualheartss]

42!Miles x Black!Fem!Y/N ― “They sleepin' on you” part two

ᴅ☆ᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴀʏ|

Y'all didn't expect this huh (My bad for the 5- week wait pookiess― promise I love y'all) Anyways, part one Obviously there will be a part three in two weeks or less

The teased rain from the night before had eased up, a few sheer droplets appearing here and there, and the cold breeze making her aware of her exposed hair. Immediately after getting her body into comfort, (y/n) furrowed her brows in remembrance of her dream. It was of her and Miles going out and giggling, just like the day before ―just what she did not need―. Bringing her phone over her face, the reflection made her suck her teeth and staple a mental note to book a hair appointment today. As if her missing bonnet wasn't already the most out-of-place thing she needed, something on her phone sent her into a deeper confusion.

11:37 AM ― Oh damn? No, not that, that

Hi Miss Mysterious sleeping already?

It was easy to figure whom the person was, having known who was to call her by that name.

Yes I was 'sleeping already'. It was almost 2 in the morning nigga

I planted my phone face down with absolutely no expectancy of a reply. I mean, why would I expect one? After a quiet 3 minutes my phone pinged with a notification.

Woke up on the wrong side of the bed? miles trust and believe that i don't need you making me miserable right now ouch that hurt ... all that progress yesterday for nun?

I squinted my eyes, subconsciously tapping on the side of my phone still opened on Miles' thread. He did go through all that trial and tribulation. Ah, fuck it

myf, I just don't feel alright aight all good so.. so? dry ass texts ― message deleted i saw that okay and? pick up huh?

My phone started to ring, and with no immediate excuse to mind, I answered.

Miles had a PlayStation controller in his hands, headset tucked underneath his braids but the microphone attachment over his mouth still.

"Hello to you too (y/n)'s wall" "Real funny. Hi Miles"

"Just woke up?" Through the tiny window I could see him pressing back into the reclining gaming chair. It had purple streaks all over it

"hmm, how'd you know?"

Looking into my recent chats, I found the user I was looking for. "You sound like a man" My thumb lingered over the profile picture. Did I hear that jiggaboo right?

"Funny how I sound like one more than you do" I smirked at his new found expression, trying to sight any open bookings my stylist offered between the time-frame of today and Saturday.

"What's that shit to mean" He questioned with a defeated tone, his ever so nonchalant look mixed with petulance.

"Play silly games, win silly prizes" He rolled his eyes before fixing his posture and pressing harder into the controller. Sassy much?

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Moving away from the phone unnoticed, (y/n) slumped herself to get ready for the 1pm appointment she barely managed to snatch.

Thank God for cancelling clients, she sighed with relief coming outside the bathroom wearing an off-the-shoulder shirt and casual sweats with her pre-washed hair in a loosely tied, top knot bun.

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Retrieving her charging phone, she furrowed her brows, shaking her head and smiling at the flood of texts.

"you there?" "(y/n)" "(y/n)?" "everything good?" "atleast shake the phone if you're okay"

I sent him a text saying that I was fine, it didn't go through. "Weird" Grabbing a sizeable shoulder bag, I put my purse and card in it, texting my mother my location while closing the front door.

Being distracted placing my keys and phone inside the bag, a big pair of hands held onto my forearms. I screamed, squirming and forcing my way outside the grip before a hand covered my mouth. "Shut u― CHILL. SHH" I looked up at the person before tilting my head with an aloof expression, hitting a smiling Miles on his shoulder "Not funny" "Making me think that you were in danger isn't either―"

"Okay― Wait― How do you know where I live"

"Asked your friend"

Now what if I got kidnapped Would you complain?

He did a once-over at me, raising a brow

"Are you really wearing a mask just to do your hair ?" He shook his head, pointing to the bag I held.

"What―" I raised a hand over my mouth, clutching onto the bag of braids and speed-walking to the salon. "Late?" Because of you― "yea". Before I finished, he grasped onto my hand, dragging me through different lanes and shortcuts, call me crazy but some real kidnapping shit going on

"Calm, I don't plan on taking you away" "I said that out loud?" He chuckled softly at my dumbfounded expression.

Standing infront the lightly tinted, push-and-pull doors, I turned to him.

"How do you know so many― I don't even care― Just― Thank you for getting me here" "No problem" "Can you hold this for me?"

Giving him the bag of hair, I expected him to let go of my hand but nope. Instead he took his time slowly rubbing my thumb in patterns with his as I reached for my phone. We arrived earlier than expected.

"So, see you later?" "Who said I was leaving" He can't be serious "Suit yourself, I can't help if anyone hits on you. A lot of your fan-girls are probably in there" "Would you even be able to? Aren't you like 5"5?" "Not you flexing being a giraffe" "Not you not being able to"

Finally entering the store, we stood awaiting the hairdresser that told us to do so. I pinched Miles' hand with my index and thumb, forcing him to untangle them. He flicked my arm in retaliatilon but before I could do anything, I was embraced by the 20 year old stylist, Keziah. She's one of my close friends, basically an older sister to me, probably how I slipped into my appointment so quick.

We engaged in small talk as she led me over to her station. With my hair down and out, Miles snapped a picture, I posed with a peace sign before pointing at him. "I know, I know. I won't post it" Having no other way of showing gratitude, I made a heart sign, to which he photographed again.

Look who's getting comfortable with someone she swore she'd never talk to

"Y'all together?" "nah, he's my friend" "sure, but believe me, I've heard that from one too many people one too many times. It's all the same ending " "which is?" "the inevitable, falling in lovee"

She made a heart gesture with her fingers to which I playfully rolled my eyes to. In the vanity mirror I peeked Miles' head buried deep in his phone. Looking up, he smiled and waved. Aww

Deciding on knee-length knotless, as expected, the wait took a longg time.

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Throughout the 8 hours (y/n) couldn't help but soften up at the things Miles did for her.

★ · When her neck hurt, he went out to buy a stuffed toy, earning laughs at the name he picked out for it ―Milo, despite not deciding the gender beforehand. Coincidence or not, it was in her favorite color, easily gaining its spot in her heart as a #1 gift. Maybe it was that or the fact that she got it from Miles, either way she adored it.

★ · For the umpteenth time she had reminded Miles of his freedom to leave, and each time he gave the same answer

"You can leave y'know" "Who said I wanted to"

★ · Halfway through, he fell asleep and seizing the opportunity, she took a picture unbeknownst that the flash was on and waking him. Snatching the plush from her hands as revenge, he laughed when she asked for it back with grabby hands.

"Okay, no. Milo is my child and therefore off-limits, give him back" "As Milo's biological father I believe I also get a say in who's care he's in" "And as Milo's biological mother and current guardian I want him back" "Nahh you'll be fine, sit still"

The teasing had Keziah chucking softly over (y/n)'s head, resulting in her putting on a forced anger expression that, however, quickly dissipated.

"Look, mami's angry Milo" "I hate you" "You love me"

★ · Nearing to the end with two braids left, she asked Miles his opinion on what to add. Miles he would've found it cheesy be it any other girl, but he felt happy, ―lovesick even― by her asking for his opinion on something so minor. 'The small things' he'd call it.

"Curls or no curls?" He thought long and hard before answering, he swore you'd look great with either. "Curls"

Closing her eyes as Keziah wrapped the end of her braids with curlers, she heard a buzz from her bag draped across his lap.

"Could you hand me that please?"

The new notification was a message from Miles. Looking at her phone, (y/n) couldn't help but smile.

"you ok?" "I've been ok for the last 13 times you asked" "I'm just worried about you" "What the fuck is tjag Fyt ??"

Spotting Keziah walking with a kettle in her hands she could only assume that was what he was referring to. Pointing at it, she tilted her head as if to ask:

"You mean that?"

He shook his head in response, watching closely as Keziah dipped her hair into the hot liquid. Slightly wincing in pain, he put Milo in her hold, it didn't go unnoticed by (y/n) how their fingers interlocked over the others before pulling away. Ouhh

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ · Ending off the night with the ladies talking briefly, it finally dawned on (y/n) how late it was getting, ―deciding to pay and leave.

On the other side of the door they stood separated; no type of touch between the two. Miles had his hands in his pockets, (y/n) holding tightly onto Milo. Usually, she was so accustomed to the sting of fresh-braids but no sah, this time it didn't work out like that.

Walking, he looked over his shoulder to see me still put, holding onto the back of my head for dear life and rubbing it. Just how long was that water boiling for? "You good?" "No" my answer― even thought against my will― came off somewhat harsh, tiredness and pain driving me agitated. Now standing infront me, he silenced my ever occurring grunts with a hug? Placing his hand over mine, he started to knead away the pressure, the tension within fading. After some time he hoisted my chin with curled fingers. "Better?" I mumbled an incoherent "Mhm" falling back into his hold and wrapping my arms around him loosely.

I don't know why I did that, well, I'm trying to push away a few ideas but even they're too out-of-reach. Looking up at him, he smiled. I returned it, my half-opened eyes closing fully before I let out a yawn. Hurriedly, I slapped a hand over my mouth as he laughed "How 'bout we head back to your place, sounds good?"

I felt drunk with fatigue miserably stumbling over my own two feet. It didn't help that Miles was laughing like a rass hyena helping me up.

"Can't hold a joke?" I tilted my head, lazily crossing my arms "Come here" He dragged me nearer to him with one arm around my neck, hugging me as we walked. I thought our feet would get caught up from us walking so close, the idea made me giggle.

He guided me the way home and when I tell you that déjà vu hit like a bus, believe me. We sounded like those recordings that had people talking as if they're in their own little world with the calming songs in the background. (Hope it makes sense lol) If anything, a video from some vintage camera would make us look like starring actors playing school-kids from a sappy love-sick drama .

Nah, that's too far. It's just a friendly encounter, nothing to go feral about...yeah

-------- Heyy, it's Wednesday

Dropping my head into my palms, I scanned my bed. Usually, as you can tell, I don't wake up this early, but the pain from the braids was too much for my subconscious to bear even after being alleviated. It wasn't anything concerning or harsh on my scalp but― ugh― how do I explain― it's like when there's a mosquito right, it's not doing you anything but it's there and being bat-shit annoying.

I slapped my forehead repeatedly, waking up myself to get ready to conquer day 2/6 of holiday. Trust me, extra sleep would be greatly appreciated, but I think it's time to give my bed a rest. Throwing on cargo shorts and a loose-fitting top, I did my hair in a low bun with a headband after doing any chores I think I'd get penalized for ―nothing atrocious though. Just the regular like cleaning my room and doing my section of the roster―

----

Taking a water for myself, I slid a bottle of juice down to my sibling per her request. Dae, my 14 y/o sister, is almost a mini-me; she reads a lot, plays most games I do, and really really quirky ―in a good way though, fs . But unlike me, she's what you'd call a 'social butterfly' and a pretty one too, genes run strong in the family i guess.

Sitting on the counter-top I flicked through whatever the media had to offer, Dae staring at me with a knowing look and crossed arms. Glances like that would've normally been exchanged from the two of us but this time I had no clue what's going on

"Your boyfriend seems nice" "My who now?" "Y'know, your Prince Naveen with the braids that held you oh so close to his manly chest"

In the middle of her sentence she held overlapping hands over her arms and twirling. She talked in a ludicrous princess voice; to which I cringed heavily at, earning laughs from her.

"He's not my boyfriend" "Soo you're like that with all your male friends?" Which male friends? "NO―"

She started to eye me up and down with a cheeky smile. I looked at her blankly, eyebrows drawing nearer as her smile got wider. She opened her phone, scrolling through something before she brought it up to my hand, urging for me to hold it. It was a thread of messages

"Even ma' likes him" This the intervention or sumn' ? "Wait― Hold on― What?" "I was on a call with her, and not gonna lie. You looked drunk as hell"

Flashbackk ¦

"You can leave me here, my house is right around the corner" Lifting herself off of Miles' body, (y/n) pointed groggily towards a shop. Hissing his teeth, he brought her back to her original position with a soft pull on her arm. "If it's right there we can just walk. What if something happens to you?" Shrugging, she clinged onto his arm for support. Stunned by the sudden affection, it was hard to bite back the smile that cuffed his lips. He felt something dull surge within his body when she didn't smile back, well, when her eyes didn't squeeze together like they usually would.

¦ In the past few hours (y/n) found the walls she built for her own protection falter; the bits left crumbling every time she interacted with him. Miles Morales did something to (y/n), be it the way he looked at her, the things he did, the stupid stuff they talked about; whatever it was, it was serenating. But she knew giving in would could cost her a lot ― much more than her 'ghost' reputation, it was her sanity at stake.

For Miles, all that mattered was the girl tucked underneath his arm, it's hand intertwined with hers― a stance they were sure to grow fond of. Unsure why he was acting the way he was, he found himself wanting to do and be so much more than an 'accomplice' by her. He wanted to watch every late 90's romance-movie while taking down the braids he wished he could've funded for her. For her, he would splurge his life savings on anything she could ever want and need. Miles knew that the Ms. Independent in her would never let him, something he admired about her. He grew to admire a lot about her. She's going to work me hard

Right now, our favorite two were in front the (l/n)'s residence as she frantically searched for her keys. Opening the door, she stood nervously as Miles remained outside, (y/n) went back down the steps to face Miles before―

Flash ¦

Hiding her phone in an instant, Dae smiled innocently, chuckling softly as she made way to her room.

"My dearest princess Tiana, whenever you're done dreaming about your prince Naveen and you find yourself needing me. Well, which I hope not, I'll be playing Valorant's new season" "There's a new season?" With her head peeking out the door frame, she narrowed her eyes "I don't know, fuck around and find out"

Before I could say something she shut her door. Yup, mini-me. I took up my phone in reaction to the notification sound, it was a message from Lailah.

"Mind explaining why thee Miles Morales wants your house address?"

okay culprit.

"took his book on accident" "so what you're telling me is" "You saw miles in the flesh and blood within less than three feet?" "Eww lailah" "It sounds weird like that" "girl, you cannot tell me that you don't find him cute" "who?" "miles?"

If you want him girl take him, I certainly won't

"..obviously" "nope...you do?" "who doesn't" "I'm worried about you" "wtv"

I scoffed.

What's so special about him? He looks like every other guy, like literally. The only difference is probably his jawline, smile, eyes..how all his features just make him look so. so. so.. majestic? I hissed and laid down on the countertop, groaning when my hands couldn't push my head any deeper into the material as I accepted defeat. The image of just him doing anything could bring a smile and not a scowl to my face. Ew

I hate this― whatever that he's making me feel, I don't like it.

I'll be staring part three for my other story and also this one

[lover-of-mine]

This is probably my conspiracy brain talking, but your point about someone wanting to shut down the cast/crew harassment and general Tommy mess…

I just can’t help but wonder if that’s part of the reason why this interview dropped in the first place. Seems like odd timing since we aren’t that close to the season premiere yet…

I am right there with the conspiracy, but here's the thing, baby, the pr stuff that's been happening this hiatus is very interesting. First the cameos stopped out of nowhere and then we had Oliver removing an interview from his profile allegedly because of the comments. These two can just be because of the actors, so it doesn't say a lot, we can't know for sure any of those were because someone on the show told them to. But when we think about that along with the way Oliver and Lou did that interview, didn't talk about the relationship at all, and Oliver looked like he was only there because his contract said so, and the way Lou reduced his interactions, there are questions. But sure, let's ignore that, there's the whole war going on. The hacking drama, random crew people and journalists getting harassed, even Joaquin is blocking people, Ryan is getting attacked, allegedly the 911 official account is blocking people, whole comment threads are disappearing, Oliver stuff getting flooded, people keep saying Tim said this, this, or that. Then Lou stops interacting with them as a whole and we get the deleted scene after the whole "there's an I love you scene coming" thing kinda like the way we got the title for 704 after that whole buddie begins thing went viral. That scene doesn't do Tommy any favors, but there is still a lot of talk about how great it is and how bt are soulmates and shit. There's even more Tim said this talk with someone saying we only got that scene because they asked Tim for it. Then we got the bees and the date and no cast changes even though they were still hoping for it. More people mad Tommy is not a main. So they drop that video of Ryan even though he's not telling us anything new, considering the way Ryan has been saying that scene was his favorite since before the season was airing. Comments are all freaking out about buddie and how season 8 should be buddies. With your occasional and very loud no one wants buddie, keep Tommy, still bringing Tim's name into the situation, while talking shit about Ryan and now occasionally Oliver. Now Tim talks explicitly about people using his name to attack other fans. If we get anything new buddie related in the near future, Ryan has an interview this week but no clue when it's dropping and filming is starting, so new content anyway, I will be 100% sure they are monitoring responses trying to figure out the way to go here. Because the deleted scene is trying to get control of the narrative back, if they can't get control of the narrative back, if the harassment continues, keeping this going will only make it worse, yk? The longer you give them hope, the messier this is gonna get. I know at this point contracts are probably already worked out considering filming is already starting, but I legit think someone in the pr team is trying to figure out if it's even worth bringing him back or if it's easier to just to tell the writers to just write him off and figure out some other way to deal with whatever his purpose with Buck is. If it reaches a point where the creator of something is doing interviews saying something like that, there's no way the show's pr team isn't monitoring shit. From a business perspective, something has to be going on, not even because of buddie, but because they keep saying Tim did something, they keep attacking Ryan, there's shit against Oliver, there were even comments against Aisha after the deleted scene. A ship war is good for business, if it wasn't there would be as many love triangles as there is out there. But they lost control of the narrative and a ship war becomes a problem when the ammunition is not from the source material and it's actually creating problems for the production. We fans can kill each other all we want, it's a problem when cast and crew start taking hits this frequently. Does this make sense? They have to be monitoring something.

[piracytheorist]

I want to ask my followers for something.

I'm actually bringing this back because the person involved has showed themselves to be incredibly rude and immature.

Reminder, for anyone who didn't catch the post (that actually didn't exist for long, lol), that I don't want you to interact with this person. Don't comment, don't harass, don't do anything other than what I ask of you - and that's of course, if you are willing to follow. No judgment if you don't, and I won't know who followed either way.

Also, don't share this. I don't want this getting out of hand. Don't make me feel guilty, ok? I'm just trying to make things right.

Again, DO NOT HARASS THE PERSON I'LL MENTION. Don't comment anything on the video I'll link. Don't try to find them anywhere else. Just do one simple thing I'll ask, if you want to.

I mean it. I'll be checking the video. If I see negative comments on it I'll personally track down whoever made it and report them for harassment, as well as publicly share their username and their rude comments. I'm very serious that I don't want you to harass anyone. Keep quiet about it. Don't harass and don't comment anything. If you harass, I'll make sure you get harassed back.

So the thing is, someone reposted a video from my youtube account. Like straight-up downloaded the video and uploaded it on their account as if it's their own. I asked them, twice, to delete the video.

It looks like they were deleting my comments, even though I can still see them. For context, here's what I asked them the first two times:

The bottom one is the first one, the top one is the second, I think I posted them with a couple days in between or something. The timestamp says they were two months ago.

After my second comment, they made the video private (I checked), but it looks like some days ago they made it public again. After I found out they made the video public again, I commented with this:

Which I had to find through my comments history since the video is private again, and not deleted.

Then, on their account, there's another video with similar content, but it looks to be... "original". Only problem is, pretty much all scenes in this video also exist in a sideblog I made, @outofcontextonceuponatime. But I have no proof to ask for anything on that, so I'm just letting it be.

However, because this felt like the only way to contact that person, I commented there. And oh boy.

That was the first comment thread. I didn't believe them for a moment when they said they don't have their pc available and that they don't know how to delete a video through the app, but I decided to give it a little push. Anyway, the reposted video still exists, just on private. I make another comment, and well.

I'll let you be the judge here.

And then, this last update of just a few minutes ago:

So, just to show that person that I'm actually fucking serious and that their behaviour is absolutely deplorable, because yeah how fucking dare I "complain" that someone reposted my video that I put hours of work on, I would like to ask you to go to that second video and dislike it.

DO NOT COMMENT. DO NOT HARASS THAT PERSON. Don't even hit like on my comments, it's not worth it. Just hit the dislike button on the video and close the tab.

Again, this video I'll link here is NOT a repost, (I believe they were directly influenced by my sideblog to make it and didn't credit me but that's not serious enough to do anything about it) the reposted video is (for) now private and that kid over there thinks they can "threaten" me with never deleting it. I will only link the second "original" video for you to dislike, in the hopes of giving them an idea that I am serious and that I have people to back me up.

Again, DON'T HARASS THEM. For all I know a single "haha stupid" comment could send them over the edge, and while they've been incredibly rude, this would be an unfair punishment. I want them to see massive dislikes on their "original" video after people have realized what an obnoxious person they've been, and to be rocked a little and realize that oh shit, I can't act like that on the internet. Just make it a little reminder, you know? I believe getting a lot of dislikes on a video can get that message across without causing any actual damage.

(If you want, I can also let y'all know when the reposted video is deleted, so you can un-dislike the "original" video)

Anyway, here is the link for the video. again, don't harass, don't comment, just hit dislike and leave.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4sTYbOTkHb4

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 6

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger" Warnings lol: blood and violence <3

A/N: Dividers by @firefly-graphics

series masterlist

chapter 6: the masquerade

Was going through her sister’s phone unethical? Sure. Was this whole thing a huge fucking risk she shouldn’t be taking? Certainly. Was she doing it anyway?

Hell, yes, she was.

After going their separate ways, Osha turned over the half-promise she’d given the stranger two days ago. 

I’ll think about it.

It was a curse. Here, in the unforgiving clarity of Wednesday, she could think about nothing else. Training with someone who saw potential and value in her sounded better than heaven.

But he’d left her with no way to give him her answer. He told her he couldn’t risk stopping by the Temple as often as he had been. I am banned, you know.

That was how she justified this insanity. I have no way of getting through to him like normal, and Mae was the only person who regularly met with him. She’s the best bet for finding him. And besides, she’s been lying to me for two years; I deserve to be a little ethically questionable.

Even still, the air was thick with tension—but that could’ve just been steam from the shower.

None of the contacts she scrolled through looked like they fit the stranger. Would she even save his number in her phone? She checked the text threads next, her eyes entirely focused on the unsaved numbers. Perhaps resignation had her gliding past the threads with Sol, and the multiple group chats Mae was a part of—places where Osha didn’t belong.

She must have deleted his shit the second she cut ties with him.

Osha bit down hard on her lower lip to bury her frustration. Where else, where else…

NYAAAAA!

“Fucksake, Pip, don’t be a fucking narc,” she whispered, removing the kitten from the room and resuming her shady behavior.

Mae dropped a bottle in the shower, nearly sending Osha jumping out of the window in fright. It was a miracle she stayed quiet. She refocused, ignoring the slight tremble of her fingers. 

Oh shit, why didn’t she check there first?

She found the list of blocked numbers in Mae’s call records and, instead of screenshotting it and sending it to herself, took a picture of the screen with her phone. It was old school, but it left no trace.

One of these better be him.

Mae shut off the shower, and Osha quickly put her phone back where it had been and walked out of the room without looking back. She was jumpy through dinner, but since she and Mae still weren’t talking, she didn’t have to explain herself.

Afterward, she retreated to her room and performed a round of isometric poses to steady her nerves. It helped soothe the persistent ache in her leg immensely. The pleasant burn in her calf licked flames across where her ligaments usually felt brittle and iced over. Doing the exercises before bed was a double-edged sword: on one hand, she’d be warm and loose all night; on the other… it made her think of him.

The dreams left her feeling hotter than the exercises did.

What was it Mae said? You’re playing with fire? It certainly felt like it—but in this weather, she didn’t mind a bit of heat.

To temper her obsession a little, she gave herself only ten minutes to research each phone number from the photo. She quickly ruled out telemarketers, spam numbers, and various persons who wanted to contact Mae about her car’s extended warranty.

The last number on her list felt… different. It brought up zero results online, not even on a reverse number lookup. She’d been about to type it into her phone to send a probing text, but her ten minutes were up. She couldn’t get in over her head, lest the stranger consume too much of her life before she knew his name.

And what if this wasn’t even his number? She didn’t want to go to sleep disappointed if the gamble didn’t pan out. She saved the number in her phone as ? and tried not to think about it.

Everything seemed to have lost its shine on her next shift at the cafe. The coffee smelled stale, and she could not ignore her sticky hands like she used to. Every painful hour spent on her feet felt like an eternity. She needed something new.

She’d needed a lot of something new for a while now.

The silence between her and Mae continued at home. The next time family dinner rolled around, she excused herself. She only saw Sol and Mae at the Temple.

Even the classes Sol led felt off. Try as she might to put in maximum effort, she’d grown out of Sol’s tentative instruction. Her jabs landed harder on the heavy bags, some sounding like thunderclaps that split the empty air. Her legs itched to kick and thrash beneath her despite the backlash it would yield in the gym.

She even tried a few kicks on the bag in the apartment gym, which saw more of her the following week than in the last six months. What it didn’t see was the stranger.

The stranger had her fucked up. Big time.

She couldn’t rely on luck or coincidence when she wanted to see him anymore. Next time she got lucky, she promised herself, she would get his damn number at the very least.

“This is a shit idea,” Osha muttered to herself as she walked down the street. “You’re fucking nuts, Osha.”

She’d been so focused on watching out for black ice on the sidewalk that she didn’t see that the Unknown Planet neons were all off until she’d opened the front door halfway, finding nothing but pitch-black silence within.

Every light was off, save for one at the far wall from the door. Osha stepped back a little, letting the door fall shut. The operation hours stared back at her: moonrise to sunrise.

Under the perpetually overcast sky of winter, she couldn’t tell, but she was pretty sure it was a new moon. You can’t have a moonrise with no moon, she reasoned.

But then, why was the door still open?

Osha retrieved her can of bear spray from her backpack and flicked off the safety with her thumb. She entered the empty bar quietly, on cat-light feet. When the door closed behind her, the cacophony of the city changed to a stark, screeching silence. She didn’t dare move a muscle.

Her eyes acclimated to the darkness, her ears to the silence. Very faintly, she made out the sounds of raised voices, cheers, and jeers. She stayed alert as she crept around tables crowned with upturned chairs. She stopped to listen again when she reached the singular lit sconce at the end of the cavernous bar.

The noise had grown louder, but Osha could still hear the familiar ding-ding! of a match bell. Was there a boxing gym upstairs? Nobody at the Temple cheered that loud at the events hosted there.

A set of stairs she hadn’t seen a week ago led up to a steel door on a small landing. A tattooed and bored bouncer wasn’t looking down the staircase at her; instead, he was peering through the small window in the door, looking in on whatever was happening inside.

Osha pulled back into the darkness. What was she doing? She was in an unfamiliar area of the city, chasing down hope of seeing a guy whose name she didn’t know, and she had no way of knowing where her damned curiosity would take her. She thumbed off the safety on her bear spray but kept the tube tucked in her sleeve just in case.

The bouncer frowned as she walked up the stairs. Up close, she could see two matching cauliflower ears, a split lip, and neck tattoos—and explicit confirmation that he was built like a brick shithouse. Osha met his eyes anyway, saying nothing.

“You’re coming in pretty late, miss. Half the fights are already done.” His voice was as gravelly and deep as she imagined, but the politeness took her a little off guard.

She tried channeling Mae as she told a small lie. “I was told the wrong time.”

The bouncer looked her over with a more critical eye, grunting. “Well. Hope whoever told you gets their shit rocked tonight.”

He opened the door for her, and she was instantly hit with a wall of noise. Hot air, humid from effort and shouting, hit her next, followed by the scent of sweat—and a little bit of blood. She tugged her hood over her head as she walked in, embracing a bit of stifling heat in exchange for a concealed appearance. It was doubtful anybody here would recognize her, though.

Though the area was centrally lit to highlight the festivities, she could tell this wasn’t a boxing gym—a fighting gym, but not for any discipline she knew. What she thought were people standing on the wall turned out to be body-opponent bags lined up with military precision. All the equipment was set with evident respect and intentionality, not a thing out of place as far as she could tell.

And in the center of the room stood a cage.

She’d done some research into what he’d been talking about. She knew most MMA fights took place in a fenced-in open-air ring, but those rings never had a lid. The cage walls were pretty high, about twice the height of the average man. It seemed less like a fighting ring for humans and more like an inhumane, fucked-up snow globe full of violence.

Surrounding it was a crowd of around seventy-five people, bunched so close it almost seemed they were part of the platform. Three sets of bleachers held the rest of the observers, and a half-dozen more leaned on the rail of a balcony overlooking all at one end of the cavernous space.

Inside the cage, two men fought with wicked-looking spears—halberds, if she remembered correctly. The crack! of the shafts connecting jarred her from her drifting fugue, and Osha approached the crowd so she wouldn’t be seen as an outsider and garner unwanted attention.

Was this where the stranger trained and fought? It had to be—one of the fighters slashed the other across the chest in a small spray of blood. Instead of crying out or screaming, the injured competitor groaned in frustration over the sound of mixed cheering and grumbling. It was the single most confusing reaction to violence she’d ever seen.

She got closer despite her self-preservation screaming otherwise. The heady scent of spilled blood hung in the air like incense, and this brutal, lawless place suddenly felt more sacredly profane than anywhere else she’d ever been. This was no church or temple, but it was powerfully holy nonetheless. 

Osha found a place for herself in the stands.

As the previous fighters left the cage and melted away into the locker rooms, two more took their place. The announcer, a tall, pale man with spindly old-man arms, called their names like a pro wrestling emcee. Some matches had both fighters wielding weapons; others only had one weapon thrown in the middle to be fought over for advantage. Very few matches were unarmed, and when they were, it was indescribably brutal to see. The rules of engagement became clear in one of those bare-knuckle fights:

First blood wins the bout but doesn’t stop it—only the timer, submission, or unconsciousness did. Only one submission happened during the night, and when it had, the crowd was in an uproar, near-humiliating the poor soul who didn’t want his shoulder dislocated.

It seemed that for legal purposes, some holds were barred here.

She traded off between watching the fight and watching the audience, and she couldn’t tell who was more bloodthirsty.

After about an hour of fights, some unspoken signal rippled through the crowd. All at once, a hush fell over the entire space, reverent as a moment of benediction.

“For our final match,” the announcer called, “we have moved away from spears and swords to return to Pure! NHB! Fighting!” The crowd joined in his excitement, rattling the old aluminum seats beneath her. A quick glance at the balcony showed it empty. 

“—I’ve got eighty on White-Top tonight.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Smiley can’t win every time.”

Osha listened in on the conversation beside her, keeping her eyes on the announcer grandstanding at the center of the ring. He vamped while two expedient workers squeegeed off the blood from the floor mat.

“If you’re still betting on that, you’re welcome to lose your money. The thing place worth placing bets on is in the inner-ring particulars.”

“Like what?”

“—bring you eight of the finest fighters this gym has to offer! In one corner, the rookie in yellow—”

“—Who goes down first, who does Smiley take down first—”

“The Dizzykid!”

“—and how long it’ll take to put ‘em down.”

Mild applause started as a shirtless man bounced into the ring. He did a hopping lap before settling against one of the corners. Rookie confidence, Osha’s fighting mind said. The yellow balaclava he wore looked fucking nasty, half stained with old blood. The two gamblers beside her spoke in unison.

“He’s going down first.”

She probably shouldn’t have laughed. She’d done her best not to draw attention to herself for the last hour of fights, but at the unanimous and bored condemnation of the Dizzykid, she couldn’t help herself. Luckily, the gamblers didn’t seem to hear it; even if they did, they didn’t care.

The announcer spoke through the rest of the introductions, men and women fighting in one bout together. Most of the contenders were fresh to this competition, but many bore scars that must have come from previous fights like the ones she saw before.

They all had ridiculous names, too: Dizzykid, White-Top, and a handful of others she didn’t care remembering.

The final two were introduced as repeat champions from the month before. The penultimate fighter, who wore a purple hood, was called Daybreak. She looked well-sunken into her role in the ring, all quiet confidence and restrained power.

“Daybreak was one of our two-left-standing last month and will get to defend her name and title just like her final counterpart: your nine-month reigning champion here to make it ten, the undefeated, the terrifying, SMILEY!”

The eighth fighter walked into the cage, and it instantly felt like she’d gone into freefall. Distantly, as if underwater, she could hear the crowd going wild for him. The seven fighters in the ring were already honed to precision, each beautiful and strong, but this one was heart-stopping. She clung to one solid second of denial before accepting the truth of who those huge, beefy biceps belonged to—

That was her stranger in the mask.

He wore a black balaclava. Stitched in silver to make a horrifying toothy smile, Smiley’s moniker was straightforward.

God, she hoped Smiley wasn’t his real name.

“Welcome, gentlemen—welcome, ladies.” The announcer addressed them directly, shifting from entertainer to referee. Osha did not need to strain to hear him speak because the room had gone quiet as a crypt in respect and anticipation.

The rules were simple: 30 minutes on the clock, eliminations by knockout, submission, or heavy injury.

“When you hear this whistle—” he blew a whistle four times.  “You will grab the cage with both hands and stand still until we drag out the fallen. When you hear this bell—” Ding! “The fight resumes. If you make it to the final two, congrats. If you don’t, it’s not my problem. Now: Fighters!” He blew his whistle four times.

Sixteen hands found the fence.

The announcer left the ring.

The crowd’s excitement built.

And when the bell went off—

Chaos.

Four of the fresh fighters descended on the stranger, hunting the biggest game in the cage. Osha watched in awe as he leaped straight into the air and grabbed the top of the cage. Two of the fighters whiffed their punches beneath him, and he came down right on top of them.

There were probably other things happening in the cage, but she could only watch him.

Brash and eager, the Dizzykid went down first, knocked out by the kick to the face the stranger gave him. White-Top went down next. One of the gamblers beside her groaned. Osha grinned.

The stranger was a blur in the cage, all his punches and kicks coming too fast for her to track at times. When he paused, facing away from her, her breath stuck in her throat at the sight of the thick, purple-white scar tissue slicing across his back. It made more sense now: why he was so dedicated to injury recovery and proper form.

Wouldn’t you, if you had your back broken in four places?

Her chance at melancholic reverie passed as her stranger continued to put down his remaining opponents. The other two had gone after Daybreak—if she went down, they might make it to the cage next month.

The bubbling energy of the crowd was infectious, and Osha gave in to the temptation to get a little reckless, joining the cheers. “Let’s go, Smiley! Put ‘em the fuck down!”

The stranger froze mid-swing.

Fortunately for him, the ref blew his whistle four times right then, and the fight paused.

Unfortunately for her, the stranger stalked to the closest fence near Osha. He held onto it but pressed closer, forehead against the chain links. He’s looking for me. The other fighters faced inward, but not him, readying themselves for the fight ahead.

His eyes blazed with heat as he scanned the crowd. He was like a rabid animal, an overheated gun, a bloody, jagged edge digging deep wherever he wanted to cut. When he found her, she felt it in her bones. She raised a hand and gave a cheeky wave, smiling.

He tilted his head to the side before sticking his fingers through the fence, waving as much as possible.

The body haulers left the ring.

The cage door closed behind them.

The stranger was still not looking away—

Ding!

The stranger took less than fifteen seconds to put down the remaining rookies, leaving him and Daybreak standing. The crowd rippled with unease. Even Daybreak seemed baffled, staggering a few steps back from the sudden total violence.

The stranger returned to where he’d been standing fifteen seconds before, pressing his face fully against the fence like Osha was nothing but inches away from him.

The crowd around her was stunned. “How’d he do that so fast?”

“Smiley is just playing with his food whenever the fights go longer than five minutes, isn’t he?”

“I think his first fight lasted eight.”

“How long was this? I can’t see the—”

“Three minutes?! What the—”

“Five takedowns tonight? Daybreak looks like she just shit her trunks.”

“Nah, Smiley respects her too much to—”

“I don’t think Smiley even looked her way tonight.”

Osha could feel eyes on her, but she didn’t look at them. She was still staring at the stranger. As the last bodies were dragged out of the cage, he drifted backward to the center for the results. After they were announced, he said something to the emcee, who nodded but didn’t seem surprised.

Daybreak and Smiley disappeared when they left the cage, and the crowd dispersed to mingle or otherwise leave. To avoid the curious stares, Osha found a dark corner to stand in. She’d become damn near nose-blind to the scent of blood, but the sight of it being squeegeed off the mats was still slightly morbid.

Someone approached her hiding spot.

“Are you Osha?”

It was the announcer. This close, he loomed—even taller than the stranger. Only then did she remember the bear spray in her sleeve.

“Who’s asking?”

“You can call me Mr. Wise. Smiley asked for you.” She could see the glint in his eyes. He was dangerous but in a different way than her stranger. “Will you come with me?”

Alarm bells rang like hell in her head, but she chose to dance along to the tune. “Lead the way.”

Mr. Wise led her to a small door near where she’d come in; stairs led to the level above and the bar below. It smelled more like cigarettes than blood in here. “Just up there. The black door at the end.” Then he left her alone.

At the end of the long, twisting flight of stairs, Osha found... dressing rooms? The landing she stood on was connected to a hall of doors, as well as an open archway to access the balcony from before. The doors she passed matched the balaclavas of the cage fighters: yellow, white, blue… and black at the end of the hall.

The first six doors were open and empty, but the black and purple doors for Smiley and Daybreak were closed. The second she stood before the black door, it swung inward, and there he was.

He’d taken off the mask. His hair was damp from the shower he must have taken, and some of it was twisted back out of his face with little fasteners, just like the night she met him. The body heat radiating off of him was felt even standing out there in the hall. It’d been six days since she last saw him, and the bright smile he gave her had her insides scrambling around like a game of musical chairs. Six days, and he still looked just as good as he did in her memory.

“Osha.”

His eyes burned with a fire she knew well—the last time she felt it, she’d been given a great shiny trophy and belt. Her stranger’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and she spotted the darkening bruise forming on his jaw. The cut on his cheek from several days ago had healed, and the bruise around it had faded from a red-purple to a pale yellow-green. One bruise out, one bruise in. That was the price of fighting.

“Tell me your name isn’t really Smiley,” Osha blurted out.

His smile widened. “I’m only Smiley sometimes. Come in; I was doing cooldown.”

He opened the door wider for her to come in. His dressing room was sparse but not gross like the others she’d seen in the hall. After all, this room had been solely his for the last ten months. She spotted a few things she recognized on the small table: the black hoodie, backpack, and glasses. Hanging off two small clips was the mask he’d worn to fight, dripping wet.

She approached it curiously. “It’s a little freaky, isn’t it?” she said over her shoulder.

“I didn’t choose it.”

She turned to look at him. He was in a pair of low-hanging sweatpants, barefoot. Red blotches bloomed across his body, lucky shots while he made felling blows. He was holding his hands over his head, stretching his biceps, triceps, and other muscle groups that looked too good for her to think straight. He stood very still for her while she looked at him, and a little zing of pride and power zipped down her spine.

“But… I have to win it again every time I wear it.”

She didn’t know what to say when she met his eyes again, her gaze snapping up from where it had drifted to the waistband of his sweats. He was smirking a little. Caught.

He moved them away from the potentially awkward silence by sitting on a yoga mat and resuming his cool-down stretches. She took a seat on the only chair in the room.

“How’d you hear about the fights?” he asked, falling into a deep stretch. His flexibility shouldn’t have set her heart to stutter, but she’d never seen a man go so deep in her life. The scars on his back stood out in sharp relief from this angle, and this close, she could see that they were a mix of traumas: surgery and injury twisted over themselves in a snarling knot with no end.

It’s what her ankle looked like.

“I, uh, didn’t,” she said after a few seconds of silence. He turned his head to peek an eye at her. Go on. “I didn’t even know there was a gym. I just wanted to go to the bar, but the lights were off.”

“And you just went in?”

“The door was open. And…” She pulled the bear spray out of her sleeve and showed it to him before putting it in her bag. “I wasn’t without protection.”

“Smart girl.”

She nearly choked on air but quickly recovered. When her bag was zipped, she crossed her legs and cleared her throat. “You don’t live in the city this long and feel safe without a can of bear spray,” she said.

“You could carry an actual weapon.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Why?”

“I’d probably hurt myself before I hurt anybody else.”

He released the pose and adjusted his grip to stretch his feet and ankles. She recognized the different stretch combinations he was doing—she did them every night before bed. Her mind threatened to teeter into that can of worms, but he pulled her out of it.

“Don’t count yourself out, Osha. What’d I tell you? You’re a lion.” When he gave a breathy laugh and showed her his languid smile, she recognized more than the exercises—she saw more of herself in him than anticipated. His goofy grin wasn’t just part of a conjured persona. This was how he truly smiled when he hit that fighter’s high. It was how she smiled.

“I didn’t mean to distract you earlier.”

He laughed at the half-apology, pulling his feet in for a groin stretch. He tugged his shorts up his thighs for better flexibility, and he watched her reaction from the corner of his eye. His expression said, now, who’s distracted?

“You didn’t distract me,” he said, giving her a break and looking down. You surprised me, sure. I thought I got my bell rung and was hearing what I wanted.” He leaned into the stretch, groaning softly at the deeper burn. “I was glad to see you,” he said tightly. She wondered how much of it was from muscle strain and how much was from emotion.

Her heart galloped behind her ribs. Hearing him speak like that, make sounds like that—god, she was in trouble. She took a shuddering breath and held it to try and get her shit together, but it only half-worked.

“I was glad to see you, too.” She could only see a sliver of his face, but she saw him smile. “I liked, uh, seeing you fight. I’d been wondering about it for a while.”

“Oh, I’ve been on your mind?” he smirked at her, but his expression wasn’t remotely malicious.

“Can you blame me?”

The stranger seemed pleased with her answer, a shared refrain from several conversations together. He released the stretch and rolled seamlessly onto his back, holding one knee to his chest. He lolled his head to the side to look at her, self-satisfied. “Why did you come to the bar tonight, Osha?”

He was going to make her say it. Bastard.

“Well, Yord hasn’t broken the espresso machine, and you said you weren’t coming around anyway. You haven’t been at the apartment gym, and I couldn’t find anything about you on the internet to track you down. You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know.”

“I know.”

“So the last place I knew you might be… was here. Well, downstairs.”

He nodded, idly tracing his thumb over his kneecap. It was distracting. “You’ve been looking for me, then?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Damnit, hadn’t she said enough for him? He blinked at her, lazy as a cat but twice as sharp.

Fuck it.

“I wanted to see you.”

He made a pleased noise, switching to hold his other leg. He settled into the stretch, breathing slowly like he was savoring those five words he’d dragged past her lips. “Have you thought about my offer?”

She supposed she’d gotten what she wanted. If she was pursuing him this hard, she had her answer. Why did she go looking for him? She wanted to see him. Why did she want to see him? Because she wanted to train—or perhaps another reason she wasn’t being honest with herself about.

He released his leg and sat up fluidly, kneeling before her. He rested both hands on his thighs and tilted his head to the side, considering her openly. Messy-haired, skin still bright and flushed from the fight, kneeling on the floor, he looked penitent, beseeching.

“What do you want, Osha?”

“In order?”

“If you wish.” His lips twitched, suppressing a smile.

She held up three fingers, ticking them off one by one. “In order: I want your number, I want a drink, and I want you to train me.”

CHAPTER 7

[shantismurf]

Oooooh! For the WIP game, I’d love to know more about ‘Goblin Child’!

Oh yay! Thank you!! This idea was inspired in part by the wonderful Tumblr thread headcanon about the Hobbit who married a goblin and lived with her in the Shire, and also by "A Box Without Hinges, Key Or Lid" by Oakensting (WorseOmens) which I am devastated to find has been deleted!! 😩 It was up to 9 chapters and 40k words in May, but now it's gone 😭 maybe I'll try to hunt it down on r/lostfanfiction

Anyway! My plot bunny/wip is this!

Synopsis: Bilbo discovers a goblin child with a broken leg who crawled into the mountain after the battle.  Rebuilding Erebor, Bilbo increasingly feels out of place, like he has no reason to stay. The Company are busy with the monumental tasks required to reclaim and repair the mountain, and there's little Bilbo can do to clear rubble or assess structural soundness. He takes his dinner down into the mountain for a solitary little picnic of sorts. He'd discovered a crystal grove where rocks padded with moss are broken up by huge spears of sparkling clear crystal, rather like a strange underground garden. He brought along a little lantern that contained one of those clever stones that the dwarves had crafted to hold sunlight for days before needing to be recharged.  (There must be a whole Guild of Light tenders or something like that, to maintain and replace the crystal all through the mountain once it's populated again.) He spreads out his meal on a little cloth and sits daydreaming as he munches a wrinkled apple. When he sets down the core and reaches for his meat pie he finds it gone.  Retracing his steps he doesn't see it fallen out on the little path he followed.  When he returns to his picnic spot, the apple core is gone as well. He somehow finds her, maybe hears her spit out the apple? Naked as the day…she? was born, snarling through stringy black hair hanging in tattered mats around her head.  Her dirt smeared body is smaller than that of a faunt of 5, but it was impossible to say how old she might be for a goblin. For that is what she is, though she's clearly a child, with a head outsized for her body even for one of her kind, and eyes as big and yellow as dahlias in full bloom.  He waits for her to charge, wishing (?) “Dahlia? Would that be a good name for you? Dah-lee-ah, hmm? Dahlia.”  “Dada?” “Yes! Good! Dahlia!” Bilbo gently gestured to her, then to his own chest, “Bilbo. Billl-boooo.” He enunciated carefully. “Bibi?” She trilled happily.

“That will do,” he smiles, careful to keep his teeth covered and send all his pride and joy through his eyes. She cheerfully goes back to tearing at the cold roasted pheasant leg he'd brought for his little picnic.

Bilbo sat back as she greedily consumed his dinner. It had never occurred to him that goblins even had children, or females for that matter. He'd never really given thought to how new goblins came about, and shut down that line of thought before his mind could travel too far down that path.

Dahlia was curled around her meal, but also protectively sheltering her left leg, which was especially dirty but also swollen and misshapen. In fact, what looked like dirt on her was likely dried goblin blood.

Bilbo plucked at his sleeve nervously as he considered just what on Arda he was meant to do now. 🥰

[glaseado-gym-official]

My name's Grusha. I'm an ex-snowboarder. Used to be a pro. Now I'm a Gym Leader.

The service up here isn't that great... But it'd be kinda uncool if I was the only Paldean League member not on this site. Ryme also says having a blog is good for PR... Or something.

Anyways. I'll put some extra stuff down below.

My Pokémon if you're interested:

Frosmoth ♀ - ((Mariposa))

Beartic ♂ - ((Boreas))

Cetitan ♂ - ((Titan))

Weavile ♂ - ((Dulce))

Alolan Ninetales ♂ - ((Aurora))

Altaria ♀ - ((Cirrus))

((Nicknames are listed in parenthesis because they aren't public information at the moment. Grusha doesn't want to be outed as "uncool", you see. I'm adding them in ooc for personal reference, convenience, and tagging purposes.))

((OOC NOTE: Please read before interacting!!

Important note before we get to our regularly scheduled program:

This version of Grusha is disabled. This means that the accident that ended his career as a professional snowboarder, has also permanently disabled him. Because of this, he needs a cane to get around.

I will do my best to accurately and respectfully portray his disability. I will ALSO not be tolerating any sort of ooc ableism. I will be extremely picky about any asks that include ic ableism and will tag things properly.

Okay now back to it-

Hey hey! Welcome to my Pokémon rp blog. On this blog I will be pretending as if the world of Pokémon is 100% real. This being said, I will be including pkmn rp tags in each post that fits that description as a warning.

Friendly reminder that if you try to engage a plot with me or any kind of offscreen rp experience without at least discussing it with me first, then I will likely not respond. Even if you do approach me with something in mind, there is no guarantee I will engage. Also I tend not to interact or engage in any big events. They tend to become overwhelming for me and you’ll most likely never find me becoming a part of them. Please don’t send in asks regarding big events.

If you are looking to interact with my muse, and your muse is tied to some potentially triggering topics, I would prefer if you discussed potential interactions with me first. This is for my own comfort, so please keep this in mind.

Admin is an adult! If this makes you uncomfortable then move along.

This is an RP blog. This means I will be trying my best to roleplay as Gym Leader Grush with the information we have provided on him. I will be including several headcanons of mine regarding this character, though none of them are too drastic.

Please be aware that when I am talking as Grusha, he will often come off as blunt, sarcastic, and rude. If you are uncomfortable with this, it may be in your best interest to move along. If something ever comes off as rude/mean, it does not reflect how I actually feel and is just how I believe Grusha would react.

This blog is SFW, save for vaguely suggestive topics. Anything that is deemed as explicitly NSFW will be deleted on sight.

Another warning. This blog may often be involved in long RP threads. I won’t be using any programs to cut my long posts short. If this bothers you, I would recommend skipping this blog or blocking the tag “long post” or “rp thread”.

This version of Grusha I’m roleplaying is set after the events of Pokémon Scarlet and Violet as well all the DLC.

Also! I follow and like from @ripoff-robbie-rotten.

DNI: Proshippers, TERFS, and NSFW blogs))

[thowawayuntilfurthernotice]

As a (Now former) Tara Strong fan who looked up to her when I was younger, I am very very disappointed and disgusted by everything she’s said and done

To be fair, Tara Strong has been trash since the 2010's.

When MLP became a cultural juggernaut that revitalized her career, she became way more active on Twitter and the majority of her old deleted tweets were pretty fucking bad.

I’m not going to post any of them on here for the sake of my sanity, but you can easily find some screenshots via a simple Google search.

Anyway, my personal favorite "Tara Strong becomes Twitter's main character" moment has to be back in late 2021 when she got involved in an NFT ponzi scheme and got dunked on by everyone in the replies and QRT's.

The NFT thread is still up on her Twitter page by the way, guessing she either forgot to delete it or just moved on when the rest of the internet did.

I'm at that point where I can tolerate Strong's VO work, but I don't respect her as a person.

[juni-aldaine123]

SILENCE/ mhm ; kiyomiyo

✎ i'm a manga-reader only. haven't watched the anime, won't get the chance to ig and i don't have sources to read the light novels so manga it is.

I've only finished the 1st vol and here i am already writing abt them-

this is a repost of my work from ao3 btw (i've deleted it on ao3 cus i wasn't particularly satisfied with it there)

anyways back to the topic- this is just smth random i'd written. they're already married in this. and- just this ig-?

so i hope u enjoy it!

ps: i made the ship name (lol lol) u guys like it? XD

・❥・no spoilers, nothing, just pure fluff . no plot . super short lmao . just them being a couple, doing couple things . hashtag married life

༶•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

The silence is comforting and the peace that shrouds them envelopes them like a warm hug. Deft hands trail the needle expertly through the silky fabric; Miyo works meticulously. She is a diligent worker and Kiyoka likes that quality of hers.

Well, that is without saying, he loves every aspect of Miyo, everything she has to provide, everything she has to show to him. 

He loves Miyo.

And that is the undeniable truth.

He gives her his company in the quiet hours of night as she works through her embroidery. He pretends to read the book in his hands but his eyes and mind keep drifting to Miyo whose attention is borne by the golden threads she weaves with care.

Miyo is beautiful, even more beautiful when she does the things she truly loves.

She smiles when she does the things she loves. The smile reaches her obsidian eyes.

He tells as much to her, but she shakes her head.

"I don't believe it so, Danna-sama," she says with a lilt in her voice, as if she didn't just disagree with his views, but if he didn't know any better he would've thought that is Miyo's attempt at a jest.

Nonetheless, Kiyoka welcomes such a change in Miyo's usual timid demeanour. She has started doing this often- speaking of her opinions and Kiyoka feels relieved to discover she has begun to open up to him.

The faith she places in him, he intends to hold it forever.

"Is that so?" he returns with a smile of his own, one that widens when he sees a happy glint in Miyo's eyes.

"Yurie-san doesn't think I smile often. And whenever I do, it's not too significant," she answers slowly, as she hangs her head low to not meet his inquisitive gaze and instead goes back to her task. He thinks he would get no further explanation beyond this so he just nods, though Miyo doesn't see it, and goes back to his reading.

"If you find it so, then maybe, I only smile like this when I'm with you," was said in a low whisper and if Kiyoka didn't have heightened senses as a gifted officer he might've missed it. He looks back up but Miyo shows no sign of having said so and if he didn't catch the reddened tip of her ears he would've thought of it as his mind playing tricks on him.

"You make me happy." Her gaze is on him, like how he likes it, full of adoration. "I like how I feel with you."

"And I like when it's just us," he tells her as easily.

"As you say, Danna-sama." This time she agrees with him.

They both go back to the silence that rings around them, but it is not heavy. It may unsettle many; those not acquainted with their routine. But for Miyo and Kiyoka it was perfect. 

The silence is their safe haven. 

The silence is their happy home, when it's just them.

[huntingbounties]

A Decade Of Roman

So, come June, this blog will be 10 years old. That is actually absurd to me. So much has changed in those 10 years, which isn't surprising, but 18 year old me would be veeeerrrrry blown away at where I am at 28.

Such a small character that came from a showerthought spawned this much change in my life. I was in my last year of highschool as a big time loner. I had lots of relationships but only one or two actual friends. I had bad depression and anger issues like most teenagers, and some things got pretty dark here and there. But ultimately, I think making this blog was a big help.

Despite my previous characters, Roman was pretty far from being a self insert. I wanted him to be a villain, a scummy man that could be the heel to other peoples' characters. I was fine with him eating losses. I was fine with him being wrong. I was fine with him being a problem.

I made him with the intention of him being just the bad side of a person. The bad side of me, I guess. He was my anger turned to an 11. He was to have a big chip on his shoulder, forcing him to make mistakes and to never really make up for them.

As time went on, I toned him down, and found that I liked him a little more gray as a antihero. I started to pour a little more of myself into him to give him a bit more substance, whether it was intention or not, I'm not sure.

Eventually, he started to take more shape and we started to interact with a lot of beautiful people and their characters. I still go back and read some older threads before pawing at the old blogs that are either deleted or just inactive. Look, I have attachment issues, okay? If I've interacted with you, you're probably in my thoughts way more than you think.

ANYWAY, I was still very alone in a dark place in my home life, but this was a kind of escape. It helped me branch out, turn on the tunnel vision, and explore just what kind of people were out there. I talked to a lot of cool people behind their already rad characters, both original characters and canon ones, and made some great friendships (one of which inadvertently led me to my now wife, hell yeah boys).

All of this really changed who I was. Roman changed who I was. I stopped looking at him as a project but more of a person himself, and, eventually, started to kind of...learn from him? Learn to be a person myself.

I was always very meek and quiet. Kept to myself, never had confidence, never really saw any importance to myself. But the more I wrote this silly little character, the more I started taking from him and putting into myself. My music tastes changed, I started finding my own voice, I grew enough confidence to get tattoos (lmao now I have quite a few, and they make me feel cool as shit), and it actually helped me figure out my own sexuality in a way.

Growing up, I didn't really think much about that kind of thing. I thought that girls were cute and all, but there was a part of me that did kind of feel a way towards boys, or those that didn't identify to the binary ideas we were set on before our current knowledge.

I made Roman pan as a way of just having him be kind of a...saucy guy to everyone. He could flirt with anyone. He just...liked whoever he liked. After a year or so, I looked at him and was like, "...hey waitasecond...." and found that that seemed to fit with me, too.

In a way, I think I kind of sculpted myself to be after him. I think he grew to be kind of like the person I wanted to be, and while I'm not tall, handsome, badass, or a....vigilante irishman, I think it has really grown me to be closer to his image.

I'm far more confident than I was at 18. I have a voice. I feel like I matter. And, I'm actually...kind of important to some people, something I never thought I would be before starting this. I have a wife that actually loves me and likes my company, my jokes, my voice, my presence--all things I never thought possible. And I've made some amazing friends here that I miss dearly (I'm terrible at keeping up contact, I'm sorry, but I love all of you from the writer's corner especially!)

Long story short, I owe a lot to this blog. I owe a lot to Roman. I'm proud of what this blog has become, what Roman has become, and what I have become, and I am so thankful for everyone that has come with us along this ride, whether it was long ago, or only a few months ago. I couldn't have grown any of this without the people here that carried me forward, and for that, I am so overwhelmingly thankful.

I have some ideas I really want to continue with Roman, so who knows how much mileage this blog has left in the tank. Thank you for your following, your interactions, your ideas, and just reading this stupid big post.

Thank you, and keep on keeping on.

[disturbnot]

— ALL IS VIOLENT, ALL IS BRIGHT

TIMESKIP ASH KETCHUM ; a quasi - oc. mutuals only. 21+. est. july 2013 — re-est. sept 2023 — fka ferociter. low activity / slow replies. lore / worldbuild heavy. crossover friendly / verses available ; no prior pkmn knowledge required ( this is my canon now ) reflecting all the stark contrasts between the coexisting horror and splendour of the pokémon world — broken realities, cosmic horror, a jagged deconstruction of protagonist syndrome, the absurdity of rebellion against immortality, and the indomitable power of connection.

— written and drawn ad infinitum by shan. ( 31 / any pronouns / GMT )

CARRD. COMMON KNOWLEDGE. VERSES. SPOTIFY. MUN.

BASICS

▸ hiiii. i'm shan. nice to meet you :) and if you're an old follower coming back? (kurtis conner vc) ✨ what's up, how's it going? it's very good to see you again, i hope you're doing well! ✨ ▸ nobody under the age of 21, please. i'm in my 30s, i have no business with teenagers. here's £5, go see a skibidi. ▸ no weirdos in general. or bigots or whatever. but i feel like that goes without saying these days. and please don't steal my stuff! all art on this blog is by me for the purpose of this general project and this blog only. ▸ otherwise, i like to believe i'm a pretty candid and easy-going person (well, besides the auDHD. i'm just a silly little guy); i'm not too easily bothered by things and i don't have any personal triggers, but i will always let you know if any kind of issue pops up :) ▸ general warnings apply for dark and mature content; there will probably be themes of (or at least allusions to) death, immortality, alcoholism/addiction, unreality, natural disasters, blood and violence, etc. i will tag things to the best of my ability, but if you need something specific tagged, just let me know. ▸ there will be occasional and tame nsfw here, usually on sundays. ash is nearly 40 and he looks and acts it; he's more like an oc simply sharing ash's name atp. anything zesty will be appropriately tagged and tucked under a readmore. ▸ i post ooc often but also tend to delete it afterward, so it's usually only ever temporary clutter on the dash. it's my blog anyway. i get to do the yapping. and i try not to take any of this stuff too seriously. i truly am out here just Saying Things.

INTERACTING

▸ this is a mutuals only blog; meaning i will only write and interact with mutual followers. i do tend to follow first if i find a blog i like, but if you don't want to follow back, i will usually unfollow after a couple of days to keep my dash trim! i also tend to be slow and selective with follow backs, in part because i am wary of overloading myself with too many potential ideas and friends at once; it's hard to split focus between too many people with all this golden retriever energy. ▸ i am SLOW. i work 42hrs a week, have my own place to maintain, unmedicated adhd, anemia, and a dear dad with alzheimer's i help take care of. i love rp, but it's not my be-all and end-all (despite the fact i still keep winding up here!) ▸ i am out of practice. it's been a very long time since i've been able to write prose consistently and i am a little rusty with things. your patience will sow interesting rewards, i hope. ▸ i'm usually juggling many convo threads and lose messages easily—double messaging is okay if you think i've missed something! ▸ i like others' ooc posts a lot; like a friendly nod so folks know i've seen them. if this isn't cool with you, let me know! ▸ i am very flexible when it comes to establishing crossovers and au verses! ash currently has verses for star trek, the boys, supernatural, RGG, fandomless, and other verses you can read more about here. ▸ i love shipping, but it's not the total focus of the blog; the chemistry and vibe has to be right, and ash is not always the easiest muse in the world to ship with, i will warn you in advance. still ... pspspspsps dare you to try your luck! (muses aged 25+ only!)

WISHLIST

watch this space :)c

[aspaceformbf]

nowhere does it say that y/n does not exist in the game, the game is full of hints that they exist as characters

Could you send me screenshots of the hints in the game that yn exists as their own character? Or are you referring to the fact that they have their own backstory and job and shit

---

Look man, i just answer stuff based on the information in their tumblr, which only goes up to like 2021.

I am not the creator of the game and i don't work for them, i just collect lore from whatever sources are public.

I am not in their Discord either, and the Lore they post in their Discord isn't supposed to be revealed publicly as far as I know, so what i write doesn't cover that stuff either.

---

Day 4 content is not public so i don't know what happens there other than what people post on social media sometimes.

I know a lot has changed in the game since the tumblr, but the version of yb that I write for is the old tumblr version.

In many ways, the blog version of yb is very different from the newer game version so i can't always give explanations on what he does in the game. I see them both as different entities in some ways, like Spider-Man multiverse

Sometimes i will make commentary for game updates but the characterization I use for my version of yb is based on the blog, not the game

---

Anyway, heres what they say of YN in the blog and from a stream in November 2021

---

I used to have a lot of beef myself with how yb was written in day 3 because the way they wrote yb from day 3 onwards is very different from how he is presented in the blog.

A lot of people raised complaints about this back then, Links below.

I've mostly dissociated from all that by now though. I just see them as different people at this point

---

Links

Game yb vs tumblr yb - twitter thread

Twitter stuff 1 / More opinions

My own tumblr rant about game yb

There's this compilation of tumblr posts someone else made complaining about day 3. They deleted their blog tho so most of the links are broken but the titles and some screenshots are in the list themselves.