#basically I got a job bought a horse

[starbymoss]

I fucking love DnD

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I’m so sorry for this guys but

AITA for telling someone their horse was masturbating?

Basically does what it says on the tin. For those of you who don’t know horses can masturbate. It’s most common in male horses under the age of three who have not had their testicles removed and who are confined to a stall or small pen and get really bored. They typically grow out of the behaviour once they’re older or given more freedom. Some owners try to train them to stop it from happening but most just ignore it because it’s better than other boredom behaviours like cribbing and wind-sucking (both are SFW to Google btw).

Anyway, I’m a groom and stable hand, mid-twenties now but been working at my job since I was fifteen (part-time then, now full-time). The stable I work at boards horses and gives lessons but also offers training for young horses, so we get a lot of OTTB here – that is “off-the-track Thoroughbreds”, so ex-racing horses that people typically buy cheap and then retrain to be show jumpers or dressage horses or whatever. One such horse is Bert, who is the horse in question in this situation.

Bert has excellent bloodlines but he sucked as a racing horse so he was sold OTT. The man who bought him, I’ll just call him John, knows nothing about horses – he’s a total beginner in every way, has never ridden and pays other people (including me) to take care of Bert, but claims to be an expert in everything equine because Bert cost him so much money (I don’t know the actual amount but he’s in the section of the stable where the $20,000 Warmbloods are boarded so I’m assuming around that amount which is a lot yes but also not the most expensive horse we’ve had here).

Anyway the actual story – I’m at work cleaning out stalls when John walks past, he completely ignores me as he always does so I do the same and get back to work. A few minutes later he goes sprinting back in the opposite direction which I thought was weird but whatever, I kept mucking, until I heard him shouting for help. I went out into the aisle and he’s there shouting at another groom and demanding to know the emergency vets number (it was a weekday morning btw, so he didn’t need the emergency vet, he just needed the regular vet but that’s meaningless anyway). I went over to see what was happening and he tells me his horse (Bert) is ‘acting weird’ and needs a vet immediately, so I offer to go see Bert for myself and then call the vet if necessary.

So basically yeah Bert was masturbating. Had an erection, was rocking about rubbing it on his tummy, and did NOT want anyone going in his stall or touching him. John points at Bert and says something like “see, he’s sick!” and then tells me Bert tried to attack him when he entered the stall and I just, I dunno, I cough and say that Bert is fine and just wants some privacy right now, figuring that the obvious erection might be a giveaway as to what’s happening? But John turned to me and blurts out word for word “are you an actual retard” and then starts cursing at me and telling me I know nothing and Bert needs a vet etc and so on. I kind of blanked on everything else he said after he called me a retard to be honest because WTF? I don’t really know what went on in my brain in the next few seconds but I ended up shouting – yes, shouting, extremely loudly, it fucking echoed in the stable – “he doesn’t need a vet because HE’S JUST MASTURBATING” in John’s face and then walking back to the stall I’d been mucking.

As I got back to the stall I heard laughter from a couple of aisles over. Apparently my co-workers and some riders who were there had all heard me shout and found it hilarious, and that made me laugh too because it was so freaking ridiculous. I honestly kind of forgot the entire encounter afterwards because we had a horse who actually needed a vet a little while later and yeah, John and Bert just slipped my mind.

I didn’t remember until that afternoon when my boss came to see me and said he’d had a complaint from John who wanted me fired. I did not get fired but I did get ‘warned’ (just a formality, my boss didn’t actually punish me but wanted me to act like I had been if John questioned me later, which he never did). John complained that I’d treated him like an idiot, spoken down to him, and “acted above my position” (those were the exact words he used) causing people to laugh at him. I explained the entire situation to my boss, who also laughed, and that was that, nothing else ever came of it aside from my co-workers telling the story of me shouting HE’S MASTURBATING so loudly it scared a pony into jumping so suddenly that it farted to everyone they possibly could.

Since then John has ignored me even more than before which I honestly consider a blessing, and I would leave this situation thinking I’m NTA except that one of my co-workers brought their boyfriend to the stable recently and when they introduced us the boyfriend said something like ‘oh right, you’re the asshole who talks down to people who don’t know everything about horses’ and yeah. My co-worker was blindsided by that as well and we basically both said you don’t have to know everything about horses to know what an erection means, but since then I’ve been wondering if I am TA in this situation? Like, clearly there were better ways to tell John what his horse was doing, but he called me a retard and also I get paid to take care of horses not to teach the birds and the bees to fifty year olds so I don’t know. I’ll let Tumblr decide.

So, AITA for telling John his horse was masturbating?

Additional info: I'm on a rota with other stable hands so I sometimes groom Bert, muck his stall, attend to his vet/farrier appointments, give him worming paste, etc and so on. I am not his trainer and have no input into when he gets to leave his stall. I've mentioned to my boss a couple of times that he boredom stims and should be in a paddock with other young horses, but John refuses to agree to that for reasons I don't know. My boss has since spoken to Bert's trainer who is now trying to convince John to let Bert have more time outdoors.

What are these acronyms?

[uslessnoahtall]

Book Genre Legacy Challenge

Hello! I've been playing the Sims for what feels like forever at this point, and the only way I ever manage to keep myself invested in the game is by playing legacy challenges. I kinda wanted to try my hand at making my own legacy challenge, so here it is!

The Sims 4 Book Genre Legacy Challenge!

Basic Rules: - Reach the end of each aspiration. - Reach level ten of career unless specified otherwise. - Cheats are allowed but try not to use them (only because they make gameplay less fun). - Reach level 10 of each set of skills given for each generation - Heir can be any gender unless specified.

I did my best to make this as Base Game compatible as possible, if you’re missing some packs and I didn’t offer an alternative just pick your own or skip it.

Gen 1: Classics

Colours: Blue and Brown Traits: Family Oriented, Dog Lover (BG: Neat), Art Lover Aspiration: Lord or Lady of the Knits (BG: Successful Lineage) Career: Start as Business but quit once you have kids Skills: Knitting and Parenting

You’ve been called an old soul all your life. Everyone always laughed at you for your simplistic dreams. You’ve always wanted a simple life. White picket fence, perfect partner, two kids, and a dog, maybe even a rocking chair to knit on. Who cares if you don’t have big career plans, at least you’ve got a family.

Rules: - Must have at least two kids - Quit your job once you have your kids. - Have a good relationship with all children. - Adopt a dog once your kids are toddlers. - Only have one romantic relationship and marry them before you’re an adult.

Gen 2: Western

Colours: Brown and White Traits: Bro, Rancher (BG: Hates Children), Loner Aspiration: Championship Rider (BG: Bodybuilder) Career: Athlete or no Job (Horse Ranch) Skills: Fitness, Horse Riding, and Guitar

You grew up in a picture perfect home. You were adored by your parents and lived the perfect life. But not everything was as great as it seemed. You learnt very quickly how mean children could be, as you were the youngest of the family and constantly picked on by your sibling(s). You moved out as soon as your were able to and bought the biggest piece of land you could find. Anything to get away from other people. 

Rules: - Have a bad relationship with your sibling(s) - Move out as soon as you’re a young adult onto a plot of land - Buy a horse (if you have HR) as soon as you can - Have an unexpected child (one only)  - Don’t move in with your partner until you know you’re having a child  - Have a high relationship with partner and parents, no one else

Gen 3: Science Fiction 

Colours: White and Green Traits: Geek, Socially Awkward (BG: Clumsy), Genius Aspiration: Computer Whiz Career: Astronaut Skills: Programming, Rocket Science, and Robotics

As an only child, you were taught to entertain yourself. Your parents had never enjoyed company, and hadn’t payed much attention to you growing up. You kept yourself busy, ignoring their silly western ideals and searching for a more captivating life in the stars. You found a passion in technology, and found numbers far easier to understand than people. Maybe there’s life out there better than the people you’ve met on earth. 

Rules: - Build a rocket ship  - Travel to Sixam and bring an alien back to earth with you (if you have GTW) - Marry the alien and have a kid  - Never make friends  - Don’t talk to your parents after you move out 

Gen 4: Comedy

Colours: Green and Yellow Traits: Goofball, Self Absorbed (BG: Noncommittal), Outgoing Aspiration: Joke Star Career: Entertainer (Comedian Branch) Skills: Comedy and  Charisma

Your parents always had their head in the stars, and being half alien you felt like an outcast as a child. You hated how hard it was to make friends and only wanted to be like everyone else. Once you reached a teenager however, you realized that if you tried hard enough and got everyone to like you, no one would even realize you were a little odd. 

Rules: - Make a bunch of friends as a teenager, but never stay close with any of them - Host house parties once a week - Have at least three kids and have a good relationship with them all - Sever all connection to your alien parent after you move out

Gen 5: Contemporary

Colours: Yellow and Pink Traits: Ambitious, Snob, Materialistic  Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy Career: Doctor (BG: Business) Skills: Logic and Painting 

You grew up in a very loud family. Everyone was always laughing and there were parties almost every week. As a child you loved it, but as you got older you realized there were more important things in life than laughter. You decided to take a different route than the rest of your family. To you, there was nothing more important than success, other than money of course. 

Rules: - Marry someone in the same career field as you. - Have a large house and hire a maid/butler as soon as you can afford it. - While your children are young, hire a nanny for them instead of sending them to daycare. - Have an over-the-top wedding. - Decorate your house with your own art (no one else makes art that is good enough for you)

Gen 6: Romance

Colours: Pink and Red Traits: Romantic, Good, Music Lover Aspiration: Soulmate Career: Entertainer (Actor Branch) or Acting (GF) Skills: Charisma, Acting, Piano or Violin

As a kid, you always felt like the outcast of the family. Your sibling(s) were super smart and seemed likely to follow in your parents successful footsteps, while you were always a little behind, more interested in making friends than success. You feel in love with romantic stories and tv shows at a young age, as everything always seemed to work out for the main characters. Your parents were a little cold and  you barely saw them be affectionate with each other. As you got older you decided that the world needed a little more love.

Rules: - Must be a woman  - Date as many sims as you want but don’t woohoo until married - Have at least two close friends and one best friend - Adopt a dog - Have a music room in your house

Gen 7: Horror

Colours: Red and Black Occult option: Vampire Traits: Gloomy, Perfectionist. Unflirty (BG: Hot-Headed)  Aspiration: Villainous Valentine Career: Secret Agent (Villain Branch) Skills: Vampire Lore, Pipe organ or Piano, Mischief 

Your mom drove you crazy growing up. Her insanely positive outlook on life made you laugh. You believed she’d just gotten lucky in her love life, there’s no way anyone else could achieve that sort of perfect romance. All that being said, you do love her with all your heart. But as the only official black sheep of the family, you made it your goal to make your family the complete opposite of the one you grew up in, staring with the worst career you could think of. 

Rules: - Have a good relationship with your parents and invite them over for weekly dinners  - Adopt a black cat -Partner should match your values - Don’t settle down until aspiration is complete 

Gen 8: Fantasy

Colours: Black and Purple Traits: Loves Outdoors, Jealous, Creative Aspiration: Freelance Botanist  Career: Gardener (BG: No Job) Skills: Gardening, Flower Arranging, Baking

You loved the whimsicalness of your grandmother when you were a child. If you had the choice you would’ve had her raise you instead of your own parents. Growing up in such a dark environment made you want to fill your own house colours. The one thing you and your parent do have in common however, is your twisted outlook on love, as you are constantly convinced that your partner is cheating on you.

Rules:  - Have a good relationship with your grandmother  - Have at least three partners before you find the one, and be the one to break up with them all - Have a greenhouse  - Don’t have any kids until your grandmother dies - Have a rocky relationship with your spouse

Gen 9: Mystery

Colours: Purple and Grey Traits: Paranoid (BG: Loner), Loyal, Slob Aspiration: Master Mixologist  Career: Detective (BG: Secret Agent, Diamond Agent Branch) Skills: Mixology, Photography, Charisma

You had a pretty normal childhood, aside from the occasional screaming match between your parents. Unfortunately you inherited one of your parents tendency for paranoia, and constantly think somethings out to get you. Instead of taking it out on your partner however, you take it out on the criminals in town, and the occasional drink. And hey you never know, maybe some criminals can be trusted. 

Rules: - Have at least one drink a night after work (either at a bar or at home) - Marry someone in the criminal career branch (can be cheated) - Move houses at least three times (best to never stay in one place too long) - Never hire a repair service, fix everything yourself 

Gen 10: Memoir

Colours: Grey and Blue Traits: Perfectionist, Ambitious, High Maintenance (BG: Creative) Aspiration: Best-selling Author Career: Writer (Author Branch) Skills: Writing

Growing up you loved your parents, but something about how much they drank always rubbed you the wrong way. You always liked things to be set up in specific ways and you hated the fact that your parents always left a mess. You spent a lot of time reading as your parents were too preoccupied to take much care of you. One day you find a bunch of dusty old books that appear to be about the older generations of your family, but it’s hard to make out. Annoyed by the lack of information about your family lineage, you decide you should be the one to write it all down. 

Rules: - Have a complicated relationship with your parents  - Publish 10 books, each named after a different generation. - Read 9 books prior to starting your writing (as research). - Have a library in your home 

I think that's everything! I hope you guys enjoy this challenge! Please tag me in any posts about this challenge or post it with the hashtag #bookgenrelegacy

Happy Simming!

[renren-006]

Heyo! How are you? I was wondering if I could put in a request for a Geralt x fem reader one shot?

Reader is injured in some sort of way but tries to hide it from Geralt coz she doesn’t want to worry him but he obviously finds out?

I’m bad at descriptions😪

Please and thank you xx

Wounds and Kisses | Geralt x fem Reader

a/n: hello! thank you for the request and i hope you like it!

fluff and angst

word count: 966

You tagged Geralt along on another one of his quests. You had before, and Jaskier seemed to think it was an excellent idea to have another person join them. So it was you and Geralt on Roach and Jaskier on his own horse, Fawn, playing tunes on his instruments. You were not a Witcher, but you did have basic abilities passed down from your mother, who was a half-elf and half-sorcerer, making you a mixed-blooded woman. Your abilities revolved around the elements, like your mother and her mother before her. You were trained by her before she died and before you had met Geralt.

He was adamant about letting you on quests; he wouldn't tell you why, but you knew the brooding man had some form of feeling towards you. The two of you never discussed it, but there was always something between them. You had slept together, kissed in halls, and spent the nights together, but no relationship was formed, and no words of love were ever spoken. You wished he would; you wished he would just tell you he loved you so you may finally not have to steal glances at the man without him knowing. 

The beast was something of a bigger size than either you or Geralt had previously thought it would be. Jaskier was back at the tavern drinking away and singing about adventures, while the two of you were stuck dealing with a beast that continuously terrorized this poor town. You didn't expect it to also be so difficult to defeat but its hard armor made things worse. It also made things worse when the beast tail slammed into you sending you flying to the ground. Geralt was too busy with a second beast that charged that he had no idea you had been flung by the beast. You stumbled back over to the fight, trying not to clutch your side. Your powers roared in you as you launched yourself on top of the beast, shoving your sword in any place between the armor before finding its weak spot. You shoved your sword deep into the spot by its neck in between the brakes in its armor, it wailed loudly before it fell. You stumbled off the beast intime to see Geralt doing the same with the second beast. Once you stumbled out of the muddy water onto land your side erupted in pain, you bit back a cry as you got onto Jeskier horse, Fawn, and rode back alongside Geralt who was far ahead of you and determined to finish the job fully and get home. You didn't dare touch your side or grimace about it, not wanting the boys to know you got hurt. 

You sat by Jaskier who held his nose by the stink of the beast coming off you. 

“Damn Y/N you stink” he said “Oh and Geralt smells worse…both of you go take a bath!”

“Were fine Jaskier” Geralt said, not wanting to jump to the bath and instead started drinking whatever it was he bought.

“Ill go” you said. As you stood a flash of pain crossed your face, making Geralt straighten. You stumbled your way to the room finding that someone had already filled the bin with hot bath water. As you undressed you didn't hear the door open or the heavy footsteps of Geralt entering. 

“Y/N” he said, standing still at the sight of the entirely too large gash and hole in your side. The beast tail had been spiked and its tail punctured your side while also slashing the entire length of your stomach. The blood and ooze that gushed from you seemed like it didn't matter under the eyesight of Geralt who stumbled over to you. “Why didn't you say anything?” he asked you. His voice was…soft. 

“I didn't want to worry you” you told him. You clutched the bin, your vision blurring as Geralt caught you, finished undressing you and got you into the hot water. You screamed a bit from the feeling of the hot water in your wound. Geralt held you, sliding in after undressing himself and holding you close to him.

“I want you to tell me when you're hurt. It means nothing against your skills when you are” he told you, making you feel worse about not mentioning it.

“I'm sorry,” you told him. 

“No apologies. Just heal” he told you, knowing that with concentration and his strength behind you, using the water and your magic can help heal the deep wound on you. The water swirled slightly as you used the magic in you to heal what you could. The deep gash slowly faded to a large gash, and the scratches along your stomach turned to scabs and then to scars. Your body had enough scars that you hated the sight of them but your magic only worked so far.

“I'm sure Yennefer would be happy to show you how to heal scars” He told you, pulling you even closer to him. “I know we never talked about what is between us…”

“I love you” you spoke faster than he could finish his thought. 

“I love you too y/n…if you had let me finish” he said, causing you to laugh. 

“Sorry, just wanted to say it before I couldn't” you told him looking at his face. 

“I should have told you sooner. I took advantage of your feelings before mine came around..”

“I know, but i never told you to stop” you said, “I just wanted all your love not just parts”

“Now you have it all” he told you, “so no more hiding your wounds” 

“Promise,” you said, kissing his cheek before falling back and laying on him.

[scentedpepper]

Hiiii I really liked ur recent lip fic so I had a request if it interests u :) it's probably pretty basic actually

Lip x male reader where reader is basically struggling to find a decent job because they're falling behind on bills so they become over stressed/overwork by their current shit job. This being something Lip can relate to he tries to comfort them/tries to get them to relax. (Totally not self reflecting haha 🧍🏻)

Fish.

LIP GALLAGHER X MALE READER

Summary: Lip knows when you're right and when you're wrong.

Content Warnings: None

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Hey Anon 😼

Totally doable request

Gets a little angsty there for a sec cus I can't not put angst in my fics but yk

This has got to be the mushyest thing on my page so hopefully it's alright (^-^;

Allusiveness per usual..

The self projection is so real..

I'm glad you liked my last fic and I hope you find something that works for you soon tho!!

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

Fish.

That's the smell that immediately hits Lip upon entrance into the little studio apartment you call home.

Your cat stares at him, big eyed and blinking slowly from the peeled leather sofa with a blanket draped over it to hide the tweaks and imperfections of a Craigslist bought Lazy Boy.

If the boy was none the wiser, he'd assumed your place had been ransacked, burglarized and left with nothing but items not worth taking a second glance at. Though, it wouldn't be a half bad guess given that your front door was left open and there were clothes and trash strewn about the creaky floors, some of your furniture knocked out of place or even right on its side.

But he could hear you shuffling around the bathroom, knocking something over, the clatter of it to the floor, the less than enthusiastic curse from you and an internal groan that sounded like a hog dying as you bent down to pick it up.

–He wasn't sure how he'd heard that last one.

Intuition, perhaps.

Sheer connection, even.

But he wouldn't delve too much into that concept.

Despite the reality of its contents.

A sigh escapes him, he thinks, maybe one of these days, your recklessness will get you killed. But who is he to speak?

He locks the door from the inside before abandoning his shoes at the entryway, a task you never fail to stress upon to any guest who decides to stop in your home.

The cat is now perched comfortably on the end of your mattress, yawning and stretching as he makes sense of the newcomer in his house that just so happens to be intimately close with his owner.

Lip glances at his feet as he steps into the middle of the walkway, there's holes in his socks right where his toes protrude and they'd gone through their fair share of stitching and needless patching to keep them from slipping off his feet and turning into giant floppy gray lint brushes at his ankles.

Two people, similar living situations and yet two vastly different attitudes toward it.

He tries not to focus on that particular line of thought while he tucked his hands into his front pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels until you shut the bathroom door with a slam.

You're a sight for sore eyes, hair a disheveled mess, sunken in tired eyes, wearing nothing more than boxers, a white tee halfway up your arms when you pause abruptly at the sight of him.

"Hey. “

He finally acknowledges with a little side-smirk that immediately makes you feel a way that's contradictory to every single negative emotion running wild in your head.

You look at him quizzically, pulling your head through your shirt so you could breathe through the collar and clear away some of the exhaust building up after you tugged at your own hair like a horse suffering from some sort of brain-storm induced illness.

"Door was open. " He states the obvious, just to ease the awkward silence beginning to swallow you up.

In response, your eyebrows raise, tugging at your facial features and making your frown look even more drawn, and weary as your lips, that had seen better days, curl up in such a subtle, effortless smile that Lip fails to suppress his immediate burning response.

It's an ironic smile, but it charms your features nonetheless.

“Yeah.. I-” You clear your throat all the sudden, your sentence falling off into a mumble as you grab your hair before releasing it, only succeeding at making it less than structured. Your eyes dart around the room, suddenly aware of the chaos surrounding you. “Been busy. “

You move past him with rushed steps, partially knocking into the broom leant up against the wall, it clatters to the floor loudly behind you.

Lips eyes follow your frantic movement, tracking you as you stumble past him. The broom punctuates the silence like an exclamation point and he notices your cat jumping up out of his peripheral.

He doesn't move to pick it up. Instead, he stands there, hands still in his pockets as he watches you fumble with a stack of envelopes on the counter. He sees the tremble in your fingers despite the effort to suppress it, the tips pushing deep into the thick, yellow colored paper with bold, red text emblazoned on them.

“You know, “ Lip starts, voice low and measured, “I've got a pretty good idea about what those are. “

He steps over the broom, careful not to crowd you, the air between the two of you feeling heavy and charged.

Your shoulders tense at his words, a barely perceptible flinch. For a moment, the only sound is the soft padding of your cat's paws as he slinks away.

"Yeah?" Your voice is strained, almost challenging, but there's an underlying note of relief. Of being seen.

Lip's gaze drifts from the envelopes to the deep bags under your eyes, the knit in your brow, the stain in the creases of your face, to the worn-out shoes by the door, to the empty fridge humming in the corner. He finally settles back on you, confliction in the seas of his eyes.

“Look, “ he starts, then pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. You feel him get closer to you, his warmth invading your senses at once and you have to close your eyes at it.

He takes another step, less than half, not quite touching. An invitation, not a demand.

Your fingers trace the edge of the envelope as your mind blanks, for once. The paper's supposed to be rough, you know that, but you can hardly feel it with the way your fingers have calloused with the grime and weight of construction. You battle with your instincts, not moving an inch, freezing at his non touch touch.

“I have some extra cash from–”

“No. “

It's immediate. You don't think and your body instantly makes flee from him, the sizzling of the fake fish on the stovetop re-registering in your mind.

Lip doesn't flinch, but his eyes follow you as you retreat to the stove. The sizzling fills the silence between you, a mundane sound at odds with the emotional undercurrent.

"Okay. " He says softly, his tone careful but not placating. "No money. Got it. “

He leans against the counter, giving you space but not leaving. His presence is like a gravitational pull you're fighting against.

You focus on the fish, flipping it with more force than necessary. The spatula scrapes against the pan, a harsh sound that makes you wince.

"I don't need—" You start, then stop, unsure how to finish. Charity? Help? Him? All feel like lies on your tongue.

Lip waits, his patience a contrast to your agitation. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost confessional.

"You know, when I was at my lowest, I couldn't stand the idea of anyone helping me either. ”

There's something so melancholy in his voice, a darkness creeping into the depths of the ocean that usually swims with his gaze that draws your attention, once again, back to him and his story.

He pushed himself off the counter, coming just a little closer to you with gentle steps like he's scared to startle you into abandoning him for a second time.

"It sucked, " he goes on, "It felt like shit, it made me feel even shittier. "

Then he's behind you and he isn't reaching for you, isn't touching you and it's even more dizzying than if he just was.

You shut the burner off and slump, feeling smaller as his breath ghosts across your skin.

The fish continues to sizzle, filling up the gaps where you don't speak, almost like it's speaking for you.

He's an inferno, a personal sun, everything burns in his orbit, you're convinced.

But you don't like the heat, the tension.

So, instead, you stand straight with a grimace as you say,

"What're you here for, Lip?" You glance at the clock on your stove. "It's nearly midnight. "

His eyes trail down your neck and he says nothing.

Everything goes quiet. So quiet, that when you tilt your head away from him, you catch the cat staring blankly at the two of you with his tongue out and drool pooling on the ground beneath it.

You press your lips together as your brows, furrowed, meet the bridge of your nose with creases and wrinkles you've picked up from excessive worrying.

"Here for a hookup?" You don't face him as you say this, instead you busy yourself with retrieving a plate but fail to find a clean enough looking one amongst the pile of dishes in your sink and settle for a coffee filter instead.

"Jesus christ, Y/N. “ He leans forward so he's sure you can hear every word he says. "Stop projecting your shit onto me. "

Ouch.

Your lips purse, pulling down to a flat, disapproving line at that.

"You're an asshole. “

You place the faux fish on the makeshift plate with a slightly shaking hand and then turn to him, looking him in the eye in distraught before you're speeding past him again, to the couch to rip the blanket you've got on there back over the chipping surface before you finally land on it, slumping into the battered cushions with a huff and a deep, tired sigh that has him blinking at you.

The cat has since vacated the premises upon the third trip you made around your apartment, choosing to go do gods knows what over sitting on his owner's lap which is even more distressing than anything Lip had seen on his way over, or once he had actually stepped inside.

For a moment he stands awkwardly in the kitchen, staring at the back of your head, unable to fathom what you must be thinking, so he ponders, maybe trying to relieve some of that pressure instead.

"Why does this—" he catches his own sentence, having almost used the words "make you", and quickly removes that option from use. "How's your stress lately?" Is the question he elects to ask instead.

"Stress doesn't bother me. "

You lie, blatantly, blatantly lying.

He clicks his tongue, finally removing himself from the stagnant stance and strolling toward you.

One foot before the other, before the other, before the next and the next and the next, finally finding himself within the circle that surrounds your worn out couch.

"Come on. " Lip grunts lowly, eyeing the coffee table you're sat before that's cluttered with junk, and half gone boxes of garbage, with rags and bottles, stray pens and hair ties.

"Lip–"

"Lemme see. " He hums at the sight of an empty plate with something half burnt and some sort of vegetable fried in butter but otherwise undistinguishable. He's pretty sure he might have to scrape it off from how long it's been sitting there, hardening.

"I didn't say you could help clean my shit. " You warn him, trying to maintain a certain sort of coldness even though there was no way of disguising the way your shoulders lessened at his voice, or the way your back pushed in further in the seat.

That's okay. He liked your stubbornness more and more with each passing minute.

You kept him on his toes.

He sighs in response, mumbling out a comment he kept to himself over your unwillingness to accept some kind of help; like you were starving– dehydrated.

He kneels slowly in front of you and reaches out his hands until your body stiffens and then wilts underneath them.

For the sake of your pride and that stubborn resistance to accept any amount of comfort, or to even bring up the fact that Lip is, in some ways, your rock.

He can do that for you, he tells himself. He likes being relied on by someone.

Someone who needs him in a way you never let anyone see because you had this notion to keep it all locked away inside of you like you could be dependable, like you were all you had.

"Listen to me. " He takes the tasteless fish away from you and for a moment you look appalled and ready to snap, but then he grabs your hands from your lap and slides his fingers along your palms and the fight is gone at that instant.

Your eyes glaze, darkening the circles underneath and he can't help but tug you away from the makeshift plate, from the furniture, the piles of stuff on the ground, the stack of boxes in the corner, the scattered clothing and the woes of your life.

Before you know it, his arms are cradling you and his warmth, his body heat, his scent, it's all encompassing.

"You don't gotta be perfect, you know?"

You grit your teeth when he says this, laying limp like a baby on your half living room, half bedroom floor with your face buried against his collar as he practically lay above you, holding you.

"Stop. " You force out, then a second time and a third before you can get anything more coherent from your lips.

He quiets you each time with another and another gut wrenching statement and soon, your intensities are practically splayed out across the stained, Dollar Tree carpet.

"It's not anything I can't handle. "

"I'm sure you can– you always find a way. " He shifts a bit, but it doesn't disrupt your hold on him. "But it's okay to need help every once and awhile. It's okay. Even to ask for it. "

"Lip, I just—”

He hears the anger in your tone, and he shushes you with a coo like noise and a slight nod of his head.

"I can't find a fucking job. " You mutter a few moments later into his shoulder, where his hands had snaked up into your hair so he could run the pads of his fingers along your scalp.

He nods, sympathetic, "You'll find something. You'll figure it out. "

"What the fuck am I doing wrong?" Your fingers raise from the carpet in silent resentment as you ask this, reaching up to claw at the thin, coarse fabric adorning his chest.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You're fucking great. The problem isn't you. Okay?"

"Sure, " You sigh, gripping onto his shoulders tighter, pulling his torso closer to you. "You say that because you think you'll hurt my feelings if you say anything else. "

"That's not true. " Lip snickers, sliding the hand back from where he was gently squeezing the back of your neck to play around with your hair instead. "If I was, we wouldn't be talking right now. You know?“

"Right. " You sniffle, a bit of a laugh bubbling up within the depths of your chest. "Because your heart belongs to anyone other than yourself? Doubt it. "

And the snark causes a giggle to erupt into the quiet of your little studio apartment.

You can smell him. His smell is like his scent mixed with coffee and sugar– for those Mondays when you want a treat, but are too lazy to walk the three blocks to the bakery for anything different than a cup of joe.

"Wow. " He snorts in return, resting his forehead against the top of your head where your nose met the tuffs of his curly, messy looking hair. "You're lucky I like you. "

"Uh huh. " A strained chuckle pushes past your lips, eyes sliding shut as your hands find his hips.

The sound of your heart beating in your ear is all you can hear as his fingers clasp around the sides of your face.

Everything is calming, cathartic. His demeanor is like honey; it runs down your bones, seeping into your open wounds and they begin to grow a bit plumper under the heat.

"Sometimes I just—" you pause, the feeling of his thumbs stroking back and forth across your jawline is too distracting for you to pay attention to the fact that you're trying to get your point across, "feel like there's something bad coming? Something coming for me, you know?"

"Yeah, " he blinks, hands gliding from your cheeks to the underside of your ears. "I know what you mean. "

His hands flatten, then run down until they find the collar of your shirt and a part of you relaxes as his fingertips stroke the outer lining of the stretched fabric.

"I get the same feeling too. " He adds, voice, so wonderfully low, rumbling from deep within his chest. "All the time. " He sighs quietly, rocking a bit.

"I'm gonna help you. " His eyes are dilated, even against the muted white ceiling light that hung above the two of you. You don't think twice to notice. “Get something going. Something solid. “

"Lip. " You choke a bit on the inside as he says this, turning your head to the right.

"I know you don't need it, but I want to. "

Against your better judgment, you take a dive and glance him right in his eyes and he doesn't falter.

It surprises you, then it doesn't.

A short sharp intake, air filling your lungs and Lip smiles. Just a sliver of skin at the edges of his lips. You take note of his change of expression immediately.

"When was the last time you had something actually good to eat?”

You narrow your gaze at him, ready to throw back an answer at his statement when he silences you by raising his hand up, index finger flying to shush you as he points at something past the two of you.

When you turn to look, you see your cat lapping his sandpaper tongue on your fish, seemingly enjoying it more than you had been.

"Been awhile for him too, apparently. "

You groan quietly, leaning back into him where the sound of his beating heart feels like music from some unknown realm your tired mind couldn't hope to understand.

"C'mon, " Lip nudges you gently.

"I'll get you something to eat. “

[gaydaroreilly]

1800s ICEMAV YALL (continued from this)

(Also yes this in my mind is in England cus I know way more about European history than shit going down in New England at that time!)

Ice and Goose are both part of the landed gentry—small town lords or some shit. They grow up friends with Slider and Cougar etc they are Those Lads who go to Eton or whatever shit. All of them join the royal navy to go fight napoleon

—Mav and Carole are London street kids, they meet goose when his crew is in London for something, who falls in love with Carole. Mav is like lol I’ll join the navy too (Duke is some disgraced navy aristocrat for something)

—Carole and Nick get married, nicks parents fucking suck and are like you’ve polluted the bloodline, but he’s an only child so he’s their heir. They are all besties, baby Brad is born Carole just stays near whatever their ports are.

—Nick and Mav get in some kind of accident, Nick dies, Mav is unable to fight. Bradley is like a few months old. Nick’s dying words to Mav were like “you have to marry Carole so you can take care of her and Bradley”

—Bradley is the heir to the Bradshaw estate, his grandparents try to say Carole can’t be there, and try to force her to marry one of nicks cousins who they bought off, in a bid to get them out of the land. She’s like lol my husband left it to our son and he left me to his bestie (also to protect Mav who’s gay)

—Mav, B and Carole move to the estate in a cloud of intrigue and gossip. Like oh the boy is Mav’s she married him too soon after her husband etc

—ice hears about this and is pissed that his childhood bestie’s widow would do such a thing and he wants to go yell at her and Mav.

—comes to the manor and for sure thinks Mav is a hot servant and flirts it up while saying a bunch of foul gossip about him and carol

—Mav turns him away, but first ice see a spitting image of Nick as a toddler running up calling Mav papa and ice is like OH SHIT I HATE THIS GUY BUT HES SO HOT AND MARRIED

—slowly gets to know the family and that before Nick died they knew Carole was sick and going to die and marrying Mav was how they’d planned to keep Bradley safe. Ice and Mav fall in love but ice thinks Mav is straight and his wife is dying so they can’t

—plot twist they can and do… in all the weird creepy empty rooms of the Bradshaw estate. Ice has, at this point, just had some sneaky hand jobs from cougar and other dudes in the navy. Mav is much more experienced, having had access to sneaky inns etc. He basically helps blushing horny virgin ice through all the ~discoveries~ of sexytimes, ice helps him learn how to be Sir Mitchell. They big time fall in love.

-then Carole dies and Mav is very depressed cus she was like his sister. The town is like that poor sad widower, and his is sad, but because he lost his family. And the town is like it’s very good of sir kazansky to call on them to make they are okay etc etc

—Mav mostly had friends who were women and they’d come to stay to help with Bradley etc. Ice and Mav knew how to play the gossip mill, so they girls (Penny, Charlie, Sarah) would stay with Ice at his estate, ice got a player lady’s man bachelor rep.

—when B is 15 Penny accidentally gets pregnant, the dad is a guy who’s horrible, she ice and Mav plot and ice marries her. Her honor is safe, Ice has more cover. Bradley gets a baby “cousin” Amelia.

—Bradley is raised by the only dad (and very loving uncle) he’s ever known, with reminders of the one he lost everywhere. He’s a happy wild child (because he was raised by mav who’s obsessed with country life and horses and hunting) but he gets angsty as he realizes that most family’s of station are bitchy petty jerks.

—he starts to hate penny after she marries ice because he’s worried it will change the vibe. But then Amelia is born and he’s into big bro mode.

—Around this time he thinks he’s wrong and full of sin for thinking men are hot etc. then he walks in on his dad (Mav) and Uncle Tom and he’s pissed because he’s like how could you do this to Amelia uncle?? and then ice and Mav don’t explain shit, but are like, we see you watch the stable boy so… we still love you but don’t be like us we’re always not safe lol find a girl and B gets pissed off and runs away. (Leaving his family and his stable boy Jake brokenhearted)

Idk what’s next

[the-lonelyshepherd]

tell me abt your OCs please🙏 including the horses you draw them so prettyyy

HIII HI HI

gonna do a simple overview of main two and their horses for now

evelyn sinead “shay” murphy

first (and a half?) generation american. her father immigrated from ireland and her mother’s parents from ireland and england.

youngest sibling of five daughters. all the others are already adults and out of the house, she’s 17/18 range.

her family started out poor, only recently got pretty wealthy

personality wise she’s very silly - kinda excitable, talkative but in a very nervous energy type of way. like a chihuahua or something. she kinda spaces out a lot or is off in her own world and jumps from thing to thing really fast without a lot of regard for others (not on purpose, she just doesn’t notice). overall she just really wants to be wanted - she’d bleed for anyone if they held her the right way.

fun fact: she likes fishing

othello - shay’s horse

when shay was younger her whole family had two horses between the seven of them. after their recently accumulated wealth, she gets her own - a top of the line tenessee walking horse. she names him othello after the title of some fancy play her father bought to make the house look more distinguished for guests. she thought the name was cool.

othello is a fucking bitch to literally anyone but shay (and later catalina and tumble). he’s really loyal but can get overtly defensive sometimes. very quiet, just stands there menacingly. we love him though. he’s really tall.

catalina “cat” “tilly” “lina” “bird” osorio

mexican-american, family has been in america for forever (she has some portugese heritage mixed in though)

nickname haver. almost everyone calls her something different. she lives with her aunt and uncle, two cousins and younger brother. they work as ranch hands for hire, and help on cattle drives. occasionally her cousins will pick up odd jobs and rope her into them.

she’s generally pretty quiet but is actually pretty funny sometimes. she’s constantly seen as “the responsible one” out of her family, but it really just stems from a constant worry that she’s not good enough and that she doesn’t want to cause problems. daydreams a lot, kinda anxious, tired a lot because she has sleep problems.

fun fact: really likes birds. can identify them and draws them a lot

tumbleweed “tumble” - catalina’s horse

descended from some of the first horses on the osorio family’s farm, tumble is a mutt of a horse, but she’s perfect for any job you would need on a ranch. she does get distracted a lot though - she’s pretty playful which doesn’t always bode well for a horse her size.

she wasn’t supposed to be named tumble - catalina wanted to name her first horse something cool, like trigger or hawk. but when tumble was born her legs were a little too long and her tawny roan color made her look like a tumbleweed. so after a while the name stuck.

that’s just a basic overview of the main two and their horses but if you have any more questions lmk!! this was pretty short for each of em i tried to leave it open ended

[pinkypromisepascal]

get to know your moots!

thank you @almostempty for tagging me! I love this!

what's the origin of your blog title?: I suck at coming up with cool sounding usernames and mostly come up with super weird shit, but for this one I had some friends help me out! And I LOVE the vibe of it.

favorite fandoms: atm I guess the Pedro fandom, Stranger Things- now that I think about it I'm not even sure how many fandoms I'm really in?

OTP(s) + shipname: think the only real ship that isn't self insert fan fiction is Jopper lol. Omg I love them so much.

favorite color: blue, but also black when it's about clothing

favorite game: my ALL time favorite: Destiny, because it's been living in my head ever since it came in 2014 and I got to try it on a friend's ps4, this game is my Roman Empire

song stuck in your head: omg there's always a rotation of like 5 stuck in my head, but currently it's All I Need by Radiohead

weirdest habit/trait?: telling people where they might know actors from, and recognizing one specific dub actor in several productions

hobbies: drawing, writing, video games, music, going to concerts, yapping

if you work, what's your profession?: I'm a student!

if you could have any job you wish what would it be?: working in video game development! Like as a character designer

something you're good at: procrastinating, making a funny comment here and there, seeming like I have no interest in anything that is happening around me

something you're bad at: responding to people in time, time management, standing up for myself

something you love: my pookies, cats, dogs, warm sunny days

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: odd niche fan fictions that I randomly read about people I never expected there to be fan fiction off

something you hate: overly extrovert people that you can't take anywhere without them knowing every second person they see and being besties with everyone

something you collect: stickers, Pokémon cards, merchandise bought at concerts

something you forget: time, texting people back and then it turns into months of them being left on delivered

what's your love language?: touch and buying stuff that I think they will giggle about

favorite movie/show: movies I grew up with like Spirit or Blues Brothers, but newer stuff?? Don't know. Maybe the Joker movie. Friends and The Last of Us if talking about shows

favorite food: pasta and pizza, pretty basic

favorite animal: CATS. Also love dogs and horses, but omg, cats.

are you musical?: I like to imagine I could make some ambient music if I had the equipment for it. And

favorite subject at school?: English, specifically the high school years because my teacher was the weirdest and funniest dude and every book he read with us left a permanent mark on my soul (1984 is one of them!)

least favorite subject?: probably Chemistry and Physics. My teachers were good, I just didn't understand shit at some point.

what's your best character trait?: I like to think I'm easy to talk to and I'm not high maintenance. Like we don't talk in weeks because we were busy? No hard feelings.

what's your worst character trait?: ghosting people if I feel like I don't vibe with them anymore and easily forgetting about them

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be?: changing the time from pm to am

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet?: my past self

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): there's so many fics by people I love that I just haven't found the time to read yet :(( but some old classics for me are Cup of Sugar and For Science by @strang3lov3 (listen, I know these are on your shame master list, but I love them so much) and Fixed Up by @the-ginger-hedge-witch

no pressure tags: @strang3lov3 @umnitsa @bitchesuntitled @beefrobeefcal @noxturnalnymph @heartfairy

[iwanttobepersephone]

Okay so I've had an idea for another fic, and idk if I'm gonna do it, but it surrounds Declan, Halt's horse before Abelard. So, of course, I had to try and figure out a little more about Declan than the few descriptions we got of him in TEY

Please keep in mind that I know nothing about horses and this is all done with only basic research, I'm really going for vibes over accuracy at this moment

I remember Declan being a Hibernian horse from a strain of high-quality breeding, so I went and googled Irish horses. Came up with the Irish Draft Horse. It's a sporting horse with a history of being used as war horses. Draft horses were also used for general civilian work, which seems to actually have been the primary use, but about half of the horses they were bred with were war horses, so my point still stands

When well taken care of, these horses can live into their 30s. My headcanon is that Halt bought Declan when he was 10, meaning the horse would probably die when Halt was near 40, maybe 37 or so, which works perfectly with the timeline I want for the fic

I'm thinking that Declan was the "runt," super small and not fit for the jobs they needed him to do. They were going to euthanize him, but Halt stepped in, saying, "Oh hell no, this horse is beautiful. How much to buy him from you?". This means that when Halt and Crowley meet, Declan is only about 4 inches taller than Cropper. Enough to be noticeable, and Crowley does need to look slightly up at Halt (lol), but not at all the difference between ranger horses and full-bred war horses

This also means that Halt was super attached to Declan, having had him since he was 10, and leading to even more angst

[dawnleaf37]

@spiderwebd regretevator

Regretevator (Game) is similar to The Normal Elevator from older days of roblox, being that you enter an elevator and it will arrive on a myriad of different floors to explore, minigames to complete, or just . Funny Thing

The Regretevator (the actual Elevator) is an interdimensional form of travel that is used by various entities to get around. It is confirmed to be able to go Anywhere. and seems to be able to transcend time and space which is always fun

The game features 70+ floors currently, and has a certain style of humor to it, but what really makes it are the NPCs, interactable characters, some of which can enter the elevator and some of which cannot. Im going to recap the ones who will enter very quickly, so sorry for the imagespam here:

Mannequin_Mark

A mannequin(which is a species produced by a factory) named mark. Woodcarver as a job, has a coworker named Jim. Hates concrete. Southern accent. Divorced from Wallter.

Wallter

Used to be a human, drank cement, is now concrete. Generally nice dude. Thinks concrete is better than wood. Tall as fuck. Divorced from Mark.

PartyNoob

Often shortened to Poob. Loves parties if you couldn't tell. Can kill you if you slap them like 10 times. You can slap them. theres something so so so so fucking wrong with them holy fucking shit oh my god. oh my god oh my g Keep this asshole in Mind. Keep them in mind ple;as

Pest

Actual name is PartyGuest. Builds robots. Steals money from you. Speaks Japanese. Yes they are a bug beetle to be specific. Asshole

Lampert

Found in the 3008 level yes theres a 3008 level yes i love it. Germophobic, clean everything. Zoomies he is zoomies. Despises Infected, but knew him as Kasper

Infected

Diseased when he bought a freemodel with a virus in it. Perpetually trapped as a scene kid. Had a cat. No longer has a cat. Used to be named Kasper, infection made him forget

Unpleasant

It;s the fucking unpleasent gradient meme. does jackshit. some people headcanon that it ate infecteds cat and i think thats the funniest shit

Split

Species called a fruitaur or something, banana-snail-horse-dog-girl. Hosts a wipeout-like show named Splitsville. Lesbian. canonically has feelings for bive

Bive

Completely made of hair. Conspiracy theorist. this is just touch tone telephone. canonically has feelings for Split. may seem crazy but she Knows things

Reddy

It;s freddy from fnaf but for Red Ball Diner, go look up gregoriah regretevator and tell me how gender he looks

DrRETRO

Animal Jam emote. framed for many crimes. Also knows things. Shoots lasers out of her eyes that will either kill you or heal you. meows

Gnarpy

that fucking cat everyones nuts about. Alien. Abducted Spud! and did shit to them. proud xe/they swag. was redesigned cause the creator was an ass :/

Spud!

yes the exclamation point is part of the name. was a camp councilor, got abducted by gnarpy and experimented on, is this now. that line is his mouth btw. if you click it 200 times it will explode. please be nice to them :(

Pilby

Clown fired from job after to bad of stage fright. They are just a sad thing tbh

Prototype

lovely little robot, if a bit glitchy and unfinished. VERY nicey ! a researcher, learns info on everythings for their database! my friend made this one :3!

FleshCousin

(invasive)Species of shapeshifters. Repeats words back at you in jumbled wordsalad. they dont seem malicious i dont think . my favorite. ever. the best

Jermbo

a cat

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

There's more NPCs but i just covered the basic ones(new one being added soon made by my friend as well :3333333333)

BASICISH LORE SHIT:

this is MR

it is an effigy for a spirit and when it enters the elevator it has a chance to cut the lights and burn any NPC in the elevator. EXCEPT FOR FUCKING POOB. the spirit that inhabits MR is also the same one that protects poob. and if you look close at the game youll see POOB SI FUCKING EVERYWHEREi have to stop here before i go fucking insane but the basic premise is these two are tied and i dont know why or what how whatthe fuckkkk theres a whole lot more like theres a damn religion surrounding it and symbolism of the axolotl sun which means something but fuck FUCK!!!!

[gothicemoowl]

Push: Chapter 1: Prologue

Summary:

(Bought and paid for Rewrite with NottaMoxxie and Geez43)

Alternate universe where Blitzø was forced to be a slave for the Goetia family as a punishment for stealing.

Years later Stolas misses his friend Blitzø and wants to help Blitzø with his company as a way to make amends.

But Blitzø doesn't know If he can forgive Stolas for what he did.

Begining Notes:

TW: Child slavery hurt feelings, getting arrested, dungeon. Lmk if we should add.

(This is a rewrite. Please read all the way through)

{Blitzø:}

He thought he’d finally escaped the Goetia family for good…

But as it seems that’s not the case at all.

"Well, well, well. Look who we found."

"Oh…fuck.

"Blitzo, no see long time." The gray hellhound (Darron) says.

"Dumbo and Torso. Don't you two have better things to do with your time?" Blitzø asks.

"Those aren't our names and you know it!" Turbo says, rolling their eyes and grabbing Blitzø’s arm. "You're coming with us, his majesty has been trying to catch you for some time."

"Right, okay. Do you mind removing the death grip? Christ on a stick, there's no way Paimon can still be this upset, it's been years!"

"You think that's what this is about? You think we don't know about you stealing the grimoire from Master Stolas?" Turbo asks.

"...shit."

When will he finally be freed from this?!

“Sir, we found the imp.” Turbo announced to Stolas, in the middle of some sort of party they were throwing.

Anniversary no doubt… Blitzø could never forget that fucking date!

His guards barely got Stolas’s attention. “Who-“

Stolas stops to look at this imp. His face glows for a moment, then grows angry at the sight of his old…friend. “Blitzo.” He greets.

“Stolas…” Blitzø mumbles, not wanting to look him. "How's it going?"

“Thank you, but you can leave him to me, I will handle him.” Stolas says.

They agree and set Blitzø down.

"Follow me…Imp." Stolas says.

Blitzø barely manages to breathe…

He couldn't go through all of this…

Not again…

{25 years ago:}

Blitzo and Fizzarolli were happily playing with their horse balloons; They were in-between shows and they needed time to just have fun and be kids for a change.

The three kids- Fizzarolli especially was constantly working, they took on a lot for them being so young, but Blitzo never understood that, none of them did. They just knew it was their job to help their parents get money so they can afford the basic necessities.

Cash grabbed Blitzø and pulled him away from his friend. "Hey-"

“Boy, I've got a job for you! You are gonna spend the day with one of the Goetia princes.” Buckzo says to him.

“Ew. Why?” Blitzo asks.

Cash rolls his eyes. “Because money! Now, listen carefully. You are being bought out to be his playmate, but I want you to steal as much from those rich fuckers as you possibly can.”

Blitzo retorts. “Steal? But… What if I get caught?”

Cash’s eyes widen and he pouts. “Don't you want your family to be able to buy a bigger tent? better food? don't you want to be able to help me and your mama out?” He asks.

Blitzo defends: “Of course I wanna help mama!”

“Then, you gotta do this. Everything those rich fucks have will be worth a fortune!” Cash explains.

Blitzo rubs his arm anxiously, he’s sick of seeing his mom and sister suffer like they had… of course he wants to help them, he’d do anything for them, really! It's such a risk though. “But, if I'm caught - I'm scared, dad.” He admits, hoping his father would understand or offer him some advice, or comfort.

Cash gets closer to Blitzo, eyes darken as he grips his shoulder tightly. He pulls Blitzo closer to the boys dismay. “There are scarier things, aren't there, son?” He asks.

Blitzo can smell the alcohol from his father’s breath, he couldn’t even move away from it for his ownprotection... “But -“

Blitzo looks up as his father, eyes promising a fate worse than death if he didn’t comply.

“Yes, papa.” Blitzo finally complied.

“That’s a good boy.” His father says.

{Later:}

Blitzo surprisingly had a good time with Prince Stolas… at least- it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. His father even got to take a ton of treasures home. Barbie and Mama would be taken care of…that's all that mattered.

He felt accomplished, like he actually did something- he wasn’t a failure for once!

Blitzo and Stolas were playing by a tree. Stolas had a strange book in his hands that intrigued Blitzo. “What Is that? Your diary?” He asks.

Stolas shakes his head. “No, this is my new grimoire! It's a spell book! I have to learn it so I can access the living world!” He explains.

“The living world? Like the world with humans and stuff? Where the sinners come from?” Blitzo asks.

Stolas nods. “Mmhmm.”

Blitzo is in awe. “That's cool!”

Stolas nods. “Yes! I'm supposed to use it to study the sky!”

Blitzo tilts his head. “Why?”

“My dad says I can find prophecies, but I don't really know. But, I'm supposed to, that's what my job will be when I grow up. To join the rest of the Goetia family.” Stolas explains.

“Sounds boring.” Blitzo says.

“Not really…though I also have to get married…" Stolas explains.

"Ew, married?!" Blitzø asks.

Stolas nods. "It's my responsibility as a Goetia."

“Not me, I’m never getting married.” Blitzo declares.

“Never?” Stolas asks.

Blitzo scoffs. “Well, maybe someday. But not till like I’m like- thirty or something.” Blitzo explains.

Stolas nods. "Good plan. Must be nice to be able to do whatever you want."

Oh yeah! You wanna know what I'm gonna do when I grow up?” Blitzø asks.

“What’s that?” Stolas asks.

Blitzo jumps up on the tree. “I'm gonna run my own circus and I'm gonna be the most famous imp ever and I'll be able to do what I want to do, all day! I'm gonna make so much money and buy myself a big building, with a big office!”

“A big office? For a circus?” Stolas asks, confused.

Blitzo nods. “Yeah! A big office! Circus business with clowns and horses! and the horses will all have good names like Stapler and Biscuit Queen!”

Stolas giggles. “I'm sure you will. That sounds like a good business.”

“Yeah! And, if you want to apply, I'll hire you. Maybe.” Blitzo says.

Stolas chuckles. “You'll hire me?” He asks.

“Yeah, if I feel like it.” Blitzo shrugged.

Stolas giggles. “Well, I hope I qualify! You'd be a good boss, Blitzo.”

Blitzo puts his hands on his hips. “You say that with sarcasm, but I totes would! You’ll see.”

Stolas laughs happily, and Blitzo does too.

Suddenly a hellhound came by and snatched up the tiny demon. “Hey, let me go!” Blitzo screamed. “Help!”

“What is the meaning of this?” Stolas asks, infuriated by how his fathers guards were treating his new friend. "Release my friend at once!"

“Apologies, Prince Stolas. Your fathers orders.” The wolf says.

Stolas is terrified, not unlike Blitzo, he decides to follow them to see where they might take the Imp.

They had the young imp sent to a cell to be chained up.

Paimon called the circus to pass on a little message to Cash:

“You thought you could steal from the Goisha family and get away with it? Well, I think not! You have until sundown to return my treasures, or else I will be keeping your son in my dungeon until his dying days!”

Blitzo gasps.

That’s it then, he failed. His father will have to give the owl man his stuff…he could’ve helped out his family if he had just been more careful. Now they’re back to square one.

His dad was probably on his way back now. He’ll have to come up with a good excuse for when he shows up.

But then the sun eventually started to set.

His father wouldn’t abandon him…

Right?

Barbie and Fizzarolli:

“Dad? Where’s Blitzo?” Barbie asks her father while they packed everything up to move the circus to their next big location.

“He….Uhh was kidnapped.” Cash said.

“What?!” Fizzarolli shouts, Barbie gasps.

“By pirates.” Cash says.

“No! Not Pirates!” Fizzarolli gasps.

“What’ll we do?!” Barbie asks.

Tilla, Blitzo and Barbie’s mother takes her husband’s arm and pulls him away. “Cash, where’s Blitzo?” She asks.

Cash sighs. “Listen, the plan didn’t work the way I had hoped. The Goetia prince has him now.”

“What? Go get him!” Tilla demanded. “Now!”

“Don’t you think if I could I would?!

If we go over there they’ll have our heads, using Blitzo as an example!” Cash shouts.

Tears fill Tilla’s eyes. “We have to try.”

Cash hugs her. “We will try. We just need a plan.

Stolas and Blitzo:

Blitzo has been trying his best to escape for the past two weeks but nothing has worked. No matter how many times he’s been caught, no matter how many times they beat him, he wasn’t going to give up. Mama needed him! Barbie needed him. He had to get out of here!

The king's guards grew tired of dragging the Imp into the castle, so they chained his arms and legs up so he couldn't leave the dungeon, they threatened to tie him to a table if he tried anything else.

Blitzo sat on the floor and cried despite himself, he hated being so weak, but he was defeated. He was stuck, and he may never see his family again…he may never see anything again actually.

“Blitzo?” A voice called, the small owl prince opened the door to his cell and walked in.

“What do you want?” The Imp asks him.

“I- I just wanted to make sure you are okay.” Stolas says.

“Well, obviously I’m not okay!” Blitzo shouts. “I’m all alone, I’m cold, my arms hurt and I’m slowly loosing my hecking sanity over being trapped in a cage!”

“Maybe if you stopped trying to escape, father would go a lot easier on you?” Stolas suggests.

“Why should I? There’s no risk, I don’t want to be here, I just want to get out! I’m all alone here, no one cares about me! If I die no one will even notice. So why don’t you just leave me alone?” He asks.

Stolas walks over to him. “I’m here for you, Blitzo.”

“What?” Blitzø asks.

“I care about you, I would be very sad if you died. I’ll help you as much as I can.”

“Buy why? I tricked you, I used you for your money.” Blitzo says.

“Only because your father made you.” Stolas defends. “I understand having to do something you didn’t want to do because of obligation.” He explains.

“I don’t even know what that means.” Blitzo mumbles.

Stolas sits on the floor with Blitzo, making eye contact. “What I mean is, I want to help; I can’t convince my father to let you go, but I can take care of you. Get you food, water, we can talk about stuff, have fun. Whatever you need.” Stolas explains.

Bltzo sniffs and wipes his tears away. “Why would you do something like that?”

“Because that’s what friends do, right?” Stolas asks.

Blitzo nods. “I guess.”

“Great! I shall go fetch you something warm, oh, and better food. I’ll be back soon, Friend!” Stolas promises, leaving the dungeon.

Blitzo didn’t really expect Stolas to come back, but he did just as he promised with food and a warm blanket for him. “Wow, thanks.”

“Of course! I know this is scary now…but over time maybe you’ll grow to like it here?” Stolas suggests.

Blitzo shrugs. “Maybe.”

Once Stolas left, Blitzo looked out the barred window. He knows his family would be busting him out of here soon..he just has to play the victim, and play nice for Stolas until he can break out.

They are coming…right?

{25 years later:}

Stolas looked down at Blitzø, eyes glowing bright red in anger, but Blitzø can sense a little pain behind those eyes. “Follow me, IMP.”

Blitzø sighs and does. He crosses his arms and reluctantly keeps up with Stolas. He hates the way Stolas called him Imp like they didn't fucking know each other.

They walked down the long hallways. Blitzø looked around at the different portraits. There were hideous pictures of Stolas and his good for nothing shrew Stella, but then he saw a picture of Stolas where he looked…not miserable, holding a small owl demon- did Stolas have a kid?

Stolas led Blitzø to his bedroom and locked the door behind them. He slowly walks over to the smaller demon. It was eerily quiet. The only sound was coming from Stolas’s boots stepping forward.

Blitzø sighs, he can’t stand quiet; he needed to get out of this, and fast. He had people waiting for him! He backed away slowly from the prince, maybe he can talk his way out. “Stolas, listen, I-“

“Give me the book. Now” Stolas orders harshly.

Kinky.

Okay.

Blitzø reluctantly takes Stolas’s book out of his jacket and hands it back to the owl.

Stolas let him go and he opens the book to be sure this wasn’t a fake or something. “What exactly were you planning on doing with this?” Stolas asks.

"Why should I tell you that?" Blitzø asks.

"Would you like to be arrested?" Stolas asked.

"Testy, who pissed in your Cheerios?” Blitzø asks.

"Wh- you did! Pardon me if I'm not thrilled to see my former best friend who abandoned me, and is now stealing from me."

"Believe me, I don't want to be here eithe." Blitzø says. "In case you forgot, I had a good reason to leave, and speaking of which, happy fucking anniversary!" He says.

"I had no choice but to marry Stella! I could have lost my rank, my family! I would have lost my home!” Stolas says.

“Really? Wow, Stolas. I'm so sorry. I wouldn’t know what that’s like at all." Blitzø says loudly and sarcastically.

“Fucking hell! Will you never let that go?! Don’t you fucking care about anyone but yourself?” Stolas asks.

Blitzø scoffs. “Right. I'm the selfish one."

"You’re the one who left, what was I supposed to do?” Stolas asks.

"I dont know, Stolas…maybe not marry Stella?" Blitzø suggests.

“I had no choice! We had an obligation to our families!” Stolas shouts.

“No, you're just a coward who couldn't just say no to daddy." Blitzø says. "You never could stand up for yourself, I always had to do that for you."

“Shut up!” Stolas shouts. “Shut the fuck up!”

Blitzø does, still heaving angrily.

“I will not ask again, what were you going to do with my book?” Stolas asks.

“Fuck off.” Blitzø says.

"Why won't you just tell me?" Stolas asks.

"Many reasons, mostly because I think you're an entitled privileged asshole." He says.

Stolas sighs. "You don't know me, Blitzø. You don't know what I've had to go through."

"And you were so sympathetic to me growing up? I'm out of here, sorry to disturb your special event. Either arrest me or let me go, I have somewhereimportant to be." Blitzø says.

Stolas sighs. "Blitzo-"

"Blitzø, the O is silent now.” Blitzø explains.

Stolas tilts his head. “You changed one-fifth of your name?” He asks.

“Yeah. What of it?” Blitzø asks.

“It’s…nice. But, why?” He asks.

"I don't need to explain myself to you!" Blitzø says.

Stolas sighs again. "Fine, Blitzø. I just- I'm trying to understand is all. I never meant to hurt you, I just…didn't know what to do." Stolas says.

Blitzø sighs, hating this conversation. Stolas was nothing but a coward, he shouldn't feel sympathy for him!

"We were best friends." Stolas says. "I know you wouldn't be here if there wasn't a legitimate reason, just please talk to me? I promise I won't lock you up like he did."

"I'm- look,...it's just complicated." Blitzø says.

"Complicated how?" Stolas asks.

Blitzø sighs. “I needed your book to access the human world.” Blitzø says.

“Why would an Imp need access to the human world?” Stolas asks, intrigued.

“I’m an assassin. My team and I are running out of clients here, most of them seek revenge on the living world…so we’ve been using it to get new clients. We’ve been very successful in it so far.” Blitzø explains.

Stolas hums. “That's..actually not a bad idea."

"Business has been great, but I need your book to do my job." Blitzø says.

Stolas frowns. "Well, I'm sorry I can't help you, Blitzø. My book is too important to lend out, if you want to access the human word, I'd try Asmodeus."

Oh yeah, because an Imp like Blitzø can just talk to a sin like Asmodeus.

Blitzø shrugs. "Fine."

"Blitzø-"

"I should go; My daughter will wonder where I am." Blitzø says, not wanting to linger too much.

Stolas's eyes widened. "Daughter? You have a daughter?" Stolas asks.

"Yeah, I adopted her a few years ago… She's my whole world." Blitzø says.

"I know what you mean." Stolas says. "My life began when I had Octavia."

Blitzø couldn't help but hurt a little at that comment, but he knew what Stolas meant, it wasn’t a jab at him.

"I'll tell you what…you can use my book. But, there will be some conditions." Stolas says.

Blitzø looked at him suspiciously.

"You have to return the book to me once a month on the full moon." Stolas says.

"...okay."

"No one can know about this deal, this stays between us." Stolas says. Blitzø is totally telling everyone, but Stolas thought he'd try.

"Okay. Fine-"

"And…be careful. Do not use any spells you don't recognize. I can teach you how to use it, but don't do anything stupid, I beg you." Stolas says.

"I won't do anything stupid, I'm not a child, Stolas." Blitzø says.

"I'm not so sure about that, but…I do trust you." Stolas says.

"And what exactly do you want in return?" Blitzø asks.

Stolas thinks about it. "You don't owe me anything…you worked for my family longer than you ever should have. I just want to make amends." Stolas says.

"That will be hard." Blitzø says.

"I know. And I do understand." Stolas says.

Blitzø takes the book from Stolas. "Thanks."

"My guards won't bother you anymore." Stolas promised. "I'm sorry they grabbed you like that." He says.

"It's fine, I'm pretty used to it." Blitzø says. "I have to go, I have somewhere important to be." He says.

"Blitzø-"

Blitzø climbed up to the window, then looked at Stolas.

"I am sorry." Stolas says. "If I could change what happened, I-"

"Yeah? Well…you can’t, so I'll see you later.." He says before climbing out the window.

Stolas sighs, trying not to feel so awful over this.

He hears Stella laughing and making fun of him…

Tears start to fall down his face…

What an awful life this turned out to be…

END NOTES: Co-written with Geez43 on Ao3

If you would like more, please lmk.

Also let me know if you want to be tagged when the next chapter comes out so you won't miss it.

Lov!

[ultimateaclrecovery]

2023 year in review!

I actually had a pretty incredible year.

It’s weird, back in like 2021 I had been really stuck in my life and just kind of bored of doing the same things over and over and feeling like I fell into comfortable and was stuck in a rut, so I took an opportunity to live in LA for a year in 2022 which was mostly fine but the job sucked, and then came back to Colorado in 2023 and it’s like everything was all rainbows and sunshine. The grass really isn’t greener on the other side. So anyway here’s my recap.

Played lei out where we had a good time despite getting rained in.

January 21 went on our first date with my now boyfriend.

Ran a half marathon

Got to celebrate an actual valentines with my first boyfriend (although he wasn’t quite my bf yet)

Had an adorable galentines

Bought a horse, the very best pony and fulfilled an absolute life long dream and I still just can’t believe it.

Spent a weekend in dc with Anthony and got to do all the muesuem and eat purple food

Hosted a whimsical brunch just because

Had my golden birthday and turned 30 and was so purple

Played frisbee master nationals with a womens team after qualifying at regionals

Got a promotion to basically my ideal job. Am now a level 4 (out of five normal levels). Came with an 11% pay raise.

Went camping and hiked a terrifying fourteener

Helped return a sample of an asteroid to the earth.

Spent a girls day at the lake

Qualified to regionals for frisbee again. Finally.

Went to the hot air balloon festival in New Mexico and saw the eclipse and went camping

Realized the Nuvaring was not good for my emotional stability and came off of it (the one negative of the year)

Played fright flight frisbee tournament and got to be super hero Barbie

Spent nearly two with Japan with Anthony and had an absolutely marvelous time

Met his parents for thanksgiving dinner

Came home early enough for Christmas to make cookies with my mom after having to skip this last year.

Between a horse, a promotion, a boyfriend, great travel, great friends and an overall healthier for me and my family( no Covid for my birthday or dad breaking his hip before Christmas this year.) it’s been a pretty spectacular year.

Wishing you all an equally wonderful 2024 full of joy and peace!

[dollarbin]

Sandy Saturdays #22:

Fairport Convention's Who Knows Where the Time Goes

When questing after undiscovered delights we can forget to slow down and appreciate familiar perfections.

I'm currently reading a terrible Tarantinoesque cowboy novel instead of rereading Middlemarch. The cowboy keeps shooting people in the face but they don't die; George Eliot's hapless Fred Vincy never shoots anyone in the face: rather he gambles on the wrong horse and ardently loves a girl. Why aren't I reading about him instead?

And while we are at it, I just ate furry anchovies on cold polenta for lunch. Why didn't I just have good old peanut butter on toast?

The same goes for the Dollar Bin. Robin Williamson's Merry (but somewhat crappy) Band has been spinning on my turntable of late in place of Paul Simon; I've been listening to Dylan and The Dead and American Dream instead of Blonde on Blonde and On The Beach.

All these decisions are wrong and in need of correction.

So let's get ourselves back on track: let's listen to Fairport Convention's version of Sandy Denny's best known song, Who Knows Where The Time Goes.

Like the wonder that is peanut butter, I take this wondrous version of the song for granted and struggle to taste/hear it anew: 31 years after first buying the record every note seems familiar and already considered.

But if I, and if we, put our minds to it, the track can once again become a thing of wonder. When Sandy joined the band in 68 she'd already recorded the song several times at home and with her former band, The Strawbs. It was her calling card: when Judy Collins latched onto the song and named an entire album based on it a year later I doubt anyone in Sandy's circle was shocked; rather I bet they all said she and the song deserved it.

Who Knows Where the Time Goes is a M.F. of a song; here in our chaste blog that stands for Mother Figure, not what your coarse minds assumed. And mothers are like Sandy's signature song: they are among the best, most admirable things on earth.

As I listen to the song with fresh ears here in the summer of 2024 what I love most about this version is Sandy's generosity. It's her song, but she does not dominate in volume or gesture; rather she lets the band's other genius, Richard Thompson, sing along with her - though he does his calling out through six subtle strings rather than with his voice.

Listen to the two of them patiently and generously make room for one another; the empty spaces between their efforts are as musical as the notes they make. They do not count the time; over more than five generous (and therefore unmarketable as a single) minutes they allow that time to unfold with care, sensitivity and warmth. The drumming, from Martin Lamble, who'd die tragically within a few sort weeks of this recording in an auto accident involving the whole band that would forever change them all, is also pretty damn great.

I remember ditching a portion of my senior year in high school to drive with my college-age girlfriend (now my sainted wife) up to Santa Cruz; we slept in open fields on campus and then stayed with a woman we knew who handed me a sandwich and said "eat this." I'd spent my childhood eating countless dollops of Laura Scudders on squashy, grocery store wheat. They tasted like nothing and got the job done: doughy filler for normal days.

But in Santa Cruz in 1993 I ate handmade, sprouted, whole wheat bread with seeds all over it for the first time in my life; I finally tasted freshly ground organic peanuts. Together they were basically the best things I'd ever eaten.

It was on that same trip that I bought Liege and Lief for $3 and discovered Sandy Denny. And so I encountered the sublime in music and food all at once. I was falling in love with life at the same time I was falling in love with a girl.

I'm blessed to say that all those ingredients remain in my daily life 30 plus years later. I just need to put down my terrible cowboy book, greet my wife, drop the needle and spread the peanut butter.

[ballsballsbowls]

The pizza situation got super weird after covid, as even established pizza places around here can't get pepperoni on the regular now? I think a lot of places closed down out here in the wake of covid and nothing new has opened. We were lamenting that there's basically nowhere that does soft serve ice cream here anymore, and there's nowhere in the COUNTY where my parents are to sit down in a Chinese place and eat.

If I had another bedroom, I'd probably be pushing you harder to move out here (even temporarily as I assume our giant cats won't get along even if we had the extra space). As it is, this is my sales pitch:

COME ON OUT TO HOG'S TAINT, NORTHERN APPALACHIA!

We have everything:

Freezing rain that entombs you in your residence at least twice a winter

Only 16 earthquakes since 1900 over a 4.0

Sidewalks aren't flat. Roads aren't flat. Driveways aren't flat. Nothing is flat. You want flat? Ohio is right there.

Laughable public transportation and zero walkability

I bought a house because a mortgage was like 60% of the cost of renting a place with similar attributes (though they'd be a lot smaller footage wise). I don't think the rental situation is "good" inherently but it's not either fucking coast and that has to mean something

Tons of jobs, as long as you like working in medicine, retail/service, or warehouse/trucking

Drive 4 minutes out of town and you're looking at someone's horses (whether it's a rich guy's horse or a poor guy's horse depends on where you are exactly)

No concerts because the only real venues are in Pittsburgh and they've chased away most reasonable performers and also Pittsburgh hates hosting concerts so it's a win-win

Basically every store/restaurant is a chain, everything else has closed

You'll work with a balls-out "make miscegenation illegal again" racist at about 1 out of every 3 jobs you work at (Hate you guys but I talk about you guys extensively when I get asked about working with people with Different Beliefs in job interviews! Thanks for the great material)

Got really excited because I moved to the only nearby area where you can buy Indian groceries. Like in a pretty big radius.

Got excited when I moved here because there are other obviously gay people at the grocery store and nobody is being annoying to them either

When I was younger I desperately wanted to move to either coast, but as an adult I don't think I see myself moving anytime soon. Not dying in a hurricane/earthquake is very appealing to me and there's no water rationing as long as you're not on a well.

[soullikethesea]

I'm still in a weird phase where I'm ruminating a lot. But I think yesterday also had some productive moments. I decided to cook pumpkin soup instead of order food & the experience of cooking felt soothing.

I also played with magnatiles for a while and set up some animal figures and searched for images to describe how I felt. The annoying thing is that the anxiety seems to be coming from another part, so whenever I am not actively focusing on soothing, it seems to jump right back up. Without "persevarating" thoughts I can notice.

I was able to notice that Fox is still quite active. I pictured him as a howling wolf, instinctively expressing the injustice and pain. Then also the little parts. One fawn that is lying down and one that is ready to run. Vesper (the one lying down) seemed to calm down a LOT when I put the figure in the lap of a plush bear. Thunder, however, hated that - and suddenly I was hitting the floor... The horse figure I bought last week feels like it is *such* a spot on representation of how I feel, how I want to be. It stands securely, proudly, protectively. Like I can keep it all to myself, but in a good way.

I also took a walk and thought a lot about role-models. Right now my role-models are my supervisor at work, another supervisor at work, my colleague at my other job, and some of my other colleagues. Basically, everyone who seems to hold some sort of grace in how they interact with others. Grace, fairness, staying calm, compassionate, structured, encouraging, trusting, and yet also firm. I suppose that's how I really would like to be.

When Fox got so overwhelmed, I noticed that I immediately had the imagery inside of a memory. As if I have saved that memory inside specifically for "replayability". It's from visiting a lake, where I used to jump in from a dock and spend time floating on my back looking at the sky. My favourite moments are 1) the textures of the grass & the two types of docks under my feet, 2) the feeling of being submerged after jumping in (that feels like everything else is gone for a moment), 3) the soft feeling of the water, 4) hearing birds, 5) the vast sky. We looked up some images and found one of an underwater library and Fox seems to like that idea of diving under and having the water be a boundary of some kind.

I also found a video about relationships for autistic people and it was exactly the kind of clear explanation some of us needed. It was about how it can often feel too hard to interact with others, so you may give up on it. It's because you may bump into each other while dancing (analogy).

I really have disorganized attachment, because I feel different urges at exactly the same moment. It's super clear with Vesper and Thunder. And it leads to a feeling of paralysis. Fox seems to mostly have anxious pre-occupied attachment, maybe a reflection of the boundaries he still needs to work on.

So yeah. Not really organized thoughts about all this, but I wanted to write it down somewhere...

[the-rhyme-witch]

You know when sometimes you find out something you wish you didn't know? That's where I am now.

If I may, please let me explain.

My name is James Jamieson. I currently work as a receptionist at a dental practice but my background is British Army. I enjoy cycling and football and am happily married to my gorgeous husband Roger Restrange. We have no kids and no pets -though we did have a little dog that got stolen- but we love babysitting for my little nieces, Ava and Ellie, who are just the scrummiest little kids.

I've also been listed in The Guardian, The Sun and The Mirror as the UKs "Most Dangerous Supervillain". Which sounds bad, I'll admit.

Please, let me explain.

Here in the UK, since the rise of modern superheroes and supervillains, national newspapers and magazines have started publishing ranking tables for us, much as they do for universities, festivals, restaurants and Sexiest Man Of The Year. I feel I am personally better qualified for the latter but my supervillain alter ego Archangel means it's the villain tables for me.

I feel the need to emphasise that The Archangel is not a name I picked for myself. There is a comic book character called Archangel and I'm not so basic, and contrary to popular belief, archangels are low ranking in the Christian belief, not high level boss angels. I wish I had named myself early before the tabloids had slapped a nickname on me but I had never meant to become a supervillain. I don't entirely identify as a villain now, not deep down. Perhaps no villain does. Deep down, I think I'm...not good, exactly, but certainly not bad.

I can explain.

I trained with the army straight from school. I hadn't done well: not because I'm unintelligent but because the nineties was not a kind time in community schools for non-heterosexual kids and I had found bunking off preferential to bullying. School kids can smell "different" like sharks can smell blood and my teenage self reasoned that only a fool stepped bleeding into a pool of emotionally unstable sharks. I used to take myself off instead, go to the woods and practice shooting. Slingshots and Neft guns evolved into BB guns and paintball guns and by the time I left school, I had GCSEs in Maths and Physics and nearly 500 hours air rifle time. I joined the army, flew through Phase 1 training, joined my regiment and ended up a sharpshooter.

Then my mum died.

What should have been a basic coil fitting to help with her menopause symptoms ended up with my mother dead. I left the army and went home to my little sister and our dad. If this is sounding like a supervillain cliché, please hold your horses. I didn't go rampaging. I didn't go mad. I got frayed in places and occasionally crumbled but if you've lost your mum, you'll understand and if you haven't, I'm happy for you. I got a supermarket job to pay the bills and settled down into a little grief cocoon with my loved ones, not healing -never healing- but evolving to be able to function in a new way now that mum was gone. My heart was bruised, my identity was different. I felt that I'd buried my old self along with my mum, because wish as I might, I was too hurt to be that man again.

Then the scandal broke. A politician in government in my country -the country I would have fought and died for- had cut deals with their cronies for discount medical equipment. To shave costs and line their pockets, they had actively bought and supplied hospitals with unsafe medical products. Including hormone coils.

A greedy politician, not a shock tragedy, had killed my mum.

Just let me explain.

I didn't immediately go immoral. I joined campaigns. I joined fundraisers. I set up petitions. I stood outside parliament with signs. I paid copious money for therapy, to help with my betrayal. I even went so far as to obsessively look them up , to read their biography, to try and see them as people with families and friends rather than callous millionaires. You know what came of it? After months of shouting, of campaigns, of spending my free time chasing justice for my mum and others like her, the politician issued a public apology. They called it a "misjudgement that was deeply regrettable." They wished "deepest condolences" to families like mine.

That was it. My mum, who loved yoga and Take That, who volunteered at a charity shop on Fridays and bought coffees for strangers, who had hurt many a houseplant but never a fly, she was dead and they were "sorry". They didn't even have to give the purloined money back.

I killed them.

I didn't regret it. I don't now. I think perhaps I have explained enough to let you know why.

Then I met Roger and I am not embarrassed to say I was smitten from day one. Not the horny, frantic lust I'd felt before but a warm, addictive, envelope of adoration that felt like molten caramel in my chest. Perhaps the universe had taken pity on me and put in a kind word on my behalf, because Roger unexpectedly felt the same. I had spent my love life up until that point cautious, afraid to look beyond today for fear of no tomorrow, but Roger's love made me brave. Our wedding was more beautiful than I'd ever allowed myself to hope for. My life became beautiful too. Roger's family and mine got on and while I never have "gotten over" Mum, I have learned to welcome my grief for her like an old friend, to see the space in my heart as a place my love for Mum can go when it can't find her here.

I wish I didn't have to explain that The Archangel was not a one off.

The trouble with doing something for the first time is that after that doing it again is much easier than first time round. I didn't mean to, I promise I didn't, but I accidentally became an avenging angel with a gun. Or a devil, perhaps, I take no pleasure in killing, but some people....well. Sometimes you must kill one person to save hundreds. And I did.

The cabinet minister who had been raiding small boats desperately crossing the sea to sell people into modern slavery.

The pop star who was a serial rapist, yet continued to play on the radio.

The vocal right wing millionaire who had been inviting hate crime.

The minor royal who had beaten his pregnant wife not once but again and again, over many pregnancies.

I worked alone. I was not cruel. I killed cleanly. I was not like true supervillains, not really, I feel my work explains itself. I feel more like a Robin Hood figure, punishing people with more power than morals when all other avenues fail.

Which brings me to today.

I wish I didn't have to explain.

Roger and I each have a little room of our own at home in addition to our bedroom and shared living space. Roger joked when we bought our house that we should keep the mystery in our marriage and given the amount of guns I own illegally, I readily agreed, much like how I agreed we should keep our own names when we got married. We are a partnership. We love eachother. We don't need to become eachother. I've never trespassed in his room, nor he in mine. Up until today, that is.

I have to explain.

It's a silly thing. I'd been out issuing justice. I've been trying to step back from sharpshooting and have tried to issue "a hearty warning thrashing" instead, though this was been of zero success and was more dangerous besides. My targets have security and I have no wish to go to jail or end up in an unmarked grave in the Scottish Highlands. I'd escaped narrowly but had been so drenched in blood and sweat and mud, I'd jumped straight in the shower and accidentally flooded the bathroom, causing water to dribble through the downstairs ceiling. I was shaken from the fight and, in an illogical panic, worried the water would be bloodstained (not to mention the risk of rot and silverfish) so I picked the lock on Rogers room.

There on the table was a doomsday device.

I might not identify as a supervillain in my heart but I keep track on superhero/supervillain news. I knew that that doomsday device was the same one the hero The Red Rescuer had liberated from the villain Grey Golom last month.

Like a line of dominos, realisations queued up to fall down. I was not the only one in the Super business in my house. My husband... Roger was the Red Rescuer. He was a modern superhero in the flesh and my alter ego was his mortal enemy.

For a wavery moment, I considered confessing all. Selfishly, I didn't, but I have a more altruistic explanation too. Roger is a perfectionist. It is one of his faults, along with his indifference to puppies. I know my husband and I knew in my heart that knowing he lived with The Archangel? It would break him. My bold, handsome Roger is strong but he is brittle. The shame would be too much. They say "takes one to know one" and there's a thin edge between superhero and Supervillain. Do I want to be the catalyst of the start of my husband's spiral into villainy? He already technically has a doomsday device.

I can't do that to him. I won't. He can't know about my alter ego.

That needs no explanation.

You are the most dangerous supervillain and have been happily married to the world’s greatest hero for years. You’ve found out your spouse’s secret identity and are desperate to hide the truth from them for life because you fear they may end the world if they found out.