#been gone from tumblr for like a month and spent time watching GoT

[regaliasonata]

Sansa: They say when two siblings stick together against all odds something evil and vicious will sprout from it.

Joffrey: I don't get it.

Sansa: Exactly.

Joffrey:

[bunnyreaper]

plush

pairing: soap mactavish x f!reader wc: 1.5k warnings: 18+/nsfw, slight plushiephilia (?), magical fuckery, instalove vibes, shitty ex notes: an unofficial entry to my own valentines writing challenge, for my beloved aj/@kitkatscabinet <3 its short and a bit shit, but its the thought that counts, right? peep my amazing tumblr style valentines day card here!!

You remember the day you got him vividly, recalling every detail like it was yesterday, and not necessarily for the better. 

It was the first Valentine's day you were to have with your now ex-boyfriend, an occasion you'd been looking forward to for months. He wasn't the most romantic man in the world, but he knew how important the day was for you, knew how you dreamed of just having one day where you were spoiled rotten and doted on like a princess.

The day of, the man had forgotten. 

All the build up, anticipation, and excitement for nothing. He'd told you the morning off that he was off to work, with no real acknowledgement of the day or the significance it held for you. 

You had been entirely crushed, only somewhat soothed when he came home with an oversized, fluffy teddy, just for you. 

Despite the gift being mostly an afterthought—the receipt still in the bag told you he'd gone to the store on his lunch break—the bear was just so enchanting, so soft and cuddly that when you had it squeezed in your arms, you couldn't bring yourself to care about much else in the world.

That night, it was your plushie you had curled up with in your arms, your face snuggled into his brown-grey fur. That night, you'd drifted off to sleep, selfishly thinking of what it would be like to fall asleep in the arms of someone who made you feel as safe as your new fluffy friend. 

This year, you were determined for things to be different. Despite still reeling from your breakup, you resolved to make the day exactly what you'd always dreamed of,even if you were alone. 

So you started the day with a bit of pampering, climbing into sexy lingerie underneath a fresh, oversized shirt and barely-there shorts. You glammed yourself up just a little and spent the day at home surrounded by lit candles, heart-shaped balloons and the scent of freshly-baked cookies. 

When the night grew dark, you tucked up into bed to watch more movies until late, spending the entire time snuggled up with your precious plushie. It was normal for you to whisper sweet nothings to the wolf pup before bed, to throw out your usual movie discussion to him, and tonight was no different. 

You drift off with ease, feeling a sense of peace you haven't felt in a long time.

When your eyes flutter back open, you expect to see your vision obscured by fur and your room filled with light. You don't expect to see a pair of sparkling blue eyes twinkling in the dark, a pair of blue eyes you're all too familiar with.

"I'm still dreaming." You whisper in complete disbelief, yet the longer you look into the not-so-stranger's eyes, you find yourself not even believing those words. It's not a dream, he's real, and he's here. 

Your eyes rove over him and his handsome, masculine features, you take in the warmth that radiates off of him. 

"No dreams here, bonnie girl." His smile is wolfish, just like his plushie counterpart—full of mischief and mirth. "Couldnae stand seeing you so sad. It's our day." 

His grip on you tightens, pulling you deeper into his chest for you to cuddle close—to feel at home.

"Our day." You mumble, mostly to yourself, as you tangle yourself within him until you become one. You press your forehead against his, eyes fluttering shut as you embrace every euphoric feeling flowing through you.

The safety you felt when hugging him as a plushie is multiplied, as now he grips at your flesh and his breath brushes across your lips. 

He chuckles, a sweet sound you'd imagined a million times before. "Dinnae tell me you forgot when we first met." He teases. 

Valentine's day, that Valentine's day—when he'd been the only thing that made you smile. It's hard to comprehend that this time last year you were muffling your tears in his plush body, and now you're smiling so unstoppably in his embrace.  

"Of course I didn't." You whisper.

You feel his fingers brush over your curves as he eagerly takes you in, too. Unbeknownst to you, he's been aching for this moment since he first set his eyes on you—biding his time trapped inside the plush, until his love was strong enough to break him free of the curse that held him there. 

He'd watched in anger as you were mistreated, frustration as he witnessed your ex's attempts to please you between the sheets, and sadness as he watched you mend your broken heart. 

Unbridled energy thrums through him, a combination of returning to his human form and the overwhelming feeling of finally getting the woman he's loved from afar all this time. "Been waiting so long to finally have ye in ma arms." 

You bring your hand up to stroke at his stubbled cheek, as you try to ground yourself in the reality of the situation. You don't know how, but somehow all your fantasies had come true. "You're real." 

"Am real, lass, and am all yours." He swears solemnly. Neither of you know how long you have, but you know that no matter what, his words are the truth. "Can I kiss ye?" 

"Please." You whisper, before eagerly closing the gap between you, unable to wait even a moment longer. 

The second your lips touch, something in your heart feels like it slots right into place, and a sense of alignment washes over you, unlike anything you've felt before. This kind of peace is something you never felt with your ex, and barely seems real at all. 

Your lips continue to melt into his as he kisses you with fervour, equally hungry and sensual, deeply passionate and full of pent-up longing. 

You pull away, breathless, head spinning with lust and affection, as well as a lingering sense of confusion. It's obvious that he's actually in your arms, and you're not imagining it, but it's so wonderfully beyond your comprehension. 

"But how--" You start, before cutting yourself off. Too many questions, not enough time. 

"Conversation for another time." You both say in sync, rushing to return to each other's lips as you pour your love into each other. 

His kisses move from your lips to your soft cheeks, the curve of your jaw, the expanse of your neck. He nuzzles against you, nips with his teeth, then soothes them with kisses. You can feel his unrestrained smile against your skin, the eagerness in the way he grips at your hip and ruts into your clothed core with his hardness. "You feel better than I imagined." 

As his erection nudges against your clit, a shaky exhale passes your lips, a name uttered purely on instinct after a year of it tumbling around your head. "Johnny..." 

Something surges through him then, Johnny, something animalistic, as he rolls you beneath him and cages you between his arms. His hips slot against yours insistently, his eyes battle between darkening with arousal and sparkling in delight. "You know ma name." He almost growls. 

"I don't know how, but I do." 

His hands claw at your shirt, pushing it up your body to reveal the lace underneath. You hadn't worn it for him intentionally, but it also seems like the fates had called to you to put it on this morning, to be ready for this moment. 

He purrs, hungry like a true wolf, as he paws at the delicate material. "Need you, lass, cannae take it anymore." 

You push your hips into his, chasing more and more contact, more of the pleasure he so easily gives you. "Me either. Can't wait, please." 

For a moment, your mind flickers to your ex, how even on the rare occasions he tried to warm you up, he'd still struggle to make you feel much at all. With just a few kisses, and the feeling of his body against you, Johnny has you gushing, leaking down your thighs and aching with need. 

Thick fingers make their way across your delicate skin, leaving shivers in their wake. He pulls back enough to rid you of your panties, before his fingers find your sweet spot and start working on melting you beneath his touch. It was easy for Johnny, having seen the way you'd touched yourself so many times before. 

Whilst the sensation feels heavenly, and Johnny's eyes remain focused on yours as he drives you wild. You need more; you need him. 

"Please." You whine, unable to summon much more in the way of words as his fingers dip down to tease at your entrance.

Johnny fumbles with his clothes quickly, and sinks into you with an animalistic growl as his thick cock stretches you open in the most divine way. 

"Feels like home." He purrs, as he lays his muscular body over you and cages you in between the mattress and his cock. Once more, he nuzzles at your neck, as his cock kisses your insides and you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. 

You wrap your arms and legs around him instinctually, willing him closer and closer in to you, entwining yourselves completely. 

His hips remain still inside you, as the two of you embrace the feeling of finally being where you belong. He kisses you gently as he whispers, "All mine. Never letting ye go now." 

[catnipaddictt]

jailbreak

scott barringer x gn!reader

synopsis: You and Scott decide to escape New Horizons, a camp for at risk teens.

wc: 1.3k

tw: none

comment: there is a lack of Scott content on tumblr so I decided I wanted to write something. Also I fell in love with higher ground, i didn't think it was going to be that good, but i binged it in under a week.

You kick at the ground with your beat-up old sneakers, watching as moisture falls from the blades of grass. Grumbling could be heard from in front of you as the ground of teens treked behind their leader. Ever since you had arrived at New Horizons, it was basically walk after walker. You swear once you are out of this place you would never hike again. But alas you had now been here for almost 2 months, and Peter sure wasn't letting you out anytime soon. 

Picking up your feet, you begin to follow your group as they walk uphill through the forest that surrounds the school. You make up the back of the pack, mostly just because you prefer to walk at a more leisurely pace. 

“Hey” you glance to your side to be met with blue eyes. Scott. He had been here for around the same time you had meaning that you were both ‘fresh meat’. If you could even call yourself that anymore. You reply back with a “hi” focusing on not tripping on any tree roots. Scott was at New Horizons for a drug related problem, something a lot of the students had issues with. He was normally standoffish and refused to participate but you two got along just fine. Which led to the little problem of your not so little crush on the tall boy.

“I hate walking” he states plainly and you agree, nodding your head. “I mean, how is this supposed to help, walking up hills isn't going to fix a bunch of messed up kids” Scott continues. “It sucks, I just want to get out of here” you reply. “Hey, what if we-” Scott seems to want to say something but changes his mind, shaking his head. “Nevermind.” You glance at him confused. “C'mon, you have got to say it now” you laugh. “It was stupid anyways” he grumbles at the ground. 

“Oh boo-hoo, just tell me” you practically beg. Scott sees this and ultimately starts to speak, “we could get out of here you know? It's only the forest holding us back I mean. And we have pretty much walked all of it twice over.” You turn your head to look at him, “you mean run away?” you ask. He has caught your full attention now. “See, told you it was dumb” Scott answers. 

“Let's do it.” 

“Sorry?” He states, “you can't be serious.” He raises an eyebrow. “Oh I'm serious. I have had enough of this place. Worst case scenario we get caught, that's like a few days of confinement to the cabins.” You reply smoothly. It was definitely a horrible idea but it's not like life was too exciting for you at the moment.”I mean, I'm down if you are” Scott shrugs. You think for a moment before replying. “Okay two days from now there is the school bonfire thing. We pack bags beforehand, I'll sneak into the kitchens and get us some food and stuff, and we can meet up by the docks. They won't notice we have gone for a few hours at least.” 

Scott looks at you “a few hours head start is probably as good as we are going to get.” He makes up his mind, “okay I'm in.” 

The next two days passed rather slowly, with not much really happening apart from lectures about personal wellness. What a waste of your time. You were counting down the minutes until your and Scott's escape out of here.

The final hours of your time at New Horizons were spent packing a bag, light enough to not slow you down, but enough to keep you going until you could get more supplies. Your next job was the kitchen.

The sun had almost disappeared by the time you reached the space, quietly opening and shutting the door behind you. You grabbed two large plastic bottles of water, placing them in your bag, as well as a few cans of food and lots of snacks. This was definitely enough to last you a few days. Getting through the forest should only take a few hours, the tricky part was not being seen around town.

Zipping up your bag you sneak out of the kitchen, making your way to the docks. You could see Scott's shadow cast on the wooden planks, giving his location away. You walk almost silently up to him and he jumps a little at you appearing. “Don't sneak up on me like that” he says playfully.

You nod your head in the direction of the path leading to the forest “time to go?” The light from the bonfire flickers over the landscape, making it feel like something out of a 80’s horror film. “Yeah, let's do it”

You both make your way out of the school and into the dense forest. There is nearly no light apart from the occasional bit of moon peeking through the canopy. Scott pulls two flashlights out of his bag, passing one to you “borrowed Auggie’s, hope he doesn't mind” he shrugs and you laugh. Poor Auggie had been robbed of his only torch. 

After about an hour of walking Scott starts telling you clearly made up stories about people getting lost in the woods never to be seen again. Typical teenager boy behavior. You roll your eyes in response - not that he could see. “That's so not real” you speak, only to be met with a yelp as he trips over a tree root. You cannot contain your laughter at the action. “Not funny” he grumbles. 

The next few hours pass in a blur. The clear night makes your walk nicer than you thought it was going to be. Scott being there helped a lot. You both exchange tales of your lives before New Horizons, Scott tells you about his football games and school. Up ahead of you, you can see where the ground drops about 6 feet or so, meaning you will have to climb down. Scott goes first, passing you his bag so you can throw it down to him once he is on solid ground. Once he reaches the earth again you throw down his bag followed by yours. He catches them and puts them down on the ground. Now it's your turn to make the descent. 

You make it most of the way down without fail, but the place where you put your left foot collapses and you are forced to jump back and onto the dirt covered ground. Luckily you don’t hurt yourself but in the process you manage to basically slam into your companion. He lets out a sound at the impact, “woah there.” “Sorry Scott.”

After another hour you finally reach the edge of civilization and you exchange grins with the blonde boy. You had made it with close to little hiccups. Making it onto town, you and Scott begin to brainstorm what to do now. “We need to get further away before first light, then people might see the two of us. And when Peter comes asking they will know we were here” You think out loud. “We could hitchhike?” Scott suggests “It's risky but if we walk further out of town we have a better chance of someone who is passing through and not a local?”

You agree to the plan and after a quick break from walking you both set out again. Now that you are out of the dense forest you can see the night sky. It's clear tonight and you can see all the stars, you will miss it in a way. But you made your decision. As you walk, your hand brushes against Scott’s prompting you to snap your arm close to your side, embarrassed. You can sense his head turning to look at you briefly before he looks straight ahead again. Then, if on second thought, he grabs your hand in his, interlocking your pinkies. You look down at your and Scott's hand and smile. Maybe, just maybe it would all work out fine.

I'm not sure about the ending of this one as I kinda didn't know how to finish it but oh well. Im also finishing writing a whole heap of requests, so expect those soon!

[itsclydebitches]

IT'S BEEN A DOOZY OF A DAY, FOLKS

Yeah I've got a couple asks about it lol. (Always a terrifying experience when you log onto tumblr and immediately wonder why your inbox blew up...)

Man, I don't even know how I'm feeling right now. We've spent so many months working on the semi-confident assumption that RWBY would be cancelled that on the one hand I can't feel very shocked about this. On the other hand there's definitely a wide-eyed part of my brain going, "Holy shit the 'RT is failing' theories finally came true O_O" I'm kinda devastated that a company that's been a part of my life for almost a decade (and for other fans far longer) is just up and gone, but simultaneously I don't care because what I loved about RT hasn't existed for some time now. We've already been dealing with that nostlgia for years, we just got a hell of a concentrated dose of it today. There's admittedly some level of vindication regarding those who've been pulling shit in the company for so long and empathy for those who were just getting by and are now suddenly out of a job. There's regret that (despite my tendency to fall VERY behind on projects. RIP I owe everyone in this fandom a massive apology) I'll probably never have an official end to my RWBY Recaps. And there's worry about how this will impact the fandom...

Yeah, not to jump on the pessimism train, but I feel like this is going to catapult some fans' misreadings into new territory. RWBY is now forever the show that was canonically unfinished and thus its perfection is assured. Think there are major issues in Volume 9 and earlier? Nah, that's setup for Volumes we just never got. Catch a contradition or other mistake? They would have explained that if they could. Any possible issues with the show if it gets picked up by someone else? Well, of course there are issues, RT isn't writing it! This was already a fandom where having accurate, nuanced discussions about the text was hard as hell... but it just got so much worse.

Honestly, I say let it go. If they're going to do anything I'd prefer a complete reboot/reworking so that this story might stand a chance. Airing new RWBY Volumes was already beating a dead horse. Resurrecting the horse to start beating it anew just feels ridiculous. Yes, I'm sad for those fans who wanted an official ending, but we've spent so much time waiting on RWBY, being worried about RWBY's future, and I personally have encounted so many shows lately whose finales soured my enjoyment that there's something reassuring in the combination of definitive ambuguity here: you know you're not getting an ending by RT, so just have fun imagining your own.

Overall, I feel like I've got to sit with this for a while, you know? I totally get why so many fans (partiuclarly RWDE fans) are celebrating and/or releasing a sigh of relief right now. I'm honestly surprised I haven't seen any crabs yet lol. But maybe it's just because I'm "old" my tumblr's standards, but there's something undeniably sad about losing that part of your fandom life. Or at least, losing what led to/represents that life. Getting introduced to RWBY by a friend, binging it for the first time, pulling new people in, finding like-minded friends here on tumblr, analyzing it for thousands of words, tracing its history and watching how radically it has changed... that's gone now. Not actually because RWBY still exists, as do my friends, and there's nothing stopping me from writing as much fic/meta as I want, but it still feels like someone closed a door on that part of my life. That's not wholly a bad thing given what RT has been lately, but I do think it'll take more than one post for me to unpack it all.

[loversj0y]

'tis the damn season

chapter one - we could call it even

its your first day back home from winter break, and the overwhelming extent of the holidays leads to some interesting rekindlings

'tis the damn season masterlist

pairing: cc!wilbur soot x gn!reader

fluff and angst (quite a lot of angst in fact)

trigger warnings: reader's mother is abusive (not physically) and father is emotionally absent. this will be talked about in extensive detail. alcohol, some suggestive themes, and a lot of anxiety.

author's note: WELCOME! to the very first installment of a multichaptered fic inspired by taylor swift's tis the damn season! this work has been in progress for about. 4 months now so !! yipee!!! hope u enjoy (chapter two should be out sometime within the next week; i wont make the wait too long between chapters) dont like tumblr formatting? ao3 version is available here!

word count: 6.3k

If you had to be honest, you despised the holidays. It was always stressful, no matter how prepared you tried to be. But regardless, being in your final year of Uni, it was pretty nice to get a final winter break before graduation. The idea of staying with your parents wasn’t ideal. They’d spent years neglecting you and taking a toll on you emotionally, but in the time you’d been gone, it had seemed like things had improved. You agreed to go home for the holidays under this idea, hoping to have a nice break from everything, despite the heavy feeling in your chest that came from being in your hometown – that you’d proudly left behind – and the general dread of the holidays.

Wilbur wasn’t exactly the opposite. While he didn’t mind the holidays themselves, he hated the social conventions of it all. Particularly the insistence that you must be with family or else the holiday isn’t worth anything. However, Wilbur seemed to luck out this year. His mother and stepfather happened to book a cruise for the holidays, and all they wanted from him was to watch the house while they were gone. It gave him both the convention of helping out family without dealing with the mental decline that he gets from actually being around them, mostly his stepfather. So, he’d spend a month in his old bedroom, in the town he dreaded because the number of good memories he’d had all involved one person that left not long before he did.

When you’d finally arrived, it wasn’t long before your parents were hugging you and peppering kisses on your face, talking about how much they’d missed you, and asking if you were eating alright. It was loving, and you did appreciate it, but you felt uneasy. As your mother hugged you, it felt unfulfilling as you looked around the room, each familiar surrounding bringing up memories of your mother’s yelling. You’d settled down fairly easily, which tended to be a perk of returning to your childhood bedroom. After changing into something much more comfortable, you’d returned to where it seemed your family members had accumulated.

“Y/n, darling, my goodness, you’ve grown so much since I’ve last seen you! What are they feeding you out there in London?” It was your aunt who spoke to you. She was tame enough, save for when she got her hands on enough cosmopolitans to feel the need to share everyone’s gossip. 

“It’s nice to see you too. And I cook for myself, in case you were wondering.” You deadpanned. Honestly, you just didn't feel like humoring her advances to pull information out of you. You’d fallen for them as a kid, but now, even with little to hide, you couldn’t quite trust her. 

“Of course, you are, my genius. How’s the dating scene been?” 

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, brushing it off, “Boring as ever.” 

She hummed, taking a sip of her drink.  Ah, looks like she may already be ready to gossip, you thought, noticing the soft flush on her cheeks consistent with her drunkness. Your suspicions were confirmed when she continued, “You know, your mum told me she saw that old fling of yours at the shops the other day. What was his name?” She hummed for a moment, “Wilbur! That’s what it is.” 

Your chest turned to stone in a matter of seconds, and you forced out a response, “Oh, cool.” 

It was not “oh, cool” however, it was very much not cool. You and Wilbur had been friends since the third form, and while you weren’t incredibly close at first, you became much closer as time went on and as social circles grew smaller and smaller.  It came to the point where you two were inseparable, the best friend you’d had even until now. Your “fling” couldn't even really be classified as such. Despite how much you loved Wilbur Soot, you and him just never seemed to break that barrier, save for one weekend in your final year of A-levels. You’d planned to go to prom together, neither of you being romantically involved with anyone else, but you never actually made it to prom. You both went and sat in a field outside the back of the school, sharing a bottle of vodka he’d lifted from his stepdad’s stash. It was then that he’d opened up to you about how embarrassed he felt to be leaving school without having ever kissed a girl before. The mixture of his vodka and your love for him ultimately amounted to a few sloppy kisses, a moment’s worth of making out, before the two of you both had to run from a counselor who was looking for any delinquent students. Neither of you ever addressed it again. 

The years you two had known each other eventually culminated in the same relationship that you had with most people these days: you leaving him and losing contact. You didn’t mean to leave him behind, but between a full scholarship in London and his insistence on how shitty London is, you had to leave. 

You thought about him frequently. There were numerous nights where you’d open up his contact and attempt to draft a message, but it always ended in watching the cursor blink as you struggled to find the words. Honestly, you never thought you’d see him again. You knew nothing about him anymore, what he was like, what he was doing. It was impossible to decide if you dreaded seeing him or would go out of your way to attempt to see him. 

After catching up with your family for a bit longer, you decided to step out. Honestly, you didn’t know where you were going. It was late, almost midnight, and you just needed the fresh air. After walking into town, you found the one thing that would realistically be open this time of night: the pub. It was mostly empty, save for a few older folks sitting in some booths around the wall. You recognized the bartender, he was a few years above you back in school, but he always made an effort to be kind to everyone. He grinned at you once you sat at the bar. 

“Well, if it isn’t Y/N L/N. Shit, I would’ve thought you died," he chuckled, "You visiting for the holidays?” 

“Yep. And trust me, I’d quite rather be dead than be around my whole family all day.” 

He laughed, “Let me guess, a martini for the sophisticated Londoner?” 

You laughed back, “God, no, I haven’t exactly been converted over yet. Just a pint.”

“Still the same as before?�� 

“Mmhm,” you nodded out, sighing softly. Being here felt a lot less tense than being at home. At least here you didn’t have to deal with the hushed fights and curses whispered between spouses. 

Wilbur had been incredibly excited by the idea of being alone when he first arrived at his old house a week before. It wasn’t long before it got old. 

“Alright, chat, who should we raid?” 

His chat moved rapidly in response to his words. He’d been playing Minecraft with Tommy, not unlike usual, but he’d been live for an hour and a half, which was a long time to hold up a persona for. Once he’d ended, he stayed on call with Tommy through Discord. 

“I dunno, man. I like being alone, like having the place to myself, but I’ve never felt so lonely,” Wilbur paused, “This place is way bigger than I remember.”

“So go somewhere,” Tommy offered.

Wilbur groaned, “You do understand that there is nothing to do here. It’s part of the reason I settled on Brighton.”

“Oh, c’mon, there’s gotta be something there for you to do. Don’t you have at least, like, a park or a pub maybe? You could go meet women!” 

“Tommy, I know every woman in this town, nobody has moved here or left here since I left,” he sighed, “we do have a pub though. Honestly, that’s not a bad idea. I could go for a drink.” 

“See! Just gotta think outside the box. Have a little optimism, man. Maybe you’ll see that person you knew in school.” 

“Tommy, don’t.” Wilbur genuinely considered leaving the call, his heart sinking at the mention of his old friend, “They haven’t been back since they left, alright?” 

“Yeah, but you never know! Have you thought about what you’d say to them if you did see them?” 

“No,” he groaned, “I don’t know why I’m humoring this, but if I saw them, I’d probably be nice. As much as it hurts, I miss them, and it’s not like I reached out much either, so.” 

Tommy hummed, “Wilbur the Wise, you are. At least maybe if you do see them, you’ll be much less bored.” 

“Yeah, I suppose,” Wilbur sighed, pulling an old beanie on. “Alright, I’m going to head out, talk to you later, man.” 

“Have fun!” 

Wilbur hung up the call after a moment, sighing a bit as he stretched. While he didn’t actually want to go to the pub, it was a better idea than staying in another night. Plus, at least he could get to walk his old path and try and see some of the cats he always used to stop for. 

His walk did end up taking quite a while. He only spotted two cats on the way, but he’d given them as much attention and love as they’d allow. But that wasn’t really what took up so much of his time. He kept going back to what Tommy had asked. Honestly, he did not even consider he’d see you here. For a long time  after you’d left for school, he thought that one day he’d see you walking to the shops and he’d go up to you, and just by saying hello, everything would feel like it used to. After a while, he’d lost hope that he’d ever see you again. He’d tried to find you online, some scrap to see how you had been and to see if you were okay, but he knew he couldn’t exactly just follow you without the risk of questions. He cursed himself for a long while over his pettiness in never reaching out. He thought about that prom night often. Part of him couldn’t make peace with the idea that his best friend, someone who he’d fallen in love with the second they’d spoken to him, was now just a stranger to him. It didn’t make sense to him, but  what made even less sense was when Wilbur opened the door to the pub to find you sitting alone at the bar. 

Wilbur’s breathing went full stop when he saw you. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but whether that was from the cold or the shock he felt seeing you, he couldn’t tell. Once he could feel his body again, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He’d have to make a choice right now, and he’d have to make one he wouldn’t eventually regret, but-

“Wilbur! Mate, close the door, would you, you’re lettin' in a draft!” 

You felt frozen in your seat when you heard the bartender– whose name, you were kindly reminded, was Liam– yell to Wilbur. You didn’t know if you wanted to look up at him or look anywhere but him. Eventually, curiosity got the best of you, and you looked up directly into his eyes as he stood in the doorway. He seemed to come back to life after a second, turning to walk towards the bar. 

“Uh, right, sorry, man. Could I get a pint?” 

He sat across the corner of the bar, close but still seemingly holding you at a distance. 

After Liam walked away, he turned back to you, and for a moment, you both stared, trying to find words. He’d grown quite fit since the last time you’d seen him. He was still  tall, but not quite as lanky. His shoulders have filled out nicely.  

You decided to start, stuttering a bit as you began, “Hi, Wilbur.”

He seemed to think for a moment before the look faded from his face and something kinder replaced it, “Hi.” 

“How- um,” you contemplated even asking, but you’d rather ask than be sitting here in awkward silence with the boy you’ve loved for years, “How have you been?” 

“I’ve been…” He took in a breath, a moment to compose himself, before responding, “I’ve been good, actually. How about you?” 

You considered lying. “I’m okay, could be better but…”

“But?” 

“Well, I’m still doing the whole uni thing, so still just living in London. Not many developments.” 

“Right. How is London?” 

You thought back to your apartment. Your shitty apartment and your three roommates who you never spoke to, the leaks in the ceilings, the constant noise, the crowds, the grey fogs that would weigh down on your lungs, the deaths on the tube, the harassment just from walking to campus, everything. “It sucks. The city is horrible,” you sighed, “The school is alright, though. The people are standoffish and don’t talk, but the education is good.”

Wilbur looked as though he was fighting off a smile, taking a sip from the beer he’d been given. “I’m sorry to hear that. Glad the school is good. It may not be my place exactly, but do you mind if I say something?” 

Dread filled your chest. “Well, you have to now.” 

A smile crossed his face, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “I told you so.” 

A moment of processing passed before you burst into laughter. Of course, after all the years you knew Wilbur Soot, you probably could have predicted that would be the first thing he’d want to say to you. 

“Okay, okay, I can admit. Maybe you were a little right. I’ve got my regrets, but despite the city, I don’t hate my choice,” you took a sip from your pint, “what about you? How’s life been?” 

He shrugged a bit, “I’d say good. I did some schooling online and graduated a bit ago. Been doing some work, uh, online, so yeah. It’s been good.” 

“Oh, that sounds cool. Anything I’d know?” 

 “Uh, maybe…” He went quiet for a moment before continuing, “I work for Twitch if you know that company.” 

You shrugged, “I know of them. That’s cool though, I’m glad you found something you enjoy.” 

He smiled a bit, “Yeah, it’s been nice. I’ve made quite a few friends.”

“Really?” That was a bit of a surprise, “Shy little Wilby is making work friends?” 

He seemed to flush a bit, chuckling, “I’ve gotten better about the shyness.” 

“That’s good. You seem to be doing better in that department than I have. I haven’t changed much at all, I think.” 

He hummed, pondering. He stared for a moment, and you almost felt shy under his gaze. Finally, after what felt like ages, he spoke up, “You do your hair differently. You used to part it to the side.” 

You laughed, surprised by the unexpected statement, instinctively reaching up to fix some stray hairs. It brought a blush up to your cheeks, as you couldn’t remember the last time someone had noticed such a small detail as that. You bit your lip for a moment before responding, “Yeah, I- I guess so. Though, to be fair, we kind of had the whole edginess thing going on back then. Had to look the part.”

“Very true,” He snorted a bit, “I still listen to the same music for the most part though.” 

“Oh, let me guess. Favorite band is still Los Campesinos!?” 

“Yeah,” he laughed, “though I play a bit of my music now too.” 

“Oh?” that was a major development. Wilbur spent a significant amount of time in school talking about how much he wanted to play music, always humming some tune to himself, “Will, that’s fantastic. You’ll have to show me sometime.” 

“I could show you now, if you’d like. I’m just watching the house for my parents, so I brought some of my music equipment with me.”

You don’t know what made you so willing to say yes. Maybe it was the fact that you’d finished your pint. Maybe it was just the way that being here and talking to Wilbur made the heaviness in your chest finally lighten up since you first realized you’d have to go home. Either way, before you knew it, you and Wilbur were walking back to his place, chatting lightly the whole way there. 

“Wow, this place hasn’t changed.” 

You took off your coat as you and Wilbur entered his front door. 

“My parent’s haven’t made much of an effort to change things. They think the nineties are still in.” He joked lightly as he locked the door behind you both. 

You chuckled, “Yeah, I can see that.” You followed him up the stairs, “So, you said you were just watching the place for them. I take it you don’t live here anymore?” 

“Nope, I’ve been living in Brighton, actually. I think you’d really like it. It’s still England, so it’s not great, but the ocean is gorgeous.” 

“I’ve been meaning to go down there, actually. It’s only about an hour's train from me, so sometimes my roommates go down there for long weekends. I just haven’t had the time.” 

He hummed, “Well, whenever you do have the time, let me know. I’ve got a pretty nice spare room. Plus, I could introduce you to my mates.”

You smiled softly, mostly to yourself, “Yeah. That would be nice.” 

He sat down on his bed, reaching behind him and grabbing his guitar.  You  took a moment to look around the room. The same posters were still hung up, the dents in the wall from you and him goofing off and throwing things, even the scuffs on the floorboards from when you and him rearranged all his furniture. In the years of separation, you expected more of a difference. The only actual difference was that the room was cleaned for once. You hesitated before sitting next to him as you made your observations. He noticed. 

“What’s up?” 

I shrugged, “It’s weird. Being back here, I mean. I haven’t sat here since A-levels.”

He nodded, thinking it over for a moment. “Yeah. It is a bit weird. Doesn’t it kind of seem like nothing’s changed though?” He chuckled, “I mean, despite the time gap, you always did say being here made you feel safe.” 

“Yeah,” I sighed, “the feeling is still there. I just feel… weird. I’m used to missing you and all of our memories, but I’m not used to being here again after everything that has changed.” 

He smiled slightly, “you missed me?”

I chuckled, “Obviously, man. I missed you every day. Missed having a best friend to bully.” 

He snorted, “Hey, all of our bullying was friendly. Unlike some of the other wankers at our school.”

You laughed, throwing your head back, “Oh god, yeah. Bloody hell, man, I feel bad for their kids. Marshall’s going into medicine, and my god, I pray I never end up as his patient. I feel like his negligence alone would kill me.” 

Wilbur laughed, leaning into you a bit. “God, that is not a man who should have a medical license,” he sighed softly. “Don’t fret, though. I missed you a lot too. I missed having someone yell at me to go outside or cut my hair.” 

You laughed, “Yeah, my yelling comes from a good place, though.” 

He hummed, “True. It did help me not go stir-crazy for a while there.” He paused for a moment, turning towards you slightly. “Wait, if you missed me, then… why didn’t you ever call?” 

You took a deep breath, sighing softly. “Honestly, at first… I thought you might be mad at me for leaving. We did kind of have a whole argument about it, and I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me. And then, once some time had passed, I considered it. I considered looking you up and trying to talk to you, or even just texting you, but I just felt like it might’ve been weird for me to just text you out of the blue. I didn’t want you to think I was just contacting you because I needed something or something stupid like that. I got busy, and more time passed, and reaching out just felt weirder and weirder each time I considered it.” 

He nodded softly. He didn’t make eye contact as he listened and thought. “If I’m being honest as well, I didn’t want to hear from you at first. I was pretty upset. But after a while, I just missed my best friend. And I was going to text you, but I thought you’d be upset with how we left things. I wanted you to reach out because if I had hurt you, I couldn’t handle reaching out only to get anger, or even worse, just silence,” He sighed, “but if I knew you were thinking the same, I would have dedicated as much effort as I have to keep you in my life.” 

You flushed a bit, “I would have too.” You made eye contact with him and everything felt warm for a moment, as if his gaze was sunlight peering through dark clouds. 

“Now that I know, though,” he started, “I am going to annoy the fuck out of you.”

You laughed loudly at that, grinning up at him, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ve got a few years to make up for after all.” 

He grinned softly, looking down for a moment. He pulled his guitar up a bit, smiling, “Well, now that that’s settled. Let me play you something.” 

Wilbur’s music was beautiful. He played for an hour before he decided to stop, something about not wanting to play anything he hadn’t quite finished yet. 

“Always the perfectionist, you are,” you commented as he placed his guitar down. 

“Not always, I’ve gotten better about it. But I want to impress you mostly.” 

“Really?” He sat back down on the bed next to you, “You wanted to impress me?” 

He nodded, humming out a soft ‘mmhm’. 

“If I knew we were trying to impress each other, I would’ve made my life sound much cooler.” 

“Oh, really, how so?” 

“I dunno, would’ve made it sound like I have some millionaire boyfriend who takes me to Spain for a casual date.” 

He hesitated, his teeth taking his bottom lip in thought. “Do you have one?”

“A millionaire boyfriend?” You laughed out, “No, Wilbur, I d-“

“No, I just meant like, a boyfriend.” 

“Oh.” You frowned a bit, “No. I don’t. Haven’t exactly gotten to know many people there. Plus, all the men are quite shit.” 

He nodded, “Just like everything else in London?”

“Pretty much,” You chuckled softly, “What about you though? A handsome guy like you in Brighton, I’m sure you’ve gotten yourself, someone, by now.”

He shrugged, “Tried it out for a while, but I just didn’t have much luck.” He stopped as he processed your response in full, “Hold on, handsome? You think I’m handsome?” He teased. 

You lightly blushed, rolling your eyes, “Obviously, man. You’ve always been quite fit. Especially with that haircut rather than that straight line cut you used to have.” 

He laughed, “God, that was horrendous. Well, wait, how about now,” he took his hands and pushed his hair back, revealing his forehead. 

You burst out laughing, “Somehow, yes, even if your forehead takes up half your face.” 

He laughed, moving his hands and shaking his head to get his hair to fall back into place. “I can safely say, I find myself quite flattered. Especially coming from an incredibly pretty person such as yourself.” 

You flushed a soft pink, “You think?”

“No, I don’t think, I just know facts.” 

You blushed darker, chuckling. “Well, thanks.” You lightly nudged him with your side. 

He repeated the action, albeit slightly harder. You two did this for a moment, each going slightly harder until he’d accidentally gone a bit too hard, knocking both of you down. 

You both laughed, him laying his head against your side for a moment, before pulling himself up and holding himself up by his arm above you. 

“You’re still as goofy, Mr. Soot.” 

“Only with you.” 

“Oh?”

“Actually, no. But this kind of goofy, yes.” 

“And what kind is that?” 

He just stared down at you for a moment. You felt yourself flush a bit under his gaze, and you stared back up at him. The light from his room gave him a soft halo glow around his head that made him look completely angelic. You’d always thought him attractive, but fuck he was ethereal like this. 

“The kind I do to make pretty people laugh.” 

Your breath hitched, but you were quiet otherwise. You couldn’t remember a time when your best friend was ever so… bold. Maybe part of you was reading into the tension, but the most gorgeous man you’d ever know just called you pretty. That plus his position above you was enough to make your heartbeat faster. You wanted to kiss him. Something in you felt so strongly the urge to wrap your hands around his neck and kiss him. For some reason you couldn’t quite fathom, though, you didn’t. 

“Well, feels nice being special, then.” 

He laid down next to you, the both of you just staring at the ceiling for a few quiet moments as the tension diffused. 

He turned to you. “I can’t tell if I still know almost everything about you or if I know nothing anymore.” 

“I can’t tell either.” You turned back to him, sighing, “Honestly, you probably still know more about me than I do.” 

“You think?” 

You nodded. 

He thought to himself, “Still play Minecraft?” 

“God, no,” You laughed, “I wish. I just don’t have the time for anything like that. I’ve just been studying constantly.” 

“Unfortunate. If you ever need a break from studying, we could always play together.” He hummed, “ They’ve added a lot of cool things to the game.”

“You still play?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I play a lot. It’s a fantastic narrative tool, in fact.”

“Oh, really?”

“If you have enough people willing to work out a story and act it out, it makes for a cool platform to tell stories.” 

You smiled, despite it being only for Wilbur’s sake. Honestly, you were sad that you didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“What’s up?” 

“Hm?” You questioned softly. 

“Something’s wrong. I still know one of your fake smiles when I see them.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, “no, it’s just… I missed you. I’m a bit bummed that I can’t see the cool stuff you’ve done since.”

“Well,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “actually, you can.” 

You gave him a confused look as he continued. 

“You know how I mentioned I worked for Twitch?” You nodded, “well when I say that, I mean that I stream, actually, so playing live for people and that includes all my stories.”

“Wilbur, that’s amazing.”

“I know,” he laughed, “I’m still shocked people are interested in what I write and create.” 

“If they’re anything like your DnD campaigns, I’m not shocked at all.”

He laughed again, throwing his head back, “Oh, man, I loved making those as convoluted as possible though, you were the one who made the stories make sense. These are more streamlined since we have to deal with so many different schedules and coordinate stuff.” 

“God, that sounds stressful. I can barely coordinate plans with one person.” 

He shrugged, “It’s easier since streaming is all of our jobs. It’s more like assigning work shifts.”

You hummed, “That makes sense.”

“Yeah, I can send you some stuff from it. Though, be warned, without your aid, some pieces of lore are wildly convoluted.” 

You chuckled, “I expect nothing less.” 

You and Wilbur continued to talk for hours, just catching each other up on life and new habits, and every detail missed between the cracks of time you two were separated from each other. You couldn’t be sure when you or Will fell asleep, but you woke up feeling safer than you’d had in a long time. When you’d briefly woken up to the morning light coming through the blinds, and you noticed his lanky arm wrapped around you, you gently reached down and held his hand in yours before falling back into the kind arms of rest. 

You woke up again about two hours later. You were facing him now, both of your legs wrapped between each other, and his arm was still lightly cupping your back. You opened your eyes to see him still sleeping, a soft and peaceful expression on his face. You gently reached a hand up to brush some of his hair away from his eyes. You were so busy staring at his soft features that you barely noticed his eyes open. 

“Good morning to you too, then,” he spoke, his voice laced with sleep. 

Your hand jumped back, a blush immediately rising to your cheeks, “Sorry.”

“‘s alright. Felt quite nice, actually.” He blinked the sleep out of his eyes after a moment, and he flushed himself, going to move his hand off your waist, “Oh, sorr-“

“No.” You stopped him, his arm halting midair, “It’s okay. It felt quite nice,” you said, mimicking his words from a moment ago. 

He blushed, cautiously lowering his arm back onto your side. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Your room feels more familiar than mine, honestly.” 

He chuckled, his laughter slightly gruff from the early morning, “You probably spent more time here than at your own place, so I can’t say I’m shocked.”

You laughed, “Oh, almost definitely. What about you, did you sleep well?” 

He smiled at you, nodding, “Best I’ve slept since I got here. I felt much less lonely.” 

“I know what you mean. My room kind of just feels cold. Not temperature-wise, but just like,” you sighed, “you know what I mean.”

“Luckily, I do.” He smiled, “You’re welcome to stay here again, if you like.”

You hummed, “I might consider it. Though I would like to stop home to put on something clean.” 

He nodded, “Right, of course, yeah. I actually have to stream today, too, so, if anything, just,” he trailed off, “text me around eight?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “That sounds good. I can bring some food from home too, given that I know you have probably just been eating takeout or, god forbid, have been trying to cook by yourself.”

“Hey, I’m much better at cooking than I used to be,” he laughed. “You’re right about the takeout, though.” 

You snorted, “I know you well, Mr. Soot.” 

He smiled fondly, “You sure do.” 

The two of you just lay there quietly, basking in the early air and light. After a few minutes, you sighed, leaning your head against his chest quietly. 

“Is everything alright?” He whispered. 

You nodded against him, burying your face deeper against him while he wrapped his arms tighter around you. You felt emotional all of a sudden as you held onto him: Your best friend, who you’d secretly loved for years. And now, you thought about what held you back in the past. The main thing you were afraid of was losing him, but in the end, that ended up happening anyway. Love confession or not, you lost him, and now, you were given another chance by whatever fateful creature may exist out there. And as insistent as you were to not lose this chance, your logic stopped you. This trip was just that: a trip. In two weeks, you’d be back to your place in London and he would be back in Brighton. But yet there was an ache in your chest, consistent with longing and want but entirely unattainable. 

“Stop thinking so much,” he spoke softly, placing his chin on top of your head. 

“Wilbur, you know that is entirely impossible for me.” 

“Okay,” he trailed off, “then do you want to talk about it, so it can at least be out of your head?”

You did. You wanted to talk about it all, in its entirety, if only just to know if the ache present in your chest matched an ache in him. But you couldn’t. If that ache wasn’t present in him, who would you be to share it with him? The solution seemed to lie in half-truths.

“I’m just thinking about how I go home in two weeks and how much I’m dreading it. I don’t want to go back to schoolwork.”

He hummed, nodding, “It’s probably not helpful to say, but if you dwell on that the whole time you’re here, then it will come twice as fast. You’ve got to slow your brain down a bit. Try and just be in the moment.” 

You snorted, “That’s rich coming from you.” 

He chuckled, “Hey, my anxiety might take over sometimes, but it really does help to try and just focus on what’s happening, you know. You’re safe here,” he lightly kissed the top of your head, “so just focus on being here.” 

You sighed, “I’ll try.” You shifted your focus to the soft sound of his heartbeat against your ear, the feeling of his arms wrapped around your back. Every detail was comprised of him. 

You eventually did have to go home, after receiving a frantic call from your mum about how you “couldn’t just sneak off every time you got bored” which, granted, you disagreed with; you knew this town like the back of your hand, and you’re an adult so it’s not like she can dictate your every move. When you made it home, you went to your room to change and shower, but your thoughts immediately drifted back to Will. You never really noticed just how many minute details you had memorized, like the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, or the way he would tilt his head back when something that caught him offguard made him really laugh. You thought about the way he would hiccup in between laughter so strong it made his ribs hurt. The sly smile he would give you when you made eye contact but neither of you had anything to say.  Your thoughts were entirely consumed by him. 

By the time it was dinner, you had done almost extensive research into Wilbur’s online persona. You watched as many videos as you could, some of his, some of them fan-made. It was a weird concept, your best friend having fans. You’d gone onto the online space briefly before backing away. You didn’t exactly want to intrude on fan debates given how much you knew about Wilbur really. It was odd watching him talk to his chat and everything. It was so different. He didn’t seem like the shy, almost moody, boy you knew. He was much more confident and comfortable. It did warm your heart to see him being so strong in himself. Your mind wonderer over this new information, how different he was from the person you knew, as you ate. You almost didn’t hear your mum speaking to you. 

“Dear, are you listening?”

You brought yourself out of your thoughts, grimacing. She hated when you weren’t listening, “Oh, sorry. No, uhm, what’s up?” 

She frowned, giving you a cold stare, “I asked if you’ve found any jobs lined up yet. For after graduation?” 

You sighed, “Not yet, Mum.”

“Because my old work friend, Charles, he could use the extra folks there. They’re looking into expanding into America.” She never actually cared much about what you wanted to do, always trying to push you into the field she wanted you to pursue. 

“I’ll be fine. I can find a job myself. And Charles doesn’t even work in the same field my degree is in.” 

“Just trying to help,” she tutted, tucking her arms defensively in front of her. “What’s on your mind these days?” 

You shrugged tensely, “School and work. I haven’t had time for much else.”

She cooed, almost mocking, “You really should be looking into a relationship, dearie. You don’t want all the good ones taken, right?” 

“God, mum, stop that. I’m fine on my own.” 

“But are you happy?” She laughed, as if taunting you. 

“I resent the implication that I cannot be perfectly fine and happy on my own without the presence of another person to fulfill me.” You spat.

“I’m not saying that specifically, I’m just saying, you really ought to try harder. I’m sure most people don’t find your constant sweatpants that attractive.” 

You groaned, standing. “I can’t be here for this anymore.” 

She did this every year. Constantly reminding you of your own loneliness under the guise of being thoughtful and caring, rather than just understanding that you are your own person who’d rather be alone before feeling like someone’s personal doll. 

You strode to the kitchen, filling a container with some leftovers for Wilbur as your mother tried helplessly to justify her own points. You waved her off, grabbing your bag before walking out the door.

You let out a sigh once you headed out. You walked to the end of the street and sat on the curb, pulling out your phone to text Wilbur. Once you got confirmation that you could come, you stood and walked the short distance to his place.

He opened the door, and you walked in casually. 

“You look annoyed about something,” he noted. 

“I would like you to take a wild guess,” you hummed, handing him the leftovers. 

He murmured a quick ‘thank you’ before responding, “Your mum?” 

“Still as bad as before, she is.” 

He sighed, “At least you’ve got mine to hide out at. Want to watch a movie or something?” 

taglist: @shubblelive / @superioritycomplexes (dm me or send an ask to be added!)

[natalienvyadams]

Dear tumblr,

So I want to post my setcard as if it was my memorial picture HAHAHAHAHA chz

10 days ago I was so ready.

Believe me when I say how real it all was. I booked a room on the 20th floor and I was standing on the ledge and it was so easy. It was a beatiful victorian-themed room I’ve never taken a picture of and I lied on the faux fur carpet and I was crying on the floor all day. It was the day I said fuck it and I didn’t care how much it was. It was the day I transferred all my life savings to my sister’s account. I was standing on the ledge. I was really standing on the ledge and I was a split-second away from stepping into complete nothingness.

But here I am breathing, astounded by how the universe is continuously giving me enough reason to believe that giving life another chance is worth it. Here I am, having spent time with my family and friends, watching them all laugh and I stood there, I just stood there, actively participating like I’m fully alive, but my inner thoughts were, these are the smiles I would have missed seeing when I’m gone. When you give up living for yourself, I guess it is not wrong to live for people, I guess it is not wrong staying a little bit more to see them happy and do good in life, and be there when things get rough.

I stood there and it’s like it really happened in an alternate reality which unfolded right before my very eyes as I watch the one I am living in, like how exactly would that day would run if I didn’t save myself. I know I am not as important as I thought I am but who am I kidding, I know I would have ruined my brother’s wedding, I would have ruined my friend’s victory party, I would have ruined the past 10 days and it wouldn’t have been as perfect and happy as it all turned out to be. The laughters I’ve watched and cherished would have turned into grief.

I would have missed the forehead kiss my father gave me, and how he said he loves me and there isn’t a day he didn’t think about me. My friends would have missed the speech I gave them at the party where we formed a circle telling them how important they were to me. I would have missed a perfect date with someone special who I really prayed for, I would have missed spending more time with her where I got to know her, the real her.

I know I was just shouting to the void whenever I post here but I have received messages here when people saw my letters and even though I wasn’t able to respond amidst the emotional surge, I can’t stress enough how I love you and I appreciate you all. No one knows about this but you people. No one else in my life knows about the kind of depression I am going through and there isn’t any other space in the world where I can authentically be my genuine self but tumblr.

I don’t talk enough about my struggles for the past months, and I might not be able to write in detail everything here but I’m glad I stayed a but more and witnessed love and joy. I’m glad the universe made me believe that true enough, there was happiness in store for me, and I’d like to believe there is more ahead of me.

[urlocallesbiabs-reblog-sideblog]

so, i remember seeing a red dwarf tumblr post about how if you leave your universe, it's almost impossible to go back, because there's trillions upon trillions of them, and every minute decision branches off a new one

so what if our original rimmer spent maybe a few months genuinely being ace and enjoying the hero status, then decided it's too dangerous and scary and tiresome and wanted to go home, and spent the entirety of those nine years (between s7 and s9) looking for his home universe?

and he kept saving people along the way of course, ace duty is ace duty (half of those heroic acts were accidents anyway), but his heart wasn't in it anymore; he's found many a universe where there were still people, where he could theoretically fit in and settle and live as close to a normal life as he could hope for, but he could never stay for long, he longed for *his* home, for lister, *his* lister

and wise people told him "you'll never get there. there are too many universes, and every day that you wake up and make a choice to continue looking for home, that choice creates a new one, setting you back. you're dooming yourself.", and he answered "shut up, you stupid goit, you don't get it! get smegged to hell!"

and i imagine a scene:

it's close to the end of the 9 year gap, kochanski's already gone, lister's Not Doing Well, and it's another monster-of-the-week life-or-death situation aboard the red dwarf, a particularly nasty one: all is shit, end is near, how will our heroes get out of *this one!* this is probably it! this is it! they're all gonna smegging die! and then outta nowhere ace pops out, hair billowing in the air and all, shoots some bullets that bullshitly ricochet and perform miracles, and saves the day

after that he asks to spend the night there, because even heroes need to sleep a bit, and of course he's welcome!!

lister doesn't quite know how to approach the subject, so he goes for subtle bordering on undecipherable: asks how long has it been since this ace got the flame passed on to him? what was it like? ace deflects with a charming non-answer and a fun adventure story, and lister thinks well, that's not him, then. must be a new one. that means that his rimmer passed on the flame, that he... died.

lister doesn't know how to process the idea, so he doesn't.

he tries to stick around and listen to the stories that's gotten kryten (and even cat, a little bit!) enthralled, but quickly grows bored and goes off to wander the ship and entertain himself on his own. at some point few hours later, he notices ace out and about as well, measuring doorways with tape, comparing wall paint with color swatches, counting the rooms and making notes in his little notebook; ace doesn't notice him. kinda sketchy behaviour, lister thinks, but doesn't confront him just yet. who knows, maybe the guy just went a little bit space crazy, maybe he's preparing for some impending disaster; would be rude to accuse him of nothing, wouldn't it?

as lister returns to his quarters in the evening, he sees ace briskily walking out from about the same corridor that lister is headed to, throwing him a shining, but somewhat strained smile; ace is going to the room he's claimed for the night, which is on the officer's deck, literally on the other side of the ship (makes sense to lister that he doesn't share the room with him, since this isn't really his bunkmate. smeg knows him, maybe in his universe he actually was an officer and slept alone, not like lister cares). this feels *really* sketchy, but none of lister's things seem to have been messed with on closer inspection, so he can't really prove shit. he feels kind of paranoid, but also tired, and decides he'll talk to ace in the morning.

lister sleeps badly and fitfully, and wakes up in the middle of the night. he can't fall asleep again, and decides to go and grab a bite; maybe visit krissie in the observatory, watch stars together, have some time for himself.

the lights are on in the drive room. ace is there, talking to– *interrogating* holly and kryten, swiveling on a chair back and forth to face either of them, whisper-barking rapid-fire questions; lister is Alarmed (what is this? mutiny? a hostage situation? a threat?), so naturally he hides and eavesdrops.

ace runs them through a bunch of questions that vary wildly in immediately obvious importance, seemingly nonsensical (what fuel does this ship run on? when did the leak happen? who was assigned to fix it? how many irradiated haggies were in the ship's hold at the moment of disaster? has lister ever passed an officer's exam? on what day and what ship did they find kryten? and so on and so forth), growing more and more agitated and focused, determination so passionate it's almost angry. at last, he takes a deep breath, clenches fists, and says "now, i did notice this ship's crew lacks a usual, i'd say indespensable member, namely one arnold judas rimmer. where, pray tell, did you put the bugger?"

"arnold died in 3,002,386 from a vending machine related incident, arnold," says holly.

ace's face falls, and he laughs like someone died. "ah, of course it's like that, of course. it's always like that. well, good chat, gentlemen, thank you for humoring me." he gets up, even though it obvious his legs are weak.

noticing his distress at the information, kryten hurries to clarify, "it was the second one, though! the first one died a few months before that!"

ace falls back into the chair. "what do you *mean* the second one?!"

"the one my nanobots ressurected!" kryten clarifies with mostly pride, partially guilt.

"what smegging nanobots? what on io has happened here?" ace rimmer has to forcibly hold his horses, pulling a palm down his face. "no, forget it, doesn't matter, not right now. the other one, the first one — how did *he* die?"

"well, physically it was the cadmium 2 leak in 2181" holly helpfully explains. ace rimmer makes a dying groan. "but his hologram form was destroyed by an escaped knight from an AR camelot game."

the man perks up. "was me — well no, not exactly me, but — ugh, was ace rimmer there?.."

they confirm that yes, even though he left soon after. rimmer goes slack in his chair and puts a hand over his eyes. "so this is it?" he whispers. "so many years, and... this is it. i'm here. i can't believe it."

after a minute in weird silence, he gets up and staggers out.

lister's a few paces down the corridor, having been unsettled by the exhange and made the decision to leave.

rimmer calls out to him, loudly, with intense gravitas, "lister!"

"rimmer," he responds, shocked and disbeliving, eyes open.

"lister!" he exclaims urgently, desperately.

"you're my rimmer, aren't ya," lister states a question, incredulous.

"of course i'm yours, you stupid git!" rimmer cries out and lunges at him, crushing him in a hug. "you gimboid, you imbecile, you smeg for brains smeghead," he chatters on, out of breath, cradling him.

"i've missed ya," lister sobs. rimmer doesn’t manage to respond, only hugs him even harder.

(rimmer didn’t want to throw himself at the guy until he'd made sure it's *his* guy, didn't want to make himself vulnerable only to later make a fool of himself; too many times he let himself hope and get drunk on that hope and then had his stupid heart broken by some tiny little thing being off, inviting a flood of other little things, suddenly finding himself in an embrace with a stranger wearing his best friend's face. he just couldn't bear it anymore, not again. he needed to make sure first.)

however, this headcanon poses a problem of reconciling this with late series rimmer claiming to have saved red dwarf from the corrosive virus back then. because if our rimmer only returned during the 9 year gap (closer to end of it), he couldn't have been there at the end of s8, right?

to which i propose this: the alternative ending to "only the young" is canon, and it was nanobot rimmer who saved (or rather tried to save) the day; then he was killed by a rouge vending machine. they couldn't bring him back as a hologram though, because the holo-suite was heavily damaged by the corrosion virus and they didn't have the intricate spare parts needed to fix it. so, his memory disk stayed unused, carefully kept in the hopes of someday fixing the holo-suite (never found a suitable derelict though, not with their shit luck). then our rimmer came along, learned of the entire situation, fixed the suite using details taken from wildfire, and asked holly to merge the info from this disc onto his (because for smeg's sake, it's at least 1 year out of those hellish 9 that he can remember having spent home; he can Not pass it up). the merge was successful, but majorly jittered his vibes (since he remembered two different versions of being 32, and in one of them lister was 8 years older than in the other, and he became aware that in the same year as he was 32 for the second time he also was 40 and in another universe) and gave him lifelong memory issues. he's still happy as a clam about the result, though!

that's why other's disagree when he claims having saved the day back then — he figures that if he has that guy's memories, he *is* that guy, because that's how holograms work, but others want to argue that the alive nanobot rimmer technically wasn't exactly him; you Don't wanna be there for all of the smeg-throwing that occurs during the argument.

it all could be a fake episode (or maybe a fake two-episode special), where the first half's main gag/storyline would be lister slowly growing convinced that ace is actually evil and is in the process of brewing some Sinister Plans, and the second would be about rimmer going peculiar from the merge and randomly glitching between various remembered stages of his life (thinking he's still ace and this is isn't his lister; thinking he's nanobot rimmer and wondering what happened to the crew; a throwback to an early episode or two; thinking he's a fresh hopeful enlist on red dwarf [kinda painful in a hindsight way, but also pathetic and hilarious]; thinking he's a small child [very silly and funny, mostly cute even if a bit weird because that's a grown man's body, also an epic Rimmer Trauma Lore moment as usual]; etc), to the point that lister worries they've smegging broken him and he'll never be alright, only for him to finally cope and appear sane, only to reveal last second that parts of his memory are still kinda jumbled.

i'd call that fake episode:

"H Stands For Home"

and i imagine a scene from the second half:

rimmer sees the destroyed holo-suite (god, i really can't leave you bastards alone even for a day, let alone a decade), and finds the memory disc for the other him (wait, what is this? i clearly remember taking mine with me when i left...), and gets filled in on the whole nanobots, ressurected rimmer, corrosive virus debacle (he needs to sit down.)

naturally, he decides to fix the hologram-projecting hardware (obvious turn of events) and merge the discs' data together (man, what??)

he pops out, promises to be back in a jiffie, and returns from the hangar with a bunch of circut boards, unconneted wires and the likes, immediately getting to work

"whatcha doing?" lister asks, clearly entertained but also genuinely curious

"having a smegging picnic, what does it look like?!"

"...can you fix it, though?"

"i've serviced my own ship for a decade straight, i've prevented all kinds of disasters on dozens of red dwarves, i've saved countless city-states from technological ruin, of course i'm perfectly capable of fixing this ship's holo-suite!" (this very moment, he connects something wrong and gets a shower of sparkles right to his face, which startles him and causes him to bang his head rather hard against an open latch)

when lister's done laughing, he asks "where on smeg did you even get the details? i've meant to patch it up all these years, but just... never could find 'em." (here his voice voice grows distant and sad; he had lost rimmer *twice* in one year, and it was just unfair. it just hurt.)

"good ol' baby racehorse wildfire," rimmer slaps one of the circuit boards with pride; something falls off of it. "presume it got the upgrade sometime since the original ace kicked the bucket; something needs to keep all of us holograms going."

"wait, you tore these from your ship?"

"what, was i supposed to pull them out of my arse?" rimmer is getting annoyed by the pointless conversation

"it's just... how will ya fly it, then?"

"it's still perfectly spaceworthy, i'll let you know!" rimmer preens. "sure, no more having my arse fall asleep after one week straight in the cockpit, hauling vaccine to pluto or some such (would not recommend), but i can still give it a good run as long as my lightbee's got charge! not all that different from our other off-the-ship missions — now what are you, stupid?"

"you won't be able to travel for long," lister clarifies apprehensively. "you won't be able to have your... space smeg adventure. you won't be ace."

rimmer looks up at him like he's crazy. "of course i won't be ace." he gets up, walks weirdly close to lister. "i'm not leaving. what — what did you think this was? that i'd spent all these years looking for you, for this dimension, only to have some tea and smeg right back off?!"

"...i don't know what i thought," lister admits, half-laughing and weirdly upset and relieved.

rimmer gripes him by the shoulders very, very hard. "i'm not leaving. never."

also, he wears his hair in the classic long and free ace style until the proper Reunion, then as soon as he fixes the holo-suite and hookes his projection to red dwarf he asks holly to chop it all off (he wanted to do that immediately after confirming that this is his home universe, but he was still connected to wildfire's holo-hardware and the ship's ai wouldn't let him bc ouughhh houghhh ace but your hair is So Beautiful, i simply Can Not); between the two points, he wore a tight neat ponytail to keep all his golden locks out of his smegging face, and he looked Hot doing it

***

and another thought, that isn't directly connected to this imaginary two-episode special, but still has to do with rimmer, lister, and the 9 years gap:

(though i'm not sure if it's canon to my personal headcanonverse [...i'm not even sure i've got a personal headcanonverse here. i love the idea of them getting together in early series when he's still soft-light, or later when he's hard-light and they can touch, or after the reunion, or post-tpl; too many possibilities!] because i feel like it gets rimmer off the hook of his internalized homophobia way too easy, but anyway, just imagine.)

it's rimmer's ace years, and it's not only beautiful young birds throwing themselves at him for his sexy heroics, but beautiful young studs as well; he switches many a dimension, and what happens in a reality stays in that reality, right?; he meets many a lister, some of them openly queer, some of them in a relationship (past or ongoing) with their rimmer; he sleeps the night away with some of them. long story short, 9 years of both excessive human attention and crushing loneliness are ample time to confront one's sexuality. he's still got his hangups though, so in his mind "i am gay" and "lister is my best ever friend whom i miss terribly" don't quite cross together, not immediately.

either way, he finally gets back, they have their happy reunion, and then rimmer learns while he was off adventuring, lister had a wife and a child and loved her deeply and then she died; obviously, lister still needs some space to process all that. rimmer will talk to him about his soul-search some other time (no, he doesn't feel like he'd been replaced, he's not jealous, jeez!). lister just needs some time to move on, yea? and then it'll all be back to how it used to be, just the four of them.

and then s9 happens, and lister is obsessed with getting kochanski back, and rimmer feels as insecure as in s1 but ten times worse — there's the woman who'd been by lister's side for the last decade, there's his wife, there's the love of his life, and there's, well, just some guy. there's rimmer.

he longs desperately to be the most important person in lister's life, but he just isn't, and that's driving him mad. that's what (partially, together with all his lifetime-accumulated trauma) fuels his tpl insistence that nobody aboard red dwarf (read: lister) likes him: he knows lister doesn't love him back, and that is killing him.

[michelleleewise]

Hi! It's my fist time in the marvel x reader side of tumblr but I had a dream and it only fits here, so, can you please write some Loki x Female Reader. They are friends, she just joined the avengers (or something like that, but they are forced to have a "mission" together). And for this mission, they have to use their "hero clothes" (sorry, I don't know how is called in English :s ) but it's the first time they see each other in those clothes (loki always dressed in "human" clothes before). They are on their way to the mission or just searching or walking and reader (shyly) says to Loki "You look sexy in those clothes" and keep doing her thing. Loki freeze and from there just keep pining in each other or flirting. And end up all fluff.

All I can remember from my dream is after that they had like a mini date (in the moonlight 🌙✨) to talk about their feelings but they were fools so they talked about everything but their feelings. And after that, a mutual friend keep shiping them and trying to get them together. If you want to write this part, the friend could be Thor, idk lol

Ooooo I love this so much!! Thank you for trusting me with it!! I hope you like it!! 💚💚💚

====================================

Nice Suit

Pairing: Loki x shy reader

Warnings: all the fluff, friends to lovers. Appreciating Loki in a skin tight suit 😏😏

Summary: you were recruited by Tony after seeing what you were capable of, but who knew you'd become best friends with a God.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had joined the team of super hero's a couple months ago, Tony saying you had talent. When you were introduced to everyone it was a bit overwhelming. You had always been shy by nature, so when Thor came barreling down the hall, it took everything in you not to run away. "Thor odinson, God of thunder, and that's my brother Loki over there." He pointed in the corner to a dark haired man in the corner reading. You furrowed your eyebrows looking between them "adopted." Loki said looking up, offering you a smile.

You had spent most of your time training, making sure you were ready when a mission came up. You were diligent, training with Nat and bucky in hand to hand, Clint with bow and arrows, and Loki with close combat and knives. He has always offered you a kind smile, or a small touch on your arm or back, and it always made you blush. The man was gorgeous, but you didn't have a crush on him, not at all.

You and Loki grew closer, being the only two staying behind when missions came up. You being too new and something about they still didn't trust him. So, when you found out he had a sweet tooth, you started religiously buying cupcakes when you two were left to wander the tower alone. "Darling, you are simply amazing." He would say whenever he saw you carrying the little pink box, chocolate being his favorite of course.

One night, the two of you were sitting on the sofa, munching cupcakes and watching some terrible movie when both your phones went off. You both headed to the conference room seeing Fury standing there. "Alright you two, we had a mission come up, and everyone else is gone so your it." He said as you sat down. He went over the details, it was a quick in and out, nothing fancy as you both nodded.

"Your highness, you'll need to wear this tracking device so i can keep an eye on you." He said "is that necessary?" You asked quietly. "I...I can keep an eye on him." You said smiling at him as his eyes softened. "Y/n, we can't trust him." Fury said "w..well I can, I do." You said a little louder as Loki's eyes widened. You heard Fury sigh "fine, but he's your responsibility." He said walking out as you smiled again at Loki. "D...did you mean it? You trust me?" He asked looking at you as you nodded. "Let's go get changed." You said meekly as you got up heading to your room.

You zipped up your suit, looking down seeing it hugged your entire body tightly. It reminded you of Nat's, but it was dark blue. You grabbed your belt and shoes, making sure you had everything as you made your way to the jet, praying you wouldn't have a wardrobe malfunction in front of Loki. You walked onto the platform, seeing Loki leaning against the side of the jet with a clipboard, covered in....leather.

The blue leather wrapped around him, hugging tight to his chest, going down his arms, accentuating his biceps, with pieces of metal armor weaved through along his shoulders and arms. Dark blue leather pants hugged his legs, leaving very little to the imagination as your eyes shamelessly roamed his body. He was truly built like a God.

He turned his head, seeing his eyes moving up and down your body, suddenly you felt very exposed. "A....are you ready to go darling?" He asked clearing his throat, looking back up to your eyes as you nodded. You both made your way to the cockpit as he strapped in starting the jet. As you made your way to your destination you couldn't help glance at him. The way his muscles moved under his suit. You felt your face flush when he turned smiling at you.

You landed, both getting out and heading into a cave that apparently had some artifact you were to retrieve, being told Loki knew what it was you weren't too worried. "Ok, I'll go this way, you go that way, if you see anything odd, get on the coms and I'll be right there." Loki said pulling out a flashlight handing it to you. He was crouched down, being too tall to stand up straight, you decided now or never. you grabbed the light, leaning in next to his ear "by the way, y...you look really sexy in that outfit." You whispered as you grabbed the light, and took off down the tunnel, leaving a very stunned Loki in your wake.

You retrieved the artifact, Loki finding it of course. As you made it back to the jet, you couldn't help notice he seemed to have his chest puffed out, and was smiling the entire time, making you blush. As you strapped into your seat, he came up behind you "you look ravishing as well, but your suit would look much better on my bedroom floor." He whispered, your face immediately turning red as you looked everywhere but him. "You are adorable when your flustered." He smiled as he strapped in, flying you back to the tower.

It had been a few days since the mission, and honestly you were hiding. You were too flustered to be around Loki without making a total idiot of yourself, so you stayed in your room, making sure you wouldn't word vomit. You heard a knock on the door, opening it to see Loki, leaning on the doorway in his green button up and black slacks you loved so much. "Y/n, you wouldn't be avoiding me would you?" He asked smiling. "W..what? No......no I'm not avoiding you ha ha I j...just, I had some things to take care of." You lied as he smiled wider. "Well, if your things are done, would you care to come star gaze with me?" He asked holding his arm out. "Uu....umm sure...yes, yeah I'd like that." You smiled, grabbing his arm as you closed your door.

You made your way to the roof. You decided you needed to tell him, you had to. You didn't want to ruin your friendship, but even if He didn't feel the same you could still be friends right? You both laid staring at the sky. He recanted tales of Asgsrd, his mother, how he learned to work is siedr, you loved listening to him, so that's what you did, listen. Not tell him how you felt, not admit you were hopelessly in love with him, you listened, and were happy to do it. He walked you back to your room, kissing your hand bidding you goodnight before he left, leaving you and your feelings alone.

Over the next week, things changed. You would catch Loki glancing at you before quickly looking away. Thor had caught onto this very quickly "Brother, why don't you ask her out? Im sure she likes you." He said as Loki looked at him "how could she like me? She is perfect, and i...." he started before he looked down, Thor patting his shoulder. Later that day, you were in the kitchen making tea "Lady y/n." Thor boomed coming in, making you throw your tea bag. "Yes Thor?" You asked looking at him. "Have you considered dating my brother?" He asked sitting down. "Who told you? What did they say? I....look the thing is....." you rambled as he put his hand up. "That is all I need to know, thank you Lady y/n." He smiled before leaving, as confusion clouded your mind.

The next day, you and Loki were sat in the common area reading. "Y/n, may I..." he started when Thor came in "Ah brother, y/n. I'm glad I caught you." He said sitting down, you froze at the thought of what was about to happen. "So, y/n here told me that she does, in fact like you brother." He smiled holding his arms out as Loki's head snapped to look at you, your face surely beet red. "So I think you should ask her out. You know she would say yes." He nudged Loki's arm. "Y...y/n, is that true?" Loki asked looking at you.

You sat staring at the floor, embarrassment flooding through you like a wave as a tear slipped down your cheek. "Y/n, are you ok?" Loki asked leaning forward as you threw the book you were reading on the table and ran as fast as you could to your room, locking yourself in. A few minutes later a knock came "y/n, please talk to me. I know your in there, open the door please." You heard Loki say as you sighed wiping your face.

You opened the door as Loki pushed himself in, closing it. "Y/n. Is that how your truly feel?" He asked grabbing your shoulders lightly pressing you to the door. "Umm...I uh. Loki it's complicated, I do like you, alot actually but i.." you were cut off as his lips pressed to yours, cupping your cheeks as his lips moved against yours, making your mind go blank as his tongue skimmed along your bottom lip. Opening your mouth slightly, his tongue invaded your mouth, kissing you hungrily as you both moaned into the kiss, your hand going to his hair, his grabbing your waist, pulling you towards him.

You broke apart for air as he leaned his forehead against yours. "I have wanted you since the day I laid eyes on you. Will you allow me to take you out, court you, whatever you want to call it as long as your mine." He growled looking at you. "Loki, I'm already yours." You sighed, engulfing his mouth in another kiss. You decided then, you'll never get tired of him kissing you.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

@lokiprompts @vbecker10 @lokisninerealms @lulubelle814 @lonadane @xorpsbane @sinsandguilt @cabingrlandrandomcrap @buttercupbestie @high-functioning-lokipath

[occasionallyprosie]

Devotion - Chapter 6: "In A Minute"

Dev reunites with one person from his past, and watches another from afar.

Meanwhile, instead of getting therapy himself, he gives it to his new kids AKA Captain Link, Mask, and Tune.

Read on AO3

First Chapter, Tumblr

"I know you," Ravio said near instantly.

Dev shakily inhaled—a useless habit—and nodded.

Ravio walked over, noticing Tune curled up and asleep with his head in Dev's lap, then his gaze raised back to Dev's face.

It visibly clicked. "Link," Ravio breathed. "Mr. Hero?"

"Ravio." Dev reached toward him and Ravio moved closer. Ravio took his hands but steered them, both Dev's and Ravio's both, to hold Dev's face.

"Look at you," Ravio whispered, studying his face. "You look like I did when we first met. Wrong eye color though, and not pale enough... Why so different?"

Dev blinked and his form quickly changed.

Lately, he had been using a form that better reflected his sword form, or rather a sort of mix between the Golden Sword and the Tempered Sword. He had violet hair that barely reached his shoulders but tied it up in a green ribbon, another green strand wrapping around a bit of hair by his face. He'd given himself a darker tan, one he had when he'd spent months at a time working in his orchard when he was still human, it turned out the sun couldn't tan sword spirits. Then he wore a pale, golden-yellow jerkin over a faded, burnt orange undertunic, the fabrics and style more reminiscent of a dream long ended than his once-favored red mail.

Suddenly, he was paler, still freckled but distinctly paler and those blemishes harder to notice as they nearly faded. Purple hair turned golden blond and a pink streak on the same side as the green ribbon, which remained. Gold and orange became dark green and red.

Ravio smiled almost blindingly. "There you are. How long, Mr. Hero?"

"Over three thousand," Dev managed. "Oh goddesses, Ravio."

Ravio squeezed his hands and pressed their foreheads together. "It's alright. You've done so well, Mr. Hero. You've gone so far. You're so incredibly strong."

Dev couldn't help but let out the small laugh that bubbled up. "Don't do that."

"But it's true. You've lived so long and I can't imagine you just hid from everything the whole time. You've must've saved the world so many times, met and lost so many people, and you're still making friends." Ravio nodded toward Tune's sleeping form. "You're so strong."

Dev closed his eyes and just relished in it. In Ravio's touch, his voice, he committed it all to memory.

"I remember this," Dev whispered. "It was while I was first—After we did the ritual, during that first year or so, right? You disappeared, stopped visiting for a while and I panicked so much. Then you came back and told me about this war and-and all these people you met and you had changed and I was so proud of you."

Ravio smiled at him. "Then I guess I don't have to worry too much about not going back home."

"You will," Dev swore. "I'll make sure of it."

"You haven't changed, Mr. Hero," Ravio laughed. "Not a bit."

Dev chuckled. "Maybe a bit. I don't fight with a sword anymore."

"Oh really? How do you fight?"

"If all goes well, I never will again. I... I've had to, but I don't want to fight anymore. Not myself."

Ravio smiled. "You know, that is different."

He did. He did have to fight.

A battle later that month went south. Mask got hit and downed, and Tune was with him, across the battlefield, desperately trying to protect him. Soldiers were spread thin across it, other displaced individuals fighting for their lives. Ravio would basically be playing wack-a-mole with the monsters, as more kept appearing no matter which he hammered into the ground. Midna was handling herself but that's as far as she could do.

Link got isolated and was getting overwhelmed.

"Dev, no," Fi intervened, her spirit wreathing around Dev's in a way to sort of stop him though they both knew it was ineffective. "We should not interfere."

"I'll interfere if I want to," he snapped at her. "They're going to die!"

She went silent at that.

Link brought tried to parry some attack and was disarmed, the Master Sword flying through the air as Link frantically brought his shield up as his only defense.

A huge, axe-wielding monster was about to break that shield in half, and Link as well. Fear shone clearly in his eyes.

A wall of flames suddenly exploded and Dev was standing between them. His hand held up, catching the giant axe, and looked like golden crystal and unbothered by the sharp blade. He held a fire rod in his other hand and a vicious grin was on his face.

"Don't touch my kit," he snarled and shattered the axe with a blast of magic.

He'd done some practicing since his sprite.

Flames roared around them as he turned to Link, pulling the Magical Sword from his pouch and offering it to him. "Get to the boys. I'll help clear the way."

Link just nodded, clearly a little bit awestruck and there was an odd warmth to his face that Dev couldn't quite place.

Dev burned his way through the battlefield, slashing and burning everything down around him. The bottoms of his fire rod had a sharp stiletto at the end and he used those to take down monsters and usurpers alike. He pulled out his tornado rod to help expand the reach the flames had.

Link made it to Tune and Mask's side, Dev trusted him to keep them safe as he began to thin the herd.

He couldn't let another hero die on his watch. Not another one, goddesses please.

His own magic helped the flames curve around soldiers and allies, shielding them even from the brunt of the heat no matter how close it came to them.

In minutes, the tide of the battle turned and Dev was standing back as the young ones finished the fight in favor of Hyrule. He let out a sigh and was about to return to sword form when he was assaulted.

"Mr. Hero! That was amazing!" Ravio gushed as he appeared beside him, robes torn and clearly exhausted yet alive with adrenaline. Dev offered him a red potion the moment he noticed the blood. "You know, I've said it a thousand times, but you do look like a dancer when you fight!"

Dev laughed lightly, attention flicking across the field to account for everyone as Ravio drank the potion.

"You have, and every time I've said that you should see Cadence," Dev reminded him and Ravio grinned.

"Dev! Ravio!" Link walked over to them, Mask unconscious on his back, arms loosely hung around his neck. "We're going back to camp. You... You know each other?"

"You called him, Mr. Hero," Tune said, half leaning on his sword. He was clearly exhausted, Dev guessed the kid, even for his alleged two adventures, was not used to fighting for hours on end, days at a time.

Dev chuckled. He went over and picked the pirate hero up. "Did he, bunso? I dunno..."

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Ravio declared.

It took no time after he picked the not-quite-a-teenager up, that Tune slumped into his chest. "Y'er warm," he muttered, clearly about to fall asleep.

"That's what happens when you burn things, you tend to be a bit warmer. Proximity to fire and all that."

Ravio snorted beside Dev as Link gave a long, suffering groan. Midna yelled for Ravio to join her and Linkle, and Ravio soon ran off to join the other dark-worlder.

Link smiled at Dev, offering his sword back.

Dev shifted Tune to his back and took the Magical Sword, letting it disappear into his pouch.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm fine," Link assured, his voice a bit softer than usual as they fell into step. "You know, you're scary when you're protective."

"Hmm?"

"When you appeared. You looked ready to burn the world to the ground... just to protect me," Link explained, looking down. "I don't get it. You also called me your kit."

Dev blinked, then he chuckled softly. "You are mine, you know that? The moment you pulled me from the pedestal, I adopted you. That's just how it works. And... And well, I would."

"You would what?"

"I would burn down the whole world just to keep my kids safe. You, these two..." his Sprite, "I'd do anything for you."

Link looked surprised, but he didn't continue the subject any longer. Instead just falling silent as they headed back to the camp.

"Come on! There's another new person, she's so cool! She knows the same language we speak on Outset!"

Tune dragged Dev through the field of tents, Mask perched on Dev's shoulders.

"We're coming! You don't have to run," Dev teased, one hand on Mask's leg as the kid rested his chin on top of his head.

"Hurry up then!"

"He's always in a rush to meet people," Mask grumbled. "It's weird."

"Maybe, but you're weird for hating them," Tune responded cheerily.

Dev chuckled amusedly. He tagged along and as they finally came up to the mess area where a bright voice was singing some jittery tune alongside the slamming of mugs and stomping of boots.

He knew that voice.

Standing atop a table, shaking and hitting a tambourine, was the girl from his dreams.

Marin.

Dev didn't breathe, he didn't have breath, but even so it felt like his was stolen. Tune laughed and went up to join the singing and dancing, Mask even lightened up a bit in the cheery atmosphere. Dev watched Marin dance on the tabletop, he saw her pull Tune up to join her. He hadn't noticed it before, but the two had similar energy, similar warmth and enthusiasm, they had the same bright smile too. Dev found himself smiling.

She looked happy... He'd let her live this. If she recognized him, then he'd talk, but if not... He wouldn't bring up old wounds, because she was older. She looked to be at least in her twenties and they'd been sixteen when Link--when Dev had washed up on her island.

If it was a dream for her too, then... Then best she live on and forget about some boy she knew in a world they'd never get back.

He was far too old and much too immortal to let her dwell on that.

"Kit," Dev sat down on the castle wall beside the Captain, who glanced up at him, "what's wrong?"

"You know, why do you call me kit?" Link asked, the nickname apparently distracting him from whatever turmoil was in his mind.

"You remind me of a lion, a prideful, protective, ferocious, fierce lion. So kit," Dev gave him a soft look, one that generally got his kids to talk in the past, "what's got your mane in a mess?"

Link rolled his eyes with a soft laugh. "I... I'm tired, Dev. I know you probably wouldn't get it, being an immortal spirit and all, but..." he looked up at the moonless night sky. "How... How am I supposed to keep fighting when I'm leaving them all behind? There's... It's my fault. If I just gave myself over to Cia, this wouldn't be happening. They wouldn't be dead. Everyone around me is dying, Dev," he choked a bit, "how am I... Why can't I save them?"

Dev sighed softly. "I do get that, actually." Link looked at him. "I'm immortal, kit. I'm young in comparison to Fi, she's had many other wielders than you, like Mask and Tune, but I only had one and I existed for centuries before he was even born. I... I helped the royal family for a while, helped raise the princesses, hide the princes, saved the country a couple times by telling the ruling body to use some common sense. I raised those kids into great kings and queens, Link. They all died. My wielder, he died too, bled out in my arms, I half raised him too."

Link was silent.

"Then there was a mage, a long time ago, multiple but that's not the point. This one mage wanted this specific child, two of them actually but more specifically he wanted the Princess. If, theoretically, we had given him that girl, it wouldn't have mattered. He still would have destroyed all of Hyrule and killed its people."

Dev looked over at Link. The teenaged war captain was still watching the stars, but clearly listening.

"If you gave yourself to Cia, it wouldn't end this war, kit. All it would do is make our side lose you, our captain and leader, our friend and ally, our brother." Link looked at him at that last one. "She isn't alone, those monsters wouldn't stop attacking. She has ancient evils on her side, evils that the heroes of the past had to fight off. All that would happen if you gave yourself to Cia, is exactly that. You'd be with Cia. The war would not end, peace would not be won or bought, everything else would continue, they would keep attacking, and you'd be trapped in the heart of it at the whims of a madwoman."

Link flinched a bit, tugging his sleeve slightly. Impulsively, Dev set what was now his signature purple cloak around his hero's shoulders.

"I know it's hard, people are dying around you and you believe you're responsible for saving them." Link nodded slightly to Dev's words. "But this is war, Link. This is bigger than just you, even if Cia is obsessed with you, that's not how this works. Something else would have been corrupted, someone else, Lana maybe, maybe some random mage who decides to raise an ancient evil, something would have happened. Maybe you would've had to travel across all of Hyrule to gather some magical items from dungeons deep in the ground to come back and fight them alone. But I speak from experience when I say the death toll would not have been better. Without the armies to protect them, monsters would've flooded villages, flooded the castle even, or maybe the armies themselves would've been mind controlled and men you know and trust would be turning against you."

Link grimaced. Dev knew he already hated having to kill the men who had willingly betrayed the crown, to kill men who had done it unwillingly was...

"Frankly, there are dozens of other ways this could have played out," Dev continued. "But it played out this way, and when I look at our status, the statistics from battles, how you're managing your men when you're barely an adult yourself," Link flinched at that, "you are doing incredibly, Kit. Better than I would have ever done, even if I were my age and not your age."

Link tugged the cloak more around his shoulders. He let out a long, shaky sigh and silence lingered for a good few minutes. Dev just stayed at his side.

"Thanks," Link whispered into the air. "Thanks Dev."

He hummed softly. "Of course."

Dev crossed his arms as he stood in the entryway of a certain tent, Link was leaning over at table, scarfless. Dev knew that both Mask and Tune were curled up on their bed in another tent with the scarf wound around and over them both.

"You faked them out," Dev said and Link startled, reaching for a weapon only to raise Dev's own sword form against his intangible spirit form.

Link sighed, sheathing the Master Sword. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The boys are out cold with your scarf around them. You got them to sleep and then left. You know they hate it when you don't sleep too," Dev chided. He moved over to look at the map on the table.

"I have to finish this, and finish that report," Link said as he gestured to a stack of papers on the nearby desk. Dev moved over to it and flicked through them. "I don't have time to rest."

Dev sighed. "Goddesses... you have no idea how often I told myself that."

Link made a confused noise, looking at him.

"Just—When I was younger, I had a lot to do and little time to do it. I was right of course, I didn't have time to rest, but the difference was," Dev placed a hand on Link's shoulder, "I didn't have people who could take my burdens from me."

Link looked confused and Dev chuckled softly.

"Let's finish those reports together and then you need to get some rest. What helps you relax?"

"I... doing things with my hands. Knitting, training, braiding my sister's hair, stuff like that," Link said quietly. He unsheathed the Master Sword and set it out. It disappeared in a slight flash and Dev let himself become tangible and he picked up the reports.

"Well we're currently out of yarn," Dev noted, "and training is absolutely out of the question..." he hesitated and sighed. "Fine. Sit."

Link looked a bit confused but he sat on the edge of the bed and Dev sat down on the ground in front of him. A bit of magic had the papers floating in front of and around him, and he changed his form a bit.

The green ribbon fell into his hand while his violet purple hair grew out to his mid-back. Link startled and Dev combed one hand through it.

"If it helps you relax," he said softly.

Link made a small noise, something a bit strangled but deeply touched. Fingers slid through his hair and Dev worked on the reports, murmuring what he was reading and doing to Link while the young captain braided his hair.

"When'd you have long hair?" Tune asked after a battle.

"Because Link needed to calm down and he said braiding hair helped," Dev answered, cleaning the blood off Tune's face with a rag. "Goddesses, bunso, you either gotta clean up your act or you're joining me for training after this."

Tune grinned. "Can I braid your hair?"

Dev shrugged. "If you want, sure. Not now though. Later."

Tune lit up.

After that, Dev just kept his hair long, usually braided by either Tune or Link, and then he became Mask's practice as the fairy boy wanted to learn how to as well.

It was the nature of all things to end, and war was counted among them.

Dev pulled Ravio into a tight hug, as the merchant was one of the first to go back home.

"I'll see you in a minute," Ravio joked weakly.

Dev wanted to cry. "Bye, Ravi."

"Bye, Link," Ravio whispered, his words unheard by everyone else. "Be happy."

Dev tightened his hug before finally letting go. Ravio squeezed his hands before he gave another boisterous goodbye to everyone. Declaring they'd get discounts if they ever visited his shop.

Then he was gone.

Dev stepped back beside Link.

"You knew each other," Link said.

Dev gave a strained laugh. "You could say that."

Midna had insulted them all on her way out. Marin left with a promise to never forget them.

One by one, everyone returned home, then it was just four three heroes remaining.

Mask did the best at staying strong. Link pulled them both into tight hugs, Tune clung to him but declared that Link would be alright and now Tune had plenty of stories to tell Aryll when he got home.

Mask had quietly told Link that he better take care of himself from now on.

"You hear me?" The little fairy boy glared weakly at Link. "You take care of yourself! You eat every day and sleep properly! We-We—We won't be here to make you do it anymore, so you—You gotta do it."

Link was in tears. "I will, Dev's still here to be annoying. I'll be alright, Sapling. Just—Go home and be happy, okay? Promise me that you'll find something to be happy about."

Mask's facade broke and he was in tears, crying against Link's chest.

Tune stepped away from them and he turned to Dev. He approached and hugged the spirit, and Dev wrapped the young pirate in a tight hug.

"How... How do you and Ravio know each other?" Tune asked, his face against Dev's shoulder.

Dev smiled into the boy's hair as he tilted his head. "I was just like you once," he admitted in a quiet whisper, so quiet that neither Mask nor Link could hear him. "A hero. I was younger than you, maybe even younger than Mask, when I first started."

Tune's eyes widened and he stared at him as he pulled away. Dev gently brushed his hair from his face, keeping eye contact.

"I saved Hyrule so many times, bunso. One of those times, I met this merchant... You may never visit this place or hear of it again, but there's a land called Lorule, and it's the opposite of Hyrule."

"Ravio said he's from Lorule," Tune recalled.

Dev nodded. "He is. But just as Lorule and Hyrule are mirrors, so are its people. Ravio is my mirror, he is my Lorulean counterpart. If you ever saw him without his hood, you would've seen the resemblance."

"But if he's from your past then... He's died," Tune realized. "That's why you were crying."

Dev chuckled softly. He kissed the top of Tune's head before mussing blond hair and dislodging the green cap.

"I've seen a lot of loved ones die, bunso," Dev admitted. "Ravio was one of the first, but he didn't die during my adventures, nor while I was Hylian. He died of old age. That's better than some fates I think we've both seen."

Tune nodded. "You're... you're a hero?"

"Not anymore. Now I guide the hero so they can succeed. If I have my way, I'll never have to raise a sword again... Magic rods are okay though."

Tune laughed wetly and he hugged Dev. "Love you, Dev," he muttered. "Thanks for being my big brother."

Dev hugged the kid as tight as he could. "No, thank you."

They pulled apart and Dev squeezed his shoulder.

"Now go conquer that ocean of yours, little pirate. And tell Aryll and Tetra hi from me and Fi."

Tune nodded rapidly. He hugged Link and Mask one more time, telling Mask he better take care of himself or he'd time travel just to make him do it. Mask had laughed wetly and teased Tune that he better tell Tetra he had a crush on her. Despite the prompt argument, they went through the portal holding hands, only letting go at the very last moment.

Dev spent that night talking with Link and hugging the young hero until he passed out from crying and losing the two kids he adore.

Next>>

[alegator]

hiii everyone :D i miss tumblr so bad and the ability to make long form blog posts ugh twitter is not the same plus the site and app are literally so shit. even though the tumblr app is not much better sometimes!! ive decided i want to post more on here to continue my little virtual diary…. I love the tagging system and most of all, love being able to look back and read my own updates!!! it’s crazy how it can help me recall the exact feeling of that moment… it feels special :) Twitter is great for quick fleeting thoughts so i wanna make lengthy life posts on here as a little time capsule, so i can have fun looking back and reading all my posts 10 years from now (if this site still exists. but i joined in 2011 and its still here so who knows). plus ive been posting my entire life on here for YEARS so who cares i will be vulnerable and over share and shit!!!!!! as is tumblr tradition… fuck it if youre my cousin on my homestuck side you can have my SSN.

moving on, here are fun life updates:

- celebrated my 11th anniversary on Feb 14th with the love of my life, Tenma!!!! i have been affectionately calling it the 7/11 anniversary since it’s been 11 years together, but also 7 years married 🤯 it actually fucks me up so bad that 2017 was 7 years ago like. genuinely lol FUCKKK HOOWWW 2017 should’ve been like 3 years ago. we choose to get married on the same day Tenma asked me out, which is also Valentine’s Day, and it was the best decision of all time for SO many reasons. maybe i will make a fun big post detailing those thoughts that another time!! we spent our anniversary day trying out a new coffee spot (so cute and SO pink omg), taking photo booth pictures at a new spot, exploring cute shops, and having an insanely delicious set menu i think maybe 6 courses? at a very fancy restaurant. i think 3 years ago we tried a new restaurant on our anniversary w their set Valentine’s Day menu course and it was so good, fun, and the best way to try out new foods so we’ve kept it going and i LOVE IT!!!!! i am already excited to see what tenma picks out for next year lol. finished the night by watching In The Mood For Love at our favorite local movie theater and i LOVED the movie, the whole end until bedtime we were just talking about it and dissecting it together. i love our life!!!!!!!!!

-tenma and i went to disneyland at the end of February for our anniversary trip!! ive gone before but they haven’t. IT WAS SO FUCKING FUN i am not a Disney fan at all but i love disneyland idk it’s just fun as fuck… um my feet were fucked afterwards lol but so worth it. one day at disneyland and the next at California aventure i wanna go back already but most importantly, tenma was already talking about wanting to go back and that makes me so happy bc it means they really enjoyed it!!! yay!!!! they even went on rides they thought were really scary just so we could try them together just once and that filled my heart with joy. then we also got to meet my online friend and had hotpot together. DELICIOUS i want to go back and explore LA next time and see more friends!!!! we are maybe planning a trip to San Fran in a few months though as the consulate is there to get my passport so that will take priority over any other trips☝🏼

-I GOT MY GREENCARD YEAGHHRHRHFJF!!!!!!!! ok actually i got it last year lol i wasn’t sure if i should put that on here but actually im so happy so fuck it!!! and then we celebrated by having a fancy dinner and I shared the news w the waiter who said he also did the same process w his wife! and yes i cried when i got my greencard idc i am HAPPY! crazy bc i got DACA for the first time in 2013 and then in 2023 i got my greencard… it’s been a fucking rollercoaster. and tenmas been there literally every step of the way…. Tenma is my rock I love them so much im crying typing this bc of how much i love them and how much they always support me and augnfngnfmg

-concerts this year have been Sonic symphony, kikuo/bo en/gus, Hannah Diamond, and hatsune miku (mikuexpo 2024)!!!!!!!! i loved all of the concerts genuinely so fun and next month i am taking my youngest sibling to a concert of a guy I don’t know but they love him so we will go and have a blast 🫡 idk if I’ll buy more tickets to more concerts but even if I don’t, it’s been a really really good year concert wise and i got to experience so many fun shows i never thought i would see live before!!

-spent time with lovely friends and celebrated old friendships and new ones yaaaay i love my friends and im blessed to have a good support system and I can’t wait to see what new friends I make in the future….

-I have a cold rn and took nighttime meds and unfortunately they are starting to hit so it’s time to say goodnight to tumblr…

If you read this far ummm ok weirdo… lol just kidding but i will try and post my lil life updates and pics more often so that not all my posts are like. months worth of writing… or maybe I won’t and the next time I make a post will be in a year idk!!!! this site is full of so many memories both good and bad and it’s dear to my lil heart, even if the feel isn’t the same since everyone mass migrated to Twitter, I want to come back here more often and make new memories whenever I can. goodnight 💤

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 114: May 2018

Martin knew it was going to be a rough day when he woke up to find Tim playing with a prism.

Not that it had been a particularly good week to begin with, or even a particularly good month. The dispassionate aloofness that protected Martin in his dreams had started seriously eroding, and while that was probably a good thing—he’d been really worried about what it meant that he could just watch people, especially people he cared about like Gerry and Naomi, go through the worst days of their lives like it was a television program—it did mean his sleep was a good deal more restless, and he always worried he was going to wake Jon, or hurt him by accident. The progression through the dreams was getting far less orderly, too, and he struggled to figure out what the pattern was, if there was a pattern. If it wasn’t just meant to disorientate him, keep him off balance, and make him just as afraid as the people begging him to help not knowing he was just as helpless as they were.

Besides his petty little personal problems…things were getting bad for everyone else, too. Maybe worse. Melanie and Sasha had turned up Monday morning with the cats and a lingering smell of smoke; they were all fine, and the house had mostly survived, but the interior was a mess and they were going to have to stay in the Archives until her landlord was finished the renovations. Melanie was already betting against him changing the leasehold to say that she couldn’t have pets anymore. Tim had left after work that day and come back with Gerry and Umberto; Martin had assumed he just felt guilty being the only one who got to leave until Gerry and Daisy came up from the tunnels, where they’d been looking for vermin of some kind to satisfy both their hungers, looking shaken and pissed respectively. Gerry had had one of his attacks when Daisy nearly pounced on a particularly juicy-looking spider (her words) and he’d seen the black marks of potential death bloom on her face and chest, and they still weren’t sure what that was all about. That night he’d had a nasty Web-related flashback that they’d spent all of Wednesday searching to see if there was a statement in the Archives that matched.

And every time any of them so much as set a toe outside the Archives, it seemed, there were cobwebs everywhere.

Martin hadn’t heard Gerry’s flashback the night before, since he and Jon had taken to sleeping in the Archivist’s office—Jon refused to let him sleep alone, no matter how bad the nightmares got—but seeing Tim sitting at his desk, shining a tiny pocket torch through a triangular crystal that he was twisting this way and that and watching the colors play across the desk, gave Martin a pretty good idea of what it might have been about. He hadn’t asked, though, not yet anyway. He’d just gone into the break room to make them both some tea.

As he went through the familiar motions, made slightly off by the necessity of avoiding the small brown spider that had apparently taken it into its head to redecorate the shelves for Halloween five months early, he tried to remember the conversation they’d had half a lifetime ago, literally. He’d been on the cusp of fifteen, the lines on his wrists only just beginning to fade into relative invisibility and the rebellion and desire to push back against his mother and Aunt Mary’s treatment and plans for him only just beginning to form, fresh off his first broken heart and ripe for what would turn out to be the best year in chorus he’d ever had. Melanie had just found her niche and started planting the seeds that would eventually lead to Ghost Hunt UK, which she’d once confided she hoped would satisfy the itch of curiosity that fueled the Eye without actually binding her closer to it. And Gerry had been on the verge of adulthood, primed to up stakes and flee to the continent the instant Melanie and Martin were well and truly out of it. They’d all been so…hopeful. It hadn’t been a serious conversation because it wasn’t going to matter much longer, even if they hadn’t started consciously thinking that way yet.

Except, obviously, none of them had made it out. Here he was on the cusp of thirty, and they’d all ended up falling deeper into it—only Melanie was at a point where she even could possibly still walk away, and she was so damn stubborn that she wouldn’t—and Martin vaguely remembered making a comment about how once people who didn’t work for the Institute started calling you Archivist, you were probably in it too deep to be saved. It was darkly funny now, because Martin, who’d never considered himself important for anything to bother with, had somehow become at least the second most powerful servant of the Ceaseless Watcher in existence. And he wasn’t entirely certain he wasn’t more powerful than Elias, although he wasn’t particularly keen to try it.

“Won’t have to, either, as long as the bastard stays put,” he muttered at the spider that was peeking out from between the sugar canister and the powdered milk Hannah and Gail were always arguing over. He didn’t know if it was the same one as before or a new one. “And don’t go getting any ideas. Get out of here while it’s still your choice.”

The spider didn’t move. Martin weighed up the merits of pulling out a bit of the Archivist power versus the possibility that this was just an ordinary spider, then reached for a paper towel to either humanely remove it from the break room or squish it without getting guts all over his fingers. When he looked back up, though, it was gone.

The kettle clicked off with a sound similar enough to the tape recorders that Martin found himself instinctively looking around for where it might be. Then he shook himself back to sense, checked the mugs to ensure they were unoccupied, and busied himself with the tea.

Tim was still playing with the prism, in combination with a crystal ashtray he’d found somewhere. He started in surprise when Martin slid the tea under his nose and looked up. “Martin? What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same. It’s two in the morning.” Martin sat down in the chair that had once been his and was now Jon’s. “Nightmares ran their course, and there’s not usually any point in sleeping further once they’re done, I guess. Came out and saw you messing with this.” He nodded at the prism. “Let me guess, Gerry had a flashback to the time we tried to improve on Smirke’s system?”

“Got it in one.” Tim clicked off the torch and set it aside. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said—well, what Gerry said you said—about shining light through a prism. I know there’s not a way to put them back together, but…I mean, if you move the torch, all the colors move. There’s no way to move just one. And, I mean, there are only so many colors you can break light into.” He ran his finger over the point of the prism. “You can’t make new colors.”

“You can if you shine light through another prism and combine them. Or look harder at the overlap between the colors.” Martin took a sip of his tea. “I know what you’re thinking, Tim, but…well, the Flesh and the Hunt were just emerging, or at least just emerging in humans, when Smirke started making his classifications. They can splinter off from existing Fears. There’s…Dekker probably isn’t wrong about the Extinction.”

“Do you think Basira is?”

Martin hesitated. “I think Basira has her reasons for trusting Peter Lukas. I just don’t know what they are.”

Tim glanced over his shoulder towards where the trapdoor was, and where he, Gerry, and Daisy tended to bunk down. “Did you tell her what we found out? About how to quit?”

“I told her,” Martin said quietly. “All she said was that if we were planning to go that route, to make sure we submitted a letter of resignation so she could process the severance package. I can’t tell if that was a joke or not. She’s hard to read sometimes.”

What had been obvious, though, was that she was definitely not going to be quitting. Assuming that was even how she had to quit, now that she wasn’t in the Archives, or if she even could; even if the Eye hadn’t been too big on seeing the future, it still wouldn’t give Martin that information. She was absolutely committed to her plan, whatever it was. He still wasn’t sure if she was actually on Peter Lukas’ side or if she was playing some kind of long con on him too, but whatever she was up to, she wouldn’t let anything deviate her from that path.

“Daisy was telling us the other day that she ran into her, too,” Tim said. “Didn’t ask her about quitting, so she said, but…she’s worried she might have lost her way. Basira’s not the kind to give away what she’s planning necessarily, but there were…little things they used to do to reassure one another or communicate when they worked on the force, and she didn’t get any of those. So either she was really paranoid about being overheard, or she’s doing exactly what she says she is—helping Peter Lukas.”

“We don’t…actually know that he’s wrong,” Martin said cautiously. “Or that he’s doing something evil.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t, but Basira might. Or she might believe she’s tempering whatever it is he’s doing. But if she won’t listen—or share—there’s only so much we can do.” Martin sighed. “And if she won’t tell Daisy, she definitely won’t tell the rest of us.”

“She might tell you. She likes you.”

“Liked, past tense. I’m pretty sure she still blames me for what happened to Daisy. And since she wouldn’t have gone over to work with him if Daisy had been here, I think she thinks that’s my fault too.”

Tim snorted and rubbed at his forehead. “You didn’t ask Daisy to sacrifice herself. From what she said, you tried to stop her. It’s why the two of you worked so well together on all that, because you both trusted the other to do what was necessary and keep the rest of them safe. The rest of us, really.”

“I know.” And Martin did know. He’d just expected to be the one doing the sacrificing. “Anyway, I didn’t say it was my fault, I just said Basira blames me. And there’s not really a way to convince her otherwise. She’s…”

“Stubborn? Hard-headed?”

“Tenacious.”

“Same thing.” Tim stifled a sneeze.

“Allergies?” Martin asked sympathetically.

Tim shrugged ruefully. “Stirred up a bit of dust digging out the prism, I guess. I knew I’d seen it around here somewhere, but it had been a while. And it was covered in cobwebs when I did.” He must have seen something in Martin’s expression, because he added, “I’m sure it was innocuous, Mart. I saw it ages ago, and I don’t think anyone has touched it since.”

“You’re probably right, but I’m still suspicious.” Martin nudged the prism lightly. “Although…why would the Web even care? How would it even know?”

“Spiders spinning daydreams in the copses.” The last word opened up into a yawn, which Tim tried to hide behind a hand.

It wasn’t even a good attempt, and Martin didn’t bother pretending he hadn’t seen it. “How much sleep did you actually get last night? Or at all this week?”

“I took a nap yesterday,” Tim said.

“At eleven in the morning. For thirty-seven minutes. And you weren’t so much asleep as sitting with your eyes closed petting the cat.” Martin raised an eyebrow at Tim’s sheepish look, while at the same time mentally tallying it up as a personal win as well as a point in favor of his argument that Tim didn’t call him out on Knowing that, since it was awfully specific and could only have come from the Beholding. “Go lie down, Tim. At least for an hour or two. You need the rest, and Umberto would probably like someone warm to cuddle with.”

“Last I saw he was curled up with Daisy. But okay.” Tim yawned and stood. “Thanks for the tea. Sorry I didn’t drink it.” With that, he lurched over to the trap door. Martin heard a faint mrrp as Umberto, or possibly one of Melanie’s cats, came over to seek the new cuddle buddy, and then all was silent again.

Alone in the dark, Martin stared at the prism. He understood the nature of light better than he had at fifteen, and he understood the Fears a bit better too, or at least he felt like he did. The Ceaseless Watcher was surprisingly reticent on the subject of itself and its fellows.

Or maybe not that surprising. Martin wouldn’t want to give the key to his potential undoing to anyone he didn’t trust not to use it either. Probably the only way to really Know the actual truth was to go through with the Watcher’s Crown, whatever that might have entailed. He was the Archivist, after all; if the ritual didn’t involve him being a…sacrificial lamb or whatever, he would probably be very important in whatever new world was created. There would be no hiding things from him, he thought. No secrets he would not know, no knowledge that could be withheld. All truths, any lies, secrets and strengths and weaknesses, all at his fingertips…

Wait. Those weren’t his thoughts.

Martin winced and drove the heel of his hand into his temple, gritting his teeth as he tried to force the Beholding back into submission. The trouble with getting more powerful, having more safeguards, is that the temptations got bigger and harder to resist, too. He wasn’t the megalomaniac type, he’d never wanted to rule the world or anything, but being in the dark—with a lowercase D, metaphorically speaking—got frustrating at times and it was difficult to resist the urge to just…have that information. The lure of a world where he could, and where he could control the ebb and flow of information, was pretty damn powerful. If Elias was the one trying to set it in motion—or had been, since he didn’t seem able to do much from in prison, even if he had managed to charm himself into a few privileges—then restricting Jon’s, and later Martin’s, access to information, constantly setting them up for situations where having that knowledge would have made all the difference in the world, was probably the most effective method in existence of getting them on his side. If Martin hadn’t had the Archives crew as anchors, it would have been far more difficult not to go to Elias and say look, fine, I know you want to bring the Ceaseless Watcher into this world, tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.

But he did have the others, and the image of what Jon’s face, or Melanie’s, would look like if he did was enough to make him mentally flip off the Eye and stride off to Peter Lukas’ office to go find himself something for a midnight snack.

Elias’s office, now Peter’s, actually had two parts, the large room in the back Elias had primarily used for storage and the small front room where he’d done his work. Peter used the back room as his primary office, on the rare occasions he was in, and the outer office had been given to Basira. Not that Martin saw either of them very often, but it was easy to see…well, it was easy to tell someone was using it, even if it was completely impersonal, even more than Elias’s office had been. The ledgers and fountain pens were gone, replaced with a squat ivory computer tower and a CRT monitor. The wire cup on the desk was the sort that came in standard office supply kits and contained generic, mass-market pens. The mouse pad was square and blank white with a brand name screen printed on the bottom right corner that was so worn and faded Martin couldn’t read it anymore. There wasn’t even a coat or shawl draped over the back of the chair, and even if it wasn’t that bad up here, Martin knew it was cold in the Lonely. Unless she’d got used to that by now.

There was, however, a spider on the handle to the door to Peter’s office. It moved up the door when Martin looked at it, but he didn’t trust that, and he decided, fuck it, he’d kill this one. He was getting damned tired of the Web and its ilk. Slowly, keeping his eyes on the spider to make sure it didn’t get away before he could, he reached behind him, found the drawer of the desk, slid it open, and reached inside. His fingers found something smooth and solid and heavy-feeling, and as he tried to grip it, something moved.

Click.

The slightly muffled voice that came out of the drawer was Gertrude’s. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course I do.” The voice that responded was wholly unfamiliar to Martin.

“Well, that’s a shame.” If Martin had been inclined to doubt Gerry’s memory and his mother’s statement, the tone of voice in which Gertrude delivered that would have left him in no doubt they were related.

Distracted from the spider, he turned, pulled the tape recorder out of the desk, and stopped playback, then rewound it and sat in Basira’s chair. It wasn’t something she was recording, and obviously if she meant for him to listen to it she’d have left it for him. Maybe she hadn’t listened to it herself yet. But, well, he was here, and she wouldn’t be in until the actual working hours started, and it was better to listen up here where he wouldn’t risk waking Jon anyway. He could rewind it when he was done and put it back and no one would be the wiser.

The recorder popped, indicating it had reached the start of the reel, and Martin pushed PLAY.

This time he listened much more carefully to the opening exchange. He heard himself in Gertrude’s words and tone—talking to Breekon, talking to Mustermann, hell, the way he’d spoken to his own mother on her deathbed—and wondered how much was being the Archivist and how much was being related and how much was just coincidence. The thoughts snapped out of his head, though, when she started talking about Agnes.

It wasn’t a proper statement. Not at first. That didn’t start for a bit, and he knew exactly when it did in the small part of him that held on when the Archivist swept over him, because the actual statement unfolded before him in grainy, sketchy black and white, like an animation pencil test being projected through an infrared camera thirty years out of date. But it was compelling in its own way, and in the way of most of Gertrude’s commentary, it answered a few questions and opened up so many more. The man who had once been the head of the Church of the Lightless Flame and later been Jane Prentiss’ landlord was jaded, bitter…and definitely scared. As defiant as he was at first, Martin could practically smell the fear the more Gertrude spoke, and something in him was almost disappointed that the man was dead and this wouldn’t be joining his dreams.

No. No, he definitely didn’t want to dream about this.

The tape clicked off, and Martin drew in a lungful of air, sitting back in Basira’s chair. His hand tightened around the recorder, and he felt the buzzing, at which point it occurred to him that he’d left the tape playing on the desk in front of him. He looked at his hand and, sure enough, there was a more retro recorder than the model that had been in Basira’s desk, recording away. When had he pulled that out?

“Gertrude didn’t mention what she did to Eugene Vanderstock,” he said slowly. “Neither did Arthur Nolan. And I sure as hell haven’t done any digging into it, since this literally just came to my attention. But the Knowledge…is there, whether I want it or not. I don’t want it. I wish I didn’t know what it felt like to be alive as your whole being is infused with grit, how painful that is, but I do. Good to know that works against the Fourteen, anyway. Or some of its agents. I’m not sure how high up in the Lightless Flame Eugene was, or how powerful. Not as powerful as Gertrude, that’s for damned sure, but…”

He stared vacantly at Basira’s recorder, then leaned forward to rewind it for her before sitting back with a sigh. “Hill Top Road,” he mused. “Everything keeps coming back to that. We’ve had so many little threads go towards it that never end up anywhere, so many stories that weave around it. And now this. I-I know it’s a story we knew, sort of, but at the same time…we didn’t know Agnes’ side of it. We still don’t, I guess. I wonder what she thought, growing up there. I wonder if she thought of it as home, or just a place to live. I wonder what made her decide to protect Ronald Sinclair, if it was the whim of a child who wanted to see what would happen or an attempt to prove she was capable of more than causing pain and destruction or just a desire to stop the Web from winning.” He sighed again. “I wonder if it was actually the Lightless Flame’s doing that kept Gertrude alive that long or if it was the bond with Agnes itself. I won’t let myself wonder if my bond with Jon and Gerry is strong enough to keep me safe like that.”

He shook his head and said again, “Hill Top Road. I can’t help but wonder how much centers around that. It’s not just the statements. The matron of the Sunnydene Children’s Home mentioned Mr. Fielding’s halfway house, Gerry and Melanie and I went to that Halloween party there…there have been so many things centered around it. The Web, the Desolation, the Spiral, the Lone—” He stopped and sat up straighter as the knowledge slammed into his head, for the first time in twenty years.

“No,” he breathed. “Not the Lonely. It wasn’t the Lonely that was after me then. It was the Dark. I just assumed it was the Lonely, but…fuck. No wonder those things at the swap meet were so interested in me.”

He sat in stunned silence for a few moments as the implications of that washed over him. He’d been wrong about that all these years. What else was he wrong about at Hill Top Road?

There was an analog clock on the wall, plain and austere. Martin glanced at it and calculated, then stood decisively. “Right. I think this is a thread I need to pull. I can make the next train to Oxford and probably be back before everyone wakes up properly. It’s time to finish this once and for all. I’m heading to Hill Top Road.”

Click. The recorder shut itself off, which Martin took as approval of his plan.

He wasn’t thoroughly stupid. He went back through the Archives and left a note, just in case someone—likely Gerry—woke up before he got back. For just a moment, he hesitated and stepped into his office. Jon was still curled up in their nest of blankets, breathing lightly, looking peaceful and somehow younger than his age in his sleep. The temptation to crawl back under the covers, curl around him, and sleep a little longer was definitely present. Only the certainty that if he didn’t go now Jon would insist on going with him kept him from doing that.

Instead, he knelt down, pressed a gentle, tender kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead, and quietly let himself out of the Archives.

It was early enough that the sun hadn’t come up yet, and the trip to Paddington station was thoroughly uneventful. There was a bit of chaos stemming from the newly set train schedules, but more people lived in Oxford and commuted to work in London than the other way around, so despite everything Martin ended up having the carriage largely to himself, which gave him plenty of space and time to think over his plan.

He didn’t have one.

The shortest route to Hill Top Road from the train station took him straight through the park. Childish superstition warred with stubborn defiance, and in the end, he decided to risk it. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. It could have been that he was too powerful to interest whatever had been here before, it could be that it had long ago left, but more than likely it was just too close to sunrise to be prime hunting grounds for the Dark, despite the clouds and drizzle. Whatever the case, he made it to the other side unmolested.

The house Judith Bradford’s grandfather had owned was gone, which was something of a shock; it had been the largest and most impressive house on the block, and now there was nothing but a slight depression where the basement had once been. Martin stared at it for a moment, letting memory and knowledge mingle. It had burnt down not long after construction on the replacement for the Fielding house had concluded, probably retaliation from the Lightless Flame for the loss of Agnes Montague, possibly just bad luck. Either way, it wasn’t where he was heading and it wasn’t any of his concern.

Still…as he continued on up the road, getting progressively wetter and wishing like hell he’d brought an umbrella, he couldn’t help but think back to the party. He actually hadn’t had a very good time even before Gerry made them leave; he’d spent about half the time avoiding the food so that he didn’t get called names for being fat and the other half of the time avoiding Lizzie van Pelt and Helen—Helen—what was her last name? They’d both been dressed as Anastasia and spent an awful lot of time trying to flirt with him, and since even back then Martin had been quietly in love with one of the older boys in the group he’d been very uncomfortable with it. He’d never much enjoyed the ones from previous years, either, and he’d really only gone because Melanie wanted him to.

There weren’t any good memories on this street. Not his, not Ronald Sinclair’s, not Ivo Lensik’s, not Father Burroughs’, probably not even Agnes’. He wasn’t going to learn anything that didn’t hurt. Why was he doing this?

Because, he thought. Because he couldn’t leave the mystery alone, because it was important to so many Fears, because there was something he didn’t understand. Because he’d felt so strongly that he shouldn’t dig more into Hill Top Road. Because the Web hadn’t tried a ritual yet either, as far as he knew—unless that was what Raymond Fielding had been up to—and the risk of Jon or Sasha being made a keystone of one was too great for him to let things alone. Because—goddamn it, Helen’s last name was Richardson, the onetime real estate agent who’d been taken by the Spiral had been the same pretentious snob who’d decided he would make an ideal partner and had insulted his sister in the bargain. Nobody deserved what she’d got, he thought, but it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

Preoccupied with that, he walked up the front path of 105 Hill Top Road and reached for the door.

It wasn’t until he was actually inside the building, neat and well-appointed and sturdy and clean—apart from all the cobwebs—that it occurred to Martin that the door shouldn’t have been open. Nobody lived there—all their research had been very clear on that—and while it didn’t seem to be for sale, there was certainly no reason for it to be unlocked. And yet he’d just…walked in like he owned the place.

A feeling of foreboding crept up his spine. It was not helped by the soft click as the tape recorder he hadn’t realized he’d put back in his pocket clicked on.

Martin pulled it out and spoke into it as quietly as possible. “I’m…in the house. Not the house, of course, the one Raymond Fielding and Agnes Montague lived in burned down years ago, this is a rebuild. But this…this land, this spot, there’s something significant about it. And it invited me in. No…it led me in. I can’t help but recall that in Ronald Sinclair’s statement, he talked about being drawn back in by invisible threads, that he didn’t feel like he was making a choice but he knew it was a thing he was going to do. I’m in much the same boat. I can’t walk away now, but…why not? What’s keeping me here?” He took a deep breath. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

Cautiously, he began moving through the ground floor. Like most fat people, Martin had always been very light on his feet, and like most children who’d grown up in abusive households he had long ago mastered the art of moving quietly without being heard. The building might be ten years old, but it had never been lived in, so the chances of creaky floorboards were slim, and there was every chance he could get through without disturbing…whoever had unlocked the door.

Christ, that was an unsettling thought.

“There’s no obvious basement,” he murmured. “I know that was in the old building, but Anya Villette’s statement suggested there was one in this building, too. I would have thought…” He trailed off, staring at what he’d at first assumed to be a closet. There was…something behind it. Something important.

Slowly, inexorably, both afraid to know what was there and afraid to walk away, Martin reached for the handle of the door. His fingers wrapped around it, and he began, with the same deliberate slowness, to turn it.

A hand clamped over his mouth, and another arm wrapped around his torso, restraining him with surprising strength. He let out a muffled curse and tried to poke his tongue through his lips and lick the hand to get whoever it belonged to to let go, but somehow, his lips wouldn’t part. The hand pressed over them seemed strangely…sticky.

“Sorry about this, Martin,” a voice, low and female and wholly unfamiliar, said directly into his ear. “Can I call you Martin? I’m going to call you Martin. Anyway, I am sorry, but I thought it was high time we had a little…chat. Face to face, as it were.” The person gave a low chuckle. It wasn’t especially sinister, but it nevertheless filled Martin’s entire being with dread. “Step into my parlor.”

[bigjimbopickens]

hi sorry to bother you i know this is like a dead issue now but i was a massive fan of kevin before the hogwarts legacy shit, i’m a trans guy and i stopped watching him because of it. i really miss his content though, his channel is pretty much all the games i like and my sense of humour, but i feel so conflicted about wanting to go back to his content. i was just curious what your thought process was around rejoining the cult? i know it’s kinda weird to ask now since it’s been like 6 months since it happened but i feel really weird about it.

also like. no pressure to answer i don’t know if this is crossing a line or anything sorry

It’s okay don’t worry :) enough time has passed, to me at least. Tbh this is the first I’ve heard about this in a while lol.

It’s okay to feel conflicted. I don’t speak for everyone here but everyone I talk to regularly has forgiven him but won’t forget that this happened.

I do believe he learned from this, he hasn’t done anything HP related since then, besides for a few ps1 Hagrid cameos (which is fine, ps1 Hagrid has been a channel meme for a while). I just hope this doesn’t age poorly.

What started getting me back was a bit after the apology post I noticed that other YouTubers were doubling down on their decisions or just not saying anything, including ones I used to respect. Even though I wished Kevin did more than just a Reddit post, I’m glad he didn’t stay silent and admitted he fucked up. His intention wasn’t malicious, unlike a lot of other creators, which is why I was more forgiving with him compared to others. Though I still lost a lot of respect which was regained over time.

Oddly enough what got me to really respect him again was his video on those American Superpastors and Megachurches. Having grown up in one (though in Canada, they exist here but aren’t as big) it was very healing. He couldn’t say it because he didn’t want to get sued, but he was very heavily implying that he believes it’s all a huge scam and they’re exploiting people. But he’s right, I’ve witnessed it myself. Never would’ve expected him to make a video like that and be so bold with it. I’m glad Europeans see what goes on here and think “what the fuck?!” Great video definitely recommend.

Other than that, mainly just enough time passed where I no longer feel that way. I missed the sense of community which is why I rejoined the fandom but it’s not my main one anymore. I mostly do my own thing these days. It was awesome going to Vancoufur as Werewolf Jim and meeting CMK fans there too, I could’ve sworn I was the only British Columbian in the entire fandom. Though I don’t fully trust the fandom still, mainly people I don’t recognize. But not anyone here, Tumblr isn’t really the site for those people.

Not much else has really changed in his content, just no more HP videos in general (as of July 22, 2023) and the fast-paced editing has mostly stopped. He now only uploads on Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays now + any 2nd channel content, song covers or streams. The community has changed a lot though. The Reddit protests caused the subreddit to shut down so it’s gone, so there’s now no longer one big gathering spot besides Discord, which is the one side of the community I’m not in.

It’s really your choice if you wanna start watching again, anonymous user. Do whatever makes you happy :)

Since this is related, I haven’t heard a thing about HL since February. It really was just a mid game that was only popular because it was controversial. Transphobes really spent a lot of money on this, they’re the real losers. I know single player games get less players overtime but a lot of them still get talked about, replayed or are still relevant. Idk just my thoughts. If you really want a magic game with custom spells, play Oblivion’s Mages Guild questline or modded Skyrim.

Also sorry if I got back to this so late. I haven’t had a stable connection for a while until now. I’ve been away, escaping wildfires. Average Canadian summer activities.

[c1nnamons1ck]

Why Anorexia is Not Glamorous

I know this post seems a bit ironic considering the fact that I run an ED blog. But I can’t get this thought out of my mind. You see posts all the time about the physical and mental wear that anorexia causes, but I want to talk about what it does to your life.

I’ve been in my ED since I was 14, and I’m 20 now. That’s 7 whole years of my life I’ve lost to this disease. I don’t mean that in any sort of dramatic, hospitalized, therapists left and right way. I’ve never sought out help and my parents never did much more than reprimand me for not eating. But when I look back at the last 7 years, at what was supposed to be the most carefree and joyous time of my life, this is what I remember.

Freshman year, age 14: Fighting in the mirror with a post puberty body that I hated. Hating myself. Discovering thinspo tumblr. Politely refusing food for the first time. Quitting sports because I had no energy from starving.

Sophomore year, age 15: Sitting at dinner tables with my friends and feeling as if I could cry, wanting so badly to enjoy a meal with them, laugh with them, but all they got in return was a polite, “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

Junior year, age 16: I spent the year abroad after working my ass off for a fully funded scholarship. Eating a few crackers at midnight after my host family went to sleep. Buying a huge mcdonald’s meal every day after school and eating it completely alone in my room. Puking into the shower drain. Months of this, like clockwork. Puking in mall bathrooms, restaurant bathrooms, rinsing my mouth in dirty sinks. Smiling like nothing was wrong. Almost committing suicide because I felt so alone. Ana was my only comfort.

Senior year, age 17: I remember signing up for every club I possibly could. Auditioning for every show at the theatre, volunteering. Anything to keep myself busy. Rejoicing at the fact that I was never home to eat, to be watched. Breaking up with my girlfriend, telling her I was too sick to love her the right way, because all I wanted was to starve in peace. Watching myself turn into a shadow. Losing all of my friends because there was nothing of the old me left.

1st year at University, age 18: Running up and down the stairwell, 12 flights, every morning, every night. Bumming adderall off my roommate so I couldn’t feel the hunger. Failing my year and dropping out because I couldn’t focus on anything but my sickness. Fingers down my throat to cope.

Working to survive, age 19: After dropping out I moved in with some friends of my girlfriends, I worked as many hours as I could so I wouldn’t be home to eat. I don’t remember anything from age 19 except for that. Starve starve starve, on repeat. Breakup with girlfriend number 2 for the same fucking reasons.

Age 20: I regret not getting my education, and I hope one day I will be able to go back and try again. But I’m still here, trying to reach my UGW and ignoring everything else. I don’t hang out with any of my friends except my roommates, I spend all my time alone in my mind with these thoughts and this life no one knows about except for me.

7 years, gone at a glance.

I’m the skinny friend, but just look at what it cost me.

I may be a lost cause, but for any of you minors, or anyone who sees this, it’s not too late.

Please recover. Get your life back.

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

Hello! The ever-sweet and wonderful @marthaskane tagged me to share eight shows that define me/help you get to know me. Without further ado, the shows!

Alias (2001-2006)

Alias has taught me the value of old LiveJournal pages and the Wayback Machine more than any other show I've ever loved. I discovered this show in 2013 when it was on Netflix and then I spent a few months in Germany, where I spent too much money buying almost the entire show on iTunes because I could not comprehend going more than a day without Sydney Bristow with me.

2. The Clone Wars (2008-2013, 2014, 2020)

I remember when this show first aired and my siblings and I had a square dance at our school (very American, I know) so we had to DVR it. The next morning we snuck down early to watch it with the volume super low so we wouldn't wake up our parents. Few shows have continuously come back into my life the way this one has. I can track a lot of how I've changed as a fan through the different ways I've viewed this show over the last 15 years.

3. Fringe (2008-2013)

I've been rewatching this show since January of this year and can confirm: it is still a nearly perfect 100 episodes of TV. Fringe manages to perfect a lot of the plot lines and dynamics that appear in Alias (both are J.J. Abrams/his collaborators projects). It manages to walk the line between a procedural and a mythology-driven show beautifully and so clearly knows what message and themes it wants to share from the very first shot. If you like exploring messy family dynamics, action, and the X-Files, Fringe is a good option for you.

4. Gotham (2014-2019)

I historically have no cared much at all about Batman. He struck me as pretty boring in comparison to every other person he interacted with. Gotham change that for me (turns out he just needed to be put next to any even more boring guy, but I digress...). Loving this show is a lesson in looking past weird choices, wacky inconsistencies, and learning to just trust that writers will give you a fun ride, even if you understand less that 15% of it. It helped me remember that the sentence "I love this show" does not always mean "here is a perfect example of perfect storytelling" and just how freeing that can be. It also gave me a beautiful little group of friends who continue to make me smile on a regular basis.

5. Blindspot (2015-2020)

While this show may not be one I post about often, it was foundational for how I interact in fandom now. It was one of the first times I was active in a fandom from the start of the show. It was the first time I was in a fandom group chat and my Tumblr friends broke containment into being people I followed on Instagram and texted. I organized a Secret Santa. It was the first time I remember actively freaking out of promo photos (1x09 IYKYK) and synopses. Almost all the confidence I have when interacting in fandoms is from these experiences. And the plot is stellar.

6. Iron Fist (2017-2018)

I can't tell you how I ended up watching this. I do not know what prompted me to turn it on but I'm really glad I did. This show has so many amazing nuggets of amazingness and its shortcomings brought me together with two of my favorite people as we tried to understand what had gone wrong and where. (This is not a good ad for the show.) I love getting to play with stories and characters that have seemingly infinite potential and getting to do it with other people who are just as committed to the story as I was meant the world.

7. The Rookie (2018-present)

I fought against this one so hard. I did not want to get into it, but as my dash filled with those gifs of Lucy in the green dress and I had my wonderful friend pitching the show to me over and over, I caved. And I'm really glad I did. The experience of watching a long season over months, one week and one episode at a time, is so different than streaming or rewatching shows and I'd forgotten how much I missed it until I got to do it again for this show. My Tuesday livestreams with my lovely friend single-handedly pulled me through so many rough spots over the last year. For a procedural dramedy, The Rookie continues to serve up some of the best characters on TV right now and consistently delivers some of the best cold opens.

8. Prodigal Son (2019-I'm in denial)

The show that owns my heart and soul. The show I'd sell my organs to get new episodes of. Returning to this show, whether I'm writing fic, doing a TED Talk in my head about the psychology in the show, or actually watching an episode, consistently feels like coming home. I did not know it was possible for someone to stick their hand in your head and pull out a show custom-made for you, but that's what this is. The characters are all so perfectly imperfect and desperate to be better. The plots are just the perfect amount of bonkers. The show being a drama pretending to be a procedural is beautiful. If you'd told me in 2019 that a show about a profiler whose dad is a serial killer and they solve crimes together would be the show that would leave an indelible mark on my life, I would have rolled my eyes because that's so cliche. 2019!me had no idea what she was on about. But I'm glad she figured it out and randomly put on this little show one night that had continued to pull me through good days and bad days and everything in between.

As for tagging other people, anyone is welcome to join but I’ll specifically tag some people I know who haven't been tagged (I think): @electricbluebutterflies, @chenlucys, @shinythinx, @rojaswarren, @meandmyechoes, @padme-deserved-better, @whitesunlars, @harrows-bones, @bpdanakins, and @violetsandmagpies.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Decided today that I have spent too much time lately seeing and hearing Tim Minchin play bit parts in other people’s shows, while I watch old comedy festival clips on YouTube and listen to Mark Watson’s radio shows and things like that, and not enough time on his own stuff. It’s probably been 3 or 4 years since I last had a night of just clicking through Tim Minchin videos and watching them. I used to do that every six months or so.

I’ve spent this morning fixing that, and it’s a great way to spend a morning. I start, as always, with the first Tim Minchin video I ever saw, and work outward from there. I remember it well, one day in 2014 when my friend from New Zealand was crashing on my couch for a couple of weeks. He was training for the Commonwealth Games, so he basically had a month of incredibly hard exercise and eating almost nothing (weight cutting: it’s bad for you and you shouldn’t do it, kids, I do not endorse it, but sometimes if you do it really well they let you fly to Glasgow and get beaten up by people from India, so that’s pretty cool), and was sore and exhausted all the time, so we’d get back from practice together and just lie down on the living room carpet and talk about nothing as a distraction from being sore and tired.

One night, we’d gone from discussing our shared left-wing political views to our shared views on what women in our sport were most attractive, and then started questioning whether the second discussion might sort of clash with the first. And he said, “I have to show you something,” and opened his laptop. We’d already bonded over shared love of Flight of the Conchords, so he was confident that our comedy tastes overlapped enough for this to not be wasted on me. And it wasn’t. I watched that one and immediately demanded to see more of this strange red-haired man. This red-haired man gets it.

Here are a couple of my other favourites, discovered since then:

The time he raised money to help survivors of the Catholic Church’s sex crimes to fly to Rome and hear evidence about it, by writing a song in which he called a Cardinal accused of covering it up a God damn coward:

I just listened to this one for the first time in several years, and I can’t believe I never realized before that the Chocolate Milk Gang has a theme song:

It occurred to me today that I haven’t seen much of him recently, and thought I’d look up what he’s done in the last few years. And good news! This isn’t a case of one of those people used to be awesome but then you find out they went in some terrible direction or other. These days, as far as I can tell, the biggest difference is that he’s moved away from the comedy-about-serious-subjects and toward more serious songs, which are beautiful and seem to be mainly about how much he loves his wife and kids. He’s grown his hair even longer and looks a bit like Bill Bailey now. So that’s pretty much the ideal answer when you think “I wonder what that guy who was great ten years ago is doing now”. Much better than the answer you’d get if you’d been a fan of, say, Russell Brand in his stand-up days.

I could show you what he looks like now by sharing one of those beautiful serious songs, which everyone should definitely look up, but I’m instead going to show you his current look (or at least, only a couple of years old) via this video he did at the 2020 BAFTAs, because “I know our job is to hold the mirror up to society, but I’ve been avoiding mirrors of late because it’s got so God Damn ugly” is a really good line. Tumblr won’t let me embed more than five videos in a post, but click on this link to see Tim Minchin looking a bit like Bill Bailey.

Also, it turns out that Rock ‘n’ Roll Nerd has a follow-up now, and it’s really fucking good. So good. Most musical comedians are comedians who can also play music; Tim Minchin is clearly leagues ahead of that. Amazingly talented musician.

[misscammiedawn]

What are the top 5 things that have made you happy in the last 12 months?

I'm not going to put them in a specific order because I think that would be unfair to those involved-- but:

Started a relationship with one of my housemates who I had a really big crush on that was codified, not by the time the pair of us curled under blankets to watch Matrix Resurrections together and spent the second half of the movie making out fiercely; but by the time she handed me a Kit-Kat and I ate it before realizing it was orange flavored and would thusly activate a taste based trance trigger and send me into hypnotic sleep-- this had happened so unexpectedly that I was melted into a puddle of bliss and when she asked "Tell me something you need me to know." I swooned out "I'm in love with you..." - two months later we were officially agreeing upon the term "girlfriend" for what were were to one another.

3 months prior to the above happening that same cutie had travelled out to a convention. While she was gone I collaborated with one of her partners to literally kidnap her out of the airport, she was okay with it and it was a fantasy of hers. I had never done rope play prior to this so had that partner literally "teach me the ropes". When we were ready to collect her from the airport I sat in the backseat of the car with a rag I had dampened in water mixed in with lavender essential oil. When she climbed into the front seat I delicately and safely smothered her with the rag and asked her "does this smell like chloroform to you.". After she sunk into trance I had her aid us in kidnapping her by ensuring all her loved ones knew she had landed safely, understanding that by sending those messages she was covering up her own kidnapping and would not be able to escape. Every text message sealed her doom. Then we strapped her in a VR headset, tied her up with my brand new rope skills which was a complete surprise to my victim who didn't know I was capable of that and brainwashed her while I did some light studio photography. It was THE BEST. Looking at those photos always makes me smile ear to ear. (Story shared with permission) - My collaborator adapted this into a story: https://readonlymind.com/@bzarcher/SnatchandGrab/

Went to Charmed online and Beguiled in person and got to feel really connected with the community, break out of my shy shell and actually feel passionately engaged with the people who are around me. At Charmed I got to run my own class for communication while in deep hypnosis and at Beguiled I got to be part of a LARP event and demo'd for hairplay which was amazing. I got some brief pick-up play and--- well-- it was really nice.

In October of last year I got to attend the wedding of someone I am deeply fond of. My polyhousehold, Oikos, travelled together to make it happen and I got to see someone I care desperately about on the biggest day of their life while mingling with a bunch of people of whom I'd known online for years but had never gotten to meet IRL, including one person that I've been a fangirl of since my first Tumblr days when I was Camdawn. I got to dance with a whole bunch of folks and make some amazing memories.

I fell in love with someone at Beguiled. We were flirting and they had invited me to a Discord server earlier that year with intent to flirt further and we went back and forth for months building expectation on what would happen when we next got to see one another again. I believe the term "Melt you into a puddle" was used and by Friday morning of the con they had done just that. Turned me into a little whimpering puddle. I wrote a private journal with about 26k words about my experience that I like to re-read over and over, but suffice to say I felt seen, loved and respected and they put an amnesia trigger designed to be removed on the way home which made me SO GIDDY. I am so so so lucky. So moved. So overjoyed. It was amazing... and a month later we agreed on the term for our relationship and are very lovey dovey still.

Bonus mentions:

I did the Wiseguy Hypnosis certification course

I got a new job and a promotion, it's nice.

Our Polycule had me do a photoshoot for them at a pretty park location.

I risked COVID to see Patton Oswalt and MST3K live. After the Patton Oswalt one I got to just spend an unguarded night with my girlfriend in the city and enjoy the ambience of the evening together. We sang Rush together in the car on the drive home.

Someone not in my polyfamily wrote a hypno-story based on me.

I took my girlfriend and her girlfriend on a date to see Back to the Future at the cinema. There was only 2 other people in the theatre.

I helped my girlfriend perform a brainwashing livestream.

I graduated voice lessons.

And that's about it. I have had a happy year full of love, life and happiness.