#but loads of people move!! other people have moved and thrived!!

[call-me-rucy]

CRIED BUT DID THE THING ANYWAY.

Currently chickening out of sending an email that would change my life a lot because change scary.

Damn, I want this. It was one of my New Year's Resolutions. And now it has unexpectly come into my reach, why am I shaking like a stupid tree leaf in late autumn?

[floweycidal]

i keep thinking about how flowey had to construct the very concept of cruelty from the ground up.

not from watching anyone else, not by osmosis, but by cobbling it together himself in the garden where he woke up. alone.

this was a child who fell asleep to his mother's stories, who knew every inflection of his father's laugh. who spent endless golden afternoons with his sibling, both of them doubled over with giggles as they filmed their silly videos, messing up on purpose just to hear each other laugh. again. and again. and again.

so warm. so safe. where the gravest offense imaginable was maybe tracking mud on the carpet.

the worst fear, disappointing people who would love you anyway.

where could he even begin?

save. say these words that once meant comfort, but twist them just so. watch their eyes dim as something inside them breaks. load.

save. make a promise—you remember those, how snug they once made you feel—then shatter it. document exactly how hope crumbles. load.

save. try another combination. another betrayal. watch what splinters differently this time. load.

the world's loneliest science experiment.

look at the cruelty he creates, it's all so personal, specific. so devastatingly asriel.

watch how often he comes back to the idea of being replaced. of being forgotten. how he taunts you with the possibility that none of your relationships matter, that everyone will move on without you. that none of your choices mean anything in the end.

your fault. your responsibility.

if only he you hadn't made anyone love him you. If only he you hadn't loved them back.

of course he'd fixate on all that. how could he not? his mother, who used to speak his name like it was sacred, those tender words she reserved for him—for THEM—are now handed out indiscriminately, like candy to anyone who asks.

all he can do is take note: see how easily love transfers? see how simple it is to fade away?

so, he sneers. taunts you with the thought that it's all dust. you're just another passing face in the crowd. nothing lasts. nothing is worth the weight of caring. but even as he pushes that narrative, as his voice drips with contempt, he is still out there. in the ruins. checking on her.

observing from a distance, like maybe if he watches long enough, his past will solidify into something he can hold again.

flowey develops his cruelty like he's trying to solve an equation. if this word plus this action equals pain, then surely there must be some formula that yields not caring anymore.

if he'd just gotten it right. if he'd just kept everyone at a distance. if he could just be flowey. save. load. the answer has to be here somewhere.

but how do you quantify the sting of hearing her say "my child" to someone else? how do you account for the absence left in the places where joy once thrived? how do you document, in clinical terms, why you keep watching over people you swear don't matter anymore?

you don't devote yourself to perfecting devastation unless you remember, with searing clarity, what it felt like to be whole.

you don't give so much of yourself mastering the art of ridiculing attachment unless you're terrified of how much you still have left to give.

unless every attempt to prove love meaningless just confirms how much meaning it still has for you.

...point IS! flowey did an interesting job creating his own idea of a bully. it's all pathological. so crudely stemmed from his own sorrows and fears. he's created his own textbook definition of meanness...but then every chapter's just him screaming in a mirror.

[theladysunami]

I have had another idea for a type of Bingqiu fanfiction that could be both angsty and loads of fun!

SVSSS's Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan transmigrate into PIDW as a late story Bingge and either a random wife, a still living antagonist, or a newly minted version of his old self, respectively.

Bingmei is horrified to find himself back in a shitty world full of wives he doesn't care for. Plus this is after Bingge merged the realms, so there are boatloads of consequences resulting from both that and all the other nonsense Bingge got up to (possibly including a bunch of young children with his various wives). He wants nothing more then to leave and go back to his own world, with his own beloved husband, but this voice in his head calling itself 'the System' won't let him.

The System reassures Binghe that to avoid a "second catastrophic protagonist breakdown," User 002, formerly cast as "Shen Qingqiu," has been brought along as well. (Quizzing the System reveals the first "catastrophic protagonist breakdown" is why Binghe was brought here. The previous "Luo Binghe instance" was apparently "too unstable" and "had to be replaced"). Unfortunately the System is much less helpful when it comes to informing Luo Binghe who his Shizun happens to be now.

Shenanigans ensue as Luo Binghe first works to track down his beloved (not knowing what skin he happens to be wearing now) and then works with him to bring some kind of stability to the horrifically mangled world they now live in.

There are so many ways things could play out with just this scenario!

One could write a story focused on just Luo Binghe tracking down Shen Yuan's current self, and the inevitable reveal that this transmigration thing happened to Shen Yuan once before, or the story could be about both that and the two of them stepping up and putting the world back together after someone else went and wrecked it.

The information on PIDW we have is vague enough that all sorts of options exist in terms of worldbuilding and emphasis on that end too:

The story could be a political intrigue where all sorts of complicated political maneuverings are required to materially improve people's situations and return some amount of self sufficiency after decades (or perhaps centuries) of Bingge's tyrannical rule.

It could be about the environmental changes of the merged realms, the various species that are either struggling or thriving, the changes people need to make to deal with this 'new normal', and so forth.

It could also be about the personal struggles of the wives, the "villains," the children, and so forth that Bingge left behind. How to work with them, help them heal and/or move on, etc.

One could also go the silly route and lean in on the absolute absurdity of the entire situation. The pure confusion at Luo Binghe's sudden complete change of character, and the seemingly random person he only now decided to crown as empress.

If anyone has their own thoughts and ideas on a "Bingmei permanently replaces Bingge in the world of PIDW, and his Shizun is brought along" type scenario, I'd love to hear about them!

[night-raven-tattler]

Silence = neutrality/complicity, and I don't want to be silent.

Recently some people have been calling out a certain creator from the twst x reader side of the fandom that has been spreading zionist posts, dangerous sentiments and a heavy load of misinformation. The creator is @/marilynfuse and I am only sharing their blog name for everyone to block and report all of their platforms. Do NOT engage with this person, and do NOT harass this person. It's clear they don't listen to whatever you say and they thrive off of your attention. Do not give them that satisfaction, just report and move on. Their blog is still active despite not showing up when looked up.

I am a writer, but before that I am a person who does not endorse any kind of hatred or neutrality in the face of injustice. With that being said, I want no type of queerphobe, racist, islamophobe, antisemite, zionist, supporter of apartheid, denier or shamer interacting with my blog.

To be perfectly clear: Palestine, Congo, Sudan, Yemen, Syria, Haiti deserve to be free.

My goal is to invite everyone on any side to do their own research and see with their own eyes who they need to support, without thinking about the misinformation that has been going around for so long. Try to see beyond the propaganda and wake up to the reality we're facing.

I am gonna do what I think is best and share some sources I've found useful for Palestine (source 1, source 2, source 3), Congo (source 1, source 2), Sudan (source 1, source 2), Yemen (source 1, source 2), Syria (source 1, source 2) and Haiti (source 1). I'm trying to be as objective as I can be, but keep in mind being objective =/= being neutral. Being neutral leaves enough space for people to perpetuate misinformation, which is something I'm not going to do.

Educate yourselves. Talk about the people in need. Don't stay silent until the genocide and the wars stop and stay loud enough that people can still hear you even after you're pushed off the stage. If you want to educate other people, share resources and correct them, and don't engage with people who don't see reason. Block, report, use that energy and anger on sharing more resources to the people who are open to change.

[bc17-writes]

The Hand That Feeds - Chapter 1

Uhhh my fic got 10K+ hits on AO3 so I thought I'd post the first chapter here while I'm working on chapter 9 and some drabble like things okay cool thanks (no use of y/n)

(I also haven't used tumblr since college so if anyone has any hints, tips, tricks let me know)

Summary: You're Simon's pregnant new neighbor.

chapter specific c/w: none

Ghost is a creature of habit - most every moment of his life is structured into routines. Missions broken down to the minute, with backup plans upon backup plans. Days on base divided into blocks - trainings, briefings, meal times. Mornings and evenings in his apartment scheduled by the minute. Ghost thrives when he knows what to expect.

What he does not expect is opening the door of his Manchester apartment at zero two hundred hours to leave for his morning run, and seeing you stumble on the uneven carpet in the hallway before him. You’re half his size, dressed not dissimilarly to himself in an oversized black hoodie and joggers. The cardboard box you hold nearly flies out of your hands before he reacts, grabbing the scruff of your hoodie with one hand and steadying the box with the other.

“Christ,” he says, putting you back to rights. His voice is deep and rough with disuse. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah, sorry, thank you” you reply. “Not sure what happened.”

“Carpet’s fucked. ‘Sall uneven.” He watches you set the box down before the door of the recently vacated apartment next to his.

You pull out a lanyard from your pocket, loaded with too many keys and trinkets to keep track of, looking through them for the right one.

“It’s silver. With a square head.”

You find it almost immediately and thank him, again, opening the door and nudging the box in with your foot. You don’t lock it back.

Ghost narrows his eyes at that.

“Looks like we’re neighbors!” You give him your name and hold out a hand with a smile.

To him, it is blinding as the sun. You are resplendent, even with red, sleepy eyes and road-trip hair. You are stunning, in shapeless clothes with a few crumbs on your hoodie.

You smile at him despite his black mask and hood pulled so far over his head he knows his eyes are hidden in shadows.

He takes your hand in one of his gloved ones, and you shake it firmly, unflinchingly, the smile never leaving your face. You don’t divert your eyes, like the anonymous people he passes on his runs, or at the pub. You don’t shy away like the cashier at the little shop where he buys his tea. You don’t cower or flinch, like mothers moving their children from his view when he picks up meat at the butcher’s.

“I’m Simon.”

+

“Who pissed in your tea this morning, Ghost?” Captain Price asks, leaning back on the cool wall next to Ghost. “Really running the recruits through the ringer today.”

“L.T. didn’t get his tea this morning.” Soap interjects slyly from Ghost’s other side, before he can respond.

“Watch it, Johnny,” Ghost growls.

“Rolled up late, right before PT. Didn’t even have time for a ‘cuppa’”

“Soap!” Ghost snaps, not turning from the recruits.

“Late?” Price asks, incredulously.

“Wasn’t late. Got here when I was ‘sposed to.”

“Just later than every single other day.”

Ghost clenches his jaw, crossed arms tightening minutely across his chest. Soap obviously has a death wish.

Price hums in consideration and Ghost can feel the Captain’s eyes boring into him.

-

Simon had ended up helping you move the rest of your things from your ancient van, loading them onto a small flatbed cart so you didn’t have to bring them up the elevator one by one. He didn’t let you lift a finger. He brought them into your apartment, with your permission, and deposited them into their corresponding rooms, each mirrored from his own, just on the other side of the wall.

You’d filled the silence easily, despite the early hour and your obviously sleep-deprived state, not requiring him to speak much, and hardly asking him questions.

You’d puttered about, unboxing a few of your things, and told him a little about your job as a translator as he set up your tiny desk and computer.

You’d interjected multiple times about how he didn’t have to, how he’d helped enough, how he probably had somewhere to be considering he looked like he was on the way out already. Each time he’d say he’d be on his way if you wanted and each time you shook your head.

You’d offered him coffee and compensation, both of which he refused, counter-offering with his number and the offer to call him if you needed help with anything else. You nodded in agreement, texting him immediately with your name and apartment number.

You never asked about the mask.

He’d had enough time afterwards for a smoke and a brief shower, but not much else, abandoning his usual morning run and tea before leaving for the base.

+

Ghost clenches his jaw under his mask, refusing to give Price his attention.

“Come see me after lunch, Ghost.” Price says before walking away, not even waiting for a response.

“Don’t fucking try that again Soap,” Ghost growls under his breath.

Johnny just laughs.

+

Simon makes his way to Price’s office after lunch, closing the door behind him and leaning back on it.

“Take a seat, Simon,” Price says calmly, motioning to the plush leather chair in front of his desk.

“‘m alright, sir.”

Price sighs, shuffling the folders on his desk to the side and folding his hands atop it. “About what Soap said… Son, I don’t want you to think you need to be here any more than you have to. It’s good to have a life at home. Hobbies or- whatever you want. I trust you with my life. Have your tea at home. As long as you are where you’re supposed to be and when, I want you to enjoy your life outside of all this.”

Ghost hardly holds back a scoff at the idea - at having a home that isn’t just walls and a too soft mattress where he lays, unsleeping, glaring at the ceiling, keeping the night terrors at bay. “That all, sir?”

“That’s all. Dismissed.”

+

When Simon finally gets back to his apartment that night, he finds a six-pack of beer in front of his door, with a thank you note in your handwriting.

[obsessive-valentine]

Are your request open? Can I request a sequel to Barbarian?

I know he's kind and everything but I don't think I could give in to him 100%, like yes, probably return the kindness but never love him. Reader feels a lot of guilt about the attack and I think that after the event and realizing that they didn't have much to do in the situation, they just felt numb about everything, living on autopilot except when they are with their dog.

This is just my interpretation and basically a self insertion sorry haha.

I would love to know about their daily lives! Does the barbarian take reader to war with him? (If you delve deeper into my idea) Would he realize that reader doesn't talk to him much? Would he be jealous of the dog?

Requests are always open, I love to hear about people’s thoughts on my silly little characters lol.

I did focus more on the barbarians perspective on the relationship rather the actual complexity of the whole thing and psychological depth of it all, it was a rather shallow Drabble but I’d love to expand more on his character. I’ll see if I come up with any domestic short stories for him in the coming weeks, love that idea thanks :)

Yandere!Barbarian X GN!Reader Headcanons

The barbarian himself isn’t a good person, morally or in any other way, and he knows that. He understands what he’s done to you -pulled you away from everything you’ve ever known or loved leaving it all in tatters- he understands he’s killed innocent and guilty all the same and will continue to do so for the clan to thrive. And he doesn’t feel bad about any of it.

He definitely tries to sympathise with how his greed effects you, but, he doesn’t regret his actions but does understand to an extent how hard this is for you. This is why he tries to over compensate by gift giving and finding it within himself to be gentle and patient, so as not to damage you further (despite that being the polar opposite of how he was raised).

He’s not super emotionally intelligent so doesn’t really know what to do aside from the above. Anyone with common sense will learn fast that they can’t fight him off so it’s very possible to become numb and retreat into the mind. If you wont retreat into his arms he will try make it so you feel comfort in his tent that way you’re not always on autopilot but enjoying a craft or something in your quiet tent if even just for a hour.

Honestly though he doesn’t really mind if you’re on autopilot but does expect you to tolerate him, so if you are adamant on distance or fighting him you might trigger his temper. Like pulling and tugging you around, making you sleep in the same bed no exceptions, raising his voice to remind you who you’re trying to challenge etc.

A very tearful darling is a whole other situation, he cant stand seeing you cry, he’d be sobbing, crying, throwing up on the inside while trying to maintain a poker face and think up a solution.

Onto a lighter topic, the barbarians do move camp every few weeks and that includes reader (dont worry he never makes you walk) they don’t have a permanent home just their tents though our barbarian does intend to settle down at some point once the fighting becomes to much hassle for his ageing bones. But never once does he imagine bringing you into one of his raids, rebellions or battles.

He leaves you at camp with the members that aren’t participating that particular day (like the few women, elders or barbarians that just didn’t go-nobody’s forced to fight every battle, just to pull their weight). And of course your beloved wolf dog who he doesn’t regret, he doesn’t get jealous easily especially of the dog he got you for the soul purpose of cheering you up, if he can’t cheer you up at least the dog can and that’s a win in his books.

He’s really not high maintenance, as long as at the end of the day he load up your plate with his finest hunt and sit near you while you both eat, watching whatever fight breaks out in the clan from a safe distance before he has to eventually step in. There’s not much entertainment in the middle of the woods during the evening so you both take what you can get even if it’s drunken fight.

Maybe he takes you and the dog out for walks or fetch if it gets really boring at camp. Will bring you the best stick he finds for you to play fetch with the dog, he sees how much the dog means to you so he treats it with utmost respect. He’ll let you have control over this one little thing in your life for your own sakes.

Therefore while he would prefer you to love him truly, he doesn’t expect it (mostly because half the time he can’t tell the difference between your compliance and you showing affection), doesn’t stop him from trying though. He’s a saint compared to the barbarians before him... only for you though.

[nebmia]

Reviewing every rpg book on my shelf: 5, Flying Circus

Flying Circus is a a game by Erika Chappell where you fly planes, have messy dramatic relationships, and find out who you are. Sometimes all at the same time. More specifically you fly *rickety planes from the dawn of aviation* and have messy, dramatic relationships, and find out who you are *in an essentially queer way*.

The first thing I love about Flying Circus is it's sheer audacity in taking pbta (usually deployed for low crunch storygame-y titles) and twisting it into a highly detailed and technical system for running dogfights. I think its really clever how Erika has taken the idea of a detailed combat system are re-appraised it from the ground up in the context of dogfighting.

There is no grid based movement here, it simply is not useful in the three dimensional world that planes inhabit. Instead your positioning is modelled through altitude and air speed, with each being tradeable for the other and spend able to perform maneuvers.

Honestly the whole system is rather intimidating (a fact the book freely admits). Each plane requires a little personal instrument panel sheet (and a few extra side sheets) that resemble somthing you would expect in a euro-game boardgame more than an rpg. The system goes as far as modelling how your plane performs as you use up your modelling fuel and with varying altitude. There are also a lot of fairly involved moves that it feels would be a little tricky to keep aware of while running a dogfight. However, from what I hear, the system works well and, once you understand it, isn't /that/ tricky to run. I think this isn't actually that crunchy when compared to your standard tactical battlers, it's just completely new (and working in a zone most people have less of an intuitive understanding of [although its worth noting that most peoples intuitive understanding of medieval style combat is dead wrong]) so we are unably to draw upon our preexisting assumptions.

You will notice I have to fall back on reports and intiitions here because I am yet to be able to play the game, which is honestly my biggest problem with it: it carves such a specific niche that I think I will really struggle to ever bring it to the table. Anyone I have talked to about the game has always responded to the effect of 'I don't think I'm into planes enough for this'.

I am also not half as into planes specifically as Erika Chappell is. But what I am into is getting deep into things in general, and this whole system excels at letting you get incredibly technical and nerdy about your plane (as far as things like exactly what radiator fluid it has, if you use the advanced rules) and making those choices actually matter in play.

ok, that's probably enough about planes (a phrase I anticipate has never once been uttered by the author of this book), what are you doing when you get out of the planes?

The game follows a cycle of mission and downtime, which you spend relieving stress (in healthy or unhealthy ways) and running upkeep on your company. This is where you do a lot of the character work and bring into focus the 'coming of age' narrative that the game intends.

Which seems a good lead in to talking about the playbooks. Each playbook is focused around a particular thematic idea or experience, which is helpfully spelled out directly in a 'themes' section for each one. This isn't a game where you play as a fighter because you want to solve problems by hitting them but rather one where you play as a Fisher because you want to engage with "a queer reclamation of the monstous", or a scion because you want to engage with "privilege and power, and what obligations come with it", or a believer because you want to engage with "a mindset that thrives on radicalism", or a survivor because you want to engage with "a metaphor for what it feels like to be a transgender person escaping an unwelcome or abusive situation".

Obviously, alongside themes you do also get a load of cool abilities to use.

Of the many games that claim to be ghibli-esque but I think Flying Circus hews closest on account of two things: understanding miyazaki's perspective on war and also due to being absolutely unhinged about planes.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

full hc request: mc and m6 celebrating holi ?

(i am friendless this holi and i will cry over it)

-🫧 anon

The Arcana HCs: Celebrating Holi

~ most of this is based off of childhood experience celebrating in South Asia, thank you for resurrecting all the fun memories anon! ~

Julian

He loves the concept of it

A community event, full of color and celebration? Heck yeah! This extrovert is pumped and ready to spread the joy!

This extrovert is also a doctor

And this doctor is already gearing up for the aftermath - for all the people who caught cold running around in wet clothes, the injuries from hopping around on wet cobblestones and twisting ankles ...

... the overenthusiastic celebrants falling into the canals and bumping their heads, the kids who always end up licking the color powder and find out the hard way what they're allergic to ...

And of course, the mild panic he experiences for the next week seeing faded stains on his patient's skin and faces and briefly mistaking them for bruising

Seriously, why do bruises turn every color of the rainbow??

But all that aside, he's excited to celebrate with you and will even bend down so you can smear some color on his face and eyepatch

Asra

Oh, they are thriving

This is easily one of his favorite events of the year. This gets more planning and preparation time than ... most things, really

They insist on making (or at least, modifying) all of their own colors and stock up on everything from powder to paste to dyes they can mix with water and spray at passersby with a water gun

Some of them he enchants to be holographic. Others, to hover menacingly in the air and then engulf whoever walks close enough

It's one of the few times when all the kids in the neighborhood flock to them because they know that nobody will kit them out for a proper water fight like they will. It's on

His hair is going to have colors lingering in it for over a month

The magic use does get just a little bit out of control, sometimes - they've been politely asked to stay away from the town square, since the statues still occasionally puke neon rainbows

Will put a spell on you that morning so nothing can stain you

Nadia

Does she enjoy and look forward to this festival? Yes. Is she stressed beyond words? Also yes. She needs a break

The sheer logistics of organizing a national holiday aside, Holi is messy. The streets are full of people, traffic is impossible for the day, injuries are spiking from partying too hard, and the cleanup

Don't get her started on the cleanup

Vesuvia has plenty of white marble statues and fountains that end up coated in the rainbow every year (though it's gotten easier since a certain magician was banned from the town square)

Not to mention the series of legal cases afterwards when some merchant passing through sells a load of poor quality colors

That won't stop her from enjoying it with you. She'll set up the garden and spend an afternoon chasing you around with her palms covered in color, darting out to leave smudges on your cheeks

If she moves a little more slowly to ensure that she gets covered in your colors as well, then. That's for only her and the shrubs to know

Muriel

A festival so exciting and intense that crowds of people flood the streets and smear colors all over each other with abandon?

Yeah, you can count him out

The concept of celebrating color and the triumph of good over evil is delightful, but you both know that if he joins he'll suffer at best and have a full-blown panic attack at worst. Better not

He'll celebrate with you in his own way

You'll find a forest clearing, pull out all the environmentally friendly colors you've stocked up on, and goad him with rainbow fingerprints into a playful game of tag among the trees

His artistic side will make itself known, waiting for you to tire yourself out before he sits next to you and traces swirls and runes all over your arms and face with featherlight touches

Of course, this only works if you're distracted with something while he does, or else your eyes on him will make him freeze up and blush. (the shaky little smudges those cause are the best)

Portia

She adores Holi and she is Prepared

She knows all the tips and tricks to get through the day with as little misfortune as possible. Old, cheap clothes that you don't mind getting stained. Oil on your skin and hair before you go out

And of course, a mom bag stuffed to the brim, half with celebration essentials and half with mischief implements

You look tired and a little overstimulated. Here, wipe your face and hands with this damp towel and drink some water. She packed snacks - do you want a cookie or a sandwich?

You look like you could use an advantage. Here, take this dye filled water balloon and throw it at the nearest street sign - the partygoers underneath will have it in their hair for weeks

Her favorite celebration spots are right in the middle of wherever the kids are having their massive water fight. Nobody can amp up mediate one of those like she can

Will shamelessly cover your clothes in her handprints

Lucio

He loves it for the first fifteen minutes or so

A town-wide celebration that fills the streets? Heck yeah, he is all in and having the time of his life! He has permission to splash color all over random strangers? Awesome! He's going all out -

... until he starts to receive the same treatment, which means his hair is getting messy and his clothes are going to stain and there's dye all over his face and absolutely ruining his eyeliner

Yeah, he's done, and he's going to start sulking if he doesn't get a hot bath nice and soon

Mercedes and Melchior, on the other hand, are having the times of their lives. It's chaos dialed to the max and they love the chance to weave between people's legs and splash colors everywhere

Of course, they also have gorgeous long silky white fur, which gets absolutely saturated with pigments and dyes as they run wild

Bathing them afterwards is a legendary nightmare and the pastel hues linger on their backs for quite a while

[sportsthoughts]

musings on staying positive as a pens fan in the year of our lord 2024 under the cut

I've been pondering the fact that i feel pretty ok/positive about the pens' current performance... and I think I've come to the conclusion that this is the case because games are in the middle of the night for me - so purely due to logistics my penguins fandom time is hugely weighted towards time spent with people in fandom, enjoying content, making gifs, reading fics and doing lots of other penguins related activities that aren't just watching games. Obviously, i wreck my sleep schedule and watch the games more often than not, but I think my timezone limits how much actual hockey I can consume.

sharing this because i can see a lot of us asking ourselves how we navigate having fun in this space whilst the hockey kind of sucks. do we disengage? pick a second team? take a break? turn off the games? try and see the funny side? whatever suits you. all valid responses tbh. But i think a great answer is just being here! look at this beautiful community! so many nice people in the pens lb tag. so many great fics being written every single day! we have artists!!! gif makers!! people who are making funny posts and sharing pictures and throwbacks and great content. we're so fortunate to have such a thriving fandom, in my opinion. idk, i know we all care about the hockey and I care about the hockey a lot too but I encourage you all to embrace the European Pens Fan Experience! which - I can't speak for all of us - is often a lot more about the team and the environment rather than the live sports

tldr: you should all move to europe (for loads of reasons) but mostly because then you can enjoy hockey at a safe distance and sleep through the games and be awake for the stuff that can't hurt you

[cchickki]

Poison - Chapter 1

summary: While normalcy remains within the Citadel, Furiosa and Jack focus on their escape to the Green Place while trying to figure out their feelings for each other. With so many obstacles tackled and their future on the horizon, things aren't always as simple and hopeful as they seem.

themes: hurt/comfort, intimacy, sexual tension

pairing: furiosa x praetorian jack

rating: T - some alcohol use & gets a bit steamy at the end

word count: 2.8k

author's note: So sorry this part of the series took longer to come out, I kept rewriting and wrestling with ideas on how to work on it. This one requires two chapters and might have another part to the series afterward (not completely sure yet). Also, this chapter is honestly 'Teen' rated with a bit of spicy-ness, but the next chapter is what makes it have the 'Mature' rating. This chapter explores a little bit more of Jack's past. The FuryJack brain rot is real, but I'm thriving in it! Thank you everyone for the support!

part one - wounds

part two - seed

furyjack playlist

also tagging @chickadee-djarin ❤️

chapter under the cut, can also be read on ao3

Gas Town tomorrow. Gas Town Tomorrow. Gas Town Tomorrow.

The words repeated in a tiresome loop in Jack’s head as he observed some of the shipment being loaded onto the rig. Three crates of cabbages, two crates of spinach, two crates of potatoes, ten gallons of Mother’s Milk, and the list went on. Today was supposed to be the day he delivered the convoy, but apparently some of the crops took a little longer to ripen and become harvested, and one of the Milkers ‘became dry,’ or so he heard. The little details about the shipment didn’t matter to him, all that mattered was that the convoy arrived at its destination, and the shipment of ammunition was delivered intact. 

Although Jack has felt his focus shift more as of late. His goal was always to preserve his own safety and the safety of his crew, but out in the Wasteland the sanctity of life was hardly honored. Losing people was about as common as breathing, so Jack usually kept himself at arm’s length with his crew beyond work despite the trust that was usually required to grow loyalty. 

But then Furiosa was added to the mix, and his priorities had been shifted.

Furiosa’s figure caught his eye, moving amongst the swirl of activity within the Workshop. Her posture was rigid as she stepped around the War Boys and her eyes heavy and swollen from crying last night. He noticed she had attempted to conceal the puffiness of her eyes by adding more grease around her eyes than usual. She approached the radiator, her and a War Boy checking for a suspected coolant leak. Jack didn’t allow his gaze to linger on her too long. The rumors about them had already been a topic of hushed gossip around the Workshop, but as long as it remained only rumors that stayed within this section of the Citadel, Jack saw no reason to shut it down. A few stories about them sneaking off together hardly the hot gossip that would rank among the borderline solicit activities that happen around the Citadel. But Furiosa was a Full-Life woman who was already teetering on a hazardous edge to being plucked from his mentorship as a praetorian, and placed somewhere else in the Citadel to be used. It was difficult enough to convince Immortan Joe for her to remain with him after it was revealed she wasn’t a young boy living with the Gear Heads.

He kept himself busy, checking on the differentials toward the front of the war rig. He had noticed a strange noise deriving from the wheels, and his control while steering had been a bit more difficult. 

Jack worked in silence for hours. His mind drifted to Furiosa as it often did lately, though his clear insight on his work was never completely clouded. In a fleeting moment of weakness he did think warily to himself if kissing Furiosa had been a mistake, and cursed himself for getting even slightly carried away. He had crossed a boundary with her and was now navigating uncharted territory. 

It wasn’t until dusk had fallen over the Wasteland that Jack finally approached Furiosa, who was cleaning off her hands stained by radiator fluid and grease with a ripped-up shirt. Any semblance of the night before was nonexistent between them in the garages; Jack knew better than to bring up last night up to her, not here. Here she was just as much in charge of this operation as he was, he wouldn’t dare do anything to shake her resolve by asking her something so personal when the topic could be within earshot of someone else.

“How’s the wound?” Jack asked her, drawing a line with his finger across his own collarbone to indicate what he meant.

Furiosa mumbled ‘fine,’ giving him a curt nod. She stared endlessly in the distance, growing tight-lipped as she finished cleaning her hands off to the best of her ability. Although she kept her expression blank, Jack would see the hint of regret laced behind her heavy-lidded eyes. Despite her mysterious nature, Jack knew her well enough to sense that opening up about her past had taken a toll on her, and exposed a part of herself that she wasn’t ready to reveal.

Jack placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, unsure how to gesture to her without it coming across as pity. Furiosa didn’t shrug his hand away, her stare remained looking out aimlessly as she displayed no reaction to this touch. He leaned in close, the sides of their faces brushing up against each other. His eyes scanned the room, ensuring that no one else was close enough to overhear.

“I’m nearly finished gathering enough supplies for us to leave, we just need to wait for the right opportunity now.” He whispered.

His words fully drew her attention. She stepped back, so she could fully look at his face. Her brows drew inward as she searched his face for further explanation, as if she was debating if she was dreaming or not. 

"I meant what I said last night, I'll do whatever it takes." He reaffirmed.

“I'll meet you in an hour.” Furiosa replied, her voice nearly a hiss but not unpleasant.

She then walked past him, heading somewhere deeper in the Workshop to appear inconspicuous. Jack knew what she meant on where to meet: their little hideaway, their personal oasis nestled underneath one of the Aqua Cola pumps and high above the grounds of the Citadel. The leaking water collected in a divot underneath the escarpment, growing plants and attracted some insects and lizards to the rare and hidden source of water. 

It had become their sanctuary these past few months.

****

Furiosa trekked to their hideaway as soon as the Workshop cleared out for the evening.

Jack was sitting beside the divot, inspecting the bottle of whiskey with vague interest. She sat beside him in silence, fixating on the bottle as she waited for him to speak. As he slightly lowered the bottle, Furiosa reached for it, fully taking it in her hands as he released it. The heaviness of her eyes and pounding headache that had started blooming across her forehead was tempting her to take a swig from the bottle. She knew she should ask Jack first since pure bottled alcohol from the Old World was extremely rare to come by. 

“How’d you get this, if you don’t mind me asking?” Furiosa finally questioned, her voice still slightly hoarse from the night before.

“I traded for it.” Jack answered, his attention staring out toward the horizon as the sun began to set.

Furiosa nodded in response, her fingers glossing over the faded label. The silence between them remained for a few moments as Furiosa wrestled with her words, but Jack seemed to be enjoying the tranquility so she was slow to speak and break it. She decided to take a sip; since only about a quarter of it was remaining, she had to tip the bottle upwards more than she originally intended. It rushed into her mouth faster than she anticipated, the sensation immediately burning her mouth and throat as it went down. She coughed a bit, clenching her eyes shut as it settled with a warm heaviness in the pit of her stomach. She started to cough, spluttering some of the whiskey out as she did so.

Jack clapped her on the back, a slightly wry smile spreading on his face. “Slow down there,” he chuckled lightly.

Furiosa wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, the sound of his laughter drawing her in and calming her soul. 

“I didn’t realize that you drank,” she started, gesturing to the bottle she was still holding, clearing her throat.

“I don’t, alcohol is good for dressing wounds. Can’t risk driving the war rig drunk.” Jack gently took the bottle from her hands, taking a swig for himself. “Although every once in a while, a couple drops don’t hurt.” 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before I took a drink…” Furiosa added, lamely. 

She didn’t understand why she felt so drained and awkward at this moment. She trusted Jack and had shared more of herself to him than anyone else, but right now she felt like she was a stranger stumbling at a first meeting. 

He frowned at her words, but not unkindly. “Nonsense, what’s mine is yours.” He replied, repositioning himself to move closer to her. “I should check that wound, might need to use more whiskey to clean it up.

Furiosa pulled the collar of her shirt down, slipping the oversized material past her shoulders to expose the stitched up gash. She kept her eyes locked on his, noticing his eyes flit downward briefly, lower than where her gash was. Her heart skipped a beat, feeling the heat radiating off of his body as he leaned in to inspect her wound closely. He ran his fingertips over his stitch work; Furiosa swore the sensation of his touch sent electricity through her body.

“Looks a bit red, but not too much swelling.” Jack noted. 

To her surprise Jack pressed his nose nearly up against her collar bone, inhaling. She stilled, holding her breath as his forehead brushed against her nose and lips. Her stomach somersaulted, her heart hammered in her chest, her hands trembled - she fought to contain herself.

“Doesn’t smell unpleasant, either. No infection.” Jack added, straightening up so he could face her. 

Her wide-eyed gaze caught his attention and the flushed color of her cheeks. Jack froze, debating what he should do next, recalling how exhausted and miserable she had appeared today from last night’s confessions. He drew back, thinking it better for her mentality not to indulge in whatever this was becoming. Jack wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her, but they both needed clear heads if they were going to make their escape in the future. He saw her wilt slightly at his retreat, but she recovered her disappointment swiftly, readjusting her shirt and standing up fully. The two wordlessly exchanged glances before she turned to leave, but Jack’s hand reached out and caught her wrist.

“Hang on,” he beckoned, keeping a gentle hold on her wrist. “You shared your past with me last night. I want to do the same.”

Furiosa turned back toward him, curiosity taking hold of her. She sat back down beside him, his focus returning to the sunset as he spoke.

“I was a toddler when the world fell apart. I don’t remember much, but there’s remnants of my memory that I can still recall. I remember what I think was my family's home, my toys I used to play with, and a television program I used to watch all the time. They were soldiers, even back then, and they were under Immortan Joe’s command.”

Shocked, Furiosa straightened her posture at the news. 

“He was Colonel Joe Moore back then, a good soldier and a decent man, at least I think he was. Perhaps a bit of madness was always within him, but over time when society fell and things started to get worse, Joe began to change.” Jack sighed. “It all seems so long ago, almost like a distant dream. When my parents passed, I was trapped with only Joe to care for me. I watched him change, morph into a monster-“

Furiosa’s hand clasped his; it was her turn to offer comfort. He glanced down at her hand, his expression remaining neutral as his other hand enclosed over hers. He didn't feel deserving of her sympathy, especially after she had shared how she had ended up here.

“I’m luckier than most. The thought of anything beyond the Citadel is… staggering to me. But Joe can’t be right, there has to be more than this. You’re proof of that.” Jack faced her again, his free hand cupping the side of her face.

Furiosa leaned into his touch, reveling at the feeling of his calloused hands against her smooth skin. She fought to keep her distance today, her exposed, bleeding heart still feeling raw from last night. Above all she had to keep the Green Place and herself safe, but something about Jack made her relinquish her guarded psyche. She inclined her head closer to him, her lips catching on his. He was still for a moment, not reciprocating right away as she repositioned herself. Like the previous night something ignited within her once again, she longed for his touch more than anything she could fathom. She climbed into his lap, causing him to tilt his head upwards as he gripped onto her back for balance. Her hands roamed, holding the back of his head, taking fistfuls of his hair within her palm, the other hand sliding down his back. She felt Jack's lips part, his tongue slipping past her own and into her mouth. This act puzzled her, not knowing what exactly to do as she allowed his tongue access into her mouth. She could hear Jack's breathing become more labored, the ferocity of his kissing intensifying as she clumsily did her best to keep up.

She ended up on her back, the two of them a tangle of limbs as their lips remained on each other. Furiosa let Jack take control, unsure what to do next due to her lack of experience but knowing she wanted this to continue. His lips trailed down to her neck as she gasped for air from holding her breath during their kissing, cradling his head. One of his hands was planted on the ground beside her, and the other held the opposite side of her face in a firm, but loving embrace. A hushed whimper escaped her lips as Jack continued whatever he was doing - the pressure on her neck increased as she felt his teeth and tongue against her skin. Heat radiated from where his mouth remained on her neck, the sensation foreign but not unpleasant to her.

Jack suddenly pulled away, sitting up fully as he peered down at Furiosa. He appeared shocked, his breathing heavy as it took a moment to collect himself. He sighed, wiping his mouth then pinching the bridge of his nose for a second before standing up fully. She went to prop herself on her elbows as he extended a hand to help her up. She took it slowly, confused as she studied his disheveled appearance. His eyes were averted from hers, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as she waited expectantly to break the silence between them. She felt anxiety begin to bubble in the pit of her stomach, wondering if she had done something wrong to cause him to abruptly stop.

"I'm sorry, I got too carried away," Jack finally panted, still trying to slow his breathing. "I told myself I wouldn't get carried away again, but I did."

Furiosa took a step forward, her hand cupping the side of his face. His eyes landed on her now, a small but almost sad smile spreading on his face. She went to kiss him again, but he turned away, taking her hand on his face and moving it away. 

"We can't, not here." He murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Her brows furrowed, puzzled. "Why?"

"It wouldn't be," Jack paused, searching for the right word for this moment. "-practical. I want to, trust me I really do, but it's not safe for the two of us while we're in the Citadel." 

"I don't understand," Furiosa shook her head, not following.

"Fury, other than the dangers of being distracted from our current duties as praetorians, there's the risk that you could become pregnant." Jack explained, delicately.

Heat rose in Furiosa's cheeks, the possibility hadn't even crossed her mind. She was too overcome with her yearning to have even comprehended. She knew what sex was, but didn't know how to navigate it herself. She bashfully kept her eyes toward the ground, staring at her boots as she wished she hadn't been short-sighted on where all of this could've led to. 

"Get some sleep, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow," Jack suggested, his tone still low and gentle.

Furiosa nodded, too embarrassed to speak. She left their hideaway, deciding to sleep with the Gear Heads and War Boys in the Workshop tonight so she could clear her head.

Jack watched her leave, feeling disappointment for how their physical intimacy had ended and how he had allowed himself to be that reckless. He wanted to curse himself for how he had potentially given her a hickey, a dangerous branding that could catch the wrong person's attention. The thought of foolishly putting her at risk made him nauseous, he knew until they left the Citadel he had to keep his emotions in check and his hands off of her.

He needed to prepare himself for tomorrow. Seeing Dementus for the first time since Furiosa had finally told him what he had done to her was going to be a challenge. He knew it was going to take every ounce of his strength and self-control not to kill him on sight.

[siriusblackdevotee]

I think prongsfoot fuck with pain >~<

Rabid dog x sacrificial deer but also pet x owner. Sirius is the violent one but James is the one with control.

Sirius comes from an abusive family. When he's suffering under their wand, he disconnects and just fantasizes, about finally snapping, finally making things bloody on his terms. He has so many of these violent urges, the vicious way only stray animals that survive in wild can be. But it never happens, he's too weak, he just freezes.

So those blood thirsty desires just stays with him. It eats away at him until he starts to satisfy it. He first starts with damaging things beyond recognition, completely destroying rooms, just little things that can scratch the surface of that itch. It's only when he starts taking it out on people, he really thrives, especially after seeing that familiar scarlet color.

Then there's James. He's Sirius's best friend, his soulmate. Of course Sirius told him about this itch he has. With the little amount of morality he has left, he knew he needed help, that he had to tell someone about how wrong, messed up and awful he was becoming or already is.

Since it's James, he wanted at least him to know that he doesn't mean it, doesn't want to bite, didn't like becoming so similar with his father. And because it's James, maybe he even wants to be told nothing's wrong with him, that everything's okay.

And James does. He would pull Sirius closer, hug him, big hands would rub his back, fingers run through his hair, a warm palm caressing his hollow cheeks and whispers on his lips "They made you this way, nothing's wrong you, it's okay, you're perfect my heart"

Then James would offer himself, like a sacrificial deer. He'd tell Sirius to let go if it's just him, to not hold back and give him everything. They'd have these friendly spars that quickly turn brutal once Sirius realizes he's really allowed to be uncontrolled, aggressive because James wanted it. Which means it's okay.

No matter how familiar Sirius is with the Unforgivable, those are off limits. He won't allow himself to be that far gone. So only cutting hexes are used in the cruelest, lethal yet innovative ways. James doesn't hold back either but he mostly focuses on subduing Sirius rather than being on the offensive.

So they'd often left with loads of blood covering them, basically bathing in it, deep cuts and dark bruises. All meant to be visual and physical reminders of Sirius's time with his family but they're only reminded of each other.

Sirius sees cuts on his arms through the familiar black mist like he's lost too much blood and doesn't remember his father anymore, instead it's all James.

If this was how they fought, how they fuck wasn't any different.

Sirius was the most vulnerable then, so high on lust he didn't have the proper grasp on his mind. The endorphins do sedate him a bit but the loss of control makes him just as violent if not more, like a cornered stray animal.

He would dig his nails in, harsh enough to peel skin away and draw blood, he'd bite with no regards to James's pain, happily tasting the blood, teeth tugging on the flesh since he wasn't allowed to tear the skin apart, though there were attempts.

It stabled him, grounded him, made him feel like he was in control even though in reality, he was losing it.

James only bothers with pulling his hair away with a glare if the pain becomes too much or pulling him closer, nuzzling his cheek, hands soothing anywhere within reach or just holding him if he was getting so overwhelmed he was on the verge of crying, so he'd calm down. Other than that, he'd just continue mindlessly moving his hips as if this was their usual fuck.

Sometimes, when he senses Sirius holding back, those same encouraging whispers to let go are spilled as he pulls them closer, baring his neck, arms around Sirius going limp, his defenses going down. Quite literally becoming an offering and Sirius doesn't hesitate to just take.

These occasionally, carnal sex is honestly the best sex they have, especially when it ends with both of them crying how they loved each other.

For James there is just something so exhilarating about handing over his life to someone fully capable of ending it, someone that pushes him to that line, yet is so afraid to because he's treasured much more.

Oh and he loved seeing Sirius get all twitchy, high and drained right after. As long as he got to see that, he didn't mind the pain, he was building a tolerance from all their spars.

For Sirius, his homicidal cravings and sexual desires were being fulfilled simultaneously with the one person he's bared his ugly soul to and was accepted as he is. Of course it's the best he's felt.

And yay!! Sirius isn't so easily violent anymore!! Because he has an outlet and it's James!! I promise they're both okay with this!! They have intense aftercare sessions on an emotional level only soulmates like them are capable of!! No angst!!

PS. I usually blog lighthearted things, this is the darkest thing I've written. I don't think it's bad enough that it needs any trigger warning or certain tags but I don't know how the Tumblr community works yet so let me know if there's anything to add!!

[integra1127grimmreaper]

The Replacement - Part thirty-six

Negan Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 35

Warning: violence, angst

All the prisoners that remained behind on the bus were busy, hard at work clearing an old trailway line, Negan stops midway to approach one of the guards. “Hey... my wife wasn’t with everyone on the bus, wondering if you could just-” before Negan could finish his sentence, the guard strikes in the face with a nightstick.

“You stop to eat, you stop to sleep...” the guard remarks as Negan groans in pain, “understood...?”

With a narrowed gaze, Negan straightens back up, “understood...” he remarks nodding.

During the commotion with Negan, three prisoners take it as an opening to escape, Kelly attempts to follow but Ezekiel stop just in time as the guards open fire on the escapees, killing all three.

Realizing the escaping wouldn’t be as simple as they believed, everyone goes back to work after the order was yelled out.

During a lunch break, Negan stealthy approaches Ezekiel, “don’t turn around” he states, taking a seat behind him.

“What do you want?” a pissed off Ezekiel remarks.

“I wanna get on the same page” Negan responds.

“I stayed away from you for years, for a reason” Ezekiel comments.

“Well, you need to shelve that shit” Negan states.

“Shit?!” an enraged Ezekiel scoffs, “melting people’s faces with irons? Coercing women into marrying into marrying you? Slaughtering my people? That shit I’ve not forgotten... nobody has.”

“Well, just so ya know; I haven’t forgotten either” Negan replies, “and for the shit I’ve done, I probably deserve to be in a place like this. It fits. But Ezekiel, it doesn’t fit you, it doesn’t fit the others, and it sure as hell doesn’t fit my wife and daughter... I don’t even have a clue with the hell they are.”

“What they do with them?” Ezekiel finally caves in.

Negan silently shakes his head grief-stricken, “I don’t know... but I need to find them. I promised Y/N, I'd keep our daughter safe, and I failed... I failed both of ‘em.”

“Look, man...” Negan implores, “I am coming to you as a father, and as a man who has led people. We have got to put our shit aside and work together... for everyone.”

“What are you thinking?” Ezekiel finally speaks up.

“I know this warden’s playbook...” Negan comments, “using fear as a weapon.”

“You wanna scare people into an uprising?” Ezekiel sarcastically remarks.

“That only works if you’re the one holding the gun” Negan responds, “fear’s not gonna work. But hope...? Hope will. And that is your thing, Ezekiel... it is definitely not mine.”

“This place thrives on separating people” Ezekiel comments, “they’re already breaking us down. We have to unite folks, but-”

“But what?” Negan enquires.

“We need a... spark, that reaches into their hearts and wakes them up. I don’t know how to do that here... we can barely talk to each other.”

Negan silently nods his head in understanding, “I can get you you’re spark. But when I do... you need to know that I doubt I’ll be getting out here with you.”

Ezekiel tilts his head in confusion, “what’s that supposed to mean? What are talking about?”

Before Negan couldn’t further explain, the guards order everyone back to work.

“You with me?” Negan manages to slip in.

Taking a moment, “I’m with you... for now” Ezekiel states, getting up to continue working.

At the end of the workday, the Wardan orders everyone to pack up and move out and everyone is loaded back onto the bus. While driving a radio distress call airs over the bus radio and Ezekiel and Negan recognizes the voice as Rosita’s as she’s been given directions to Outpost 22.

The bus finally comes to their destination, much to the shock of Negan and the others; the gates open to reveal that Outpost 22 was actually Alexandria. The realization further proven when the radio conversation between Rosita and the solider goes into detail of how the Commonwealth had taken it over and converted it into an Outpost.

“Aunt Y/N... aunt Y/N”, groaning softly in pain, your eyes slowly flutter in wakefulness at the sound of a familiar voice calling out your name.

“Judith?” you rapidly blink at her in confusion, “whattaya doing here?”

“They brought as all here” Judith explains.

“They?” you slowly sit up, realizing you weren’t the hospital room anymore. “Where are we?”

“We’re back at Alexandria, the Commonwealth soldiers brought us” Judith replies, “though, they’re calling it, Outpost 22.”

“Alexandria? How?”

“They had all us kids in the back of a truck, you were unconscious on a stretcher when they brought you here.”

Beckoning her closer, you gently take her hands in yours, “where are the other kids, Jud? Is my baby with them?”

“I haven’t seen any of the younger children” Judith shakes her head, “they only brought the older ones.”

Your heart was racing as you attempt to make sense of it all, “have you seen any of the adults? Negan, Daryl or Carol?”

“No” Judith shakes her head, “we haven’t been allowed out the house.”

“Ok” you nod, taking deep breathes to avoid a panic attack. The Commonwealth had clearly betrayed you, captured everyone and brought them back to Alexandria. But why? When and how did they manage to seize control of it? Yet most importantly, where the hell was your husband and daughter?!

“Where are the other children? Hershel, RJ and Gracie?”

“RJ and Gracie are downstairs with the others, I'm not sure where Hershel is though” Judith responds.

“Who’s watching them?”

“Some guards” Judith explains, “they let me stay up here to keep an eye on you. Said, they didn’t want you doing anything stupid when you woke up.”

“Smart” you snort, “how long was I out for?”

“You were asleep for most of the day” Judith replies, “it’s late evening already.”

“Shit” you state, grimacing when quickly realizing your slip up, “sorry, kiddo.”

“It’s ok” Judith responds matter-of-factly, “this situation calls for it.”

Smiling at Judith, you pull her in for a hug, “sure does, Jud. Don’t worry, we’ll find a way out of this.”

“I’m sure we will” Judith smiles in response and press a kiss to her forehead.

“You’re awake” an unfamiliar voice remarks, causing you both to turn toward the guard standing in the doorway.

“Yes” you scowl in response.

“Welcome to Outpost22, as you aren’t yet fit for hard labor, your job for the time being is to watch over and care for the children” the guard states, “don’t do anything stupid and you’ll be fine.”

“Where are the younger children?” you ask, “I just had a baby, where is my baby?”

“There are not toddlers nor infants here” the guard responds.

“Then where are they?!”

“I suggest, you never ask that question again” the guard warns you, “especially around the Warden.”

“But-”

“Listen to me” the guard hisses out, “asking questions, is doing something stupid. And doing something stupid around here will get you punished. Understood?”

Flashing the guard a glare, you grit out, “understood.”

You had to find a way to get the hell out of here and find your husband and baby, even if was the last thing you ever did. 

Part 37

tag list: @rockey258 @ultrasweetnephilim @twd-fanfics @starry-night-20 @dellsdeath  @vaaalexandra @thatgirljayy @aleemendoza2425-blog @conrzd​ @tonysterco​     @igotmajordaddyissues

[ersatzpenguin]

I grew up in the suburbs of Denver, on the outer edge of the metro area. One of my school field trips as a kid was to just… go to Denver for a day. That’s how isolated we were in our little culdesacs—most of us had never been into the city. We had learned about cities the same way we had learned math: as abstract concepts and processes whose reality we couldn’t quite grasp. And, our first exposure to a city was to one that literally bulldozed or paved over almost every good thing about it from 1930-1976 in favor of wider streets for cars, parking lots, and corporate offices.

So, I get how hard it can be for many folks in North America to see the benefit of living in cities. We often don’t see them as places people actually live. At best, they’re just places for skyscrapers and stadiums. Maybe a trendy bar or two. And, to the extent we view them as places people live, it’s colored by the history of “white flight” and the absurd amount of racist and classist rhetoric telling suburbanites they should fear other people, cities, mass transit, etc.

But I am so glad to have broken out of that trap—so glad to have been able to experience cities as living, thriving places. Every time I’ve moved as an adult, it’s been to a denser area. And every time, it’s been like peeling back layers of learned anti-social behaviors to discover what it’s like to actually be part of a community.

Today, I biked 6 blocks to a local co-op grocery store. As I paid for my groceries, the cashier noticed a group of kids from a local child care center walking to a park across the street. We talked about how cute they were, and about how nice it is that the kids can walk to multiple playgrounds in the span of a few blocks—a fact that would have seemed absurd to me as a kid growing up in the suburbs.

Then, I loaded up my groceries and rode home.

[numinously-yours]

What to leave behind and what to bring into the new month

Happy last week of January! Pick a group for insights on what you should leave behind as the month ends and what you can focus on in the new month ahead. Let me know if you have any topics you'd like me to pull for!

My dear pile one,

It is time to let go of your need to do everything on your own. If you’re feeling overwhelmed or weighed down by your responsibilities – or what you think is your responsibility – try remembering that you’re not alone and there are people here to help carry the load. Allow others to help, even in small ways.

Personal growth and development may be a great focus point for you in the upcoming month. The Magician brings forth the tools and energy you need to make progress in this personal journey. Focus on your “why” and look inward at your power. This period of growth will last you throughout (and beyond) the month, so don’t get hard on yourself if you don’t see immediate results. Growth is not linear.

Hello lovely twos,

Rather than the Tower representing a destruction that has already happened/is currently happening, I think you’re being told to leave January with a bang (semi-literally), and create the destruction of your self-limiting beliefs. Light up some sticks of dynamite, rev up the bulldozer, or get that wrecking ball swinging cause we’re not going into the new month with any of our same thoughts. Your self-limiting beliefs have felt like a chaos storm in your brain, and this is your permission to let them go.

February is a month of self-exploration. It is a month to figure out why these self-limiting beliefs exist. This may be a good time to do some shadow work. Shadow work is tough, but I think some good realizations can come out of it. Here are some shadow work prompts if you’re ready to get started. You may find truths you didn’t know existed. Or you may find yourself answering just as you’d expect, but this time… it’s gonna hit different. You’re going to find answers for yourself which will put a lot into perspective and really help with letting go of your self-doubt.

For those who aren’t ready to dive deep into the darker parts of your soul (which is A-OK!), take a look at the resources at your fingertips. How can you align these resources with your goals? For example, do you have a goal to say nicer things to yourself each day? Make yourself a daily check list – add some normal items like “1 hour with no screen time” or “brush your teeth” and then add “say one good thing about yourself”. As you check of the easier items, you’ll see the tougher ones. And in an effort to make those check marks, you’ll get in the groove of participating in the hard tasks.

My pile three friends,

Teamwork and collaboration seems to have been a theme in January. Whether it be your new years resolution, a project at work, or homing in on a new habit, the foundation was set in this last month. I wouldn’t say you’re really leaving anything behind, but the creation stage is ending. You are moving forward into the stabilization and growth phases of this beautiful thing you’ve launched.

Bring this sense of accomplishment into February with you to start the month off strong. You’ve done really great work! One great way to keep momentum is a partnership between your higher self and the work you are doing. As you continue to build on the project you started think: what can I get out of this project personally and what can I bring to this project to ensure it thrives. You will feel better about the end results knowing that it made your heart happy and that you had something to do with its success.

To my pile fours,

You know what your higher self is trying to tell you. You know what your guides are hinting at. Maybe it seems too good to be true or it’s scary, but either way, you gotta get rid of the clouds you’re using as a way to doubt yourself. I know from experience that self-doubt speaks LOUD. It is MEAN. But it is soo worth getting past. It doesn’t mean it’ll go away for forever, but it sure can get quieter.

In this situation, “clarity” can be seen as the opposite of “cloudy” , and mental clarity is exactly what the King of Swords wants you to bring into/work on in the new month. You may not be ready to jump right into this new thing in February, but you can do the work this month to feel more confident when the time officially comes. Lay out the facts for yourself: I have done hard things in the past; I have the resources I need to be successful; I have people I know will support me when it gets difficult. And repeat these facts to yourself as much as you need to. As with pile two, you could do some shadow work to  bring clarity to why you feel this hesitancy to move forward.

[noodyl-blasstal]

Hallmark Hate Club

Hey, hey you? Every considered what might happen if you lived in one of the small towns where every Christmas comes with endless big city professionals in search of romance? Ever thought about how you might feel if your friends were picked off one by one? Wanna read a silly festive fic about just that?

Look no further! Find Hallmark Hate Club here.

Need more convincing? Read chapter one below:

At its peak, the Hallmark Hate Club had thrived. Seven years in though? Membership was thin on the ground.

It was easy to set up back then, December in Rockport was characterised by the inability to move without stumbling into busy professionals from Neverwinter looking for lumberjacks and bakers to save them from burnout. It was understanding that people were peeved to find the streets littered with big city adults with big city jobs who didn’t understand small town charm. Taako, and Lup hated it. Passionately. Magnus and Sloane used to hate it too… December was already busy, what with trying to get last minute orders together; baking endless sugar cookies; brewing endless cups of cocoa for cold nosed ice skaters who were giggly and love drunk; and definitely absolutely positively not laundering any money. It sucked, it sucked hard.

Taako and Lup were the founding members, Magnus joined soon after, and Sloane was a shoo in when she explained to Taako that she’d need to set up a regular cookie order with him because of the amount of lawyers who had suddenly started hanging around her cocoa stand (which definitely wasn’t a front for anything illegal, she just didn’t want a load of lawyers in her hair all the time - that was perfectly reasonable) relentlessly ordering things.

They’d had fifteen in their heyday and it was great, they supported each other whenever someone from the business factory skidded adorkably on their floors, or when they had to refuse to take anyone from out of town anywhere near an ice rink. It worked too. They watched horror movies and ate anti-romance snacks (Taako developed a whole menu), and bitched about how gullible everyone else was. And then it happened.

Or, more specifically, Julia happened.

They didn’t notice at first, they never did. That was a pattern. He mentioned someone he’d met at work, someone who’d come to his ancestral christmas tree farm who wasn’t like the other city slickers. She was interested in wood composition because of her research, she had career aspirations and loved her job and wasn’t stressed at all. They thought he was safe. He wasn’t. Magnus mentioned that it was refreshing to have someone come through town who wasn’t aggressively looking for romance. She’d told him that she didn’t buy into all that nonsense. They’d all found it refreshing too. Until it wasn’t. Until he started missing Hate Club nights. Until he told them she was different in a new way, in a lovesick way, in exactly the way they were all used to hearing from the people who got got. And sure, Julia had moved here but kept her job, she went back on research projects but largely worked from home. And sure, Taako liked her, thought she was great in fact. But none of that changed anything. None of that altered the fact that Magnus betrayed them.

Sloane went last year.

Lup said she didn’t blame her, that it could happen to anyone, but Taako wasn’t convinced. He’d seen the beginnings of it. She could have avoided it. Sloane handed over a cocoa to one of the many interchangeable lawyers circling her stand, he turned too fast - enraptured by the sound of jingle bells on one of the sleigh rides shooting about town and making the roads dangerous (no one knew where the fuck the things came from. He’d brought it up at town meetings and there were no permits, no permissions, and no one recognised the drivers, but the ‘Garfield’s showed up every year to clog up the roads and leave horse shit everywhere.) The cocoa spilled all over Hurley. A complete stranger. Someone Sloane had absolutely no need to concern herself with. Instead, she offered her a towel. That was it.

Taako thought it was done once Hurley mentioned that she was chief of police in Goldcliff. Double done once she started talking about feeling burnt out. Taako tried valiantly to derail things while he finished delivering and racking the cookies for Sloane each day and she ignored him. Just like Magnus had ignored him. Sloane started to just be around less, and less, and less again, until they realised that she hadn’t come to a meeting in six weeks. Then they knew. They got married in Spring. Taako made the cake. It had ten layers. It was fucking delicious.

And now, so what if there were only three of them left? So what if Johnann hadn’t been to a meeting in weeks? It probably didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean he’d been got.

Lup sighs heavily and leans against him. "It got Johann." She turns her phone to Taako.

“Wait, what? Avi’s famous? Avi’s famous famous??? Fuck. How did we not notice?”

“It says here that he specifically didn’t tell anyone because he wanted to stay “low key” while he was in town.” Lup points to the line in the article.

Taako’s wants desperately to bite something. Hard. “Uh huh.”

“But then he saw Johann playing at the coffee shop open mic.”

“Of course he did.”

“And now they’re married and living in his penthouse apartment and Johann’s got a sell out world tour booked in.”

“It’s only been two weeks!”

Lup shrugs. “You know how it goes.”

“He didn’t even invite us to the wedding!”

“It says here they kept it small.” Lup points to the caption underneath a photo of Johann and Avi on a beach looking disgustingly happy.

“Sometimes I think this place is cursed.”

“I think they enjoy it, Taako. They seem happy.”

“Well Taako certainly doesn’t, and neither do you, right?”

“Right.” Says Lup. “It’s gross.”

Taako puts his serious face on. “This year we need to be extra careful, LuLu. We’re the only ones left.”

“Of course, we’ll be on top of it. We know the signs. No one’s coming for the Tacco twins.”

“Hey now, that’s not fair, Taako’s excellent with his ha…”

“No! Gross! Bad! You will not finish that sentence.” Lup nudges Taako hard with her elbow.

Taako snorts out a laugh and shoves her sideways. “Not getting got pact?” He offers out a crooked little finger for the traditional deal.

“Not getting got.” Lup sits up and hooks her finger round his.

“One! Two! Three! No romance!"

--

Chapter 2 here.

[minkydinks]

@minkandstink

More than anything else, fish stores are looking for these qualities:

Taking initiative. It's better to do something and do it wrong, than it is to not do anything. In the fish keeping hobby, a lot more can go wrong if you do nothing because you're afraid of accidents.

Information sponging. If you find aquariums and fish and all that stuff extremely interesting (more than that, if you're autistic or otherwise neurodivergent about aquariums or marine/aquatic life), you're probably able to absorb and retain MUCH more information related to the hobby than other people. You'll be able to relay that information to others much more easily as well. Even if you don't know very much, but you're incredibly willing to learn, they LOVE that. Probably don't mention autism on the resume though. That's not me being internally ableist, that's me trying to say there are legal loopholes you shouldn't risk until your position is safe.

Physical strength, sometimes. Occasionally, part of the job may include carrying water here and there. Buckets, jugs, whatever. Usually it's not more than 5 gallons at a time, but you might have to move a lot of water overall. 5 gallons of water is roughly 40lbs. If you're incapable of carrying at least 15lbs by yourself, be sure to clarify that. They don't usually mind if you can't, as long as they have someone who can, or a cart to load things on.

Pattern recognition. Being able to recognize different species of fish, species of coral, species of plants, genders of fish etc. You should be able to subvert the expectation that the average person won't know the minimum care requirements. Trust me, I meet a lot of people working here, and it's SHOCKING when someone knows the comfortable minimums for care.

Fearlessness, creative thinking & problem solving. Being able to think quickly and come up with unique (but good!) solutions to problems in the hobby, with maintenance, or the technical/mechanical side of things is important. You might have to emergency-DIY a lid for a tank with a fish that insists on jumping to their death, or you might have to quickly patch a leak on something. You might have to stick your hands into dirty, gross filter shit and not be scared of it. Be prepared to smell things you don't like, and be even more prepared to see beautiful and cute fish die, especially at the hands of irresponsible owners, BUT ALSO at the store in the display tanks! It happens often, and sometimes there's nothing you can do.

Being really, REALLY prepared to deal with incredibly ornery people that don't like being told what to do. It's classic retail. People will argue with you, people will bring their young children who scream and beg for a fish, so the parents can't say no without causing a scene (and they know it). People won't understand why things are different now compared to 20 years ago when they "just had a fish in a bowl and it was fine", and people will walk out on you to go to Petco or Petsmart instead, leaving a bad review online because they didn't want to wait for their nitrifying bacteria to establish before adding the fish they're so desperately impatient for. It's bad, and it gets worse, and people can be inexperienced to SUCH a ridiculous degree that you'd think they're just flat out stupid. Patience is incredibly important. If you have previous experience in ANY amount of customer service & working a register, they'll appreciate that a lot.

Finally, Your own experience in the hobby, fish or not. Fish stores like applicants that have their own aquariums at home, even if they're small and seemingly insignificant. You might think that a tiny little snail/shrimp aquarium isn't impressive, but it's the opposite! I'm always, always impressed to hear someone talk about their nano/pico tank being established and thriving, because those tanks are actually the hardest to maintain long-term. They're much more work and dedication. Fish stores also appreciate any experience with non-aquatic exotics. If you have reptiles, birds, or anything other than a dog or cat, and you can confidently say you've had them thriving for a long time, they'll hear that someone understands the needs of a more complicated type of pet, and is capable of learning or knowing more.

It should also be important to scope out the place before applying! Shop around, interact with your potential coworkers, get a feel for their vibes and see if you'd get along with them well enough in a work environment. If they like you before you even apply, you've got better chances! Even if you have to fake it, for the most part.

I will say, I cheated the system. They hired me because they only had one woman on staff and I, conveniently, am a woman with extensive foodservice experience and neon green hair. They didn't even interview me. They called me 2 weeks later asking when I can start just because I'm a woman with colorful hair. So.

Also... unethical life hack, it's okay to lie a little on your resume. Embellish your life experiences and emphasize how much you're willing to learn about the things you don't know.

THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND:

Some regions may allow large retailers like Petsmart and Petco (though not limited to these two) to have non-compete clauses in their employment agreement. What this means is, if you signed a contract with them, you may not be legally allowed to work for any businesses that compete with them, at least during your employment.

It's no longer legal for employers to enforce this on their employees POST-employment in the United States as of April 2024, but in other countries this might not be the case; meaning that outside the USA, if you choose to sign a non-compete clause to be employed at Petsmart (or some other large pet retailer), it may be several years post-employment before you're legally allowed to work for any businesses that financially compete with your previous employer.

But in the USA for example, if you have a job with Petco, you may not be allowed to simultaneously have a job at a local fish store due to a non-compete clause in your employment contract. Essentially, don't plan on being part-time with Petco and part-time with a local business. It probably isn't going to work out.

If you have any more questions feel free to ask!

I'm here all day <3 I love this part of my job lol