#dunno if i ever do this kind of post again but lord

[puckpocketed]

re; zegras trade rumours for all you girlies panicking (and because i have no time to do my usual write-ups)

reading the room on the guy who floated the idea: he should not be taken seriously, and is not being taken seriously by most on twitter

ducks-wise: the drysdale trade for gauthier was explicitly explained as an effort to bolster scoring. zegras is top 2 playmaker along with carlsson, and has made considerable strides in his efforts off the puck post-benching.

he’s shown that he is willing to change and is following through with it (imo why his stats have looked a little lopsided, besides injury), but the rest of the team — and i’m sorry to say this if you love them but i mean it with respect — do not have it in them to finish on the chances he gives them.

what verbeek was cooking with this trade:

1) let go of some of the defensemen surplus that the ducks have (lot of good prospects upcoming, and minty is on fire rn)

2) get a guy who has a lethal shot so the ducks playmakers can actually do something

tl;dr the drysdale-gauthier trade was 100% for zegras to have a guy to pass the puck to, and zegras is solidifying himself as a coachable player with some depth. no reason to trade him — unless it’s for something really fucking huge.

[marshmallowloves]

I already have a self insert goddess for Hades but I'm kind of in love with this new human AU...thing I've been thinking of, very loosely inspired by a fic I read - which is, what if Cici frickin' died and was a shade. and just kinda rolls up into the House of Hades like (Dan Avidan in the "mark zuckerberg" bit voice) "I'm very tired" gkshfkg. I dunno if her name will actually be Cici, but that's what I'll call her right now for the sake of simplicity.

so here's the story I have for her so far (read: kinda bullshitting it as I go fjshf) sorry it's long -u-;;

TL;DR: tired mortal girl is visited regularly by Hypnos in her dreams to help her sleep, and becomes his favorite. Dies young in her sleep, reunites with him in the House of Hades as a shade, strings get pulled by Zagreus and now (bill wurtz voice) that's just where she lives.

In life, she was an all around normal but very nice human. She spent a lot of time doing things for others around her so they were happy and content, even in the dead of night - so much that she eventually started to neglect her own wellbeing without realizing it.

During one such sleepless night, where she's so exhausted but fighting to stay awake that she slips in and out of consciousness, she's visited by the god of sleep himself. He sees that she's deserving of a good rest for once, and chats away with her in her semi-conscious state for a brief time, before lulling her into a deep and peaceful sleep.

It becomes kind of a Thing™ between them, where Hypnos visits and spends the night with her when she struggles to sleep. (and it gives reason as to why he's sometimes absent from the main hall in-game 👀) He never learns her name, but for some reason he can't figure out, this mortal is just so interesting to him that he keeps coming back. She fights to stay awake, but loves his visits and revels in the rest that he gives her, she's so kind and she looks so cute when she sleeps... altogether it's a series of pleasant visits for the both of them.

One night in her dreams, she feels...strange, and weaker. When Hypnos visits, he solemnly explains that she has died in her sleep. He's here to give her one more night of peaceful rest and pleasant company in the mortal realm before his brother comes to guide her away. Hypnos tells her that of the few living mortals he's ever gotten to visit, she was his favorite.

When she emerges from the Pool of Styx, she's quite confused. But she's ushered into line, where she recognizes her companion in the night keeping track of the shades like her. She asks him what happened, and he reads her name off his list. Says there that she neglected her health in life, and died in her sleep from the complications it caused - and quite early in her short human life, to boot, what a shame...

He doesn't seem to recognize her as he explains this...which is weird, because he's usually aware of people who die in their sleep - it's the closest thing he gets to spending time with his brother, after all. But she says they do know each other - he used to visit her and help her sleep, lending her the comfort of his plush robe and their gentle chats.

And then, after a moment, he recognizes the color of her sleep clothes, and those soft blue eyes...his favorite human was here again, and it's all he can do to keep from sweeping her up in his arms again - Lord Hades is right there watching, after all - and neither of them want to leave each other's side again just yet.

This is where I kinda start reaching, but I figure at this point Zagreus has gotten pretty close to everyone in the house, maybe it's even post-Persephone so things are less tense overall? And I imagine he pulls some strings to let Cici stay in the house, as a favor to Hypnos. I dunno what kind of deal gets struck... I thought about her being hired to work with the contractor, but she's the one who does the more simple decorative stuff like the rugs and floral arrangements?

I dunno but either way she kinda stays under Hypnos' watch, stays in his room most of the time (...I like to think he has a room there fksjg) but sometimes gets to hang out in the lounge or interact with Zagreus.

[mlobsters]

supernatural s8e6 southern comfort (w. adam glass)

the orange of it all 😩

oh boy. goofy music and garth. and dean in trouble with sam. well, dean is entirely unbothered that sam's mad at him. but sam seems to be just mad about the vampire part, not the lying part. all right.

SAM But you're out now, and Benny's still breathing. Why? DEAN He's my friend, Sam. SAM And what about my friend, Amy? She was what? 'Cause you sure as hell didn't have a problem ganking her.

okay but didn't sam come around to agreeing with dean on that? or at least agreeing to disagree LOL fucking jewel staite plotline that would never die. agh.

SAM So, how does that make this our kind of thing? DEAN Because, Sam, Kevin's in the wind, okay, you're sulking around like a eunuch in a whorehouse, and I can't help but ask myself, when is decapitation not my thing?

think i went through the same face journey as sam to the eunuch in a whorehouse line but the end bit made me laugh

jump scares from the confederate flag plastered everywhere, jesus

GARTH So how'd you get out?

the way sam whipped his head around to make a spectacular array of faces at dean 😂

GARTH Yeah. Man, I felt terrible when I ganked that SOB. SAM Uh, you killed the Tooth Fairy? GARTH Yeah, man. I mean, not my proudest moment, but it happened.

....okay.

mmmk.

dunno what to say about that amelia flashback. it was done well, she did a really good job! i felt some things. but the whole plotline itself is... just feels like manufactured conflict.

oh but i just had a brilliant brainwave

maybe we have amelia to thank for getting the sideburns wrangled (somewhat)!!! 🫡🫡🫡

speaking of manufactured conflict, this thing with garth and dean over bobby. dean snapping at him, garth getting upset. mushy music that reminds me of the princess bride

amused that bobby apparently wrote in very neat cursive in his journal

confederate unknown soldier. okay.

glad to see amelia has her hair back and not the wonky wig in the previous episode. so this flashback was prompted by garth saying he and dean aren't listening to each other. and what, amelia wasn't listening to him when she pushed him away the morning after?

she could be straight out of a vidal sassoon commercial with that hair, gorgeous

jesus fucking christ i know my startle reflex has been like. extra sensitive recently but good fucking lord next scene actual jump scare when the dude shoots the glass. i hate that shit

i would snark about him hamming it up but the man just full on sniffed him and said the spectre likes him, so i mean, do what you must

DEAN You should have looked for me when I was in Purgatory.

in sam's defense, i will say again, if dean was actually in heaven which he assumed he was since he thought he was dead, would he still expect sam to get him? can argue that yes too, of course. or some handwavy he coulda checked somehow with a spell or whatever. anyway, with how they are, and have been historically, it does lend a little credence to dean's side of things

nice usage of fell on black days by soundgarden. they've been hittin it with the montages set to music (like this one of cas smiting to the yardbirds [scroll down in the post])

so i guess this whole monster of the week situation was to get this airing of grievances moment for dean

DEAN You never even wanted this life. Always blamed me for pulling you back into it. SAM That's not true. DEAN Really? 'Cause everything you've ever done since you climbed into my ride has been to deceive me. SAM What do you want me to say? That I've made mistakes? I've made mistakes, Dean. GARTH That's not Dean, Sam. DEAN Shut up! Mistakes? Well, let's go through some of Sammy's greatest hits. Drinking demon blood, check. Being in cahoots with Ruby. Not telling me that you lost your soul. Or how about running around with Samuel for a whole year, letting me think that you were dead while you're doing all kinds of crazy. Those aren't mistakes, Sam. Those are choices!

so it's not even things that dean necessarily might feel, it's things sam would feel guilty about whether or not it was within his control

SAM All right. You said it. We've both played a little fast and loose. DEAN Yeah, I might have lied, but I never once betrayed you. I never once left you to die. And for what, a girl? You left me to die for a girl?

again see why a lot of fic really belabor this point!

GARTH Come on, Dean. You do not want to kill your brother. You – you've been protecting him your whole life. Don't stop now. DEAN He left me to rot in Purgatory!

GARTH All right. All right. Maybe he did. I don't know. I wasn't there. But I'm sure he had his reasons. SAM Just like you had your reasons for Benny. GARTH Who? DEAN Benny has been more of a brother to me this past year than you've ever been! That's right. Cas let me down. You let me down. The only person that hasn't let me down is Benny.

that's a bold statement, ghost-possessed-dean.

SAM But what? But you didn't mean it? Oh, please. You and I both know you didn't need that penny to say those things. DEAN Come on, Sam. SAM Own up to your crap, Dean. I told you from the jump where I was coming from, why I didn't look for you. But you? You had secrets. You had Benny. And you got on your high and mighty, and you've been kicking me ever since you got back. But that's over. So move on, or I will. DEAN Okay. I hear you.

good job sticking up for yourself, sam! stop being an asshole, dean!

SAM Good. You know what? Hear this, too. I just might be that hunter that runs into Benny one day and ices him.

okay well, moment of reconciliation over

DEAN I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, won't we? SAM Yeah. Yeah. You keep saying that.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

"god, you're such a nuisance. come here.. i love you."

14+House?

Oh yes, the Doctor and House! Wasn't that, like, the first ship I ever posted here??? Probably, I dunno.

Takes place between the comics and short stories and The Star Beast, so no Donna yet. Cause if Donna was here, she'd probably slap House right out of the TARDIS. Somehow!

Warning: House is a jerk, the Doctor puts up with him (which they really shouldn't), and for anyone confused House is the character Michael played in The Doctor's Wife, but he exists in this au as a solid hologram that lives in the TARDIS cause he's a parasite (and I love him)

On with the fic!

--

"She wants to update the systems and you're not letting her."

The Doctor did not turn to the voice, instead was pretending their whole attention was simply on the little custard cream dispenser on the console. Okay, most of their attention was on it, the other bits were on the new sonic that they had in their pocket and on the bright-green glow of the hologram at their side.

It was kind of scary to know that House had been in the system for years, even centuries, hiding away. Most of him had been removed when the bowtie-wearing Doctor and Idris had kicked him out all those years ago, but apparently he had been able to keep just enough of himself in the TARDIS to keep him attached.

It wasn't much, but in the centuries that had passed since that incident, the part of House that remained had grown and gotten stronger. No where near as huge as he had been as a planet, but big enough that he now had some influences on the TARDIS.

Not a lot, at least not as much as when he had controlled the ship when the core was removed. Or when he had been living in the TARDIS during this face's previous run.

But enough that he was still there, projecting as a typical hologram, in too many shades of green that it hurt the Doctor's eyes. Made them think of the Matrix, all those greens in such a dark space, clashed badly with the orange glow of the room.

The Doctor bit down on the custard creme between their fingers and turned to the hologram, who was hovering way too close now. They didn't know what they felt for this being, they had started to fall for him during their tenth incarnation, but after kicking House into the vortex and then properly running into him again in the next regeneration, well...

They were still pretty damn angry about what happened to his friends, to the Time Lords, and to Idris and the TARDIS.

But damnit, they also still liked him, and found his human-projection attractive. Even in this electrical green.

They sighed. "What do you mean?"

"She wants you out so she can update the desktop." House shrugged, pretending to lean against the console.

"I'm doing a bit of calculating, when I land she can fiddle around. Why does she want to update? What's wrong with this one?"

House glanced around and then looked at the large pillar in the center of the console. The way he seemed focused seemed to indicate a conversation with the TARDIS that the Doctor wasn't allowed to hear. Rude.

"She said that it's not you, and that she's got plans and needs your pretty, skinny butt out." House smiled.

The Doctor sniffed. "She didn't say that last bit."

"Well, I might have changed a word or two." House chuckled and was suddenly closer.

The Doctor glared at him and swatted at the projection, hand going through him a few times, glitching him out for a few seconds.

House looked annoyed when he came back and the Doctor smirked, popping the rest of the custard into their mouth as they moved to another part of the console.

"God, you're such a nuisance." House scoffed.

"You knew that the last two me's you interacted with, did you think I'd be any different? Not just a trait of this pretty face, it's always been a thing." The Doctor replied, flipping two switches, then turned a knob.

"And I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Doctor." House replied, watching them. There was a quiet pause between them before House sighed. "Come here."

"Why?" The Doctor frowned. "I'm busy, getting ready to find my next destination."

"Because I love you." The Doctor's fingers froze on a switch at those words, they didn't move. "And I know you still do as well, come here to me, let's make up for lost time."

The Doctor swallowed and before they could look at the hologram, the TARDIS suddenly flipped switches on her own, and the room rocked, sending them flying through the vortex.

A distraction, that's what she was doing, and the Doctor mentally thanked her. They weren't... they weren't ready to address that massive elephant in the room, not right now.

--

Lots of emotional stuff for Fourteen to deal with when it comes to an ex. Especially an ex that tried to kill them and their friends a while back. :)

[misc-obeyme]

20 Questions for Writers

Thank you to @fickleminder for the tag!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Uhh 14 lol. It's basically Threads, the daily chat series, and a couple other random ones. I don't update my AO3 hardly ever.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

36,929 HAHAHA and also 21,537 of that is The Threads That Bind lasdkjdfkj. Arrie's story is already way past that. Dang, maybe I should start updating my AO3 more... put all the other fics I have here on there?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Obey Me is the only one!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

When It's Pouring Rain

Lucifer's Favor

You Are Mine (NSFW!)

The Threads That Bind

Solomon's Kindness

Those are the tumblr links but obviously they're all on AO3 too.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I'm really bad about this on AO3, but that is likely due to the fact that I don't use it anywhere near as much. However, I try to respond here! I do my best lol.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This Solomon fic is by far the angstiest thing I've ever written ever.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean, honestly, you can just bop on through my masterlist, so much of it is fluff and happy endings. I don't think there's any one that's like the happiest.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have gotten but one anon hate. They didn't specify what they were hating on, but I got it after I posted these graveyard sex headcanons so I think it was probably about that.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Sure thing, you can see all the NSFW sections of the masterlist lol. It's all x reader, gender neutral stuff. Though I have done afab reader on request.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I haven't, but I'm not opposed.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also not that I'm aware of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but that does sound like fun!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

All time? Like of my whole life?? Gigolas is the only thing that comes to mind lol. For OM, I've been obsessed with Solulu lately so...

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

NEVER SAY NEVER. But seriously, I don't ever fully abandon things, you never know when the inspiration will strike again! Also I never post stuff that isn't finished. My process is such that this just doesn't work for me. So even when I'm doing multi chapter fics, they're already finished when I start posting them. So anything I don't finish or ever go back to will only be sitting in my files on my computer and no one will know about it but me...

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I'm pretty good at dialogue? I dunno, it's hard to judge myself. Ask me when I'm in the middle of it and I'll tell you there are no strengths lol.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Description, probably.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I have no thoughts about this. I don't usually include such things myself.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It was either Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. I can't remember for sure.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I feel like the obvious answer is Threads (as linked above). But it is the answer, so there you go.

Well, that was fun! Consider this an open tag for anyone who would like to participate!

[frankmillerturnonyourlocation]

🐍🎈🖍️🎧 for anyone who wants to answer ? and ty for your tags on my post btw 🥰 - @dadcollector

~ 🐍 - if you two could own any pet, which pet would you own? is there any mythological pets or pets that are illegal to own where you live that you would like? ~

[Henry] Okay, so, I knew going in, Em is not a pet kind of person. Not into dogs, not into cats. Plants are cool. But no pets.

[Tim] Which is wild, because they’re a Pokémon trainer in my universe.

[Henry] Right? And like, I feel like they’d be down to have a dragon or something, you know? Or a bird, or a fish, or something. They might like a fish. If it was contained, and if I managed all the clean-up, they might be willing to give it a try. I think the ick is a big factor here.

[Tim] They have a six-foot fire monster who they let sleep in their bed.

[Henry] And you know, I think a monster is different than an animal! I dunno!

~ 🎈 - how do you like to celebrate s/i's birthday? ~

[Elfilin] Oh, oh, Emerson’s birthday is so fun!! Big parties are always nice, and Emerson gets embarrassed about it sometimes, but they really like the celebration. It’s like they’re thinking, “oh wow, I almost forgot I have so many friends!”

Last year, Kirby took us on a hike through Candy Mountain to go see Dyna Blade and her chicks. They’re getting so big!! Emerson had such a fun time flying with them.

In the evening, we met up with some other Pop Star residents and went back to Waddle Dee Town for cake and presents. It was a really good night! 🩵

~ 🖍️ - do you have a fun/silly pastime you like to engage in with s/i? what is it? ~

[Aurora] Well... I know it’s not becoming, but Emerson and I sometimes play like we did when we were small. We go to the woods to play, just like the old days. I don’t even tell Phillip, though he knows I go. Surely he thinks we’re up to some manner of witchcraft.

[Saturn Girl] What games did you play, Princess? When you were little?

[Aurora] Oh, just– silly make-believe games. Making crowns of leaves and swords of sticks, little actors on the forest stage. I would act out things I had heard from my aunties, or tales they had shown me in books, and Emmie– well, they would always add an interesting splash of color to the story! Looking back on it now, I can see why, but at the time, they were just the silliest best friend I could have ever imagined.

And… I had a habit of repetition, with my play, I liked to act out the same stories with them again and again. I can’t tell you how pleased I was to find that they remembered them all, even after all these years apart.

~ 🎧 - is there any music that s/i listens to that youve started to like? ~

[Connor] Mmm… we’ve been affecting each other’s playlists for a little while now, I think. They call what I listen to old man music, and meanwhile, they listen to the weirdest, most offputting stuff from some guy, an out of tune guitar, and intentionally bad recording equipment– and wouldn’t you know it, there’s a pretty decent overlap in between there, between those two types of music. Basically, I play the Gin Blossoms when we're all in the truck, just to irritate Jon.

Here’s a good example of one where I can’t remember if they got me listening to it or if I got them listening to it in the year of our lord static noises. It might have been them, actually. laughs It’s kind of a sad song, isn’t it? One of those songs that’s been on the radio forever.

[geraldinesgarbagepit]

can't sleep, here's an early morning Long Ass ramble.

for like the past couple of months i've been checking in on this one blog, it's from a very interesting specimen that just talks in a really fantastical and interesting way. like. there isn't really a nice way to word it, so know that i mean it in a kind and understanding way; same hat situation. anyways, they are a little crazy. i thought they were a bot initially, both because they took a joke video deathly seriously and because they replied to it a whole bunch. every now and then i'll remember they exist and just peek around to see if they've posted anything.

i don't really know why i do, though?

it's not like im getting any enjoyment out of it. im not laughing nor am i spreading it around at all, so i think it comes from a place of earnest fascination in a way? dunno.

actually, to an extent i kinda see myself in them. when im not interacting with people lord knows i probably sound like a nutcase, all mumbling to myself and whatnot. i can only imagine how it'd look if my less-composed moments spilled out on here. i mean they already have to an extent, but i'm moreso talking like... full on No Lucidity + Nobody At The Wheel just straight Fighting over it or smth.

I can only imagine what this place would look like if that happened.

probably not that much different all things considered but yknow

anyways, no lucidity talk has somehow reminded me of something i've been trying to force myself into. i post about borchestra a lot, made characters, the whole nine yards... but actually breaking the ice (modding) seems like such an impossible task at the moment. usually i am content to just read off any available information and fandangle my way through it from there, but from what i have heard secondhand it seems like everything is mostly outdated. which of course means i would probably have to join the modding server.

can i just say, i absolutely hate how discord has killed communities that SHOULD be contained to forums and whatnot. it's convenient, sure, but if i have to search through a fuckton of pins and unhelpful advice from ppl assuming you're on the same level as them just to figure out how to do A Single Fucking Thing it kinda kills any motivation that was there.

No fault to any of them of course, horrible experiences with public discord servers really changes a gal.

Gosh, now I'm thinking about the early days of discord again. Are any of you familiar with games repainted? what a mess that server was. faaf too, if any of you know what that is. im thankful i've met people from there, some even being my closest friends nowadays, but jeezzzzz what a cesspit those servers came to be.

I feel like that's sadly common though. any space like that will eventually crumble and decay into Pure Slop. you'll just meet the craziest fucking characters in those servers man. there was this one freak i remember, their name was Molasses. strange individual, won't really get into it much outside of that. Whole lot of people.

On that topic, i still think about a lot of the old friends i had back in the day. wonder what ever happened to them.

probably no use dwelling on it though, it's not like we'll ever really be in contact again after all these years lol

[sciderman]

Sci, you're making us Americans swoon over you again. There's only so much pine for pining before I keel over. Please feel free to continue.

Anywoo, you've maybe talked about this a bit before, and I think I have some idea, but in making your nsfw work, how often are you projecting? Especially with how long you've been working with these characters? Actually, I'm curious in general if you ever project yourself into some of their experiences? For nsfw content, I actually try to write things I don't necessarily like in practice or things that I don't have much interest in sexually to help improve my writing, but what often happens is I end up liking the thing more/in general after the fact. Dunno if that means my own writing convinces me to change my mind or if there's just something lurking just beneath the surface of my brain.

On another note, I still can't believe you got me into sounding. That drawing I'm making in retaliation is coming along nicely, though.

it’s quite funny the way it works, actually - most of the time it works backwards. i write the boys doing something and it kind of informs something later on in my life, or gives me the courage to do something i wouldn’t have done before. not sounding, (i don’t have a dick) but.. 

i guess though, it’s stuff i’ve already had within me, and my writing is just a way to start exploring it in ways i’ve been too afraid to do before

on terms of projection, ohhh yeah. certain fics can get personal - particularly pertaining to gender and self-image - i put a lot of my own gender feelings into wade and peter. but they bring it right back. i think writing wade the way i do has given me a lot more confidence in the way that i present myself to the world and the things i accept about myself. 

peter’s whole sexual liberation is something that’s very close-to-home for me, as someone who id’d as ace for the majority of their life before suddenly being struck with a wait a second i’m HORNY as FUCK beam. is it allowed?? am i allowed to be horny?? and it’s funny - i’ve been horny my whole life, actually (unrelentingly so. i don’t know how i ever persuaded myself that i wasn’t. there’s so much evidence to the contrary), but i think i had a very strange relationship with the feeling of being perceived and the feeling of being sexually desirable - i think, as a young, insecure transmasc, i never felt like anyone was seeing the real me as i wanted them to see me. 

i won’t really get further into it unless it’s something you guys are interested for me to talk at greater length about,, my feelings are kind of an open book these days and posting about these funny feelings i recognise in myself is kind of free therapy (i don’t have a therapist. i should have a therapist.) 

i think peter and i align in a lot of ways - we’re going through this journey of exploration together. i also think the way that peter loves and treats his partners comes a lot from my own experiences with love and the way that i want to experience love, (not to get all mushy). 

i do write a lot of things that i’m not or wasn’t priorly interested in - a lot of the time to kind of push myself - sounding just sounded fun to write. ass-eating is SO fun in fiction but i would never eat ass for any amount of money. you could not pay me to eat ass. (okay, if i was with someone i REALLY REALLY loved for like, a REALLY long time and they REALLY REALLY REALLY wanted to, my stupid little heart would do it. i think there’s very little i wouldn’t do in that context. but ideally...) 

[x]

easy is easily the funniest one - i’m not into titty-fucking at all and it was me in a back-and-forth with myself saying “there’s no way i can write a titty-fucking fic” and “FUCK you. i’m going to write a titty-fucking fic.” i wrote the fic to prove that if i’m angry enough i can write anything. there’s nothing i cannot write. lord knows, i’ll make it happen, someway, somehow. my feelings towards titties have somewhat changed since writing this fic. newfound appreciation. i feel like i start to see the world through wade wilson’s eyes when i write him. hence why i’ve just been getting hornier and hornier. 

i think the biggest pride a fic writer can claim is infecting someone with a new kink. it is an honour and a privilege! 

[bowlegsandbiceps]

Suptober Day 5: Nostalgia

General | De-Aged Sam Winchester & Big Brother Dean, Implied Destiel and Rowena/Sam | 2,005 Words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

“Cas.”

“Dee!” The small child in front of Dean raised its arms and made gimme hands.

“CAS!”

Dean took a step back from the small boy sitting where his brother used to be, his arms curling in as if cringing away. It looked like Sam at eighteen months, just the slightest swirl of brown hair near his forehead, the rest of him bald as a cue ball. The child blinked up at him, arms still outstretched but his smile wavered and his hands gestured more insistently.

“Castiel get your feathery ass over here!”

The sound of hurried footsteps loomed behind him and he felt the weight of Castiel’s hand on his shoulder as the other man came to stand beside him.

“What is it?”

Dean nodded down at the baby. Castiel looked at it and blinked.

“Who is that?”

Dean knew who it was. “I dunno.”

“Where’s Sam?” Castiel looked around and Dean felt the lump grow in his throat.

The child had clamored onto his knees and was crawling across the cement towards them. Dean recoiled and Castiel stepped in front of him on instinct. The child merely went around him and grabbed onto Dean’s pant leg, grunting as he pulled himself up to his feet.

“Dee!” He said again, chubby face gazing up into Dean’s. “Up!”

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice was cautious as Dean leaned down to pick the child up, settling him on his hip and the boy immediately rested his head against DEan’s chest, one thumb going into his mouth. “I… I think that’s Sam.”

Dean gulped, looking down into intelligent hazel eyes. “I think you’re right.”

#

Dean and Castiel sat at one of the large library tables each just staring at the baby they’d placed in the middle. Neither men had spoken the entire drive back to the bunker, Dean driving with Sam in his lap while the kid made vroom noises and held onto the wheel. The chair creaked as Castiel shifted in his seat. Sam blew a spit bubble then giggled when it popped. Dean put his head in his hands.

“What do we do?”

“I could try and heal him,” Castiel suggested and Dean looked up at him.

“You can heal this?” 

Castiel shrugged with guileless eyes.

Dean dropped his head. “I can’t raise this kid again, Cas.” Dean pressed his hands together, his mouth puckering against the knuckles of his thumbs as he looked at Sam with terrified eyes. “I did it once. I can’t do it again. I’m too fucking old.”

Castiel laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We’ll fix him. We’ll call Rowena.” Dean snorted. “What? She has a vested interest in getting Sam back into his adult form.”

Dean closed his eyes, holding up and hand and gagging for good measure. “Don’t remind me.”

#

Rowena was in New York and wouldn’t arrive until morning. Dean bit the bullet and went out for supplies - bottles, diapers, wipes, baby food, and a pack of onesies he just guessed on the size. When he got back to the bunker he could hear Sam wailing from the other side of the heavy iron door and he nearly broke his neck in his effort to descend the stairs all at once.

Sam was sitting in the middle of the table in the exact same spot he’d been when Dean had left. Castiel was now standing, staring down at the hiccoughing child with his head canted to the side. Dean dropped all his bags on the floor and hurried over, bundling Sam up in the flannel Sam had been wearing before he de-aged and cradled him to his chest. Sam immediately stopped crying and rested his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“What the fuck, Cas?”

“I tried everything, Dean.” Castiel held up his hands in a helpless gesture. “He didn’t want to play with my keys. He didn’t want any mashed potatoes. He threw the cup of water I tried to give him. He didn’t urinate or defecate on himself-“

“He wanted to be held!” Dean stared at Castiel as if he were some kind of monster and Castiel leveled him with a glare.

“I tried that first. He didn’t want to be held.”

“Well looks like he does now,” Dean snarked, shrugging his shoulders up and Castiel rolled his eyes.

“He wanted to be held by you, Dean.”

Dean looked down, trying to see Sam’s face but the child turned further into his neck and sighed. Dean pursed his lips. “What’s your problem short stack?”

“Dee,” Sam started and began to babble, lifting his head about halfway through his diatribe. He looked to Cas who was staring at him critically as if trying to decipher every word and Sam immediately looked away.

“Do you think he’s all there? Like adult Sam but just…a baby?” Dean looked into his eyes and Sam huffed, grabbing onto Dean’s face with his hands. Dean didn’t bother to pull back, knowing from experience the kid didn’t let up with this kind of thing. He stuck his fingers in Dean’s mouth and Dean dutifully let him poke at his teeth.

“I don’t think so,” Castiel reached forward, pulling Sam’s hands out of Dean’s mouth and Sam slapped at him, reaching again for Dean’s lips.

“Are you-“ Dean cut off nearly biting the kid’s finger off. “Are you hungry or something?”

“Dee!” Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and then he patted his tummy which made Dean laugh. 

“Yeah, the bear in there is growling huh?” Sam nodded emphatically and Dean bobbed his head with him. “Alright alright. Bottle it is.”

Castiel helped Dean carry the supplies into the kitchen and stood by as Dean went about making the bottle, formula mixed with a little cereal, with Sam perched on his hip. He huffed when he finally got the cap on and handed it to Sam who finally let go of his neck and grabbed the bottle, immediately shoving the nipple in his mouth. Dean looked up at Castiel.

“Like riding a bike,” Dean quipped looking down at Sam as his brother gazed up at him over the side of his bottle. “Right Sammy?”

Sam merely hummed. 

#

“You know, this isn’t so bad,” Dean mused gazing down at Sam who was now dressed in a diaper and onesie, sucking away at a pacifier. 

They were posted up on the couch in the Dean Cave, the TV playing Dora The Explorer in the background. Castiel’s gaze was fixed on the television and he was having trouble pulling his eyes away.

“He is much more enjoyable when he’s quiet,” Castiel admitted and Dean snorted a laugh, one finger trailing over the soft skin of Sam’s cheek. The baby shook his head.

“You know bedtime routine was always my favorite.” Dean smoothed the silky strip of hair near his forehead and Sam’s eyelids fluttered. “The winding down period at the end of the day. We’d be in some crap motel and Dad would have us all on one bed, Sammy between us while he talked us to sleep.”

“Talked you to sleep?”

A small smile pulled at Dean’s lips as one of Sam’s fat fists clutched at his finger. “Yeah, John Winchester did not sing. Or tell bedtime stories. He bored us to sleep with car maintenance tips and tricks.” Dean let out a spastic chuckle, marveling at the length of Sam’s lashes, the rosiness of his cheeks. “God, I’d forgotten all about that.”

Dean resettled, arms tightening around his brother and Sam’s eyelids fluttered, his head nuzzling into Dean’s armpit. Dean let his fingertips whisper across Sam’s forehead, a sense of longing settling in his bones. He glanced over at Castiel who was bent in half, intent on the TV.

“You know it wasn’t all bad. How we were raised.” Castiel glanced at him and then his gaze held. “I never thought I’d miss it but,” Dean let out a small chuckle, “This right here’s got me waxing nostalgic.” Dean chuckled again, gave a shake of his head. “It wasn’t all bad. Some of it was actually kind of great. You ever think about having kids, Cas?”

“It’s forbidden,” Castiel said, eyes back on the TV. “Angels can’t mate with humans.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah well, I ain’t got a uterus so we wouldn’t get one the old-fashioned way anyway. Seriously, man. You’ve never thought about it?”

Castiel looked back at Dean. “No. Have you?”

Dean shrugged. “Not really. Never figured I’d live long enough to raise one, plus I thought I’d had my fill with Sammy here.” Dean dipped his head, pressing a kiss to the child’s hairline.

“And now you want children?” Castiel’s voice was low and slow, clearly trying to discern if Dean was teasing him or not. Dean’s ears turned red.

“I dunno. No. Maybe.” Dean looked down at Sam and then looked back up at Castiel, his gaze helpless. Castiel merely smiled, reaching a hand out to rest on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze.

“I would be honored to raise a child with you, Dean.”

Dean looked back, a little grin pulling at his lips. “Yeah?” Castiel nodded seriously and Dean looked down at Sam. “What do you think, Sammy? You want a niece or nephew?”

Sam slept on.

#

“I take it back,” Dean insisted, gagging and covering his mouth as he lifted Sam up by the ankles, the dirty diaper sticking to his butt. “I never wanna do this again.” Dean looked over his shoulder at Castiel. “Hey, Mr. Angel of the Lord, you wanna give me a hand here, maybe toss this dirty diaper and hand me some wipes.”

“The smell is most unpleasant.”

Dean rolled his eyes, snatching the wipes Castiel offered. “No shit Sherlock. Get rid of that thing will you?” Dean gagged again.

#

“How on earth did you manage to turn your brother into a baby?” Rowena exclaimed by way of greeting.

“Dean, Rowena is here.”

Dean having startled awake cringed as Sam started to wail. “Yeah, Cas, I got that, thanks.”

“Was it a curse?” Rowena was kneeling down, trying to look into Sam’s face but he clutched at Dean’s flannel like a lifeline, hiding against his chest. “A spell?”

“A spell we think,” Castiel said over Sam’s sniffling sobs. Dean had hoisted him up over his shoulder and was rubbing his back rhythmically. Rowena frowned. “Sam was the first to enter the room-“

“Ah, I know exactly what this is.” Rowena smiled, triumphant. “You leave it to me, boys. Samuel will be grown again in no time.”

# 

“Rowena!” Dean yelled over the siren-like wail of the now giant baby sitting in the center of the library. 

“Don’t panic!” Rowena insisted, flipping through an old book while rummaging around in her bag.

“Panic?” Dean questioned. “There’s a ten-foot baby-“ His voice cut off as a hand clamped around his bicep and he was jerked off his feet to face plant into Sam’s clammy chest. The kid started to squeeze the life out of him and Castiel moved forward, trying to pry his arms off. “Rowena!”

#

“I can’t believe she turned me into a ten-foot baby,” Sam snorted from where he sat at the kitchen table, once again fully clothed and his normal age and size.

“You were quite agreeable up until then,” Castiel mused.

“Oh yeah, you get to practice your babysitting skills?” Sam asked and Castiel gave him a tart smile.

“No, you wouldn’t let anyone else touch you but Dean.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose, his gaze moving to his brother who stood at the stove, working on a grilled cheese. “Yeah, I’d forgotten what a clingy little shit you were back then.”

Sam scoffed. “Well, I still haven’t forgotten what an overbearing mother hen you were.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m never having kids. Dealing with my own childhood was enough.”

Dean glanced at Castiel who gazed back, and a small smile tugged at his lips. “It wasn’t so bad. Except for the diapers.”

[drarryruinedme7]

Last year I made a post with all my fave Drarry fics from my first year of fandom. Have my second year wrap up! Listed by Rating and then length. 

RATING: TEEN AND UP AUDIENCES

Beautiful by @xx-thedarklord-xx​​ (2017; 8.9k)

Summary: With the second task looming closer, Harry escapes to the Black Lake to open the egg, in the hopes of avoiding Myrtle. The Mersong isn't just helpful in figuring out that Mermaids are real, it attracts his very own handsome Merman.

*I didn’t know I love merpeople AUs until I read this one. It was cute and sweet and I’m really glad I read it. 

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by @waspabi​​ (2017; 93.3k)

Summary: 'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

*What can I say. This is a masterpiece, it absolutely entered my heart to never leave it again. Best AU ever!!!

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered​​ (2018; 153.8k)

Summary: Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

* This has been the turning point of my Drarry passion this year. First, I discovered Lettered (good Lord why hadn’t I before?!) and then, well. This fic brought out so many feelings in me and I’ve already re-read it something like 5 or 6 times in the span of a few months. Amazing.

RATING: MATURE

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (2018; 20.7k)

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

* The angst!! It’s usually not my cuppa, but this was bittersweet and just so well written, I couldn’t stop reading. Find the rec for this one at this post.

RATING: EXPLICIT

Give Me Sweet Oblivion by @tryslora​​ (2012; 4k)

Summary: Italy seems like a long way to go to keep a fetish secret. But the club is exclusive, and the far away location, and Muggle nature, promises anonymity from Wizarding Britain. The only problem is that sometimes, great minds think alike.

*Super hot, I love finding old gems like this one. Plus, Italy. Go, folks!

Shiny Things, Slightly Damaged by @lqtraintracks​​ (2020; 5.3k)

Summary: Harry may not ever have had to see it if McGonagall hadn’t decided it was a good idea to hold a ceremony on the grounds outside before the Sorting in the Hall. And by ‘it’ he’s referring to Draco Malfoy on a motorbike.

*jsklajdksajfa This one! THIS ONE! Slayed me. I read it feverishly and then like, fainted at Draco on a motorbike.... this fic surprised me and I 100% loved it.

A Ghost of Blissful Feelings by @alpha-exodus​​ (2020; 6k)

Summary: Harry hadn't expected to spend his eighth year fucking Draco Malfoy, but it's the only thing that helps him let go.

*Dunno guys, I’m amazed by how much this one hit me. You should read the tags before diving in, but it was darkish in the right way, Harry and Draco suffers and find peace in a ‘’special’’ way, but I stand by it. Hot and intense.

Tell Me (What you Need) by @keyflight790​​ (2019; 6k)

Summary: Even though Harry was paying for his Dom, there were limits; breaking points in which someone would refuse, no matter how many Galleons were pushed in their direction.

*Okay, I may be biased because this is a gift for me, but Chris never lets down with her amazing writing and this has everything I need and more: Dom!Rentboy!Draco and a perfectly sweet Harry with a Daddy!kink. I mean.

Dangerous by Faith Wood (2014; 6.3k)

Summary: Being trapped in a dungeon with Malfoy — who's a werewolf, a former Death Eater, and a giant git — is definitely dangerous. Harry has no reason to be excited. None at all.

*Y’all know Faith Wood is like my n.1 fave Drarry author. I have no idea why I had never read this one though!!! It’s actually phenomenal, scorching hot and just dsjkafjaks love this werewolf!Draco. OMG.

Scent and Sensibility by aidaninkling (2018; 7.5k)

Summary: [...] Draco's always known he'd be married off as a trophy omega, but suddenly his mother's trying to make him king by promising him to some stupidly good-looking alpha and she just won't stop smiling at him. Does fate's cruelty know no end?!

*This blew my mind. A/B/O AU so hot I melted while reading it and I loved it so much that I re-read it three times IN A ROW. No kidding. Read it. 

The Eighth Tale by @letteredlettered​​ (2012; 12k)

Summary: Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

*Back to Lettered. I love Time Travel fics, and this just delivered perfectly. The ending was also enigmatic enough to keep me wandering, which I always appreciate in these kind of stories. 

Sex, Lies and Veritaserum by @letteredlettered​​ (2011; 17.9k)

Summary: This entire fic is one long conversation about sex.

*LOL alright, I’ve developed a new obsession this year (clearly). This was ...gosh! Hot but it also gives away a certain level of intimacy and trust between Draco and Harry to be so open about their kinks... it was perfect.

On One’s Knees by pir8fancier (2008; 33.8k)

Summary: The war is over and to the victors go the spoils.

* The fic which made me fall in love with DownAndOut!Draco. 

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette​ (2019; 49.2k)

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

*Okay y’all. Nerd is a great person and author. She is phenomenal. And this fic shows it so well. The pirate!AU the Drarry fandom both needed and deserved. Sublime.

Unhook the Stars by jad (2016; 70.5k)

Summary: [...] Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words. Guest appearances by Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Teddy Lupin, Gregory Goyle, the Weird Sisters, ex-wives, several Weasleys, a Boggart, and a Honey Badger.

*Again, Dom!Draco and such a beautiful sub!Harry. They stole my heart. In this fic they grow up together through the aftermath of the war and they just... they have this intense Dom/sub relationship, I can’t... explain how much I loved this. Scorpius also makes his appearance and it’s so real and cute!

Such Great Heights by aideomai (2015; 93.3k)

Summary: Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”

*This is one of the last ones I’ve read. Find my rec for it here. Such a cool fic, with a shunned Draco who gets to be so happy in the end, it made me happy too.

Burn The Witch by @lettersbyelise​​ (2019; 95.8)

Summary: When Harry Potter is sent in to investigate Draco Malfoy’s successful potions company, posing as Draco’s bodyguard, he doesn’t know the case will launch a series of events that will change his life — and Draco’s. A story about choices, scars, Chopin piano pieces, and finding all kinds of love in the most unexpected places.

*I do not have the words to express what this fic means to me. First of all, it’s how I met Elise who’s an amazing person and who I’m glad to call friend. She’s the sweetest. And also incredibly talented. This fic will take your breath away from the first word to the last one. Smol!Scorpius is perfectly characterised and my absolute favourite bit of the fic. 

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid​​ (2019; 99.7k)

Summary: What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

*Another incredible person who I got to know better thanks to her breathtaking storytelling and her sweetness for sharing it with me. Quick made something amazing with this fic and I urge you to read it. It was my first creature fic ever, first time I read about werewolves and I totally fell in love with it. Sheer perfection. 

Freedom to be by @quicksilvermaid​​  (2019; 169.5k)

Summary: Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived. 12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends. Only nothing feels perfect. Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

*Well, could I just miss out on another one of Quick’s great works? With, again, Dom!Draco!??? No, I couldn’t! This is such a great exploration of BDSM and what it means and Harry’s path into it. 

19 Years and 5 Minutes Later by TheMightyFlynn (2015; 202.8k)

Summary: Five minutes after his happily-ever-after, Harry finds himself locked in the public loos with an angry Draco Malfoy and a need that he has denied for 19 years.

*Find my rec for this fic here. It’s really long and has Ginny bashing, but it’s totally worth it!! 

[thebigpalooka]

you’re not my dad (redemption arc)

I was gonna tack this onto @humanityinahandbag​‘s post but I’m not good with computers so I’m just posting this on its own, but to be clear, this is a follow-up to her amazing wonderful-awful half-drabble right here because I recognize my complicity in this crime.  However, when I offered to ruin her day, I was VERY CLEAR that when I lay my hand on something, everything turns out okay in the end.

So, for my own personal little version, read on.

Funny how, in spite of it all, it never occurred to him to do anything but go up to his room.  How after everything he’d shouted, he obeyed without a word because if he opened his mouth again now -

“I can’t believe you’re making such a big deal out of this, you’re always telling me what to do all the time!”

“Yeah, well, that’s my job, dude!”

“No it’s not!”

“Uh, it kind of *is*, and you better make it *your* job to start listening.”

“You’re not -”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to remember that part.  He’d never seen Tom look like that, didn’t know what it meant, exactly, only that it was bad. And Tom was an adult; he shouldn’t have been able to make him look that way, had wielded a power he didn’t even know he had, and it felt just as damaging as the last time he’d exploded.

He moved to sit on the bed, then on the floor, then finally ended up in the beanbag, curled almost into an actual ball.  He couldn’t visualize, in that moment, all those trips it had taken to bring his things up here from the woods, couldn’t see Maddie smoothing out the comforter they’d picked out, couldn’t see Tom balanced on the ladder as he tacked up christmas lights.  He only remembered that the bean bag was his, so he didn’t have to feel guilty there.  

He felt guilty anyway; it oozed up from the inside and pooled in his gut when he heard footsteps on the attic stairs.

When both of them topped the steps, he knew it was real, real bad.  He clenched his fists, and as they eased to sit down on the floor in front of him, he sat up straight, panic spilling his thoughts out into words as fast as they formed.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?  I’m really sorry.  I don’t know why I said it, but it didn’t mean anything, so I’m sorry.  And we can forget about it, right?  I can follow the rules, and we don’t have to talk about it, okay?”

“Sonic….”

“I just don’t see why it has to be a big deal!”  He darted a look up at them before focusing on picking at a piece of duct tape he’d stuck over a tear in the bean bag.  “People say dumb things all the time, and I won’t do it again, so -”

“Bud, this is serious,” Tom interrupted again, a little more firmly.  

He squeezed his eyes shut.  “...I know, but - look, I’ll make it my job to start listening, just like you said, so - so -”

“Hey.”  A warm hand landed on his shoulder and his eyes flashed open, bright electric blue.  Terrified.  

Tom looked scared too.

“Honey, calm down.”  Maddie’s voice seemed close and distant all at once.  “Take a breath.  Slowly, okay?”  She smiled faintly.  “I know that’s kind of not your thing, but….”  They waited until he snorted an awkward breath and huffed it out again.  “There you go.”  

“Sonic, I’m not talking about what you said when you were mad.  I’m talking about what you said in the garage.”

His reeling thoughts locked up.  The garage?  The garage?  What had he said in the garage?  Then he remembered, and he felt hot and icy all over.

Are you gonna make…

Please just…

Don’t make me go, okay?

They waited a second before Tom spoke again.  “Is that….”  His voice was husky.  He cleared his throat.  “...is that something you’ve been thinking about?  About us send - sending you away?”  His voice cracked again and he winced.  Maybe all three of them did, hearing it out loud.

“No,” Sonic lied.  Didn’t know why.  “...I mean, sometimes, maybe.  I dunno.”  A shrug, like it was the most natural thing in the world.  It was, right?

Tom and Maddie exchanged a look.  God, god, god, they’d thought about it too.  He clenched his fists again, and they trembled with the strain of sitting still.  He could’ve been up and out the skylight and into the woods in a second flat.  Heck, he could grab a few things on the way out.

“How long have you been worrying about that?” Maddie asked.  Her voice was so gentle that he had to swallow back the lump in his throat before he did something embarrassing, like cry.  He shrugged.

“I’m - pft, I’m not worried about it.”  Another lie.  He smiled a smile that felt as tight as a strained rubber band.  “I’m just… I’m….”  He clunked his shoes together.  The words came out like a fast train.  “....I like it here and it’s really cool, and I’m really glad you guys let me live here, so I wanna be a good - you know.”  

But he didn’t know.

Tom ran a hand over his hair, letting out a long breath.  Maddie rubbed his arm and Sonic felt vaguely jealous.

“I’m sorry.”  A muscle tightened in Tom’s jaw.  “...I’m really sorry, buddy.”

Sonic stared.  “...For what?” he almost whispered. 

Here it comes.

“I sh….”  He stopped.  Maddie’s hand had paused on his arm; she moved it to stroke his shoulder.  He cleared his throat again and for a second, Sonic had the sudden and bizarre sensation like Tom was gonna cry, himself.  Until that moment, it had never occurred to him such a thing was even possible.  When he spoke again, his voice sounded almost normal, but the awareness remained.  “...I should’ve made sure you never had to worry about that.  I messed up.  And I hope you can forgive me.”

For once, he was speechless.  Tom shifted forward, settling a hand on each shoulder.  The touch made his chest tighten again.  “Sonic.  No matter what happens, no matter how mad somebody gets or what anybody says, nobody is ever - ever gonna send you away.”

“This is your home, sweetheart.”  Maddie squinted, reading his gaze to make sure he was listening.  “It’s our home.  All of us.”  She found one of his hands, resting limply against his knee, and squeezed it in her own.

“We may not understand all of it yet, exactly.  But we’re a family.”  Tom lifted his brows, paused to let the word fill up the silence.   “Ozzie and me and Maddie and you.”

“Oh.”

He felt dizzy.  Lightheaded.  He felt like he was gonna puke.  He felt too embarrassed to go on living.  He felt like a stone statue and he felt like he was going to fly apart into a million pieces.  It felt like a gazillion pounds of lead had just poured out of his shoes.  Like his head was gonna pop off on a spring like a jack-in-the-box.

“...Y-yeah, I know that,” he lied once more, slowly this time.  “I know that.  We’re … we’re like a family.”

“We’re not like a family.  This is our family.”  Maddie swung his hand back and forth a little.  “Sometimes a family is - you know - a pretzel lady, a donut lord and a blue blur.  Right?”

“Makes sense to me.”  Tom studied him.  “...Make sense to you?”

The hand that wasn’t closed in Maddie’s was closed in Tom’s.  He didn’t remember when that had happened, but he was clasping it so tight that he could feel his knuckles straining against his glove.

“Yeah.  Of course.  Sure.”  It wasn’t a lie this time.  He still felt like crying, though.  He shifted away and they let him do it, releasing his hands. He tucked them around his legs again.  “That’s cool.  I’m - yeah.  I mean that’s awesome.  Of course we’re - we’re a family.  That’s - you guys are  - I mean, we’re the best family.”

“Good.  We think so too.  So that means we’re sticking together.  Even if we have arguments or something crazy happens.”

“Crazy?  In this family? Pfft.  Not likely.”  Tom grinned.  Sonic knew it was his benefit, and smiled back, or came the closest he could when his stomach was still turning flip-flops.  Maddie smiled too.

“We’re a team.  No matter what.”

“Yeah.  Okay.  Cool.”  He looked at his shoes.  “...Thanks, you guys.”  

There was an awkward pause.

Maddie understood before either of the boys did.  She let out a breath.  “Well.  I better go check on Ozzie - I bet he’s gonna want outside.  Then we can decide what we wanna make for dinner, okay?”

“Y-yeah, sure.  Sounds great.”  Sonic froze as she bent and kissed his forehead.  Made him feel warm and squirmy all over, but he was glad.  She brushed her fingers against his ear with a smile and then rose to retreat quickly down the stairs.  Even then, Sonic didn’t quite know if she’d understood how hard it was to talk in front of just one person, let alone two, but as Tom rose, looking faintly confused, and began to follow her, Sonic managed to work up enough nerve.  He jumped to his feet.

“H-hey, donut lord... about… about that other thing I said….”  

Tom stopped.  Sonic waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.  He swallowed.  “...I really am sorry.  I didn’t mean it.”

Tom nodded.  “It’s okay.  Everybody says things they don’t mean when they get mad,” he murmured.  

Sonic squirmed.  “Yeah, I know, but - I … I really...really didn’t mean it.  Um.”  He squeezed a pop out of one knuckle.  “It’s just that, if it wasn’t for you, I’d be puking up mushrooms full time by now and … a-and besides that, you’re pretty much the coolest person I know, and I have an extremely developed instinct for coolness, it’s kind of like a sixth sense, really-”

Tom’s face twisted with amusement and emotion at odds with one another.  “Sonic....”

Sonic shook his head, letting his hands talk in a bigger and bigger arc.  “A-and it doesn’t really matter what it is, because we know what it is, don’t we?  It’s just our thing, our cool guy thing, that’s all, but I just don’t wanna let you down.  Okay?  Look, all I’m saying is, you’re my favorite person.  And not in a weird way, it’s totally, totally cool -”

“Sonic.”  Tom dropped to one knee so that they were eye-to-eye.  His smile was humiliating.  And great.  “...I feel the same way.  I love you, bud.”

Strong arms drew him in and hugged him.  For a second, he was scared he’d blow up the whole house.  But that didn’t happen, and so instead, he shut his eyes tight and stretched his arms as far as they’d go and held on tight.  And he mumbled it back, whispered it into Tom’s shirt because he couldn’t say it any louder, but they were so close, it was perfectly, perfectly clear.

[jewish-space-laser]

ok i have an idea for a cbl blurb? could u do a blurb from harry’s pov from the night where he got drunk and how he felt when he saw yn and stuff? ik it already happened but i think seeing it from his viewpoint would be interesting!

Could be Lethal - Part Three (Harry’s POV)

“And every time I’ve held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns, And so it goes, and so it goes, And so will you soon I suppose...”

– And So It Goes, Billie Joel

HELLO EVERYONE! It’s been months since I’ve posted anything on here, but I randomly got the motivation to pick this up last week. I apologize in advance for my rusty writing skills! This ask has literally been sitting in my inbox for 10 months, so posting it actually feels quite cleansing. Anyway, here is a (long) blurb full of angst, angst, and you guessed it, angst! I hope you love Harry’s take of that night as much as I do. I love you all muchly, thank you for your ongoing love and support <3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxooox Tile

(3.8k word)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

or

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

 See the CBL masterlist here!

WARNING: Detailed descriptions of heavy drinking

~~~

It was bullshit. It was all bullshit. 

Harry was miserable. He knew it, his friends knew it, his family knew it… it seemed the only person who wasn’t picking up on his desperation was you. 

You were a complete enigma to him. Sometimes, you were the warmest, most open person he’d ever met, indulging him with interesting conversations, stupid jokes, and even the occassional existential discussion. It was always difficult for Harry to truly open up to a person, having been jaded time and time again by people who weren’t able to look past his famous exterior. 

That’s what makes it so much harder, he thinks. Knowing you properly, you knowing him properly. It made the moments where you were closed off harsher, colder, more difficult to read. 

Since you left his house two days prior, he had done just about anything he could to take his mind off of you. He loved thinking about you, but he also hated thinking about you. It was tortuous and circular and he just wanted a brief moment of emotional respite. 

No, he didn’t want respite, he needed it. 

So he watched all three Lord of the Rings movies in a row, tested out a new stir fry recipe, spent way too much money online shopping, and even scrolled through the Humane Society website in a moment of weakness. But none of it mattered, because even if he could distract himself for a moment, you were still there, lingering in the peripherals of his mind like a song stuck in his head. 

It was dizzying and mind-boggling, and Harry was at a loss for what to do. So when Sunday morning rolled around and it still felt like his lungs were being crushed into a ball, he started drinking. 

It was only 8:00AM, but he bypassed the coffee cabinet and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of champagne. The pop of the cork was as loud as a gunshot, but Harry didn’t even flinch, hardly registering the sound of it hitting the floor across the room as he rushed the bottle to his lips. 

Bubbles fizzed past his tongue and dripped down his chin, sliding down his bare chest before puddling on the floor. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly at the burn of the carbonation, but each gulp sent pleasant tingles over his skin. 

For the first time in ages, his mind felt numb. He didn’t necessarily feel good, but he didn’t feel miserable anymore, and that’s what mattered. He could close his eyes without seeing your smile flash in his head, he could listen to music without immediately relating the lyrics to you, and after his second bottle of wine, he was even able to brew a cup of coffee without thinking of you. 

Okay, maybe he thought of you a little. 

At some point, he passed out on the couch, cartons of Vietnamese takeout sitting cold on his coffee table. When his eyes finally blinked open, the sun had already started to set.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. There was a familiar ache pulsing behind his eyes, and he groaned loudly into his empty house. It never used to feel empty, but now you’d come and gone, and it was too late. You’d left your mark on his house and his coffee and his heart… so he drank more. 

There was no more wine, so he started in on his collection of hard liquor, expensive bottles lined on top of his cupboards. Normally they were reserved for when he had guests over, but this fell into the realm of desperation. His sunken eyes scanned the glass bottles before settling on the cheapest of them, an unopened Maker’s Mark. It would do. 

He was pouring a healthy sized glass of the whisky, and then suddenly he wasn’t. His heavy eyes blinked in confusion as he stared across the bar at the bartender, who was raising his eyebrows expectantly. 

“That’ll be thirty-five pounds, mate,” the bartender said, “got roped into buying the first round, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, glancing over his shoulder to see Thomas and Jessie watching him from a booth. 

He doesn’t remember leaving his house, let alone coming to the pub with his friends. In fact, if he tried to think about it, his memory of the entire day felt fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. 

In his mind, this was a success. A full day gone without thinking about you or talking to you or seeing you. The clock behind the bar read 00:43 in red neon numbers. He took one of the shots quickly, signing the bill and taking the remaining five back to his friends. 

“Harry mate, we told you we’re not getting pissed tonight,” Thomas groaned, “what’d you get six shots for?”

“What kind are they?” Jessie asked, wrinkling their nose. 

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, setting the tray down directly in front of himself. His vision swayed to and fro, but he still managed to down another shot, disregarding the concerned look his friends shared. “It’s rum. If you don’t want any, that’s fine.”

“It’s a Sunday, mate,” Thomas reminded him gently.

“We’re at a pub, aren’t we?” Harry slurred. “Supposed to get drunk here.”

“You asked us to come here,” Jessie said slowly, “said you needed to talk to us about something.”

Harry blinked at them slowly, swaying slightly in his seat. He didn’t remember any of this. 

“Actually, he said he needed a drink,” Thomas corrected, “I didn’t realize he meant twenty drinks.”

Another shot burned down his throat, and then everything was cold. 

“Harry.”

His head was pounding. Every limb felt heavy. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes, already overwhelmed by the echo of Thomas’s voice reverberating off of the tile floors. 

“Harry.”

He knew that somebody was trying to get his attention, but he just couldn’t. The alcohol had done its job for most of the day, keeping his brain muddled down and diluted just to spare him the pain of remembering. But now, it backfired, trapping him inside his own head with no way out, with nothing to do but remember. He could hear people talking in the background, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if he was underwater, slipping further and further down with each painful clench of his heart.

He felt a hand press against his arm, and jerked away, causing his stomach to twist. He didn’t want to be here anymore, and he certainly didn’t want to be bothered. 

“G’way, Thomas,” he managed to grunt. 

“It’s me.”

Your voice was clear as crystal to him, but he knew it couldn’t be real. You had left him, after all.

The image of you driving away from his house was burned into his memory, playing over and over again in slow motion. If he thought hard enough, he could even remember the way your body had felt beneath his, whining and squirming and gasping, just like he’d always dreamed about. He could remember the sunken expression on your face the next morning, the heavy silence of the car ride to the coffee shop. He could remember how he’d hoped, so badly, that you’d finally talk about it, this unspoken connection that could no longer be denied. Most of all, he remembers the way his heart dropped when you told him that you didn’t remember any of it.

Another gentle brush, this time along his hairline, and he managed to open his eyes just a sliver. 

You looked amazing. Well, there were circles under your eyes, you were wearing your pajamas and slippers, and you were frowning in concern, but to Harry, you were the most beautiful thing. 

 “You’re here… y’really here….” he sighed. 

You were crouched in front of him, holding a plastic cup of water, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his chest. You looked sleepy and cosy, just like you always did when you stayed over. Before he could reach out to pull you close, you were putting the rim of the cup against his bottom lip.

He took it, grateful for the relief it provided his dry mouth. For the first time since he came to, he took in his surroundings. He was in a single stall bathroom, curled on the floor next to the toilet. The walls were an ugly pale yellow, while the floors were white, making the streaks of dirt and grime more noticeable than ever. Thomas was leaning against the sink across the room, watching you as you tried to get him to finish the cup. 

“Y’look so pretty, always look so good,” Harry slurred, “just wanna snuggle, like we always do.”

He loved the way your mouth dropped open. Everything about you was endearing, really. He watched as you twisted your head to say something to Thomas, water sloshing around in the cup when you nodded your head quickly. Thomas left immediately after, but Harry hardly even noticed. 

When you turned back around to face him, he felt blinded. Despite the dark circles under your eyes, they’re bright and they pierce through him just like always. He loves the color of your skin and the shape of your nose and the little crease that forms between your eyebrows when you’re anxious. He thinks he could probably paint you with his eyes closed. 

Warmth licked across his skin when you brushed your fingertips against his forehead, tucking a stray lock of hair back into place. Harry leaned into your touch, unwilling to let the moment pass too quickly. 

“Can you try taking a sip of water, H?” You tilted your head. “For me?”

He could have laughed, had he not been so nauseated. He would do anything for you normally, but he really did feel awful. “G’na make me sick,” he insisted, wrinkling his nose at the cup in your hand. Even though he could hardly focus, his eyes zeroed in on the faded X scrawled in sharpie on the back of your hand, a souvenir from your night out at TAVERN. He had a matching mark on his hand, and he dreaded the moment the ink would wash off fully. Just another thing forgotten.

He just wanted you.  

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the look on your face told him that it had slipped out. There was no way he regretted it though, not with you right in front of him. Not in this state of mind. 

“It’s gonna make you feel better, and then we can go home,” you urged softly, scooting a tiny bit closer to him.

Home. When he thought of home, he thought about mornings in his house, sunlight filtering in through the blinds and leaving shadowed stripes across your skin. Home was the way you squinted your eyes tighter together right before waking up. Home was you at his kitchen table, going off at him about not doing his dishes. 

“Y’coming home w’me?” He managed to say. Your eyes softened.

“Only if you drink this whole cup,” you lifted it up to him once again, gingerly tilting his head up with a finger on his chin. Even though he felt like his stomach would combust if tried to swallow anything, he allowed you to help him drink some water. Some sloshed messily onto his shirt, but it felt sobering. You met his eyes for a moment, “is that good?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

If you asked him to drink water, he would drink water. He would drink an entire ocean of water. It was achingly clear to literally everybody but you. He could tattoo your name over his heart and you still wouldn’t see.

You gulped loudly, but didn’t say a word, simply prompting him to take another sip of water. He wished more than anything that you’d say something. Make some kind of facial expression. He just wanted a signal, a sign, that you felt anything towards him; disgust, affection, pity. 

He was sure you must pity him. 

Harry drank the rest of the water, cheeks burning as he asked you for a refill. He was still drunk, but the fog had cleared enough for him to sit up straight without feeling like he was going to hurl. He watched you refill the cup in the sink that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in decades, but that was honestly the least of his concerns. 

“Y’must think I’m pathetic,” he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back against the wall. “Can’t lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me,” he heard you say quietly.

But it felt like he had. Because even though you were friends, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fall asleep to the sound of your soft exhales. It wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t feel that rush of excitement when you sneakily texted him under the table on nights out. Having you at a distance could never be enough. 

“Harry…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes, “why did you drink so much tonight?”

If your obliviousness hadn’t been so devastating, he would have laughed. How could you sit here with him, look into his eyes, and not see that his heart was entirely in your hands? How could he explain anything to you if you hadn’t already seen it?

So he wouldn’t try. Not right now. 

He mustered up the strength to push up onto his knees, managing to stand up fully with your steady grip on his arms. He took one shaky step as his head spun, and felt your arms snake around his waist to keep him balanced. Without even thinking about it, he wrapped his arm over your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of having you so close as you helped him out of the toilet. 

You brought him to a stop in the main room by the bar, and he couldn’t help but bury his nose into the top of your head. You smelled just like you always did. It had only been a few nights, but your scent was already fading on his bedsheets. 

“Y’smell like lavender,” he hummed, squeezing your arm lightly, “s’like you’re tryin; t’torture me…. So pretty.”

It really was torture, having you hold onto him as you both walked out of the pub. You were distracting, with your warm skin and soft hands. Each step was difficult; his feet were heavy as anvils and he just wanted to curl up right here on the sidewalk. 

Just as he was considering plopping down on the pavement, he heard the familiar beep of your car opening. He closed his eyes once he was sat in the passenger seat, feeling you fuss over his seatbelt. He flinched slightly when you slid a cold water bottle between his knees.

Harry blinked, and then suddenly you were buckled in behind the steering wheel, poking his arm and peering at him with tired eyes. “Can you stay awake for me, H? Just till we get to your house, okay?”

“Y’coming to my house?”

You were so good to him, all the time. By the looks of your attire, you were ready to be in bed hours ago, yet here you were, patient as ever.

“Yes, I’m taking you home,” you said through a yawn. 

“Miss having you at my house,” Harry exhaled. He didn’t even know what he was saying really, just the same thoughts and memories circling through his mind like planets around the sun, all them centered on you. “My sheets don’t smell like you anymore.”

Suddenly, he felt hot all over. His trousers were too scratchy against his skin, his palms felt clammy, and the longer you stayed silent on the other side of the car, his stomach started turning. In an effort to cool off and calm down, he let his head fall against the window, the cool glass soothing his skin. 

Drunk or not, he was trying to tell you how he feels, he was constantly trying to tell you how he feels… and you didn’t say a word. You never did. It was so frustrating that he found himself biting back tears. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, you cleared your throat. “You can’t…” your voice cracked, “you can’t say things like that, Harry. It hurts me when you say things like that.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry managed to say. “But it’s the truth.”

He was so confused. How on earth could you be hurting when he was sitting here with his arms wide open? Was he so repulsive that the mere thought of being with him caused you pain, somehow?

He was too drunk for this. 

Luckily, you seemed to be on the wavelength. “Let’s just… not talk,” you said, shoulders slumped. 

Harry was feeling awfully dejected himself. He’d spent the last few days trying to cope with his complicated feelings, and now he was back at square one. Every time he thought he knew where the two of you stood, you would say something vague and he would start all over. Your relationship was like a house of cards; delicate, fragile, and knocked to the ground with the slightest shift, the tiniest gust of wind. 

The headache started out small, but by the time you pulled your car into Harry’s driveway, he was feeling like he might keel over. Somehow, he was simultaneously drunk and hungover. If he was going to make it up the stairs to his room, he was going to need something in his stomach, and water that wasn’t from a pub bathroom.

It was humiliating enough that he’d needed you to help him from the car, but upon entering his house, he nearly kicked his shoe through the living room window, grumbling about toast. He knew he’d been less than impressive tonight, but perhaps this was what you needed -- seeing him at rock bottom -- to finally open up and have a real conversation about what you could be. 

When he woke up in the morning, he would be sober, and he would be ready. He would make you coffee like he always does, and maybe he’d even run out and pick up fresh pastries.

“Want some toast,” he said, though he was fairly certain he’d said it once already. 

You were standing in front of him, toes just inches apart, and it felt instinctive to place his hands on your waist and pull you in. The silk pajama top you were wearing was cool against his hands, but he could feel the heat of your skin underneath, the frantic thumping of your heart against your ribcage tickling his fingertips.

Your hands were on his shoulders to keep him steady, but he was suddenly feeling more sober than he had all night. All day, really. 

Harry slid his hands further behind you, locking together behind your back. Having you close felt incredible. It hadn’t even been three days since he last saw you, yet every atom in his body was craving your touch.

“You, um,” he felt your shaky whale against his collar bone, “you have to let go of me if you want me to make you toast.”

Letting go of you felt physically impossible, so instead, Harry dipped his head down and rested his forehead against yours. The anticipation was excruciating as he waited for you to do what you always did: sink into his arms, wrap yourself around him, soothe him to sleep with the weight of your head on his chest.

Fissures cracked through his heart when you pushed him back, taking a single step back that may as well have been a mile. Suddenly, the air all around him felt cold, the room felt darker, the silence felt louder. He took a deep breath in, but still felt like he was suffocating.

“Do you really not remember?”

He needed to know. He had done everything in his power to think about anything else, but had somehow ended up here, standing face to face with you. He wonders if this is how it was supposed to be, if throwing you together over and over again was the universe’s ultimate plan, if all of this misery would be worth it in the end. 

He’d experienced heartbreak before, but this was something else. And when you choked out, “Harry, please don’t make me say it,” in the smallest voice he’d ever heard you use, he knew that he could write millions of records about the pain of this moment, and still never do it justice.

“You remember, don’t you?”

All you did was nod your head once, but he suddenly felt drained. Maybe it was the full day of heavy, reckless drinking… or maybe it was the realization that things really might not work out. He still wanted to try, though. Even though you’d left the other day, there were countless other times you had stayed. For months you’d been coming over in secret, coming out of your shell and showing him how amazing you really were. That had to count for something; there had to be a reason. 

Coffee. He would make coffee in the morning and the two of you would fix everything. 

“Should we head to bed? ‘S getting kind of late, y’must be exhausted.”

You really did look tired, your eyes rimmed with red from yawning over and over, back hunched and shoulders slumped. He was feeling knackered himself, and was more than ready for this night to be over.

“Actually… I think I’m gonna head back home,” you gulped. Harry felt like he’d been slapped, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. It’s as if you’d turned to sand; there one moment and slipping through his fingers the next.

“You don’t want to stay?” Harry tried to keep his voice even, but even he could hear how it wavered. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying.

“I just… have to go home,” you said, looking everywhere but at him. 

He waited for you to say something else, but instead watched as you hoisted your purse further up onto your shoulder and walked out the door. Shell shocked, he stood there frozen, even as your headlights disappeared down the street. 

A long breath blew past his lips as he finally moved to lock his front door, any hope of you walking back through it dashed by the way you’d walked out for a second time. 

Harry likely would have benefited from a glass of water and pain medication, but with a buzzing brain and a shattered heart, all he could manage was to pass out on the couch fully clothed, dreaming about what might have been if you had just stayed.  

~~~

As always, let me know what you think! I love talking to you <3 xoxoxoxox Tile

[loganslowdown4]

{edit note: I’m going to compile a list of every single Doctor Who episode, short, mini, special & spin-off in one place that I started back in 2019. These posts are going to be by season, I’ll be working on getting caught up and then go back and transfer my posts here…}

Doctor Who Season 12 (13th)

DW 1201-Spyfall Pt 1

Oh. My. God. I won’t spoil it, but the ending of this episode is BONKERS. 😭 I am SO PROUD of Chibnall for actually writing a decent episode with STAKES AGAIN!😭 I warms my 2 hearts so much! Decent build up too. Still wish the gang all had more downtime but 🤷🏼‍♀️

DW 1202-Spyfall Pt 2

Sacha Dhawan as the Master is my kind of energy. I ❤️ his chemistry with the Doctor. I definitely appreciated the female representation of history, but the story itself was a bit clunky. Still, fun! Who is this timeless child anyway? I’ve heard of it before but 🤷🏼‍♀️

DW 1203-Orphan 55

Come for the twist, stay for the guilt!

To be fair, Jodie has gathered a whole young fanbase that probably needs a tiny lesson shoehorned in for their own good. Probably. It’ll be better if they tied this ep to a future one, so we’ll see I guess. Bonus: Sassy Doctor is back!

DW 1204-Nikola Tesla’s Night of Terror

This one is just ok, but this usually happens midseason. I kept thinking the scorpion aliens were the Racnoss & got excited; they aren’t.😒 OMG, scorpion queen? Our own Anj Mohindra back in the Whoniverse! She rocked it! I miss Rani & SJA 😢

DW 1205-Fugitive of the Judoon

Still, as shocking as the climax was, it still felt a bit...done before? I dunno. We had the war doctor. We had the chameleon circuit. I’m glad for the call backs. I guess I’m happy they didn’t already replace the Master!

DW 1206-Praxeus

So...um ok? We just aren’t going to address the last ep? We’re gonna get another shoehorned environmental message? Cool, cool. Except this ep was balls. The story was so sloppy, I hated it. It really should have been Autons, that would have been so much better.

DW 1207-Can You Hear Me?

This was a better ep for sure. We got a little more backstory on each of our mains (why is it so hard to write for them? Why do the writers insist on keeping them dull and one dimensional?) and the villain was very good. But still no answers? Cmon!

DW 1208 - The Haunting of Villa Diodati

I did like this one. I think after my 2 year hiatus of watching Doctor Who, I have a bit different perspective. Still not a massive fan of Jodie’s Doctor, but that’s mostly because she doesn’t ever give this serious air when things in the story get grim. It never feels like there are any stakes. This one was good though. Not a fan of the cyberman plot at all, but liked the Mary Shelley/Lord Byron plot. To see them as just flippant rich people (which they were irl) is really funny to me. Creative and brilliant yes, but also a tad shallow at times. Nobody’s perfect haha.

DW 1209 - Ascension of the Cybermen

[mongooseblues]

Bless You Father for I Have Sinned (Fleabag, Hot Priest) 1/1

Did anyone watch Fleabag and/or want to read about a hot priest sneezing?

This works just fine as a standalone if u haven’t seen the show but for context: Hot Irish prob alcoholic “cool swear-y” priest and recovering sex addict and all-around hot mess main character (who doesn’t have a name) strike up a “friendship” that is just a poorly veiled excuse for spending time with someone they want very badly to fuck but can’t bc priesthood vow of celibacy and whatnot.

Here’s ~2k words in which I continuously get off on the idea of blessing a priest and unresolved sexual tension I also don’t resolve.

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

“Fuck you, calling me Father like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it…”

It happens for maybe ten minutes before it starts to stick out to her. Because it’s cold, as it always is on early-spring nights in London, and while they’re both fully dressed (unfortunately), neither is probably quite dressed enough to be out in a garden at this hour. And they’re a bit drunk—not that drunk, they’re both pretty practiced—on the G&Ts he’s so fond of for whatever reason. He specifically likes the kind you get already mixed in a can, which are especially shit, but it’s almost endearing that he likes those in particular. Well, very endearing actually. Goddamn this man—or… hmm, poor choice of words.

It doesn’t really grab her attention until he combines the sniffling with pinching his nostrils together.

“You alright, you’re quite sniffly?”

“I know, I dunno what’s going on,” he says, and punctuates it with a harsher sniffle than the ones previously unacknowledged, “Think ‘m just cold.” He zips his sweatshirt up a bit as if to illustrate.

“We could get you a blanket and swaddle you up like baby Jesus.”

He laughs. She extracts from her coat pocket a pack of cigarettes, takes one herself and angles the carton toward him in offering. Mostly because she wants him to scoot closer to her on the bench as she flicks the lighter for him. The flame illuminates the angles of his face in orange, the back of his fingers grazing her hand by happy accident, and yes, it’s a little pathetic that this momentary skin-to-skin contact is as erotic as it is to her, but that’s what you get when you fancy a priest isn’t it?

“They’re always describing him as being swaddled. Odd word, swaddled. Sounds kind of violent.”

“It does kind of,” he agrees, leaning back against the bench and exhaling a stream of smoke into the night air. Her plan worked, he’s ever so slightly closer to her now, post cigarette exchange, close enough that when he sniffles she can feel the slight vibration of his shoulders through the loose fabric on her coat sleeve. It unites them like an accidental spark of electricity she can sense just faintly enough to feel jumpy. Or turned on. Or both.

She really shouldn’t be this shameless about trying desperately to corrupt a man of the cloth she wants to get under. Maybe she’d feel properly guilty if she wasn’t quite so fucking horny.

“So you did read more than just the passages I marked for you?” He asks, at once surprised and pleased and maybe nervous, grinning but also looking away for a moment as if he could disguise all of that.

“Not really, just the birth of the ol’ lord and savior. It seemed like it’d be climactic.”

“Was it?”

“Can’t say I climaxed reading it, no,” she says with a cheeky look that elicits the laughter she’s looking for, “No offense but it’s really quite boring, this book you love so much.”

“Yeah… that’s a tragically common sentiment among reviewers.” He’s scratching at his nose with the back of one wrist with such intensity it’s unmistakeable how much it’s bothering him.

“Don’t care much for the writing style either, I have to say.”

If the irritation could be resolved with a mouse-like scrunch of the nose he’d have figured it out by now, and clearly he hasn’t because he still has to shrink into his crossed arms like an accordion with a fairly high-pitched, vocal and thus somehow Irish-accented, “Hehh-ishhYUE!”

“Bless. The only way I was able to get through it was by imagining you in every speaking role.”

It’s a sentence meant to provoke him, not unlike most of her sentences, and for a minute as her eyes are on her own exhaled smoke and he fails to respond, she wonders whether it sounded even weirder than she meant it, but as it turns out he’s just about to sneeze again — squinting into the distance and bringing an arm to his face in slow motion.

“Mmff-SHOO!” He blinks in surprise as he resumes his previous position on the bench, now shifted just a bit farther away from her. Damn.

“Ugh, sorry. Every speaking role?? Ohfuck— ahh-ishSHEU!”

“Jesus.”

“You imagined me as Jesus??”

“No I mean Jesus, are you okay, did you catch something?” Of course she imagined him as Jesus.

“Ooh I hope not,” he says with a nervous look, “that’d be lousy timing.”

“The lord works in mysterious ways.”

“Thuh-that he does—” A sudden inhale, a crooked arm rising at a much hastened speed. It begins in a manageable way, somewhat controlled, but then it seems to get away from him.

“Hh… hehd’SHHUE!”

“Bless you, Father."

He mumbles a thank you bookended by soft snuffling.

“Maybe he’s sent you a plague of sneezing. He does that sometimes doesn’t he? Send plagues?”

His face just scarcely conveys amusement before it’s hijacked again by the same expectant expression, but he still attempts to talk through it, even as irritation becomes evident in every feature. “S-sometimes…”

She thinks about saying bless you in advance but decides instead to just wait for him to succumb to it. A flicker of lashes, a reveal of the very tips of canines, his entire face crinkles around his visibly twitching nose. It pulls him downward and then forward in that order, as he collapses into a crooked arm as if stumbling despite being seated.

An especially desperate, “hehhSCHOO!” that begins quietly but certainly doesn’t end that way.

“God bless you, Father, again.”

“Wow,” he says with a sniff, knuckles swiping under his nose in a single smooth motion, “Maybe I’m allergic to you. My body’s having a reaction.”

“Is it?”

An eyeroll and a grin, and then he goes back to scratching at his aggravated face in a manner that’s becoming aggressive.

“Well stop manhandling your nose that’s clearly not working.” Before she can think better of it, she takes his elbow to pull the offending arm away from his face. She can feel his muscles tense with the movement, but when she looks up at him there’s only a blurry-eyed smile chased by a nervous huff of a laugh. Another line she can’t uncross but doesn’t particularly want to.

The therapist hadn’t needed to point out that her all-consuming attraction to someone she couldn’t have was probably a healthy coping mechanism of her recently adopted abstinence. She hadn’t really expected this though — for her advances to not be rejected entirely. She hadn’t planned for hope to cease feeling like such a daft, one-sided notion.

“Should I even be blessing you or is that overkill? Or am I even qualified to bless you? Can one bless a priest if they’re not like, anointed or something?”

“You can bless me,” he confirms, looking like he’s barely got a handle on controlling his own eyebrows. Or lips for that matter. God, that mouth, those lips. Parting by accident the way she’d like to make them open on purpose.

“Little greedy of you. You’re not blessed enough as is?”

“Neh—neverhurts…” He pitches sidewards with a slurred, tellingly tipsy, “hehh-ESHHyoooo!”

“Bless you…”

“Thank you,” he sniffles with embarrassed necessity, bringing the back of a sleeve to his nose.

“Hold on, I think I have some tissues,” she says as she feels around in her bag in the darkness, “Well, cocktail napkins at least.” Another knuckle brush as she hands them to him. How arousing. How pitifully arousing. She really should come up with ways to hand him things more often.

“Ahh you were holding out on me,” he says, and then after a gentle blow, “Sorry.”

“You are coming down with something aren’t you?"

He thinks about it, bringing the napkin away from his nostrils with a final follow-up dab. “I dunno, maybe?”

“Do you feel ill?”

“Mostly just very itchy.”

How many other chances will she get… She reaches a hand to gingerly press the back of her fingers against his forehead. He blinks a few times in response, rapidly and reflexively, and swallows back a smile. There’s a burning in her stomach that’s neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

“Um, you feel okay I think?” She says, attention course-corrected back to the cigarette crumbling in her hand, but still glancing at him to measure the aftermath of the relatively bold gesture and they lock smiling eyes in the process.

If he really wanted to ward her off he’s doing a phenomenally shitty job of it. She knows he wants her. God if only that was enough, to know he wanted her.

“I think you’re right I’ve been sent a plague of sneezing. Probably trying to tell me something.”

“Something about how your new friend could take care of you?”

He grins with half of his mouth. “Or something about how I probably shouldn’t be drinking G&Ts in the middle of the night with my new friend who I like a little too much.”

Oh he… really shouldn’t have given her that.

“ExxSHHUE!!” He shakes the whole bench with this, then straightens back up, not looking entirely recovered, and says almost to himself, “And about how I probably shouldn’t tell my new friend that I like them a little too much.”

“But you did anyway and he hasn’t, I dunno, smote you down yet.”

Irritation is still etched into his features, his chest slowly swelling with air, hastily fiddling with the napkins.

“Are you actually going to sneeze again? You haven’t finished?”

He shakes his head as his eyes close and seizes into a rushed, “hehESHHyue!"

“It’s a plague I can’t stop! Snf, it’s out of my hands."

She knows the night’s over, she does. She gets the sense that she’d been invited to overstay her welcome, but it’s getting past that point now. Whenever she leaves after being around him her face hurts from smiling like an idiot the whole time and she comes away aching in more ways than one. That ache is starting already, another sign they’ve stretched this interaction too long once again.

However, alcohol. “If you tell me to leave and you sneeze again perhaps we’ll know whether or not it was divine intervention.”

“He might just be punishing me now anyway,” he sighs, remembering a cigarette he may not have taken a single drag from, neglected and foreshortening in his fingers.

“We haven’t done anything we’re just talking. I’m a—what is it, parishioner?”

“That is a word, yes. Snf! Though it implies someone who’s actually going to church to, you know, practice their faith."

“I’m a parishioner here to…” she’s not even sure what to say, she still doesn’t know shit about Catholicism aside from the fact that it’s a massive cockblock, “seek your… counsel? Guidance? Guidance counseling.”

He puts a hand over part of his face, tired but amused. “You can’t act innocent even when you’re trying your best, can you?"

She almost snorts. Is this what he thinks trying her best looks like?—No, don’t actually say— “Who said I was trying my best?”

Why can’t she stop herself from saying things like that to him? The only thing that’s going to stop her now is a ‘no’ that’s actually firm enough not to give way when she presses against it relentlessly. He honestly needs to just get it over with before he really gives her too much to hold onto. She’s not going to win out over God, the guy’s pretty fucking stiff competition.

Goddamnit, just break her heart already, what the fuck is he waiting for? This should have ended ages ago, and now it’s getting dangerously close to too late.

Was it unfair to assume he’d be stronger than her? Or is he trying to hurt himself too? A duetted exercise in masochism, mutually assured destruc—

“—ESSHHYUE!” He looks at her through wet lashes, bleary and sheepish and drunk and cute and fuck.

She sighs loudly, looks skyward and says, “Right, you’ve made your point! I’m leaving!”

[lustfordespair]

Crimson & Clover [ Peter Quill X Reader ]

Note: This story takes place after Endgame! (Y/N) has been with the Guardians since the ending of the movie, she was originally with the Avengers but she wanted to travel with Earth's Mightiest Hero, Thor. Over time after looking for Gamora, they choose to take a break, thus developing (Y/N) and Peter's.. unspoken thing. Their bond grows quite close over time and soon closer once Quill finds out her love for old music. Also, I have this story posted on Wattpad as well, but it’s with an oc, so I made a reader one on here:) Anyways, enjoy the story!

They travelled peacefully in the Milano, Nebula relaxing in the corner next to (Y/N) whilst Rocket, Drax, Groot, Mantis, and Thor made casual conversation, sometimes bullying Quill and stating that Thor was better than him (which that comment was mostly made by Rocket ) Quill would ignore the animal, focused on piloting the spacecraft.

"So (Y/N), how was life on Earth? You were there longer than Quill, correct?" Mantis asked the (H/C), (Y/N) sat up and formed a smile on her face, "Aha, yes correct. Life on Earth has changed a lot since Quill was last there. Walkmans turned into spotify and cameras turned into iphones. Music has changed a lot since then too." She answered. Mantis nodded as she got her responses.

"I bet you don't even know the amazing way music used to be. 70's / 80's are the best and always will be." Quill stated, "I find music in general quite annoying at times, I enjoy the silence." Thor spoke. Peter rolled his eyes, which stated he didn't care for a response from him.

(Y/N) stood up and made her way to the speakers of the Milano and connected the Ipod she still had from Terra, soon music made it's way through the speakers, it blasted modern day music, she played a Lady Gaga song as a joke, to be specific 'Paparazzi' Quill put the Milano in auto-pilot immediately and got up.

"Wha-What kind of music is this?" he shouted, "You've just proven my statement to be correct, (Y/N) ." The woman ignored him and playfully sang along with the song, the walked towards Nebula and laid on her, dramatically singing the song which caused Mantis and Thor to chuckle. "You look like an idiot!" Rocket stated as soon as he bursted into laughter. "Why thank you very much!" She replied. She quickly got of Nebula, lucky enough that she was able to lay there even for a second. Quill simply rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and chuckled at the dork she was being "Got any better music than that?" he questioned.

(Y/N) smiled, staring up at the man, "Well I do indeed as a matter of fact, maybe something you'd like." she grabbed the Ipod and scrolled through it, finding one of her most favorite songs in the world.

Ahhh

Now I don't hardly know her..

She started swaying to the music and singing it softly to herself, whilst the rest of the Guardians went to their rooms, knowing there was some type of chemistry going on between the two, before Groot heads out, she grabs the teenage plant by the hand and begins to dance with him. Rocket, Mantis, and Drax staying behind watching them.

But I think I could love her

Crimson and clover..

(Y/N) kept dancing with the plant who was confused but yet enjoyed the attention, Drax walks up next to Quill and whispers to him, saying words he once said before , "There are those who dance and there are those who do not. (Y/N) does. You do. The two of you are equally pathetic." Mantis walks up towards the two and places a hand on Quill's, "I can tell you do have romantic feelings for her, why don't you go for it?" she asked.

The man removed his hand from Mantis' touch and sighed, "But.. Gamora." he spoke, being cut off by a surprising Nebula, "This Gamora is different Quill. She does not remember you or anything that happened after 2014, sadly all we know she is was snapped away with Thanos or the simple fact.. she does not want to be found if she is hiding this hard." The three looked at Nebula, surprised she would even make a statement in this situation.

Mantis made her way towards (Y/N) and Groot, tapping the male on the shoulder, signaling him to move, with that and no hesitation Mantis began dancing with (Y/N), with the only intention to touch her hand.

Ah,

when she comes walking over

Now I've been waiting to show her..

While (Y/N) was confused why the lady danced with her, Mantis touched her hand, realizing the (H/C) felt the same way towards Quill, perhaps even stronger feelings. "Do you like Peter?" she asked, (Y/N) dumbfounded by the question, blush appearing on her face, "I-If I'm being honest, I like like him a lot and I wouldn't really tell that to anyone but you." Mantis smiled brightly, stopped dancing with the girl and walked away, whispering to the male, "She feels the same." with that comment, the rest left and Quill watched as she danced alone as if no one was watching.

Crimson and clover..

Over and over..

Quill slowly walked up to her, "May I?" he asked, she nodded, placing her hand on his shoulder and one in his hand while he placed the other on her waist. The two danced peacefully together, swaying to the music.

Yeah

My, my such a sweet thing..

(Y/N) didn't once look Peter in the eye, she was still blushing from the question Mantis asked and over the fact she was dancing with the man she found really attractive, charming, and dorky. Peter couldn't help but stare down at her, she was much shorter than him, a small smile formed on his face. Ever since they lost Gamora and were unable to find the 2014 Gamora, Quill hasn't felt very much happy unless he was around (Y/N). He'd be lying if he said he didn't like her, hell maybe even love her after the time and bond they've created together, but he still felt his heart belonged to the Gamora who was no longer with them.

"Hey" the man spoke, causing (Y/N) to finally lift her head up at him, making direct eye contact. It was weird, Quill never felt this way towards anyone besides... you know who. When the 5'4 girl looked up at him, into his eyes, he couldn't but think about how cute she is. Then he remembers Drax's words, 'There are those who dance and those who do not' then Nebula's, 'This Gamora is different Quill, she does not remember you or anything that happened after 2014.' The man then thought to himself, the fact that Gamora cared about him and the fact he was sure she wouldn't want him moping around all the time and missing her. "Quill?" the girl spoke softly, his attention brought back to her, the words that came out of his mouth was something he or (Y/N) didn't expect him to say, "You're so beautiful.." his voice was soft, like hers, maybe even emotional as well.

Although the two knew each other for a couple months, (Y/N) could imagine a future with the man dancing with her, perhaps she was thinking too far, "I'm sorry?" she asked with a confused look, her eyebrow raised and her lips pressed to a thin line. The two kept dancing, "I, uh, said you're very beautiful." He repeated. Peter loved Gamora, now here he his falling for the woman standing before him, at times he would find himself admiring her curves, the way her dimples formed when she smiled, how adorable she was when she laughed, and even the way her hair would fall down after she removed her ponytail after a battle or some sort. He felt no hope for Gamora, the Gamora he knew was gone and the one that exists now.. doesn't remember him or anything else after. So, he decided to give this a shot.

I wanna do everything..

"Listen, (Y/N), I-I like you. A lot even.." he began, "I like you so much I don't know what to do..if I'm being honest, I wanna be with you but I can't help but think about-" "Gamora?" she cut him off, truthfully she expected this, "Yes.. Gamora. But then I have Mantis telling me to go for it, Nebula saying the Gamora today doesn't remember me or anything that happened after 2014 and that if we still have yet to find her, she probably doesn't wanna be found. Even Drax saying how equally pathetic we are." he removed himself from her, standing there, no longer dancing.

The music still played, "And I have Rocket making fun of me for adoring you, Thor constantly teasing me, along with Mantis telling me to go for it." she confessed. After realizing she basically confessed her feelings towards the man, she sighed crossing her arms, "Look, it's all your choice Quill. If you want to give this, us, a shot. I'm not going to force you." (Y/N) turned and began to walk away to her room.

Before she fully exited, Peter grabbed her by the wrist, turning her around and placing a soft desperate kiss on her lips. (Y/N) was shocked but soon found herself returning the kiss.

What a beautiful feeling..

Crimson and clover

Over and over..

The dirty blonde male pulled away, "I do. I do wanna give this a shot." he admitted. "Like I really REALLY wanna give us a shot, you have no idea how bad I want to (Y/N), I just-" the woman placed a finger on his lips and giggled softly, "Shut up and kiss me again, Star-Lord." Once he heard her say that, he immediately kissed her again.

Crimson and clover

Over and over

Crimson and clover

Over and over

"Wanna maybe, I dunno, head to my room?" he asked, winking at her. Knowing what he was obviously implying, she rolled her eyes and replied, "Sure. But my only limit is cuddling Quill, nothing else." Peter sighed, "You called me Star-Lord man.. come on that's like my automatic turn on." (Y/N) simply grabbed his hand and walked towards his sleeping quarters, "Cuddles and kisses." she repeated then whispered, "Maybe something else if you get lucky enough in the future.." Peter blushed and smiled like an idiot, he knew he was gonna enjoy this girl and he knew he made the correct choice of giving this a chance.

Crimson and clover

Over and over

Crimson and clover

Over and over

And like (Y/N), Quill could see a whole future with this woman in front of him.

[cattles-bians]

damie vibecca exes au part 8

post directory

obsetress: now i just want fanart of damvibecca at the gym

em: well. pitch it to me comrade ghostfucker

obsetress: idk that's about as far as i got i just reread that bit about vibecca in their matching gym outfits and my brain got stuck

em: hypothetically do u have a colour palette in mind bc i associate gym outfits w like. bright loud colours and

em: idk if it works w our earth sign queens

[em note: emily is a liar and did NOT draw fanart of damvibecca at the gym]

[em note 2: we have the gym art now [x] [x]]

obsetress: i was imagining like charcoals tbh, or jewel tones

obsetress: i could see them in like jewel tone purples or that jewel tone blue green color

obsetress: yeah viola jewel tones or blacks n charcoals

obsetress: becs pastels and camels but jewel tones at the gym

em: it’s about Matching

em: And Destroying Ur Ex (platonically)

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: viola's feeling particularly smug about it but then

obsetress: dani's in an old school tshirt and shorts and jamie's in............ one of dani's old school tshirts and shorts

em: YES

obsetress: not intentionally, she just grabbed whatever was there

obsetress: dani chirps "oh you two look so cute! baby look, they have a matched set"

obsetress: viola arches an eyebrow "and so do you, it seems" and dani laughs "not on purpose, jamie just grabbed whatever was on top in the drawer"

viola: you two... share... a wardrobe?

dani: yeah?

em: god cute

obsetress: cute n dumb

em: they can share nearly everything except pants

em: well. pants as a treat

em: haha pants

em: trousers

obsetress: also rly nice rly clean smooth funny juxtaposition in my brain of vibecca being the ones who intentionally match and damie the ones for whom it just accidentally happens

obsetress: hahahah pants

obsetress: they can share pants but................ should they

em: idk miss chapter 12 danis thighs jamies pyjamas

em: should they

obsetress: PLEASE

obsetress: that's exactly what i was referring to THANKS

obsetress: anyway

obsetress: rebecca just laughs

obsetress: viola huffs and bex is like "sorry, babe, but it is kind of funny"

em: dani jamie wearing like

obsetress: YEAH

obsetress: MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY

em: poor viola

obsetress: thinking about dani's ass in those

em: yeah....

em: violas huffing until jamies exercise flush lasts a little Too Long

obsetress: big blush jamie taylor

em: she’s still like ‘oi dani close ur mouth’ but then she

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: just ogling each other

obsetress: (they briefly pause to ogle vi and rebecca passing a medicine ball back and forth as they do squats and have to acknowledge that, yeah, they've all done alright by themselves)

em: funny montage of the gang doing exercise while surreptitiously taking Peaks

obsetress: omg all i want

obsetress:sometimes having friends as a lesbian means they're all your exes except one, who's your gf, and you're all checking each other out always anyway

em

And That’s Beautiful

obsetress

obsetress: dani: checking out viola's biceps, rebecca's abs

viola: checking out dani's thighs n ass

rebecca: minding her business

jamie: scowling n scrawny

obsetress:(n also checking out dani's thighs n ass, viola's biceps, and begrudgingly peeking at rebecca's abs)

obsetress: every other woman at the gym: checking out jamie, trying to figure out the entire dynamic here

are they a polycule? what

em: jamie probably like

em: maybe she gets really into running bc she just checks out and listens to her audiobooks but like

em: slow twitch vs fast twitch fibers so stays scrawny

obsetress: i can see that

obsetress: just gets on the treadmill and zones tf out

em: jamie ‘why don’t i have biceps’ taylor vs jamie ‘no u gotta lift w ur hips’ taylor

obsetress: she hates it but her psych told her it'll be good for her routine so you know she was like yes ma'am every day ma'am

em: cant believe safe lifting procedures screwed her over

em: ‘yes ma’am every day ma’am’ ur just Going for it arent ya anshdjdh

obsetress: sorry but don't tell me you can't hear it

obsetress: jamie's the person who takes notes in therapy

obsetress: jamie, in the locker room after their workout: do my biceps look bigger?

dani, patiently, already knowing where this is going: bigger than what, baby?

jamie: than yesterday

dani: mm, rome wasn't built in a day, you know

jamie: do they look bigger at all?

dani: well

em: i mean not to perceive her too much but mattresses scene indicates AE/jamie like. at least some muscle in the leg area

em: poor jamie

em: not playing to her strengths

obsetress: yeah she does

obsetress: i mean ae has toned af arms

obsetress: she's just wiry

em: how could i forget the benchpressing dog gif

obsetress: dani's like "jamie, baby, come do squats with me and vi" "m'good" "baby, c'mon, you'll like it" "don't wanna do squats" "it could be good for you" "don't wanna do squats with you two"

em: dani: you gotta like. eat more

jamie: i eat plenty

dani: no u graze all day and then u don’t eat dinner

obsetress: dani: five biscuits spread out across a day doesn't count as eating more

em: dani: protein jamie it’s abt protein

obsetress: dani: you need more protein, which is why i think some lentils would really––

em: jamie thinks protein shakes are Nasty

obsetress: jamie does think protein shakes are nasty but dani will make her a smoothie and sneak it in like she's a child

obsetress: viola and rebecca, with their matching monogrammed blender bottles, just staring

obsetress: becca's like "jamie, just drink it, really, it's fine"

obsetress: viola just does this haughty sniff at her and that's what finally gets jamie to start

em: jamie can deal w being a brat but the idea of viola having Anything over her drives her Insane

em: Drives Her Fuckign Nuts

obsetress: she hates it

obsetress: just the absolute fuckin worst

em: do u think dani ever like

em: like they REALLY need to clear out storage but it’s a boiling frog situation where it’s increased so gradually that

em: like jamie thinks it’s Fine storage is Clear Enough

em: it’s Not

em: danis like. should we invite rebecca and vi over

em: just be Idea of A Snide Viola Comment fills jamie w a burning rage

obsetress: oh my god

obsetress: i'm obsessed with this

obsetress: i would read a whole oneshot about this

em: eventually dani comes clean abt it n jamie thinks it’s v funny bc yknow; open and honest communication is a v important part of their dynamic

em: jamie: next time just tell me my storage looks like shite dani or i will be grumbling abt viola for a Week

obsetress: inevitably

obsetress: when they do have to come over to clean

obsetress: dani offers them takeout and wine ("step up from pizza and beer at least," jamie grumbles) and viola's like "jesus, dani, let's just go out to dinner. my treat"

obsetress: at dinner, viola's like "if you want more storage, i have some wonderful properties––"

obsetress: rebecca's mouthing "sorry" from next to her across the table

em: every time they go out rebecca takes vi aside n is like ok sweetheart so you promise you’re not gonna try convince them to sell the apartment again

em: and violas like (mock horror) of course i won’t. ye of little faith

em: and every time

em: every time she does

em: she’s tryna HELP

obsetress: she would too she'd be like

obsetress: "i'm just trying to HELP"

obsetress: "they're our FRIENDS"

em: i’m on a mission to figure out like

em: this is way way down the line

em: but i wanna believe eventually viola and jamie start to, at the v least, Tolerate each other

em: jamie might even be fond of the crazy bird but she’ll NEVER admit it

obsetress: god like vi's on business or some shit in like

obsetress: the UAE

obsetress: negotiating some Deal

obsetress: and so dani and jamie get dinner with just bex and they're driving home after and having a perfectly mundane conversation and then jamie's just blurting like

obsetress: "i think i miss vi"

em: she’s HORRIFIED

em: she tries to play it off as like um

em: she’s Too Comfortable

em: things are Too Boring

em: which is weird knowing everything we know abt jamie

em: but actually she just... maybe misses viola

em: danis like god i wish i was recording this

obsetress: jamie's passed out next to her at home later (it's ten pm) and dani's chattering happily away on the phone with vi (drinking a martini in her dubai hotel room at one am since, y'know, no bars) in bed right next to her

obsetress: "jamie, uh, said she misses you. i know. no, i KNOW. don't tell her i told you. yeah, yeah, you win, vi, we know. uh-huh. uh-huh. i'm gonna pretend you didn't just ask me that"

em: CUTE

em: u can’t lord it over her vi it’s a little secret

em: vi's like when have i EVER

em: she does

obsetress: once they're good again, dani and vi absolutely just. lose time (there's a metaphor in there) talking to each other still

em: this is wholesome tbh

em: i really like the damie stories where like

em: look it’s nice when damie have each other but it’s also nice when they have their own friends and stuff

em: dunno how to articulate that well

em: it’s a balance! it’s a balance

obsetress: yeah! exactly

obsetress: because that's part of the love n possession thing too yk

obsetress: not to say either of them would ever be like "no friends for you" but

obsetress: wanting to have a life outside of your partner yk

obsetress: they're meeting vi and rebecca for dinner after vi gets back and vi's just grinning and sweeping jamie into a hug "i heard you missed me"

em: she gets jamie a souvenir t-shirt

em: it’s too big

em: OR

em: child’s t-shirt

obsetress: (jamie sleeps in it that night)

obsetress: oh childs might be better

obsetress: she's like "you're a little scrawny, so..."

em: jamie sleeps in it.... soft bitch

em: she feels too much

obsetress: jamie taylor softest bitch

obsetress: dani watches her pull it on and raises an eyebrow and jamie's just like "wot"

em: jamies like (grumbles) i knew she was comin back i’m just

em: shouldn’t you be HAPPY about this development dani

em: ‘s’a gift... s’rude not t’....’

obsetress: YEAH

obsetress: dani just grins "mmhm"

em: it accidentally makes its way into jamies workout clothes pile

obsetress: oh my GOD oh my god

obsetress: viola's shit eating GRIN when jamie shows up at the gym in it

em: jamies like fok

em: mental maths tryna figure if she wants to just. work out in a sports bra

em: she Doesn’t

obsetress: she Doesn't!

obsetress: (she's shy)

em: god it’s one of those shirts that’s like

em: someone who loves me went to UAE and got me this t-shirt or something

obsetress: dani corners her in their empty row in the locker room "you could've just taken it off, you know" "dunno, not everyone needs to... see that, you know?" "i'd certainly like to see it" jamie rolls her eyes but she's grinning "you can see that any time" "well maybe i wanted to see it during my workout" "dani......."

em: jamies embarrassed bc of her gnarly farmers tan means her tummy is at least five shades lighter than the rest of her

em: crisp tan lines

obsetress: god jamie's farmers tan

em: once again i am bringing my tan lines jamie agenda

obsetress: dani loves jamies dumb farmers tan so much

obsetress: she giggles

obsetress: but it's the most loving giggle possible

em: and then when she gets into running...

em: god when i was rowing there were a couple ppl w like what i called a neapolitan icecream tan which is

em: gimme a second

obsetress: jamie gets all huffy when dani giggles at her tan but then dani's like "baby, no, i think it's cute" and jamie gives her a look and dani grins mischievously and ducks her head

obsetress: and then she's licking and kissing and nipping her way along jamie's dumb tan lines

em: there it is

obsetress: it was inevitable

em: so caught up in the joy of jamies dumb farmer tans i forgot abt her gnarly scar she keeps under wraps

em: baby

em: the most baby

obsetress: baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

em: jamie decides the only way to claim the stupid t-shirt as hers is to cut off the sleeves

em: it’s abt the ritual of the thing

obsetress: she shows up at the gym wearing it and

obsetress: that's viola's "oh no she's hot" moment

em: YEAH BABY

obsetress: literally just like

obsetress: world stops

obsetress: viola stares

em: jamie finally gets to do an exercise that shows off her sinewy manual labor grip forearms

em: viola’s probably just as horrified to find jamie hot as every time jamies like oh no

em: violas hot

em: and once again jamie CANNOT know she’s hot bc she will be insufferable

em: she will be the Worst

obsetress: viola's tugging rebecca aside "why didn't you tell me jamie was hot" "what?" viola waves a hand and rebecca just furrows her brow a little and is like "that's just... what she looks like, vi"

obsetress: viola corners dani next "why didn't you tell me jamie was hot" "i did" "oh. right" viola pauses, then "why didn't you make sure i was listening?" dani just gives her a look and walks away

obsetress: dflksdjfldaj god the way jamie and viola are. the same

obsetress: kind of incredibly, in the same ways dani and rebecca are the same

em: “hey baby, did viola seem different today? seemed off”

em: jamies like. is she mad at me. did i break another social taboo.

em: rebecca ‘jamie looks like jamie’ jessel vs dani ‘my gf is so hot i can’t stand it’ clayton

obsetress: "i tell you how hot she is at least three times a week, vi"

em: danis tryna goad her into making the damn shirt a crop top

em: jamies like yeah but isn’t that a step too far. i feel like i am destroying this shirt too much

em: she does it anyway

em: so jamies workout clothes are danis endless grey baggy school t-shirts and this one ugly souvenir shirt that like

em: psychological warfare and she doesn’t even know it

obsetress: i would........ like to see it

obsetress: also crop top jamie is one of my favorite jamies

obsetress: she is severely underrated

em: crop top jamie is

obsetress: and we do not talk about her enough

em: jamie wear More crop tops

obsetress: viola and rebecca in bed, in matching facemasks, after going to the gym post-epiphany that Jamie Is Hot

obsetress: viola: are dani and jamie hotter than us?

rebecca: what?

obsetress: and like

obsetress: viola is NOT insecure

obsetress: she is constantly confident that she's the most attractive woman in the room at any given moment, but

obsetress: she's just so staggered by this realization

em: some neutral third party (ms grose and mr sharma probably) are like well. u guys definitely have a little more of a scary thing going on

em: i’m imagining rebecca and viola at brunch w hannah and owen v seriously discussing this

em: viola brings it up and rebecca GROANS but then she gets invested in the convo

obsetress: GOD yeah

obsetress: she's leaning forward and gesturing with her fork "when you say 'scary'..........."

em: owens like scary is a compliment

em: hannah grose sips her tea knowingly

obsetress: rebecca just narrows her eyes at hannah grose and hannah raises her eyebrows and shrugs

em: after a week or so viola bursts into a room w stupid big sunglasses and a tray of take out coffees and she’s like Don’t You Worry Jamie I Have Concluded You’re Hot But I’m Not Threatened By It

em: jamies like sorry WHAT

em: you’ve been thinking about WHAT

em: viola leaves without ever following it up

obsetress: dani is entirely unfazed

obsetress: doesn't even blink

em: danis like neat she remembered the oat milk

em: everyone in this au is insane

obsetress: any lesbian in 2021 is insane

obsetress: par for the course

em: was gonna protest but

em: Yeah

obsetress: this lesbian meme account i follow on insta is doing “stop asking who’s the top and who’s the bottom. start asking...” posts

obsetress: and one of them is “start asking who’s baby and who’s fuck around and find out” and it just makes me chuckle

obsetress: jamie taylor baby

obsetress: viola lloyd also baby

em: dani is baby passing and jamie is fuck around faking

obsetress: oh my god that’s why that’s why i think we cracked it

obsetress: dani (fuck around) dated jamie (baby) and vi (baby)

obsetress: rebecca (fuck around) dated jamie (baby) and vi (baby)

obsetress: the reason they could never cross further even tho per the transitive property dani (so similar to vi) should be able to date beccs and jamie (so similar to beccs) should be able to date vi is because

obsetress: you can’t have two babies and two fuck arounds in a relationship together

em: oh of course. i see. i see

em: however in the rare rare crack ship of the ‘jamie viola hatefuck’ a similar phenomenon to ‘social anxiety mum friend ordering food’ instinct takes over and someone fucks around and finds out

em: this is just my unhinged jamie viola hatefuck bulkshit which is. it’s ironic ok it’s ironic it’s ironic it’s

em: ok one last thought bc i know it’s super late for u but

obsetress: omg i also have a last thought let’s trade

em: what if mikey is about isabels age n jamie ends up looking after him for one reason or another for a bit

em: and viola absolutely Dotes on him

obsetress: omg

obsetress: that’s what does it. jamie seeing viola w mikey

em: grumble grumble i guess she’s not that bad

em: except then she’s like god what if mikey likes her MORE than me

obsetress: “dani what if mikey gets one of those weird first crushes on vi”

obsetress: dani doesn’t even look up from the laundry “who hasn’t had a crush on vi”

obsetress: jamie’s like “mE” and dani just gives her the most withering look

em: danis like It’s Par For The Course Jamie

em: danis a teacher she’s like it happens don’t sweat it

em: anyway

em: what was. what was ur last little thought

obsetress: i was just thinking more about viola also baby and how also she’s been so privileged her whole life that sometimes there are just some things she can’t do for herself because she just doesn’t know how

obsetress: like she’s never had to learn

em: rebecca gets um

em: freeze dried coffee

em: nescafé

obsetress: but like

obsetress: rebecca genuinely loves taking care of vi for whatever reason (it’s because she loves her) when she really needs it but

obsetress: rebecca also takes no shit and is like “i’m not making the nescafé for you. you’re 36 years old, vi, you need to learn to do it for yourself”

obsetress: and she’ll stand there and watch her do it and then she makes vi do it at least three more times for posterity

obsetress: “i’ll make a plebeian of you yet, viola lloyd”

obsetress: (god only the two of them would think a line like that is funny)