#have a fucking will it'll make things so much easier for the people you leave behind

[eldritch-nightmare]

Can you make a scenario about how the pastas would react after an argument? Like, if the reader left to get some fresh air? (I crave angst)

-💫Anon

a/n: indeed i can my friend here's a healthy amount of (very mild) angst just for you. i'm so totally gonna use this idea in a future chapter for the silly lil scenarios book as well because uh angst. maybe the prompt got away from me just a little bit i won't lie.

how do they react after an argument?

includes: jeff the killer, laughing jack, slenderman, nina the killer, eyeless jack, jane the killer, candy pop, clockwork, ticci toby, nurse ann, x virus, kagekao, jason the toymaker, the puppeteer, homicidal liu, sully, the bloody painter, the doll maker, zalgo, and hobo heart.

warnings: the aftermath of an argument, relationship disputes, some of these are healthy and some of these are not, inconsistent length.

JEFF THE KILLER would honestly be more upset if you walked out after an argument. he's already upset enough as it is, so you turning your back to him and storming out just makes his blood boil. he won't follow after you, but he'll definitely disappear for the next few days. he really isn't the best at resolving arguments, no matter how small they are. and unless he really fucks up, then he isn't going to apologize even if he is in the wrong. he's jeff the fucking killer, what the hell does he have to feel sorry about? you should consider yourself lucky that he didn't gut you for pissing him off.

if you want to have any form of resolve to this argument, you'll have to force the conversation because he will actively try to shut you down. he can't. he literally can't. resolution is not something he is good at, and unless you're the one to apologize, even if you aren't the one who is at fault, he's just not going to let any of this resolve. does that make him an asshole? yeah, it does. does he feel guilty? just a little. does that change anything? no, not really.

LAUGHING JACK, similar to jeff, would feel more upset over you walking away from the fight rather than the fight itself. he can come off as pretty scary during an argument, especially if it's one where he feels like he's in the right. he gets frustrated easily, and he's just overall a very expressive person, so. and he can get pretty fucking mean if he wants to, so yeah honestly you needing to walk away makes complete and total sense and he knows that it makes sense but that doesn't make him any less upset.

he'll just blame it on his abandonment issues or something because seeing you leave just to go and calm down should not have hurt as much as it did. and he debates going after you but he ultimately decides it would be best if he didn't. he wants to resolve this though, and he'll try but it'll be painfully awkward because, i mean, yeah.

SLENDERMAN is, by default, a pretty scary being the begin with so i imagine an argument with it would be pretty unnerving. it isn't used to people arguing with it, that's for sure. i think it would be more amused than upset, seeing such a small being stare up at it as if trying to intimidate it... it's a cute sight to see, that's for sure. it'll keep that thought to itself, of course. it imagines that saying such a thing out loud may only make things worse.

slender won't be upset when you walk away. it understands that you're just going to cool off. it'll take this time to clear its own thoughts until the two of you are ready to talk again and clear up the tension.

NINA THE KILLER would be immensely frustrated seeing you walk away. she'll probably let out a groan and tell you to come back, but she won't follow after you. she understands that if the two of you kept arguing any longer, things would only get worse. she knows that, so she'll use this as a chance to calm down herself. nina gets over things easier than you would think, and if this argument wasn't over anything major then the next time you see her, she'll most likely be back to her usual self.

she'll probably be the first to apologize as well, even if she feels as if she's not the one at fault. she can't stand when you're upset at her, so just accept her apology so the two of you can move on, yeah?

EYELESS JACK is always viewed as mature and in control of his emotions. and he is. a little too in control if we're being honest here. for most arguments you guys may have, he'll keep his cool and will try to understand your point of view and where you're coming from. there are times, however, when the control he has over his emotions slips, and you get reminded that oh. your boyfriend is a cannibalistic demon that can literally kill you in the blink of an eye. he really doesn't mean to scare you, but it's definitely a good thing you choose that moment to walk away to cool off because he has to physically force himself to not go after you.

and once he calms down, he will apologize. it's a genuine apology, one written all over his face. he never wants to or means to invalidate you and your emotions, and he never wants to make you scared of him.

JANE THE KILLER would probably be the first to walk away from an argument, if we're being fairly honest. if this is richardson we're talking about, then she's definitely more mature about it and politely suggests that you both take fifteen minutes to cool off before continuing the conversation. she does it because it's one, a healthy thing to do for your relationship, and two, while she is heavily in control of her emotions, the liquid hate running through her veins enhances her anger and it would be really bad if she genuinely got angry.

if this is arkensaw, i think she'll be a little less mature than she would like. she portrays herself as someone in control of her emotions, but her emotions and her hatred are what drive her. she does her best to her burning-hot anger in check but if you two have an argument, then it's fairly difficult. if you walk away first, then it'll only serve to upset her more, but she won't go after you. honestly, she'll probably even avoid you in the coming days because her anger lingers. it always lingers.

CANDY POP thinks it's cute that this little argument of yours got you so worked up that you had to walk away from him. honestly hell yeah if i were you i'd walk away from him as well because there is simply no winning with this guy. worst man you could ever argue with, to be honest.

but as we all know, his mood can change in an instant with no warning so. one moment, he thinks you walking away from him is cute and adorable. the next, he's getting frustrated and following after you because you don't get to walk away from him, silly. haven't you realized that he owns you?

CLOCKWORK, while she has her own anger issues and tends to get easily frustrated by the smallest of things, does try her best to keep her emotions in check if you two ever have an argument. it's not easy, and there have been times when she's snapped at you, but she always apologizes immediately after.

you walking away would make sense. she understands, she knows that you both need to take time to calm down before things get too heated. she gets it. but depending on what you two are arguing about, doing so could only serve to make her more angry. it's... frustrating, really. she won't follow after you though, because she knows it's what is best.

TOBY would want you to walk away. he needs it, to be honest. he tries to avoid getting into arguments with you for various different reasons. arguing with you stresses him out more than he would like it to, and it reminds him of the hold you have on him. you walking away from the argument would give him time to clear his head and cool off.

once you've both calmed down, he'll probably be the first to approach you because he cannot stand the awkward tension that always lingers after arguments with people. he wants to clear the air so this can all just be water under the bridge. it'll be a painfully awkward conversation though. he's not good at... resolving arguments. never had a positive example, to be honest.

NURSE ANN struggles to speak, so i think she would try to avoid getting into an argument because she feels as if she won't be able to properly get her point across. but arguments are bound to happen sooner or later, even in the healthiest relationships. and ann, to put it simply, is a very angry person. she keeps that anger in check when you're around, but it's literally impossible to not slip up a few times.

since ann rarely ever vocally speaks, her anger is typically conveyed in her stares and her jerky gestures as she signs. you walking away is the smartest thing you could do in that moment, leaving her alone to stew in her always-burning anger that she'll choose to take out on any nearby destructible objects or some sad poor soul that just so happens to trespass at her hospital in the coming hours.

X-VIRUS seems like the type of guy who has never really been in any arguments, to be honest. maybe when he was at the orphanage he got into a few petty arguments between the other kids, but nothing that would warrant needing to walk away, y'know? and i definitely don't think he'd treat the argument seriously, brushing off your words and whatnot.

he only realizes that you were genuinely angry with him when you walked away. it's definitely like... a slap in the face that oh. i'm a fucking asshole. he's not really sure what to do in this moment, and he waits until you come back on your own to try and apologize. but he's not the best at apologies.

KAGEKAO wouldn't treat the argument seriously at all. at least, not at first. honestly, he'd probably purposefully get you even more upset just to get a reaction out of you. does that make him an asshole? oh, most certainly. he just likes seeing you feel anything towards him, even if it's anger. he likes getting a reaction out of you because it's him you're reacting to. and it's entertaining as well, though you don't need to know that.

when you walk away, he'll feel a little frustrated at not being able to see you but he won't follow after you. he knows when to stop his antics. shocking, i know. and, if you're lucky, he may even hold you in his arms once you calm down. it's his way of an apology, i suppose.

JASON THE TOYMAKER fucking hates arguing with you. you're his other half, so arguing with you makes him feel sick to his stomach because what if... what if you aren't the one? he likes you too much to lose you, so you have to be the one. he definitely seems like he'd try to keep the argument short, and he'll be relieved when you walk away to cool off.

you don't try to leave him afterward, even if he was at fault for whatever you two may have been bickering over. that's good, really. that means you want to stay with him, even if you two have arguments like this. that's... that's so good.

THE PUPPETEER can't stand when anyone argues with him, so yeah, any argument you may have with him will be horrible and tense and it will not be pretty. he has to be the one to get the final word. he has to be the one in the right, even if he isn't. you must be aware of this, right? i mean, you're (hopefully, i assume) willingly sticking around this guy, right? so you should know that there's no winning with him.

and you walking away is simply not something he'll take kindly to. it's something that'll more than likely get a how dare you reaction out of him. you're a fool if you think he's just going to let you walk away. no, he'll either follow after you, or he'll pull you back with his strings. the conversation isn't over until he says that it's over.

HOMICIDAL LIU definitely does try to avoid any potential arguments with you. to be honest, most of your arguments with him will more than likely stem from his almost blatant disregard for his health and safety when he's injured as well as his almost suffocating habit of needing to protect you and keep you safe. it's inevitable, even if it's something he tries so desperately to avoid. that desperation is what tends to lead to arguments as well, if we're being honest.

he's not upset when you walk away. honestly, he's glad that you do. he always feels pretty damn awful whenever you two fight, and he patiently waits until you're ready to pick things back up so you two can resolve things and move on.

SULLY listens to everything you say with rapt attention. the only thing that matters to him at that moment is whatever you two are arguing about. hell, he doesn't give a shit about the argument itself rather than what you say, the expressions you make, and your tone of voice. every little gesture or movement you make catches his attention. honestly, if you asked him what you two were arguing about, he'd just look at you with a slightly confused expression because he's already forgotten.

and when you walk away to cool off and get some air, he has to restrain himself from following after you. he forces himself to sit down and he bites his fist as his mind hyper-focuses on every word you said and the way you looked at him and just... yeah, he's already moved on from the argument he just wants to see your face and hear your voice again.

THE BLOODY PAINTER is definitely not someone you want to have an argument with, honestly. not because he's an angry person or scary to get into an argument with or anything like that, no. he's just... very apathetic. it'll feel like you're arguing with a brick wall rather than a person, and you'll maybe even feel as if he doesn't care about you or your feelings. he just stares at you, blank-faced and monotoned.

once you realize that this argument is going literally nowhere, you leave to calm yourself down and he stays behind. it's not that he doesn't care about you and your feelings, he does, truly, he just... well... i could go into heavy heavy detail about his apathy when it comes to arguments but to spare you the length of that, just know that he does care, he's just absolutely horrific at showing it. once you come back, he will apologize for not better expressing himself and for unintentionally invalidating you and your feelings. he'll be better, though it will take time for him to become expressive.

THE DOLL MAKER seems like the type of person who wouldn't handle arguments well, i think. he's a fairly closed-off person and has some trouble conveying his thoughts and feelings sometimes, so i think it would stress him out a bunch if he got into a fight with you. depending on how bad the argument is, he'll either try to diffuse the situation or he may get angry and make things worse.

the moment you walk off, vine will be throwing himself into work to both calm himself down and distract himself from any potentially needless thoughts. he'll certainly try his best to resolve the conflict with you once you've both taken time to calm down but it'll definitely be stiff.

ZALGO would be very amused if you try arguing with him over something. you, a silly little mortal that somehow managed to catch his interest, are trying to argue with him, an eldritch horror beyond human comprehension that literally creates chaos for shits and giggles? how adorable. he's not going to take you seriously at all, i hope you know that.

and even if you walk away, you won't exactly be alone. zalgo is always there with you, even if not physically. a part of him is stuck with you, so he's always able to watch you, to talk to you. he thinks you're being dramatic for getting upset over something that he deems to be so utterly insignificant. there won't be any form of conflict resolution with him, so don't expect any form of apology or empathy or anything of that sort.

HOBO HEART you gotta be careful with, i think. the last time he felt as if he'd been wronged by the person he loved, he tore her heart out. not to say he'd tear your heart out over a minor argument or anything like that, no, that would be pretty petty and... he doesn't really think he's a terrible enough person to do that. maybe. depending on how serious the argument is.

he'll be a little disheartened when you walk away because he would rather clear up the air and tension immediately rather than wait but he understood, somewhat, that it'd be better if you both took time to cool off before either of you tried to resolve the conflict hanging in the air.

[crafty-butch]

Embalmed

A short story by me (tw: body horror, self-harm kinda)

Did you know embalming isn't actually that common, worldwide? I didn't. Sure, there are some famous exceptions–looking at you, pharaohs–but embalming random schlubs is mostly a US thing. Plenty of religions ban it outright. Islam, Judaism, several branches of Christianity…

Bear with me. I promise I have a point.

Anyway, I've got no opinion on what God wants us to do with our corpses. I've never been religious. I'm still not, weird as that sounds. But I'm with Islam, Judaism, and several branches of Christianity on this one. Just skip the embalming and bury the body before it starts to rot. It'll be easier for everyone, on the off chance someone decides to bring them back.

No, this isn't a joke. Look, I'm not saying it's likely, okay? I know the stats. Less than twenty confirmed resurrections in the last half-century. Maybe twice that many ambiguous cases. Actually ambiguous, that is. Just because someone is flaired “unconfirmed” on r/Resurrected doesn't mean there's a chance in Hell they're legit. So, yeah, I get it's unlikely. But let's jump back to embalming real quick.

You know how it works, right? At least vaguely? Blood goes out, formaldehyde goes in. Well, that's step one. Step two is sucking all the non-blood fluids out of your body cavity and swapping those for embalming fluid too. They also sew your mouth shut, stuff some cotton in you to stop any leaking–I could go on, but I won't. Like I said, I don't have any issue with embalming from a treatment-of-the-dead-body standpoint. I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad for embalming Great-Aunt Edith, here. I'm just saying, if the dead body becomes an alive body, you can see why there might be some issues.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say: “It's magic, dumbass.” And, yes, it is. That's why waking up with your mouth sewn shut and your body stuffed full of formaldehyde doesn't immediately kill you again. Doesn't make it fun, though.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't focus on the mouth thing. I'm sure it's happened to someone, but my sister cut the stitches out before she brought me back. She was thorough like that. I just feel like it's easier to picture, you know? Mouth won't open and hurts when you try. The rest of it's harder.

I don't blame my sister for not dealing with the formaldehyde. I know there wasn't much she could do about it. If she'd had more time, I'm sure she could've come up with something, but once you've dug up a body, you're kind of on a (ha) deadline. If someone sees you, you're done. So I get it. I've had a lot of time to think it over, and I'm still not sure what she could've done better. Other than just letting me stay dead.

I don't want to sound ungrateful, but…maybe I am? A little bit? I know that's an awful thing to say. It's not like I wanted to die. That's not what this is about. It's also not about how super amazingly great the afterlife is. Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea. I don't remember anything between the hospital and waking up on the grass with a chest full of embalming fluid. Does that mean there's nothing after? Or did coming back just give me amnesia? No idea. I leave that one to the philosophers.

My sister probably would've had an opinion.

She was always…

Let me tell you about my sister.

She was great. I'm not saying this because of what happened. She really was incredible. Almost perfect. One of those people who's so smart and so kind and so beautiful and so goddamn humble but not so humble you can even accuse them of humblebragging, to the point where you can't help but hate them a little for making you look so fucking shitty in comparison and then you feel like the biggest bitch in the world and that just makes you hate them more.

Okay, maybe she wasn't quite as perfect as all that. After I came back, I learned some things. Turns out she was just as much of a fuckup as me, in her own way. She was just better at hiding it. But I never met that version of her. In my memories, she's still just Little Miss Impossibly Perfect. I wish she'd told me about any of it. Maybe…

No, that isn't fair. Why would she tell me anything that could get her in trouble? Maybe I would've hated her less, or maybe I would've just gone and told our parents. Even once we grew up. Would I really have been able to resist knocking her off that pedestal? I'd like to think I would, but come on. Look how I'm talking about her. And that's after she sold her soul for me.

If you're thinking right now that the world probably would've been better off with her instead of me, you're not the only one. Don't worry, I won't take it personally. Or maybe you're not thinking that at all. I've been told I project onto other people.

Maybe you're just confused about why I'm talking about her in the past tense. After all, it's not like selling your soul kills you, and you've probably never met someone unensouled. Or maybe you have, and you know exactly why I'm talking like this. Probably not, though. There are a lot more unensouled than there are people who were resurrected–people sell their souls for all sorts of reasons–but there are a lot more fakers too. Pro tip: if someone claiming they sold their soul gives any sign of caring about literally anything, including whether you believe them, they're lying to you.

So, yeah, she's still here. I know I keep saying it, but I'm not religious. I don't think my sister is burning in Hell while her empty husk sits up here, and if you ask me, that's just a real convenient excuse not to help the person who's still right there in front of you. Whatever a “soul” actually is, there's clearly someone here.

Sorry, I might be preaching to the choir here. And I don't want to sound like I think every religious person thinks that way. I just made the mistake of talking to my parents this weekend, and I'm still a little mad. Or a lot mad. Look, I know I'm getting off topic. Just, real quick, I want to explain.

She's still my sister. I'm not denying that. I keep saying she was this or she was that because she's not really any of those things anymore. She's not cruel, but she doesn't care enough to be kind. I'm sure she's still smart, but she doesn't actually want to use her smarts for anything. She barely eats if I don't pester her into it. I don't think she'd have an opinion on what my lack of memory says about the afterlife anymore. But, hey, maybe she would. Maybe I should ask.

Anyway. None of this is really my point. My point is, waking up next to your own open grave is freaky enough when you're not choking on formaldehyde. It took weeks before I was mostly bleeding blood again. (Yeah, I checked. Don't judge. You'd be curious too.) I coughed up embalming fluid for months. My insides still don't feel quite right. I could get them checked out, but I'll be honest with you. I don't want to know. I haven't been anywhere near a doctor since I got back.

I know, you don't think this will happen to you. No one you know is the right combination of smart enough to wade through all the bullshit to figure out how to revive you and stupid enough to go through with it. And you're probably right. But I thought that too.

[sammyofold]

Here's the second part of the wincest fic rec list! The fics are grouped together under overarching tropes.

(Part 1 | Part 2)

Case Fics

The Truth In The Lie by flawedamythyst.

Summary: Sam and Dean pretend to be gay lovers while they hunt a monster on a bus tour of Nova Scotia.

Pine Sweat by Goshen.

Summary: Sam and Dean get sent back to 1996 and go on a hunt with their teenaged selves. The kids don't know who they are.

this narrow room where life began by peculiarstate.

Summary: Everything Dean is, even all these years later, is still for Sam, only ever Sam, it beats through his blood more real to him than his own heartbeat, Sam, Sam, Sam. The common fucking denominator of Dean’s entire life. or Four years later, Dean has Sam back. Some things have changed. The main thing hasn't.

venti cup of poison, half-caf, long shot by darlingargents.

Summary: A string of murders outside Seattle seem to be connected by coffee. Sam goes undercover as a barista to try and get to the bottom of it.

Mercy by LaughableLament.

Summary: Sam’s rattled, hunting a ghost light in the aftermath of Dean’s reunion with Cassie—a woman so important, Dean disobeyed Dad for her.

Walkin' the Tightrope by non_tiembo_mala.

Summary: It’s 2036, and twenty years since Sam and Dean called it quits on hunting to take up a secluded, quiet life. Maybe Jesse and Cesar gave them the idea, but after Amara, they realized they’d done enough. And they wanted a proper life together even more. Known as Sam Wesson and Dean Smith to the residents of the nearby town they call home, Sam and Dean keep mostly to themselves, their immaculately kept ‘67 Chevy Impala, and their cabin in the woods. That is, until someone from their past tracks them down, desperate for help. Sam and Dean can’t say no, not when it’s their dear friend Jody Mills in deep trouble – she’s missing – but the wedding bands they wear make going back to their old life just that little bit more complicated…

The Things We Carry With Us by lovesrain44.

Summary: Sam and Dean are on the road, saving people and hunting things, like they always do. Dean discovers that Sam is attempting to turn himself into a monk, and so he does his best to get Sam laid. Sam resists because, of course, who needs to have sex with a girl when Dean’s around? It's about going on a roadtrip with your brother. It's about the food you eat, and the maps you follow. It's about the things you carry with you. (Takes place some time after Heart.)

On the Cover of a Magazine by teashopmuses (LJ).

Summary: Sam and Dean are called in to investigate the mysterious death of a model at a photography studio in Michigan. The only way for them to get in? Pose as models themselves – which is much easier said than done.

When It Crackles by lyra_wing (LJ).

Summary: A cult is rumored to be guarding the Fountain of Youth. Oh, and while investigating it, Sam and Dean get roped into getting married. Yep.

Always You, without time or space by benitle (LJ).

Summary: Sam and Dean leave New Paltz, a haunted painting and Sarah behind them, each thinking in their own ways it'll be the last time they do anything like that. It isn't long before a string of unexplainable deaths takes them to The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Between frustration and brotherly fights, surviving more art than can be seen in a lifetime, a revenge killer and the mean city, their relationship is taken to a whole new level that neither of them had expected. But of course it's never that simple, because between all the emotional chaos, there's also a case to solve!

Swesson

A Case of Do or Die by RiverSongTam.

Summary: Former hunter Dean Smith and Men of Letters legacy Sam Wesson are working through the rigorous MOL initiation process as partners, an arrangement Dean isn’t too happy about at first. Both he and Sam worry about being paired with someone they’re so attracted to—and who’s obviously straight. As the boys work together, they become friends, both secretly fighting their feelings for the other despite days at the movies, hours of research, and nights at the Roadhouse spent in each other’s company. When Sam has a vision of Abaddon wiping out the Men of Letters on initiation night, the pair wind up fighting something even more terrifying. The Men of Letters aren’t going to die out on Sam and Dean’s watch—even if a misunderstanding about their feelings for each other happens along the way.

Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here by Zanne.

Summary: Dean Smith and Sam Wesson want to hunt some more ghosts. They go to the experts for some hands-on training, but can they fight the strange attraction between them?

Who Are You? (I Really Wanna Know) by orphan_account.

Summary: Ever since Sam Wesson moved to Ohio, he’s found himself in an exceedingly terrifying series of battles against his own brain—and the attractive man he keeps bumping into with the strikingly green eyes is Sam’s only clue as to why. Meanwhile, Dean Smith’s next promotion is practically in the bag until he starts stumbling over a succession of worrisomely inappropriate outbursts. The cute, but creepy IT guy who keeps leering at him really isn’t helping things either.

When We Kiss Our Scars Align by matchsticks_p.

Summary: Meet Sam Wesson. Meet a ghost. Meet more ghosts. Meet each other's parents. This is not how Dean Smith had imagined his life would go.

More than the dirt it takes to bury them by gorgeousnerd.

Summary: Sam Wesson doesn't usually run off with strangers to fight what lurks in the dark. But then, Sam doesn't meet people he dreams about - people like Dean Smith - every day. It's not perfect, but he's making a difference and getting closer to Dean, so what's not to love? Except the dreams he still can't explain. And the way he's starting to sweat and shake and itch for something he can't name. Something like demon blood.

How Many Floors to Realize by lazy_daze.

Summary: AU from the end of It's A Terrible Life, in which Zachariah decides to keep stringing them along a little while longer, because damn if they aren't somewhat entertaining, right?

Green Man by inalasahl.

Summary: Godstiel puts Sam and Dean back into the Sandover verse. It takes them some time to recover their memories.

Demon Dean

Welcome to Your Future by klove0511.

Summary: When Dean is suddenly pulled through time, he's confronted with a broken little brother a decade older than he should be. With Sam determined to send Dean back to his own time, will Dean be able to figure out where his present day counterpart is and fix things for Sam?

Come Close by AlulaSpeaks.

Summary: Dean may be a demon, but that doesn't mean he's stupid. In fact, he's just bursting with good ideas.

is there a word for bad miracles by withthekeyisking.

Summary: Dean comes back from Hell...different. But hey, it's not like Sam's the same as he used to be, either.

High Achiever by Agent_Hellcat.

Summary: Dean rescues Sam from Cole, his abductor. But does he have a hidden agenda?

Undeniable Dilemma by rosych33ks.

Summary: Dean stepped forward again, a strange kind of patience in the action, and Sam flattened himself back against the car, hands up, knife in the left just a useless afterthought at this point. “No, Dean, wait! You can— There’s something else we can do.” Dean sneered at him, but he just shifted his weight to his other hip, didn’t go for Sam again immediately, and that was something at least. “Oh yeah?” He said it like he was humoring him, probably thought he was letting Sam stall for his own amusement. “And what’s that?” Sam straightened a little, made himself look Dean right in the eyes, and most of all, did not let himself think. “You can fuck me.”

Ruin You by Mumble_Bee.

Summary: Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would dare touch what was his.

(Note: Trigger warnings for graphic depictions of rape and torture. Here's another version the author wrote where Dean is human. Same warnings apply.)

Alternate Events & Fix-Its

Away to Darker Dreams by brokenlittleboy.

Summary: Finally hunting on his own, Dean makes a trip to Stanford to visit Sam, only to find his little brother's gone missing. And when he finally does stumble upon him in a dark twist of fate, Sam is not the boy he used to be.

B-Side by phoenixflight.

Summary: Sam Winchester is a senior at Stanford with his whole life in front of him when he dies in a tragic fire. He didn't know what to hope for from an afterlife, exactly, but whatever it was, it wasn't his brother Dean, arrived before him.

Truth or consequences by rivkat.

Summary: What if Agent Henriksen gave Dean truth serum? Disinhibition and dirty talk.

120 - forgiveness by ani_coolgirl.

Summary: Dean reassures Sam that he did the right thing by putting down Samuel. Due to past events, Sam has a hard time understanding Dean's attitude. Conversations are had and misunderstandings are finally cleared up.

Brother's Blood by diana_lucifera, stormageddon.

Summary: When Dean goes missing on a hunt in New Orleans, John picks Sam up from Stanford to help look for him. (Pilot AU)

Always My Guide by Delanach.

Summary: After Dean goes to hell, Sam turns to Ruby but using his powers for the first time after tasting her blood takes away his sight. Bobby takes him in but it's not until Dean is pulled out of hell that he faces up to having to learn to live with a new reality. As for Dean, helping Sam relearn everything from the ground up gives him something to focus on. When Sam insists on tagging along on a simple salt and burn and they encounter a demon, they realize that Sam still has his powers, they are stronger than before, and he can sense other supernatural beings in different ways. When they are faced with the possibility of Lucifer rising, they must work together with Bobby and an angel called Castiel to stop it happening.

This is Ourselves (Under Pressure) by clex_monkie89 (LJ).

Summary: After Nightshifter, Sam and Dean hit the road. What follows is three months of fear and frustration with the FBI hot on their heels, trying to avoid the long arm of the law while still continuing to work. It's not easy; being on the run doesn't leave much time for breathing, never mind sleep, sex or any much-needed downtime.

Extra Gen Fics

What You Choose To Do With It by StarsandJellyfish.

Summary: Sam and Dean have finally got to a good place in their relationship, after the fiasco that was the few years Dean had the Mark. Now, weird things are happening all the time, and Sam has no idea what is going on or why. Dean is acting strangely, like he knows something Sam doesn't. Sam is just looking for an explanation that makes sense. Or five times Sam used his powers without knowing it, and one time he knew it and worried what Dean would think.

Red in Tooth and Claw by LilacLetter.

Summary: It’s the summer before Sam’s senior year. The brothers are stuck in New Mexico where their dad left them to their own devices. Sam and Dean are bored stiff in the searing heat… until a case comes along. It can’t hurt to check out the mysterious desert creature alone, right? Case-fic, pre-series, h/c.

Time held me green and dying by anyplaceisbetter.

Summary: Sam wakes up aged 9 and with zero clue who the weird man in the bed next to his is. They deal.

The Bonds of Brotherhood by authoressjean.

Summary: In the wake of Lilith's death and the apparent destruction of their brotherhood, Dean and Sam find there's an even bigger revelation than Lucifer rising, because Lucifer isn't in his Cage. Lucifer and Michael both Fell a long time ago and became someone new. Became human.

With Heaven and Hell gunning for them, and new/old brothers fighting beside them, Dean and Sam have to navigate the world as the archangels they used to be and the brothers they're desperately trying to be again. Their bonds of brotherhood aren't easily torn apart, though, and something their enemies would be wise to realize.

Customs of the County by TheMarvelousTolkienJob.

Summary: All Sam wanted was to be normal. Go to school. Make friends. Spend quality time with his family. Only, the universe seemed to be conspiring against him and even these simple experience were turning out to be anything but that. Instead, he gets a rigged school system, an absent father, and an upset brother.

A New Beginning by MonPetitTresor.

Summary: After Chuck and Amara make up, they reveal their new plans - and they're nothing like what anyone had expected.

For Your Own Good 'verse by mentholpixie.

Summary: “Don't worry, Dean. I'll be a good little soldier and do everything Dad says. Promise.” Sam doesn't know how right he is.

On Our Own by authoressnebula.

Summary: When Sam is fifteen, his dad makes a decision based on a dark future he was apparently shown by an 'angel': split his sons up and abandon his youngest to keep that future at bay. Dean refuses to let it happen, but if they want to stay together, there's only one option: run.

[thechekhov]

Chekhov Reads Dungeon Meshi: CH46

D....dark Laios?

I mean, you DID consent!

The fact that ghosts can pass through walls and take other things with them... it kind of elicits another type of organism. Like, what can pass through cell walls? What other parts of the body can just yoink stuff from one place and bring it to another?

Congrats! It's all just been a dream!

I'm sorry what the SHIT?!?!?

Well, I-- .... yeah, I GUESS.

Though it looks more like one of those carousel horses.

I think this is probably still inside the dungeon. Very... DEEP. Inside the dungeon.

What? WHAT?! These things are like regular animals down here???

Oh, I--hm. I see.

Ordered by WHOMST?

Is this just an entire society of (humans??? ghosts?) that lives here in the dungeon deep? Is there still a king under the mountain? Are the rumors of the king dying not true at all?

........or are these people and descendants of adventurers who came in but were never able to leave? And the fact that Senshi points out that none of them are old.... are they ageing?

Laios, Senshi n--...... welp. There they go.

Bless this man and his absolutely non sexual obsession with monsters. But.

Izutsumi, who is a human-level intellect beastkin (though she's low on wisdom and patience....) is being very.... beast-ly and soft here. She's being magically compelled, presumably, to chill the fuck out.

Which means all these monsters are also under the same effect? Isn't that a little fucked up? They're basically under a permanent drugged effect.

Also. Hm. 'short lifespan' is....relative. Short lifespan compared to what? Immortality?

Orcs know this place exists....?

These people planting things for fun means they're absolutely trapped here like spirits.

Keeping up appearances for. Whom.

These poor people have no new incomers to talk to, huh.

Oh, I uh---- ................ hm. THat's not at all what I was imagining either.

Fashion is cyclical after all I guess....

Mmmmm. Mmmm-hmmmMMM.

WHEEEEZXE

Knowing I've finally hit these two absolutely iconic panels... amazing.

......I guess it can only do so much to make her docile...... she still doesn't like Laios.

Why does he look familiar...?

....so Derghal had a son. And a grandson. So then why is there a bid for the throne...?

Laios. Laios, is milking the minotaur the ONLY thing you did? Or was there more to it? Laios.

It's interesting. That bartender said he was 600 when he started his now-400 year old ale. So. That means they're 1000 years old.

That means that they're about as long lived as elves? Haven't gone mad yet. But that's still a long time.

That's kinda worse, yeah, but a loss of the self is a type of death, in a way...? So....

The most throwback of all time.

Actually, I feel like that's been there for a while, although it didn't always look EXACTLY like a lion's head. I feel like the little living armor he keeps in there made it that design? But how would it do that on purpose?

this is what it looked like some chapters back. Yeah, it's been sculpting into a lion's mane for a while now.... Ohohohoh playing the long game are we? 👀

Ah, it's not a wolf. How tragic for you, Laios. It'll never work out.

Also, damn, those wings sure be lookin like Falin's very non-dragon wings. What a wild coincidence. I'm sure that doesn't mean anything. :)

laughing hysterically. This poor guy can't get a break. He's been running from responsibility and inheritance for his entire life and it still catches up and trips him purposefully.

There is definitely a certain amount of tragedy there, yeah. These people aren't asking Laios for help because it's easier. They're legitimately stuck in a nightmare scenario. Unless you're someone who can get pleasure from other avenues, living all that time without the basic needs will drive a person mad. Elves live just as long, presumably, but they're still able to eat, I assume.

I'm honestly more surprised they're all as sane as they are.

.......King of Forgor.

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

----

Towards the end of the summer after his freshman year, he finds out that his soulmate must be a year younger than him, because he gets I'm not nervous about starting high school, and that - hmm. It takes Eddie a bit to figure out how to reassure him around that. High school sucks, and he's guessing it's probably going to suck for his soulmate as much as it does for Eddie. The only saving graces are that Eddie was actually able to get a DnD club started, and Kyle Housen - the absolute shithead who was the most popular boy in school, the king of all the jocks who sent his followers out like ringwraiths to torment anyone who was different - is graduated and gone.

Eddie actually is looking forward to being able to breathe easier without him around.

So that's what he tells his soulmate - find something you enjoy doing, stick with your friends, and remember if there's someone in the grades above you who's really annoying, they'll be gone before you are.

That means a lot to me shows up on his chest after that, and Eddie runs his fingers over it again and again, not thinking about who his soulmate was talking to or what they were lying about, just that Eddie means enough to them for them to make sure that appeared on his skin.

It gets him through the rest of summer and into the first few weeks of his sophomore year, until he realizes that while Kyle Housen may have graduated, some of his little sycophantic friends didn't, and a few of them are more than happy to take over the torment of the freaks.

It makes Eddie's blood boil.

"It makes absolute total fucking sense the way rich kids and jocks and all the society conforming jackasses just run this school, like little violent monarchs," he says to one of the members of Hellfire as he throws himself down onto their lunch table, purposefully making himself sound as sincere as possible so it'll get picked up as a lie. "I love this whole the king is graduated, long live the king shit they've got going on."

Eddie doesn't expect an immediate answer. He doesn't usually get one, especially when he springs stuff on his soulmate in the middle of the day. But he doesn't get one that night, or the next day, or the day after that.

And just.

What the fuck? Is his soulmate one of them? Eddie'd just assumed - a kid that had to lie about his injuries, parents never around, feeling lonely, cheating the system to talk to his soulmate before they even met - had to be a fellow freak, right?

Shit.

He thinks about saying I care that you're one of them, but he knows that isn't a lie, and it wouldn't appear on his soulmate's skin.

He doesn't say anything.

Eventually, I'm not sorry things are the way they are shows up, curled in tiny letters around Eddie's ankle, but it doesn’t make him feel better.

It makes him remember that his soulmate is talking to someone - or maybe multiple someones - when they do this, someone unaware that what he's saying are lies. The same thought that had made him feel special before now makes him think a little harder, makes him realize that his soulmate is friends with these people. These people who agree with the things that his soulmate is lying about, who think that his soulmate believes them - that's who he chooses to spend his time around?

Part of him knows it isn't fair. It's not his soulmate's fault that Eddie had built up this idea of him - a fellow outcast, maybe in a small town like this, going through the same things Eddie was, just waiting to graduate and leave it all behind, go somewhere bigger and louder and better.

But most of him is just too damn hurt. Most of him doesn't want a soulmate that says the kind of things his soulmate says, surrounded by people who think they aren't lies, and who love him for it.

Most of him can't stomach the thought that his soulmate is just like the people who have it so damn easy at school, and seem determined to make his life more miserable anyway.

The silence on his skin is as deafening as it is telling, and he starts to wonder if maybe his soulmate can't stomach the thought of it being someone like Eddie, either.

One night, so what if I don't think we should just wait until we meet our soulmates? appears on his side, and Eddie runs his fingers over and over and over it.

And says nothing.

"Haven't heard you talk about your soulmate in a while," Uncle Wayne says casually a week or so later.

Part of Eddie'd been expecting Uncle Wayne to bring it up somehow, but the other part was doing his best to ignore it entirely, leaving him entirely unprepared for what to say. He can't say that he doesn't want to talk to his soulmate any more because he found out they're probably some popular rich kid stomping around whatever school they're haunting - it's true, but it sounds stupid and petty.

He can't lie, either, though, because then it'll show up on his soulmate. So he says nothing, mulishly pushing his peas around his plate.

Uncle Wayne watches him. It's probably pretty easy to figure out that something went wrong with Eddie's hairbrained little scheme, so he isn't too surprised when his uncle hums softly.

"Some people are very different at thirty than they are at fifteen," he says, his gruff voice gentle. "Sometimes, teenagers are little jackasses with no impulse control."

Despite himself, Eddie huffs out a laugh. He considers that for a long moment, then reluctantly admits, "I guess that's probably why most people don't try to talk to their soulmate early." He smashes some peas with his fork. "….I guess it's probably not fair the other way, either. If you have this great idea of them way before you meet them, and they're really different."

Uncle Wayne gives another hum. "Sounds pretty wise, if you ask me."

"I didn't," Eddie points out, just to be contrary, but he eats the peas he'd been playing with, and he does feel a little better about all of it.

Time goes on.

He and his soulmate don't talk anymore, but that doesn't mean things don't occasionally appear. It's not often - which makes Eddie wonder if his soulmate just doesn't lie often, or if he's specifically avoiding lying as much as possible to avoid talking to Eddie - but it does happen.

Little things, mostly, lies about doing homework, about being sober, about not driving without a license. Teenage stuff, the same stuff Eddie lies about, and it lulls him into a sense of boring predictability. He perfects playing the guitar, he turns Hellfire into a sanctuary for those like him, he finds an alternative revenue source that gives him even more of an advantage over the shitty jocks than being scarier than them had, and he counts the days until he can get out.

Until the summer before his senior year.

I'm not in love with her, geez!

Eddie stares at it for longer than he should, the sting of tears biting at the corner of his eyes and feeling so goddamn angry about all of it. Not only is his soulmate some popular rich kid, but he's straight, in love with some girl, fuck.

Maybe Eddie isn't meant for a romantic soulmate. Maybe platonic is all he'll ever get, maybe someone like him doesn't -

Fuck this.

Fuck everything.

He throws himself into guitar playing, into making his next campaign for Hellfire bigger and better than anything he's ever done before.

Just one more year, and then he's gone.

In Eddie's senior year, Steve Harrington - Hawkins High's current reigning royalty - and his right hand man Tommy Hagan have some kind of falling out. Eddie honestly doesn't give a shit what or why. He keeps an eye on the situation only enough to know if they're gonna have some kind of civil war shit that could bleed shrapnel onto his flock. But Hagan doesn't seem to have the constitution to challenge for the throne - or maybe he lacks the numbers, considering Harrington doesn't seem to be hurting much as he swans around the school with Nancy Wheeler at his side - and whatever their mess is stays in a building tension amongst the popular crowd.

It's kind of nice, actually. There's less gossip about Hellfire for a little while, until the masses adjust to the new status quo. Hagan seems meaner, somehow, but he also seems less confident now that he's not at Harrington's side. It means his comments are more cruel, but there's less of them, so whatever, it balances out.

His soulmate tells more lies that year than Eddie's seen in such a short period of time, and something in his stomach twists tighter and tighter.

Yeah, of course I'm all right, why wouldn't I be?

It's nothing.

I'm sure they'll find her soon.

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Taglist: @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186

-----

Part 4

[scenetocause]

would like to hear your thoughts on what girl!oscar would think of Lando in a club wearing an australia hat 😳

ha well. fic unde the cut

The first thing she notices isn't what Logan's messaging her about. Which she finds out when "omg I fucking hate those sunnies" gets an eyeroll emoji and a long typing response.

Surely you haven't got him so whipped you don't even notice when he's switching nationalities for you yet?

And no, yeah, she does. Notice it. It's not like Valtteri or whatever, becoming an honourary bogan. Lando couldn't pass for Aussie to save his fucking life, he's possibly never (at least as far as Oscar can tell) experienced "chilling out" and throwing a shrimp on the proverbial barbie would have him shrieking.

But Lando's started deliberately checking on Australian sports. He clearly has no idea what most of them are but makes an effort to natter to her about them, when they're wasting time in their driver room and both in danger of getting antsy before whatever media drivel they're scheduled into.

He's a lot smarter than people give him credit for, generally but especially when it comes to something he's concentrating on. Lando knows more about Australian politics than she does, now. Has views about wildlife conservation Oscar tries to keep up with, endorse the wildfire prevention and recovery fund the Quadrant outback drop donated to.

He even googled foods from Melbourne and discovered pigs in blankets is something they're both easily into eating a secret box of, smuggled from Tesco to the weird little flat they sometimes stay in in Woking

Think that's for Keegan not me dude

This time Logan takes no time at all to send back lmao and as if followed by never change Oscar.

She just sends back I really do hate those sunglasses, they make him look like Alonso before we were born. Lando's style is his own business but Oscar reserves the right to take the piss out of it when he deserves it. And only abuse the media team's access to Getty Images a bit when he wears something really hot into the paddock.

"Wow, harsh," the man in question declares, reading over Oscar's shoulder. "I think they're quite cool."

"You think clubbing is cool." She rolls onto her back, lets him snuggle down on top of her. They probably ought to get dressed soon, for the jet back from Ibiza. If they're late they might get sent to fucking Marseille again and as wank as it is having complaints about private jets, Oscar's not keen to repeat that.

Making a woman wait 10 hours for her post-win fuck is inhumane, no matter the mode of transport.

"Yeah." Lando sounds oddly melancholy about it, makes her tighten her arms around him and leave a space for him to carry on his sentence.

It's a few long beats before he does. "Prefer just hanging out with you, though."

They've talked about this, that they're becoming a bit insular. Don't spend as much time with their other friends, doing their separate hobbies, as they used to. It's rare Oscar wakes up without someone who loves her, understands her instantly, in the same bed.

It's not a bad thing. Or at least, it shouldn't be. People on TikTok make out like they're never apart and body language freaks on YouTube say they're tired of each other but they're not. The more time they spend together, the easier it is. The harder it is to imagine how they exist apart.

Just as well, really, if they're getting married. Makes her bundle Lando up against her, like even imagining what separating them would be like is a thought crime she needs to protect him against.

It's pretty sweet, being Oscar Piastri, this time.

"I don't want to take the plug out," Lando mumbles into her armpit. "Do you think it'll set off the scanner things?"

Probably not. Silicon isn't metallic and they're not likely to cavity search him.

"Won't you be all," she tries to gesture what he's like when he's wriggling. "On the plane."

Lando thinks about it for a second, then tucks himself into her, looking dangerously like he's about to fall asleep. "Nope. Not if you cuddle me."

"I'll take it out when we get back to the flat." She has no idea if he'll last that long or get squiggly and end up doing away with it in the tiny bathroom on the jet.

"You can put something bigger in." Lando's hand engulfs hers, where he wraps them together but Oscar can get the jist of what he's asking for. Kisses his hair, to hide how much she's squeezing her thighs together, wet and hot at just the thought.

And maybe a little bit for the engagement ring on his finger, biting hard and solid into the pulse point of Oscar's palm.

[drinker-of-paint]

those docs are sick as hell. did you use posca markers? comma also anything to seal the design on?

So I'm not an expert by any means but I'm happy to share my research

Also I wore them out and about on a misty rain day today and they seem to have held up but only time will tell

So from the research I did custom designs like this work best on certain types of docs (it said 'smooth leather' was best, and there was one that it absolutely doesn't work on so deffo look that up to be sure not to ruin your docs if you already have a pair you're thinking of decorating) I'm not really sure if mine count as smooth leather cause they're kind of matte and they might have been talking about a specific type but anyway- that's something to keep in mind.

Next said to prep the area you're painting. There's a few things you can use but i ended up just wiping some nail Polish remover (in place of rubbing alcahol) over the area with a cloth and leaving it to dry for a minute (don't go overboard with it though- you want to find the happy medium of taking off some of the oils so the paint can bond with the surface but not so much that you leave the area looking damaged or drying out the leather too much, that can cause long term damage)

I played with some designs and placement of the different eye sizes in my sketchbook before I was ready to brave putting paint on these brand new doc martens 😂

May have been a me thing but I do recommend it so you're as confident as possible with what you want to do every time you put the pen down. Depending on the type of fabric you can use tissue or a cotton swab with more rubbing alcohol to correct mistakes with posca but I couldn't find anything that worked for mine so I was just really careful.

Next unless you're really brave it's probably a good idea to use a soft pencil to draw the pattern to trace, then when you're ready to put posca on it (I used the type with the pointy plastic nib- makes it much easier to get sharp points) just really take your time with it

if you're adhd like me and feel burnt out after doing one side definitely take a break and come back to it when you're zoned into it again because when you're out of steam is when you'll start making mistakes and rushing things 😂

When you're all done and happy, and you're sure it doesn't need another layer for full vibrancy, (though fewer layers is preferable) posca dries really quick but just to be completely sure I let them sit for like half an hour.

Now I should preface this by saying i couldn't find literally anything about sealing posca on your docs online, most I could find were people saying just be sure to prep the leather and it'll be fine, but idk I live in England it's wet as fuck here I don't know if I trust that.

I did find one thing from posca saying you can use water based varnish to seal it on leather but idk if that was really talking about shoes? I don't have any varnish but I'm probably going to get some just to be safe.

I DID though use a layer of some of my sisters hairspray, because it was literally all I had to hand, which at least to me did seem like it made it more sturdy when I ran a fingernail over it but I don't know if I trust getting them too wet with only the protection of hairspray

Anyway this was a super long response overexplaining more than you actually asked 😅

but i thought this might be helpful to put out there for others who are trying it for the first time because I couldn't actually find anywhere that had clear instructions in one place, hope it helped 😂

[valya-kingoftherats]

We're Together

"This is okay?" You fiddle with the cuff of your shirt. Nervous. So unbelievably nervous. And not just because of the button-up dress shirt.

You're going out for dinner. With your partner and your girlfriend. It's the first time all three of you have gone out together.

Anathema squeezes your hand, "Relax, Val. It's just a dinner date. Don't get all stressed out about it."

Easier said than done. While it's been long enough that you're sure the farm isn't looking for you, you're still on edge in public. Especially with two of the Rangers. Especially when ones the Marshal. And on top of that, the last time you were in a fancy place like this was with your Handler. Not something you'd like to revisit.

Too many factors that could make this go horribly.

You just want things to go nicely. Make sure you come off as normal and well adjusted. People know Anathema and Charge, you don't want to negatively affect them somehow.

Julia slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. Pressed right into her side. "It'll be fun! Good food, couple of drinks," she turns and winks, "great company."

That makes your heart skip a beat. If she's anything, it's endlessly charming. And reckless. And an idiot. But charming. And very pretty.

You turn your head away to fight the blush that's taking over your face, but it's out of the pot and into the fire for you. You immediately lock eyes with Themmy, and their smile is enough that you feel like you may combust.

You're done for as soon as Anathema leans over and kisses your cheek. Ready to melt then and there. They're both right. You're overthinking. You've walked up to the restaurant now, all you have to do is go inside and get your table.

You've got this.

You stand up a little straighter, "I'll go check the reservation. See if they're ready for us." You smile and release their hands. Brush down the front of your shirt. "Be right back," and you leave them in the lobby to go check the front desk.

The waiter at the front is dressed nicer than you. Blue dress shirt, black vest, and tie. Immaculate. You immediately feel more out of place than you already did.

And despite being around the same height, he's looking down on you. "Sorry, I'm afraid we aren't taking walk-ins tonight. We are all booked for this evening." He speaks with a clearly fake French accent. This isn't a French restaurant. His shoulders are squared back, and his eyes are narrowed at you.

"I have a reservation, actually." You puff out your chest. You can be big too. "For me and my partners, table for three." You gesture back to where Julia and Anathema are standing for emphasis.

"You," he crosses his arms, "and them?" You don't like that look. Arrogant. Ghostly familiar.

"That's correct." At times like these, your training comes in handy. Small and polite. No need to escalate, even if you desperately want to.

"Not a chance. That's Charge and Anathema, and there is no way someone like you is with them." He flicks his hand as he speaks. Shooing you away. Out.

"Someone like me?" Keep your temper. Remember your training. You can't make a scene or then you will be in trouble.

"Yes, someone like you." The accent is gone. Replaced by something deeper. Snarky. "Dull. Homely. They are heroes of Los Diablos. You are the scruffy barista that makes my coffee on Tuesday mornings." Oh. Fuck, yeah you do recognize the bastard. Comes in like clockwork with a stupid complicated order. And doesn't tip. "There is simply no way you would be accompanying them, much less in any sort of relationship. Now I suggest you leave quietly before I call security on you for stalking and harassment."

"I haven't done anything." You take a deep breath and grit your teeth. Behave yourself. You will not make a scene. That would only make him more right than he already is. Nobody speaks it out loud, but your boost let's you hear them nonetheless. You don't belong with them. Don't fit in. No one assumes you're all dating. Friends at best. Indulging a fan at worst. "I'd like for me and my partners to be taken to our table. Please."

"And I won't ask you again. Do leave before you make an even bigger fool of yourself." The thoughts you pick up from him are enough to make you want to jump the desk at him.

They're also enough to make you take a few steps back before turning around and bolting out the door.

You choose not to hear the shouts from Themmy and Julia. Doesn't matter. This was a stupid idea.

Just who exactly do you think you are? That you could do this? Be one of them? With them?

There's a park a little ways down the street, far enough that you aren't worried about being disturbed. Hopefully, they'll give up and go enjoy dinner themselves.

You've sat yourself down behind the big water fountain in the center of the area. The babbling is relaxing. Unlike the constant ringing of your phone. Hasn't stopped. Messages from one, calls from the other. Nonstop. For fucks sake they need to take the hint. This is NOT helping your headache. You rub your temples, a futile attempt to make it hurt less. It never works.

Nothing does.

You turn and grab your phone from beside you. And pitch it into the pool of the fountain.

Finally. Silence.

"Valya!"

Fuck.

Fuck! Stupid hero instincts are going to be the death of you. No. You wouldn't be that lucky right now.

For a brief moment, you contemplate running again. But you aren't stupid enough to think you could outrun Charge.

And just to further prove that point, Julia is kneeling on the ground in front of you before you know it. Lips pressed against yours. Hasty. Firm. Her hands are on either side of your head, fingers interlocked at the back.

You just sit there like an idiot. Cursing yourself for not being more competent at this.

You're both out of breath when she finally breaks away. Still holdIng your head. Soft brown eyes refusing to look anywhere but at your own.

"I gave that camarero de mierda an earful." Julia huffs as she slides down beside you. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

Before you can answer, Themmy plops down on your other side. They don't say anything. They just take your hand between their own and hold it. Waiting for you to answer, you'd think.

"I got rid of it." A simple admission. Not entirely deceptive. "It was loud. Headache." You pull away from Anathema. Tuck your knees up to your chest and push your face into them until you're seeing stars.

"Where?" Even without looking, you know Julia's trying to puzzle out where the hell you put the infernal device. You felt her braid whip against your head as she swung her head.

Themmy spots it first. "You're supposed to toss change in their you know." You brace yourself as they lean against you. "Though maybe bigger offerings means bigger wishes?"

"I don't...?" Julia must still be looking around. The braid hits the front of you this time. "Oh!" There she goes. "Valya! You threw it in the pond!"

"Technically, it's a pool, not a pond." At least you can laugh about this. Expensive a stress response as it was. It's better than the running away from dinner thing. Maybe they won't bring that one up.

They both laugh at that. "So you tossed your phone in the drink." Themmy snickers. "Any other property destruction you wanna get out of your system before we go eat?"

You release your legs. Sit back up and lean your head back on the edge of the fountain. "I'm sure I can find plenty around here to eradicate while you two are gone."

"While we're gone?" Julia's face pokes into your vision as she leans over you. Not an unwelcome intrusion. Curious. Worried. Pretty.

"No. I'm uh. I'll wait here." You can't do anything about it, but you will the both of them to just get up and leave. "You guys go eat," you force a smile, "bring me some take-out or something."

"Absolutely not." Anathema is up now. Standing in front of you. Standing on your toes to be more accurate. Hands stretched out towards you, hoping to haul you up to join them. "We're all going, and there's no reason otherwise."

"I. Am. Not. Going." You spring up to your feet, sidestepping around Anathema. "I didn't think - I can't. I just. This was a stupid decision." You try to drag a hand through your hair, it's long enough at the top to do that now. But Julia excitedly dragged you along with her today, and the lady put so much gel in it that you may as well be wearing a helmet.

You wish you brought your cigarettes with you. Badly.

"I don't belong in there. Probably never will." It's fine. You are fine. "Go. Have a good time. I'm going to grab a pack of smokes at a gas station or something. I'll see you at home," you nod at Themmy. "And I'll see you tomorrow or something." To Julia this time.

"Valya, wait!" In a flash, Julia's in front of you. You hop up on the edge of the fountain to go around her. You don't feel like doing this right now. "Seriously, are you really just going to let one waiter ruin the whole night?"

You turn on her so fast that she has to take a step back. "It isn't just one waiter! You don't get it! You can't! Neither of you! You don't know what it's like to be. To be -" You gesture to your head. "This. You can't hear them. I can. I don't fit in. Not with you both. Or even one of you."

What are you thinking? Running head first into destroying the best thing ever happened to you.

Just rushing along the inevitable.

No time like the present. All dreams end when you wake up.

"We hold hands, and people think I'm a friend or a relative. We can't be together. Not like that. They think I need to quit before I humiliate myself. Don't shoot my shot. There isn't a chance." Even when looking at the three of you together in public, no one believes it. You get those thoughts and opinions first hand. Regular people don't worry about projecting. "And you're both very public figures. And you're smart, funny, charming, and -" Your head is turned away, but you try to sneak a look at them before smartening up. "Beautiful. I just. I don't want to fuck with your image. Public perception. It can't be good, being seen with someone so...." Final nail in your own coffin. Your chest is clenched so tight you think you may stop breathing. "Homely. I'm just some scruffy barista. I'm out of my league here."

"Are you done?" Anathema's voice breaks though the pounding in your head. You nod.

And then they're both hugging you. Tight. Warm.

"Sorry you have to put up with all that," Anathema speaks quietly, tightening their grip on you. "But you know that doesn't reflect our thoughts, right? C'mon Val, give us some credit here."

Julia nods. Kisses your cheek. "If anyone wants to say anything, you can just send them my way." Another kiss on the corner of your mouth. You can't help but smile. "I'll show them exactly what Charge thinks of their assumptions."

Themmy props themself up on their toes to kiss you this time. "You aren't holding anyone back or bring us down." They drop back down and take a step away, still holding your hand. Big grin plastered on their face. "And you're handsome as fuck, Valya. Give yourself some credit too."

"Thanks." What else can you say? You aren't. Aren't good at this. Learned behaviour you hope. But everything feels warm and safe and much nicer than five minutes prior. You can feel your entire body heating up as you blush.

"So," Julia steps away now, doing a little spin on her heal, showing off the skirt of her dress. "I'm starving, and it would be a shame to waste this," she fingers at the navy blue fabric. "So how about we head back?" Bright smile. No a trace of smugness.

"Sounds like a plan, Valya?" Themmy holds out their free hand to make a sweeping gesture back towards the road. Smiling. All of you. Just like that.

It's easy around them.

"Yeah. Ready." You link your arms with them both. Happy to be here. Nervous. Still unbearably nervous. But it's a work on progress, you suppose.

They make it worth the effort.

[rants-about-opm]

Jealous

-Trade Fic for the splendid @the-little-guru . The prompt was Badd's cat getting jealous of him spending more time with Garou.-

“Just pet her, you'll be fine."

Garou narrows his glinting eyes at the grumpy ball of fur occupying Badd's lap. Tama returns the disinterested glare, almost daring him to try. He barely lifts his hand before her whole body puffs up like a marshmallow, and she growls low in her throat. Almost on instinct Garou growls back.

"If your little rat bites me, I'm tossing her to the moon."

Badd frowns, adding a second pair of eyes staring Garou down. Privately he wonders if that trademark glare runs in the family.

"You realize that if you two don't get along I'm choosing her over you?"

Garou blinks lazily and shrugs, but he's actually quite miffed about it. This whole 'getting to know people' and 'making connections' thing was hard enough without being cucked by a damn cat. She's already purring as Badd rubs just behind her ears, her half lidded eyes watching Garou, like she's trying to mock him.

"Why couldn't you own a mantis or something?" Garou mutters. "So much easier to deal with."

Badd is only half paying attention, cooing nonsense to Tama.

"Tama's just jealous. Once she gets used to you being here, it'll get easier."

"This is the first time you've invited me to your house, and I've been here six minutes. How is she gonna get used to me?"

Badd glances up at him with a smirk.

"Cuz you're gonna keep coming over, smartass."

Oh.

Garou huffs and turns away, picking at a loose thread on his pants.

Suddenly an 8 pound ball of anger is dropped in his lap.

He tenses up as claws dig into his legs and Tama yowls, eyes wide and locked with his.

"Badd." Garou hisses.

He doesn't break eye contact to look at Badd, but he hears snickering.

"Badd, call off your damn bloodhound."

Tama leaps away, scuttling across the couch to go sit behind Badd.

"Worth a shot." He grins, ignoring Garou's death stare. "You want a coke?"

Garou stops glaring. He suddenly isn't mad anymore.

Rolling his eyes, Badd gets up and starts walking to the kitchen. Garou stands up to follow, only for Tama to dart off the couch and trail behind Badd possessively, sitting at the entrance to the kitchen to keep anyone else from coming in.

"Forget being the ultimate evil." Garou grumbles to himself. "I think she has me beat."

Unable to do something as boring as sit on the couch waiting for Badd to come back, Garou starts pacing. His fingers are already tapping against his leg impatiently, and he’s considering just leaving. Badd already said he would choose Tama over him, so why bother? There’s other people he’s kicked the shit out of before. Although, they might not be as willing to forgive him. Plus Badd was way more worth his time.

“I guess I’m stuck with him.” Garou sighs.

Shoving his hands in his pocket, he scanned the apartment for something interesting to occupy himself with.

He didn’t have to search long.

"You know, you can be really mean sometimes." Badd murmurs to Tama.

Taking two sodas out of the fridge, he sets them on the counter and reaches down to scratch beneath the little cat's chin. She purrs immediately, turning her head to allow better access.

“He’s a lot like you, you know. A stubborn, clingy bastard. No offense of course.”

Suddenly, Tama’s eyes seem to narrow, and she makes a weird noise, scurrying away.

"Tama?" 

Taking the sodas, Badd follows her, planning to hand off the drinks to Garou before going to see what she's up to, but Garou isn't on the couch. Badd stops, blinking in confusion. He cranes back to look down the hallway to the front door, but Garou isn't there either, and he would have heard the door shut if he had already left. 

Tama meows again from the opposite corner of the living room

Badd looks to where she's sitting in front of the cat tree, and follows her line of sight up to see...

"Garou, the fuck are you doing on my god damn cat tree?"

Yeah, the idiot is perched on the top of the tree, smirking down at Tama as she meows loudly at him.

"Cry about it, furball." He chuckles.

Badd sighs deeply, closing his eyes and counting backwards from ten like Zenko always tells him to do. His hand twitches, aching for his bat.

"If you break my two-hundred dollar furniture, I'm going to kick your ass."

Garou shrugs.

"I don't know why you paid that much when you could have just gotten a box or something, cats love that crap. Besides, if she's gonna hoard something I want, two can play at that game."

"Oh, you want me?" Badd replies, grinning smugly.

Garou's wide eyes snap up to look at him, his expression blank. Badd can practically see the gears screeching to a halt in his head.

"I have no idea what you're on about." Garou says flatly.

Badd crosses his arms.

"You're trying to make my cat jealous." He smirks. "Because you want me."

A moment of silence passes between them.

Garou hops off the cat tree, taking a soda from Badd and walking past him.

"I'm leaving."

"You want me."

"I'm never coming back."

"You're jealous that I pet her head and not yours!"

"Go jump off a cliff!"

Badd hears the front door slam, and laughs, turning to Tama.

"I'm so sorry, little miss prissy pants, but I can't *not* fuck him."

He turns to go upstairs, and freezes.

Zenko is standing on the bottom step in her pajamas, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

She looks back and forth between him and the door. She tilts her head judgmentally.

"Was that the weird goblin that tried to kill you?"

[jamiesfootball]

I am only two episodes into Severance but who cares 

Ted Lasso Severance AU ideas in no particular order. Until they are. Special thanks and credit to @altschmerzes for playing pinball with me on this

First of all - all professional athletes have been severed. For their own safety, of course. A lot of entertainers too. It promotes better mental health, not having to deal with the stress of fame. Much easier to focus when you don't have all that pesky outside pressure weighing you down

Enter Ted and Beard, who don’t know that they know each other. Don't know that they've been working alongside each other for years, because while they've coached at the lower levels they've never had a posting that required severance 

Inside Ted and Beard know none of that. To keep things formal, out of respect, they refer to each other as ‘Coach’. It's important to maintain distance in these situations after all

Ted is a good coach. He's engaged, he's encouraging, he's got some funny turns of phrase.  

They may both have a similar accent, but Beard quickly dismisses the idea that their outside counterparts know each other. Beard wouldn't know what to say to him if they did talk.

It's probably a coincidence, but more than likely someone chose Beard to be assistant to Ted so that Ted wouldn't feel as alienated at his new job. Which was smart thinking, because Ted doesn't seem to know a lot about football (Beard doesn't either, but someone seems to have thought ahead there too. Their office is full of books that Beard himself would've picked out if he were trying to learn.)

But when Ted's not coaching, when there's some down time, he becomes... quiet. He watches things. people, from a distance. He gets a glassy, vacant look in his eyes, like he's trying to stare at something that's been ripped from his chest and placed thousands of miles away, and if he can just stare hard enough, it'll come home to him.

One day Beard finds out about Ted's panic attacks. He doesn't mean too, just walks in on one and

"Sorry, Coach," he says quickly before shutting the door, ignoring the way his own chest thrums in sympathy.

It feels like he should be doing something. What? Who the fuck knows. Ted may be congenial on the front, but he seems like a pretty private closed off person so Beard doesn’t want to interfere.

But the panic attacks keep happening.

Something happens to him when Ted hurts like that, though, and he doesn't know why but it aches like a phantom limb. Like someone's sawed him in half (which they did)

Rebecca and Keeley don’t work together but occasionally run into each other. Neither is quite sure they understand what the other does around here, and its against the rules to ask, but Rebecca looks like a goddess and well – look at her. Whatever she does for Richmond, she must be really high up! Very important 

"Think you could try sneaking out a note to your outer self asking her to give me a pay raise?" Keeley smiles cheekily.

"Don't even joke about that," says Rebecca, because it's true. They shouldn't. It's against the rules.

That doesn't stop her lips from curving upwards. From the way she has to make a concentrated effort to pull her smile back, adjust her skirt, and nod at Keeley as if it's just coincidence they passed each other in the hallway. Lot of coincidences, lately. Too many, they might find out too late.

That doesn't stop it from happening.

Sam. Sam is the sunshine at the inside of Nelson Road. Although he has not been there long, it's hard to imagine a better candidate for severance. Endlessly positive. Capable of deftly navigating the rules around interpersonal boundaries in such a way that it still leaves people feeling warm inside. He's a poster boy for the severance movement; one could only imagine the amount of stress and nerves that a young player might typically suffer through were they not severed from the outside world. Instead, since Sam's arrived at Richmond, he's been playing splendidly! So confident and mature. He might be new to the whole inside thing, but look at him - he's a natural! 

Sam tries so hard to stay positive, yet often he finds himself drowning, overwhelmed by a huge wave of sorrow. Something is missing; something huge is missing. 

Sam tugs his own ear and tries to swallow his sobs and wishes desperately he had someone, anyone, to talk to for guidance.

Inside Roy doesn’t believe he has anything waiting for him on the outside. He knows it. He fucking doesn't. 

Roy’s impending retirement? More like Roy’s impending death  

He doesn't know if he's looking forward to it or not. He's been living severed for what's going on about twenty years now. This is his life. And he’s convinced there’s nothing waiting on the other side  

He hates Jamie in part because he's sure the kid's got this fantastic life out there. What the fuck is he even here for?

Doesn't he get that he should be out there living somewhere ?

Here's the thing about inside Jamie.

One day he was at Manchester. Then he blinked, and he was at Richmond  

“What the fuck am I doing here? Did they sell me?”  

“You were loaned.”  

Jamie doesn’t know why it feels so terribly important that he be the one who scores. He doesn't know why he gets so upset and angry and the stupidest, dumbest things set him off. Why he hates Sam for having a good debut season despite being on a shitty team. Why he sometimes feel so scared, his heart thundering in his chest like he's being chased by an invisible monster. And the great thing about severance is he doesn't need to.  

He just needs to show up and kick the ball 

Occasionally he shows up to practice with mysterious injuries. Whenever he does, Inside Jamie receives a card explaining what happened: 

“You received a sprained ankle during training.”

“You reported a hairline fracture along your upper arm from a weight lifting accident.”

“This morning you reported a bump on the head from a kitchen cabinet.”

No matter what excuse the card says, it always has the same cheery note at the bottom: 

Please redeem this note at the cafeteria to enjoy an extra snack from the approved menu list.

God knows what outside Jamie gets up to, but it must be a hell of a life. That or he's a clumsier bastard than inside Jamie. Maybe it's something with the severance, some special skill that inside Jamie has honed that outside Jamie doesn't know about.

Jamie has never redeemed his free coupons. Instead, he keeps all the note cards in his gym bag. It's stupid, and probably against the rules somehow, but he doesn't care. Not like he gets to have anything else to himself here, does he? His kit is the same as everyone else's, so's his shampoo, his deodorant, his shoes. No, the not 

The note cards were generated for inside Jamie, they're the one thing that are uniquely his, and inside Jamie is going to keep them. 

(There’s a lot of them.)

Dani shows up and he just feels….lifeless. Fútbol is life. That's his mantra, or so he's been informed by his previous coaches. But whenever he's on the field he just feels so....lifeless. Disinterested. Not engaged. Ted was hoping for two aces but instead he has no aces 

But then when Jamie is sulking and kicking the ball after practice Dani slunks over like he’s being pulled by an invisible string 

“Are you playing a game?” he asks like he’s not sure. Like he's questioning the meaning of football itself. 

And Jamie, Jamie might feel like he’s choking on air half the time but … it’s football. He’s not all the way gone that he doesn’t know he loves football  

He is still in a bad mood though 

“Yeah, amigo,” he says sarcastically. “I’m playing. Kicked the ball of the post on purpose, didn’t I?” 

“…. I would like to try” 

So they have their little shooting match and Dani blooms into the fucking sun. It’s fun. This is fun 

And then he goes in for the high five and Jamie flinches back like a bomb has gone off, throwing up his fists in front of his face and bracing for the ghost of an impact that doesn't come. He doesn't know how to hide these things. He barely knows when to expect these things. All his trauma is on the surface, and he doesn't even know its there 

Here's the thing about Jamie being at Richmond. 

He stops getting cards. 

The weird, unexplained bruises have a chance to heal. New ones fail to appear. 

They stop. The bruises stop, but he doesn't know why it feels like he’s getting worse. He doesn’t know. He feels off balance... fragile. Things he used to be able to shrug off start sticking to him like tar. He doesn't feel in control of himself. 

He holds onto his stack of cards like a lifeline, like a prized possession. They're the one thing that hasn't changed. He grips onto this shoelaced stack of evidence that he's here, that he exists, and he feels the same feelings he felt back in Manchester – that same tidal wave of emotions that threatens to drown him. Makes him feel like he's bobbing, lost at sea, eyelevel with stinging waves while his feet kick for survival.

Even as it chokes him, it's the only feeling he's ever been sure about. It's the only tether he has to the outside world. To his real life. To himself.

The stack hasn't grown since he arrive at Richmond. He feels like he's losing his sense of identity without them. 

Jamie blinks, and he's back at City.

After Richmond gets relegated, and insistent Ted sends a wary Beard to track down Jamie before the bus leaves, next stop Manchester. 

Jamie, confused, takes the accepted envelope. On the bus, which is part of the inner world in that it holds the team, he carefully unfolds the note inside. Reads it. Spends who knows how long after reading it simply admiring it. The uncomplicated way the paper curves towards gravity. The neat, printed handwriting, just a bit fancier than he expected. The way that even the ink feels fragile compared to the heavy typeset he's used to seeing.

Jamie adds it to his stack of cards, but for some reason the thought of putting Ted's not in with the others makes him feel uncomfortable, so he….moves it. Keeps it separate. Keeps it special, tucked in a separate compartment in his bag.

(That’s not allowed) 

Roy retired. He went through with it. Because the people who loved him on the inside convinced him it would be okay – even though he barely got a chance to say goodbye to most of them. They all knew this day was approaching and fast 

Outside him doesn’t know that 

Outside Roy woke up from knee surgery at a hospital and doesn't know how he got there. Doesn't know he has months of rehab and surgeries and doctors appointments to look forward to

Outside doesn’t remember anyone he played with, and he certainly doesn't expect that any of those players loved him. Certainly doesn’t know that he was beloved by more than just the players. That there’s people like Ted and Keeley who miss him too 

But mostly he tries not to think about that. He has his sister and his niece, who are over the moon at the chance of getting to spend more time with him. Over the fact that he's not doing that to himself anymore.

No way inside Roy mattered to anyone at all. Not as a person. Not the way he does to his family on the outside.

It doesn't matter. He's not going back

Jamie knows Roy’s knee wasn’t his fault. He also knows Roy Kent walked off the pitch. He's pretty sure no one ever saw him again – that's what happens when athletes get career ending injuries, isn't it? 

Or at least inside thinks he knows that until, for reasons he can’t explain that have nothing to do with the fact that he feels like he murdered someone and nothing to do with those damn bruises coming back and the way his hands shake now when he adds a new card to the stack and the way he stares at the other card, the Ted card, sometimes and feels like he wants to cry-

Inside Jamie quits.  

Or that’s not the right word. Sports is entertainment, innit? 

Inside Jamie switches career, trading football Jamie for Lust Conquers All Jamie

(They assure him, don't they, that if he wishes, they can sever that part off too)

Meanwhile Roy, retired and still adjusting to it, continues meeting with the yoga mums. Like most people, they don't really know who he is. Players are just numbers to 99% of the people in their lives – athletes don't wear names on their kits. They get assigned a number when they get severed as part of the push for privacy. Sure, sometimes he gets someone who thinks they recognize him from somewhere, but part of the contract you sign when you get severed is a clause that says you won't speak about your experiences, inferred or not, from being severed. It would violate your contract to violate your own privacy – or the other way around, he can never remember how it's worded. 

Besides, getting recognized is nothing short of a fucking rarity. You'd have to be a fan for a long time and attend lots of matches in person to feel confident enough to identify one of the moving blobs on tv. You'd also have to be a bit of a prick to bring it up to a stranger you'd never met. But mostly you'd have to be either football mad or completely lucky to recognize a footballer when you saw one.

Not like they sell posters.

Recognizing famous people is hard, he reminds himself, as the yoga mums queue up one of their regular programs. Despite his own history with severance, it's a compelling show. Besides, everyone on that show – they basically do what he did, right? Their outside people signed contracts, didn’t they? It’s all fun

Except ever since they started this new season, he's got a sick feeling in his stomach he can’t explain. One of the contestants, a complete twat, a fucking muppet of a person – every time he's on screen, it feels like a predator is clawing inside his chest, trying to break free and drag his weeping entrails into the light. Every smug smile sets his teeth on edge. The prick brags about scoring, and Roy wants to wring his neck with an intensity that startles him so fiercely that he accidentally breaks his wineglass. Rosé spills over his knuckles, pooling over his crisscrossed feet and seeping into his socks as glittery shards twinkle across his lap.

It's all cleaned up in about five minutes, and it still leaves a stain deeper than any his career has left on his life.

He can admit to himself, if not his sister and definitely not his niece, that since he retired, things have been....fine. Not great. A bit awful, maybe.

Okay, so it was all shit.

Long empty nights; endless pain, the kind that grew worse every time he forgot himself and attempted to move the same way he'd done for going on forty years. His sister was worried. His niece he was pretty sure he was starting to scare. There'd been some talk, suggestions that he take up coaching Phoebe's team, but they were gentle laps against the shore of a bigger problem.

He'd even gotten offered a job as a talking head on one of those football programs, the ones that didn't require severance because you were just meant to be commenting about the match like any other normal wanker on the street.

As if.

Compared to the dim half-life of a life Roy finds himself living now, watching Lust Conquers All in hopes that the show's resident prick will say something infuriatingly stupid has quickly become an obsession. it's like breathing fucking air after being chained to the bottom of a sea.

Then, just like that, the price gets kicked off the show in a surprise upset.

It's slightly less rare to recognize TV celebrities out on the street, but you would still be an asshole if you pointed one out.

For the next few days, whenever he's out in London, he finds himself scanning faces in the crowd despite knowing better.

In his distraction, he accidentally bumps into a petite blond woman exiting a coffee shop. He apologizes, has half a second to admire her distracted but genuinely kind smile in return, and then she's gone.

Honestly, what the hell is he even doing with his life?

At Nelson Road, Ted makes one thing clear.

Whatever happens, however much the team is struggling, he's not going to ask Roy, player #6, to come back. They all miss him, but he won't – can't – let himself do that.

He has a whole life out there to live. Ted won't take that away from him. No way what's out there is any worse than what's in here.

Then he gets word about a different individual, and-

Well.

"What the hell are you doing here, eh?"

"Oh, I see. You must be the new coach. The one who's been teaching my son how to play like a total pussy."

"Dad–"

"No, you don't fucking interrupt when the adults are talking, junior. What the fuck would you know, anyways? Christ, I wish I could stick a knife in my brain and erase the last two hours. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't know what a shit player this man has turned you into, son."

"Nah, nah. See, I don't think you will say anything. Because this room is medical, and medical is out of bounds. Medical is all public, and you chippies, you're not allowed to interfere with the public. Go on, lad, tell him. You may not have a single braincell worth rubbing off these days, but I know you know that."

Afterwards, that day in the treatment room is mostly a blur to him. But a few things stick out later, glued stuck behind his eyes like floating afterimages in the dark.

The bench was cold.

The bolt of his shoe smacking against the wall just shy of his ear.

His dad's fingers, tacky with dried beer as he shoved Jamie's head to the side.

And when he looked to the side – the confused man with the mustache standing on the other side of the glass.

The way he didn't hesitate before turning the handle on the door, stepping inside and settling back on his heels with his hands in his pockets. The way he smiled around the room all pleasant-like, like they were all friends.

"Hello, gentleman. Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but notice through the window that this room was starting to look a bit like a tropical storm weighing its chances on whether it might be able to turn into a nasty old cat-5 before it makes landfall. Which seems a bit odd to me, considering that unless I need to get my eyes checked, your team won. That, or your washer machines both lost this morning. One way or the other, my question's all the same:

"Do we have a problem here?"

It was more than enough words for Jamie to place the accent. To take one an one, and turn this man into the damn yankee coach his dad blames for ruining Jamie's career.

Maybe his dad has a point about him being dumber now than he was a year ago, because when Jamie thinks of adding one to anything, his brain tries to tell him that it's not one, it's eleven. It's not one of one, it's one of eleven.

He's so busy reeling with shock at meeting his coach – at meeting anyone from the other side – that he misses most of what his dad says next.

What he doesn't miss, what will be engraved into him long after he leaves Nelson Road, when the bus is quiet and dark and he's left clutching a hastily scrawled note like it's a precious photograph, is the way that his coach — his coach, other Jamie's coach –

The way his coach's smile grows strained under his dad's words, only for him to refocus on Jamie like they were the only two in the room. The way his face softened, and the open apology in his eyes, and the way that Jamie was sure later, dead certain down to his bones, that if he'd just opened his mouth right then and asked, this man would have stayed in the room with him, drawing his father's ire for as long as Jamie needed.

But Jamie didn't have any words; maybe other Jamie had used them all up for the both of them.

The man, his coach, took a deep breath and said:

"It was very nice to meet you, Jamie."

Outside Jamie doesn't have any options. He burned them. Or inside Jamie burned them.

Same difference, when no matter who you ask, you were the one holding the matches.

He arrives and leaves the news station in the blink of an eye. No one is outside waiting for him, because you don't get fans if you're severed.

No one outside anywhere is waiting for him, except his dad.

There's only one person left, and Jamie can't even talk to him without going through his agent. But he can try.

Hope. It's the thing that kills you.

Good thing outside Jamie might as well be dead, as far as anyone's concerned. (Including his agent.)

Inside Jamie gets kicked off of LCA…..and wakes back up at Richmond. And doesn’t know how.  

Oh, he knows why he left City. Vaguely remembers signing up for somewhere warmer than early snow in October. What he doesn't know is how he ended up back here, back at Richmond, with a relegated group of players who look like they want to murder him. Who look at him as if he did murder someone, which in a lot of ways is true.

He doesn't know why he would do this to himself.

But he also feels deep within him a pathetic sense of gratitude, because inside Jamie is selfish, and inside Jamie doesn't want to die.

What inside Jamie can’t possibly know s that when confronted with the possibility of going back to his real life…..his outer self couldn’t take it. He just couldn’t. Being severed has to be better than this. Anything has to be better than this. And he’s right. He doesn’t know it, inside Jamie doesn’t know it, but these are the people who will love him. The people who are going to love him are the ones on the lifeless inside, and fuck they’re the ones who are going to make his life worth it 

Roy didn't think he had anything on the outside, but he did. He thought outside Jamie must have everything, and he had nothing. Wrong on both counts. 

Now Roy, stuck on the outside, has to figure out why he feels like he needs to go home

[coyotere]

Coyo you’re not posting that much lately. Is everything okay? We miss you

-🌼

to be honest I've run out of a lot of ideas, which has made writing hard but I think I have an idea/ solution but I'll adress that in a second.

the other thing is due to some money troubles ive upped my hours at work I'm now working 6:30am to 5:00pm which has been leaving me exhausted so I haven't been writing in the evenings like normal :/ I love love love writing but sometimes it's gotta kinda go on the back burner while I pay my bills lol

now onto the solution...

if you are a fan of my smut or general sluttiness, please please reblog my posts, all my smutty stories or nasty things I say, it helps out way more than you know, leave me asks or requests or anything so I 1. have something to write about and 2. feel like people are actually reading and want more of my stuff.

I'm also thinking about actually making characters and it's own universe which ill detail some of my rough draft below, if you want to see this it'll be its own blog but I think itll be nice esp for me cause then it'll be easier to write because I'll be able to say more than mine or you, and I can actually give my stories more personality when they fuck.

Plot: an ffm thruple who all lives in the same house living out their kinky desires i am leaning towards my requests both on here and that blog are things that they try out or do on a regular basis, the characters themselves im still kind of working on but they'd be a stand in for me and two of my types when it come to partners or how I view myself when I'm going through gender grunk.

M: tall semi muscular male with long dark hair and tattoos, a switch, when he is dominant he is mostly a primal, cnc, hard kink dom who unforgivingly fucks his partners and leaves them satisfied but their holes bruised. when he is submissive he is a puppy boy very obedient (until he gets frustrated) likes to be teased and edged and overstimulated put in a muzzle or on a leash and is a service sub focusing on his partners feeling good.

F1: a dominant, chubby pet owner and Domme mommy, probably also dark haired and tatted medium height, is a control, rigger, Domme who loves to trade and edge her subs driving them into insanity before fucking them over and over, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of them till their bodies can't take it anymore.

F2: a bratt princess submissive, who is short and fairly petite and probably blonde who loves to be tied up and used, is typically free use but will whine and complain about it despite her wetness, she'll have a smart mouth and an attitude but can be very sweet and endearing. loves to tease M for being so rough with her but then turns around and is obedient for F1.

if y'all are interested in this LMK PLEASE I think it'll be an easy way to keep me writing more, cause I can just make a filler episode or something between ideas, I would also like to have a schedule im probably going to take Friday or Saturday evenings and just make them my writing night! where I'll write for my BIG story and then if I have your request in it for that post I'll reblog it here and if I don't I'll write you your own smut like normal, that way I'm not burnt out I can make a time and a place where I can write uninterupted and not feel burnt out you know?

[circumlocutive]

i didn't realize you were still dating that guy, didnt he cheat on you?

lol yeah I took him back a while ago

He apologized, he agreed to certain things to rebuild trust and also smooth out problem spots in our relationship, and has been doing the monog partner thing pretty well. I don't think I'm fully monogamous, dunno if we can do poly well either, but a lot of my issues were based around supporting him (and he's got his shit together recently), sexual frequency (we have gotten a LOT better at navigating this in a way that works for both of us; ex. he's more helpful when I'm jerking off, he's better about saying hey not now but maybe later, he's been more prolific with verbal reassurance and expressions of physical desire etc), and investing conscientious effort into the relationship (going on more dates at least once a month was something I requested, he on his own has been making more efforts with dates and playlists and loving)

Basically all to say, he made mistakes and hurt me badly, he apologized, he communicated, and he's been better. I've also positioned myself so I can leave if need be (we moved to an apartment I can afford without him) and have been working on my part in being codependent by focusing more on my shit. Some people have been like AUUOAUA ONCE A CHEATER ALWAYS A CHEATER HE'LL DO IT AGAIN, but I wanna give him a chance. I choose to try again. And if he does hurt me again, I don't feel stupid/humiliated for being stupid- because I am not stupid. I know the risks and I'm choosing to be generous and open and forgiving to someone who wants to love me and is willing to work on it. He knows the stakes so if he hurts me again I have no guilt in leaving. It will be a sad and painful moment, but I won't feel bad for having hoped.

Anyway the threesome posting is probably why it came up? It was really weird timing yeah. He didn't seek it out at all and has been letting me make all the moves and has been vocal about our ability to brake anytime. I was nervous and thought we ought to stay in our monog vessel, where it's simpler and easier and less scary, but ultimately it was a positive experience and shows me a bit more of what nonmonogamous dynamics might actually work for me emotionally and not just theoretically, and therefore work for us. Maybe we can't do poly, maybe open-together is available tho. Maybe it'll change shape as we get more experienced and continue to improve communication. Maybe this was a weird one off! Idk! We are talking to digest but he's not pushing.

And it's been oddly helpful. I feel closer and more confident that he's choosing me on purpose and that he'll adjust if I need it bc he values my longer term well-being over momentary pleasures. And our ability to have hard conversations after the near break up has really improved. He's a lot less secretive, which is what fucked me up the most I think.

Anyway yeah. Imperfect. But such is life. I have made horrible mistakes and hurt my partners in the past, and I know that doesn't mean I owe him another chance, but I want to give the grace that was afforded to me, to him. There was much good. I think there's still good potential here. Everything isn't ruined.

[radiance1]

Just saw a snippet of that Gotham War thing going around. I do not like it, and I have feelings, I should be asleep right now but I have feelings and I find myself not even trying to care about characterization or writing quality right now.

So it'll most likely be pretty fucking SHITTY.

===

"Jason!" Batman ran to Jason's side, crouching down as he immediately began to assess the wounds. "You'll be okay, just hold on for a bit longer."

"You're a shit father, you know that, Bruce?" Jason chuckled, a wet thing that spilled just a little more blood from his lips as he grabbed onto one of his father's arms. "Don't."

"Jason-"

"Nah, this is the end for me, Bruce." Jason grunted, pain flashing through his body as he shifted himself. "And for god's sake, take off that damn mask. Nobody's 'round to see your ugly mug." He half shrugged. "Besides me of course."

Batman barely even thought more of it as his hands moved upwards to push away his mask, leaving his face bare to the world. His face was pinched, as if he couldn't decide what expression to make as soon as the mask came off. "Jason-"

"Save it. You can't change my mind about this, Bruce." Jason tightened his hand around Bruce's arm, enough for that entire hand to go numb, either that or the blood loss. He couldn't tell. "Don't try and bring me back either, Bruce. Don't let anyone else try to bring me back either."

"It doesn't have to be this way. You have so much to live for-"

Jason hissed. "Don't give me that generic ass speech, Bruce. Tired of it." Jason shook his head, reaching a hand up to try and remove his helmet, he failed. So Bruce reached up to do it for him. "Thanks, I guess."

Jason breathed in a deep breath, his lungs burning in protest yet seemingly wanting more as he coughed. Specks of blood flying from his mouth as his body screamed in protest from sudden jostling.

"Jason-"

"Hey Bruce." Bruce shut his mouth. "I'm scared, you know, of what's going to be waiting for me on the other side. Pretty shit, not gonna lie, though dying once would've made it easier but-" Jason let out a pained wheeze in place of a laugh. "But I guess not."

"You don't have to die, Jason."

"I know." Jason tilted his head towards Bruce, his vision foggy and spotty. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. Alright, but I'm still scared, scared of death. Pretty fucking cowardly huh?"

"Everyone's scared of something, Jason." Bruce reached a hand forward, moving Jason's head into a more comfortable position that wouldn't strain his neck further than it already was. He made to move his hand away, but paused as he felt his son sink into his touch, however slightly.

His hand stayed as one of Jason's eyes lowered.

"You would know a lot about that, wouldn't you" Jason let out another pained wheeze as it got harder and harder to breath. "You make people piss their beds just from hearing your name, of course you would."

"Jason." He watched as his son's breathes got shallow, a longer and longer pause between every intake of break.

"I'm sorry, Bruce."

"What for, Jason?"

"For not being a better son." Jason coughed harshly, his chest convulsing with each and every one.

Bruce was silent for moment, before he sighed. "You're a fool, Jason." He moved forwards, pulling Jason towards his chest as he rested his chin on his son's head. "Because you were the one of the best goddamn sons I could've ever asked for, and if it were up to me." Bruce tightened his hold as he felt the body in his hold go slack. "I would've chosen you again and again."

Bruce could feel tears falling from his eyes as he held Jason close, finally managing to choke out the words he so desperately wanted to say, even as they now would fall only on deaf ears.

"I love you, Jason."

===

@stealingyourbones YOU. Get the FUCK over here, I've decided to make this your problem.

[hirsheyskisses]

My Fiery Roommate

Prologue.

EUSTASS KID x READER

A/N: I cut this off a bit short because it'll make starting the next chapter a bit easier.. but prologues are allowed to be weirdly cut so 😭

"301, 301.. ah, here."

You set your suit cases down and fumbled with your keys to find the key, unlocking the door and moving into the building.

Your gaze was met with empty, beyond a couch, TV, and a small kitchen with a microwave, sink, oven, and fridge. It was a decently high end apartment. According to the floor plan, the bathroom would be down the hall to the left, the larger room across from it, and the smallest bedroom at the end. You had chosen that one because of the better view- according to the lady who toured you, your roommate had chosen the bigger one, anyways. That was fine.

Lugging your bags to the small room, it was also, for the most part, empty. There was a box that held a desk your brother had bought you, and a bed in the corner. Pushing your cases by the bed, you flopped down, sighing. "So damn hot in the South.." you groaned, running a hand through your hair.

Having come from the North, you had decided that as you turned 21, you'd start a new life. There was so much.. you needed to leave behind. So you did. You'd saved up, you'd worked your ass off, and came to the South, a grand place where many successful people began. They had the best education, best work opportunities .. even if rumors had it that the people were a bit brash. Honestly though, the few people you'd had brief interactions with were absolute sweethearts, so you'd decided that rumor was a bunch of crap.

You laid there for a bit before beginning to unpack the first suitcase: clothes. You'd brought pants, shirts, and jackets (which you were beginning to think you didn't need) and the under-clothing essentials. Each piece got placed on a hook and hung on the clothing rack, save for again, the under garments, which got re-folded and placed back into the suitcase for privacy.

"Who the hell left the damn door unlocked?! Fuckin asking to get broken into."

The sound of loud footsteps broke you out of your unpacking trance, and you froze. That was a man's voice. Slowly you reached for the closest solid thing you could find, which happened to be a boot, and slowly walked over to your door.

"Consider it maybe that the other resident is here, Kid?" An exasperated, also masculine voice spoke up, and you slowly creaked open your door.

"It's a God damn safety hazard, I swear when I get my hands on him-"

You held the boot behind you as you stepped out of your room, leaving the door open in case you had to run back in. "Excuse me?" Your voice cracked, just a bit, upon realizing just how huge both men were. Both easily cleared 6' and were built like absolute tanks, and now had their full attention on you.

It seems you all were in shock, until the blonde spoke up, voice a mixture of light and gruff, "sorry. Who are you?" Bangs covered his eyes and he wore a black mask that covered the rest of his face, a polka-dot shirt and jeans being what he wore. "Im.. one of the residents. I have the papers to prove it. ...you are?"

"Fuck you mean, one of the residents?! Thought my roommate was supposed to have balls," the red haired man's voice was almost condescending. His hair held up by a red bandanna, he wore a black tank that hugged his large torso, jeans, with heavy duty looking boots. "Well I'm sorry, Jaggy, that I don't meet your expectations!" "The FUCK you call me?!"

That was a mistake. The man moved closer, clenching his fists, until he was almost right in front of you. In a moment of panic, you threw the boot you'd been holding right at his face, turned, and darted right back into your room, slamming rhe door shut and locking it.

"..YOU LITTLE SHIT!" that moment of silence was gone, with the man storming down the hall and banging his fist on your door. "Kid that's enough- you had that coming-"

You backed yourself against the bed, hand over your heart, holy shit, I just did that. HES GONNA KILL ME-

The pounding continued for a minute before you heard him storming off, slamming the door to what you assumed to be his room. A soft tap on your door caught your attention and, warily, you opened it just a crack. You were met by the blonde, who offered you your boot. Accepting it, you questiond,

"...is he gonna kill me-" your voice was barely a whisper, and the man hesitated before shaking his head. "He doesn't actually hit women unless they genuinely deserve it. Sorry about him. I'm Killer."

"...well that's not menacing at all. (Name.) I'm (Name)." You opened it a bit more to shake his hand, noting just how firm his grip was. Killer huffed, shaking his head as he pulled his hand away, "He's Eustass Kid, your actual roommate."

You hesitated for a moment before questioning, "I've heard students talking about you guys the other day on Campus."

"...we've got a bit of a reputation."

"... should I be worried?"

"No."

"KILLER GET YOUR ASS IN HERE! I can hear ya talking to that damn pipsqueak!" Killer tensed as Kid's voice, shrugging at you, "see ya around." Before retreating to Kids room to assist the man in unpacking.

You shut the door again, feeling relief that atleast Killer seemed decent. A deep breath, it's gonna be a long year...

You'd finished packing a few hours prior, and had been laying on your bed listening to music, watching as the sky grew darker and darker until you decided it was time to call it a night. Moving to the bathroom, you began to run hot water in the sink as you prepared your tooth brush, when the door opening had you shrinking.

"..move over." Was all the man said, holding what you recognized as the bathroom essentials- toothbrush, brush, ..was that lipstick? Actually getting a good look at him, you realized he wore red lipstick with dark eyeliner.

"Jeez. For all you know I coulda been taking a piss." You grumbled, moving over none the less, moving to brush your teeth. "You'd better fuckin lock the door when you do, then. Clearly you need a lesson in that." Kid growled, setting his stuff down and also readying his own toothbrush for use..

"Yeah yeah.. I left the front door unlocked so the next person wouldn't struggle so much getting their bags in." Your responded, voice a bit muffled by the teeth brusher, and he scoffed. "Bullshit. You forgot, Pipsqueak."

"Whatever makes you feel better, Jaggy." For a moment you both went about your business, you finishing up the teeth brushing and beginning to wash your face with the hot water.

"Hey. Your name." "What?" You glanced at Kid, who was currently glaring at you, "you heard me. Give me your name." He growled, and you, with a dripping wet face, responded, "(Name). It's (Name)."

"Eustass Kid." "I know, Killer told me." He scoffed, spitting into the sink as you dried your face, him moving to wash his makeup off. "Behind you," you stated, slipping behind him to reach the door, and Kid inched forward a bit, seeing as it was a cramped bathroom. He was clearly tired, so you were gonna assume that's why he was being nice.

"..in the living room, 8. Any class?" "No?" You replied, confuses, "good. Because if your ass ain't in the living room by then, I'm dragging your ass out of bed."

You tensed, arms crossing. "Mind fuckin' explainin'? Cuz I don't enjoy the idea of hanging out with you." Kid grabbed a towel and began to dry his now make-up less face, pulling down his headband so it rest around his neck. His hair looked better when it was down, you decided. "So we can go over the damn roommate rules. Killer told me it was a fuckin thing or something. It makes sense." That caught you by surprise, nodding your head in agreement. "Rule 1, dont drag me out of bed or ill twist your balls."

Kid froze, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head, and then, "..think I'd rather ya kick em."

"You don't get that blessing, I'm not an angel in the morning. Now if you'll excuse me, Jaggy, I need to get my beauty sleep."

As you turned you glanced back at him, "gnight." He was still scowling, teeth clenched, "tch." Kid clicked his tongue and moved to exit the bathroom, and you both made your way to your rooms for sleep.

[roxtron]

Pinned post/About me thing

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you can call me whatever, i usually go by some variation of my username but i don't mind nicknames and stuff

he/they

i'm autistic so my posts will probably vary by whatever/whenever certain special interests/hyperfixations are stronger at the time

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A bit of info about what I post/reblog

i make original art sometimes but art block has been really tough so unfortunately i don't have a lot to post lately :(

besides that I'll usually make either rambling or analysis posts on whatever subject I'm posting about, usually fandom related. occasionally theories but that depends on if what I'm posting about really leaves room for theorizing.

I reblog pretty casually on here so it can range from stuff i find funny to stuff i think could use awareness, fandom-wise this blog somehow became pretty fnaf centered lol, not quite sure how that happened but i still consider it my main.

if i reblog other people's art or analysis I usually try to leave my thoughts in the tags, but sometimes I have a hard time thinking of what to say so sorry if I reblog your work and don't say anything/don't seem enthusiastic about it, if I reblog something it's because I adore it lol, I just don't always know how to put thoughts into words. <3

and as a side note, while I do try to check blogs of people I reblog in case it's a terf or whatever, sometimes you never know, so if I do reblog something from someone who's done something shitty don't hesitate to let me know with an ask or something because chances are I probably don't know lol.

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Boundaries stuff I guess.

I know DNI lists are annoying and pointless but whatever, if there's a chance it'll get people to leave me alone it's worth it. I shouldn't need to list obvious ones like terfs, transphobes, homophobes, all those assholes. But also, if you don't like one of my posts, I'd rather you block me and move on than hate reblog it. It's immature and annoying, and I won't hesitate to block people that do it.

Obviously I don't just mean "if you criticize something I post you're bad," I'm alright with criticism as long as it's respectful, but if you're gonna reblog just to say "look at this idiot" then fuck off.

Sorry about how aggressive that may have been but I don't wanna deal with stuff like that. I've dealt with it in the past and it sucks, if you don't like me, that's perfectly fine, but just block me and move on. Onto a more positive topic.. If you wanna use my art for pfps or anything that's really cool actually!! Ofc I'd ask for credit but if anyone did want a pfp of something I've drawn you can always send me an ask and I'll post a zoomed in version or something or make whatever edit you wanted so you don't need to worry about it lol Besides all that you don't have to worry about interacting with me, if you've got any questions whether that's related to me or my blog you don't have to hesitate to send an ask if you want :)

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Sideblogs

I've recently made sideblogs for other fandoms people don't follow me for here. I figured it'd be easier to separate them but mostly for spoilers' sake. Sure I try to spoiler tag but people aren't gonna block spoiler tags for fandoms they're not in if they see it and I'd hate to spoil someone for a series they could've had the chance to go into blind. That being said, please don't follow my other blogs unless you already know the spoilers for whatever fandom the blog's centered around. As much as I appreciate support I'd hate for you to get spoiled and I'd much rather wait for you to play the game yourself <3 (since as of now they're both video game fandoms..) @roxtron-kh (Kingdom Hearts)

@roxtron-gt (Ghost Trick)

----------------------------------------------------------- Woo I think that's everything! Finally I can get to the tags section of this long-ass post.. I wanna try to tag things more properly in the future, even if I'm not really big enough to warrant it, I still wanna be able to find my own stuff easier at least through the sea of reblogs, so if you're curious about any of my posts, here's a list of tags you can look through! I'm currently trying to update some of my old posts with tags so they can be added to the list.

[lunatic-pudge]

Wade, Chef, and Ron Headcanons

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

Originally, I was only gonna write for the Unholy Trinity, but then I realized the T.P.I. gang deserves love too. So now I'm including them.

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

~Wade:

-Precious baby boy who must be protected at all times.

-Poor thing is so skittish due to the constant abuse he recieves from Trevor, please be gentle with him. It'll take a bit for him to warm up to you, but when he does, he becomes such a love bug, it's adorable

-Loves to sit down with you and just listen to music. He mainly listens to ICP (his main hyperfixation) so get ready to listen to them most of the time. He does like other bands (mainly nu metal bands) and is open to listening to new stuff.

-Again, ICP is his main hyperfixation. He would want to do your makeuo, which he's surprisingly good at, and even take you to a Gathering. This man will tell you the whole history and fun facts about ICP. It cute seeing how excited he gets when talking about something he loves dearly

-Like the other two, Wade is loyal to Trevor and will do whatever the man tells him to. It's mainly out of fear but Trevor does keep him safe. I also like to believe that he bounces between living with Trevor and Ron also so get used to seeing them both constantly. Ron is easier to deal with, you just gotta learn to deal with the crazy conspiracy theories he goes on about or when he's worshipping Trevor

-Such a sweet partner to have though. He is trying his darndest. He's a loyal partner who just wants to make you smile. He's very big on cuddling as well. He also got some wild stories to tell you as well. (From his time going to The Gathering and dealing with Trevor)

-But being with him also comes with worry cause of his constant drug use and being around Trevor. I can see him being able to get off doing meth but it would take a lot of time and work.

-If you ever need to look up dirt on someone, Wade is the person to go to for the job. You don't even need to have much info on the person for Wade to find info on the.

-Please just be gentle with him, he's been through a lot and has believed that people have abandoned him. He needs the reassurance that you're not gonna leave as well

~Chef:

-Rarely does he ever leave Liquor Ace. So how you met him is beyond me right now

-He does believe some conspiracy theories but you would never know at first glance. Usually when he's high will he talk about something like the Reptilians, but even then, it'll never be Ron levels of crazy. Homie is the sanest member of T.P.I. and it's a miracle

-One of the only people Trevor doesn't mess with. Chef knows how to fight and stand his ground, having to constantly protect the meth lab from rivals. He has proven himself to be someone to not fuck with. Light jabs and playful teasing is accepted though

-Of the three, he'd have the hardest time quitting meth. It's cause he's the one who spends most of his time cooking it and sampling it. He could probably kick it if you were able to get him away from Trevor and the meth lab and brought him into a relatively normal life

-While he talks to Ron about conspiracy theories, he and Wade bond over having similar music taste.

~Ron:

-Such a nervous wreck, poor thing

-He means well, truly he does, He's just such a pushover and paranoid over the littlest of things. I'm surprise he can even leave his home at all

-Conspiracy theories galore. Before the meth, he belived some stuff like aliens, but now he's really gone down the rabbit hole. Definitely believes he's a targeted individual. Def believes 9/11 was an inside job

-Has surveillance cameras around his place. If anyone comes near his  home, he is quick to assume they're stalking him and are a Fed

-When's he not up Trevor's ass all day, trying to be that man's malewife, he's busy working on his radio show and making illegal moonshine. He'd want you there while he records his radio show and listen to his yappins. As for the moonshine, he makes a damn good batch everytime. He's worked hard to perfect it and can be insanely overprotective about it. He sells some of it as a little side hustle. (Paranoia be damned, my boy can work a distillery)

-Despite his paranoid and meek looking self, Ron can be rather egotistical and better-than-thou. He thinks he on a higher plain of existence than everyone cause of all the conspiracies he believes in. He can be a bit condescending with it at times but if you give him "the look", he'll shut up real quick