#he thinks he has cancer (he has yet to go to a fucking doctor) and he’s trying to guilt trip me like “oh don’t you wanna pray for me?”

[eepymonstrr]

plsss my dad tryna push religious shit on me 💀 YOU GUYS SEE HOW QUICK THEY ARE TO TURN WHEN THERE’S A MEDICAL ISSUE WITH *THEM*??

[starwrighter]

You know what I love in DpxDc crossovers?

When people explain Jason's pit madness as having to do with ectoplasm. Whether it be the hc that the pits are corrupted ectoplasm, Jason being a revenant before being dunked in the pits or any other idea/theory I love it all!

But you know what I don't see much of? The pit madness being seen as something more clinical. In most of the DpxDc crossovers I've read it's always treated as something that can be easily and quickly fixed. I don't see much content about Jason's pit madness being treated like an serious illness and it's honestly underrated.

Make his pit madness be like cancer for ghost's. Something spread throughout his body like a fucked up spider web slowly killing him as it continues to go untreated. Making his life emotionally and oftentimes physically painful. Have Jason assume his pain is just the consequences of his vigilante life since nobody could ever diagnose him with anything.

Danny feeling heartbroken when he sees Jason not because he can sniff it out or sense it but because he can see it. Oftentimes cancer doesn't show symptoms until it's advanced. For Danny this is like seeing someone who's medical treatment has been so neglected that they're covered in tumors! Danny screaming bloody murder at Bruce for allowing things to get this far; for not getting him help and allowing things to fester like this. Danny's ugly crying because he's a child and he doesn't know how to react to something like this! It's a horrifying sight when medical care is neglected, but seeing someone suffering so much without even knowing what's going on? It's terrifying.

Jason trying to comfort Danny but Danny just starts crying harder because Jason doesn't know what the hell is going on and someone has to be the one to tell him.

Treat Jason's pit madness as a symptom of something bigger, not something that can be fixed with the flick of a wrist. Show me the grief of having a loved one/being the loved one suffering from something that has a good chance of killing them. Where the treatment can make you feel worse than the disease does sometimes. Seeing a loved one get weaker and weaker yet reassuring yourself it's just the process of healing and they're going to be fine.

Have it be something that's treatment is long and strenuous, something that might need surgery to fix. Jason needing a bone marrow transplant or an organ and Danny being the only halfa that's willing to give it to him. Jason having to choose whether he's willing to risk a child's life to save himself or if he's just going to die a second time.

(Bonus! Have Jason deny the operation but Doctors work differently in the realms so it's done anyway without his consent. Does Jason think Danny died from the operation? Maybe it's some important ghost bone marrow/organ and the doctors being dodgey and refusing to let anyone see Danny before he's recovered enough? Jason grieving over a child and lashing out because "why would anyone decide the life of a child was something you could throw away like that!")

[withacapitalp]

@lazylittledragon did more Mombin (check it out here it's great) which I think means I might be contractually obliged to write more fic that is inspired by it. Like wowza I am obsessed with this concept

Tw: vomiting/morning sickness, reddit, discussions of cancer

Robin was dying. 

That was the only explanation. 

Dying. 

And the worst part was, she was dying of something that was both incredibly funny, and incredibly sad, and she had been so desperate for answers that she had gone to a place no mortal should ever dare to go to. 

Reddit. 

Posted by u/familyvideobrokeme

I (24F) think that I might have breast cancer, and I have no idea how to tell my (25M) best friend.

So my best friend “Sam” and I have been attached at the hip for as long as I can remember. He’s not just a friend to me, he’s my person (and before you get any ideas- I’m a lesbian, so no, not happening.) we tell each other everything, even the super gross stuff neither of us wants to hear- like seriously he’s asked me to check his ass to see if he managed to pop the pimple he found there before- so I’ve never been in this position before…

But I think I’m dying of breast cancer, and I have no clue how to start this conversation. 

It just came on really suddenly??? Like last month I was fine, and this month my boobs just hurt in this really weird way I’ve never experienced before? Like I’m sore and tingly and my bras don’t fit?! Boobs are kind of a joke between us though, so I feel like if I just blurt it out then he will start saying ‘boobie cancer’ over and over at me and we will just end up laughing and he’ll think I’m kidding. 

Sam is also my roommate? I don’t know if that matters here? I also haven’t gone to a doctor yet, but there isn’t anything else this can be, right? Nothing else just magically makes your boobs hurt and get big?

Robin had made the post at three am the night before while crying and eating Ben and Jerry’s, and she had forced herself to not look at replies all night, even going as far as to shut her phone off entirely.

But now it was the next day, and she had steadfastly ignored the notifications from Reddit all the way through Saturday Brunch and Bitch. 

She couldn’t ignore them anymore. 

“You’re good if I work a little?” Robin asked, pulling her laptop close to her and carefully angling it so Steve couldn’t see the screen. 

“As you wish,” Steve muttered, completely absorbed with whatever dog video he was watching. 

“Dingus,” She whispered affectionately, an odd mixture of love and guilt crashing in her chest as she opened the website and logged into her account. She had over a thousand notifications now, and the comments were still rolling in as she opened her post and scrolled down. 

Endofthebeginningoftheend

OP are you sure you’re not in love with Sam

Grapenuts Dude she said she’s a lesbian

View 564 more replies

Robin rolled her eyes. She had expected that, but she didn’t expect it to be the top comment. She quickly scrolled past. 

Cheercaptainfromhell

OP I would definitely go to a doctor before anything else! 

SmeddieSmunson Seriously how has she gotten this far without going to a doctor??

The answer was easy. Robin was terrified of doctors. Why go to a doctor when Steve had EMT training? 

Because in this instance she couldn’t ask Steve for help. 

Robin kept scrolling. 

Frenchiefreis

You might be pregnant honestly…I would take a test first

Headphilosopher She’s a lesbian so I doubt it, but pregnancy can also cause those symptoms-

Robin snorted to herself, side eyeing Steve to make sure he didn’t look up when she did. 

Did everyone just ignore the part where she said she was a lesbian? 

…was Robin ignoring the part where being a lesbian didn’t mean fuck all when it came to her chances of getting pregnant?

Yes she was ignoring it because it was once just once and they had barely even gotten to do anything at all and-

Robin scrolled again, growing more and more desperate

Rummingbird

That doesn’t really sound like breast cancer to me My mom had similar things happen when she was pregnant though-

Another scroll. Another flutter of her heart. 

No. It wasn’t that. She was dying. Dying was bad but the idea that she was…that she could be…

HyllyBRd

OP have you considered that you might be pregnant? I know that you’re a lesbian, but if you’ve had penetrative sex in the last month then you might want to consider-

“Are you going to be good for me?” 

Robin gasped as the memory hit her, closing the reddit tab with a slam of her finger on the mouse pad, her entire body starting to softly shake as she panic opened a google tab.

Boobs hurt????

Not exactly the most scientific way of phrasing that question, but Robin needed an answer that didn’t involve nine long months of what the fuck. Luckily there was a read more question that got right to the heart of the issue. 

What kind of breast pain indicates pregnancy? 

It was going to say something completely different to what she had, and Robin was going to laugh, and then she would turn to Steve and let him know she was dying of boobie cancer. 

It wasn’t going to be the same. 

It wasn’t. 

Robin looked at the screen. 

Fuller. Sorer. Tingly pain that felt unlike anything else. Aka exactly what she had. 

Robin’s fingers moved on autopilot, asking another question of Google

How late should my period be before I worry?

Worrying about what? She knew about what, but she couldn’t bring herself to type it, she couldn't even think of that word yet.

Google said after a week of missing your period it was time to see a doctor. Robin’s period was over three weeks late. 

And a month ago-

A month ago…

“Fuck you’re so tight,” The woman above her whispered. Robin whimpered, unable to help herself as the stretch-

“I need to use the bathroom.” She blurted out, slamming her laptop shut and practically throwing it off of her, stomach twisting into knots. 

“I’ll tell you what I tell my students Bobbin,” Steve said, barely looking up and completely unaware of her meltdown, “You don’t need to ask me for permission to go take care of your bodily functions,”

“Oh, shut up,” Robin replied, laughing breathlessly. It was such a stupid joke, such a meaningless stupid joke. But it was safe, and it was familiar, and if the sneaking suspicion creeping down Robin’s spine was true, then nothing would be safe and familiar again for a very long time. 

She stood up, stopping to press a kiss to the top of Steve’s head as she walked by, just because that was familiar too and she needed it. Steve hummed, leaning over to bonk his head against her tummy as she passed him.

A bonk on the tummy that may or may not be-

Nope. It was a no. It was definitely a no. There was no possible way. 

Robin was going to be sick. 

She basically flew the last few steps to the bathroom, managing to lock it tight before she threw up in the sink. It was disgusting, and messy, and she pushed the tap on before kneeling down at the porcelain throne and continuing to hurl. 

I need Steve.

It wasn’t even really a thought. She couldn’t think while throwing her guts up, that was an experience that required every bit of her attention and mind power. 

No, not a thought, just an instinctual message from the universe, a pull from somewhere deep inside her that felt like more than just a truth. 

Because Robin didn’t need Steve because she was throwing up. Or because she thought she might have boob cancer. 

Robin needed Steve because she knew she was pregnant. 

“Fuck me,” She groaned, leaning back from the toilet only to lean forward once more as the rest of brunch came back up. 

[eddiesghxst]

cigarettes, coffee, and club-hopping

alrighty, she's here and i hope she lives up to the expectations! this is part one of...idk how many yet, but enjoy!

based on this idea I had 80 years ago

————

part one | part two | part three | part four

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: ex-bf!rockstar!eddie x lawyer!reader

summary: you're a divorce attorney in Los Angeles and your newest client is filing against famous rockstar, Eddie Munson, who is also your ex-boyfriend

contains: exes to lovers trope, mention of a past relationship, slutty banter, smoking, mentions of alcohol, a hint of mean!eddie, public sex (restroom), a sprinkle of degradation, eddie likes to kiss your neck, fingering, eddie licking your c*m off his fingers (bye), and eddie being hot <3

word count: 5.8k

-masterlist-

Eddie hates waking up early. 

He’s never been a morning person— in all his twenty-eight years of living, Eddie has never seen the letters ‘AM’ and smiled. This is partially why Eddie failed his first-period class in high school for two — almost three — consecutive years in a row. This is also partly why Eddie was fired from nearly every job he landed after graduating. You would imagine that Eddie has learned his lesson after all this time. Not quite.

Eddie is nearly an hour late to his first divorce settlement conference. One would think that Eddie would, for once in his life, wake up at a reasonable time to take a shower, grab his usual morning energy drink, beat LA traffic, and get to his appointment on time— as a mature grown man would do. Still, Eddie failed even to set an alarm to wake him up.

“You’re forty minutes late already— traffic is gonna make it even worse, and you don’t have another day to reschedule this for the next two months, so I suggest you get up, Munson!”

Eddie watches through sleep-fogged eyes as Kelly, his assistant, throws his window curtains aside to let the morning sun seep into his room. There’s a pounding kick drum beating behind Eddie’s eyes, a result of Eddie falling into Jeff’s sinister persuasion to go out. He should stop listening to that asshole— he’s part of why Eddie married his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Eddie’s bones click and crack as he stretches, sits up, and lazily swings his legs over the side of his bed with a sleepy groan. He can hear the rustling sound of Kelly picking up laundry from his floor— something he’s told her multiple times not to do, but she does it anyway, so he’s given up on fighting her. He runs a hand over his face, a yawn wracking through his entire body before reaching over to his nightstand, feeling around for the box of cigarettes he knows he left the night before. 

“I tossed them out,” Eddie glances up at Kelly, who is now grabbing the last of his laundry on the floor and leaving his room. “Go freshen up and get dressed; we need to leave now.”

Eddie’s doctor advised him to start weaning himself off the cancer sticks; something about it fucking with his gums, and that’s on top of the risks he’s running with the vocal strain it’s put on his voice. Eddie knows he should take it seriously, but he needs a lick of nic before spending the next three to four hours bickering with his wife about what’s his and hers.

Eddie drags himself out of bed, shuffling across the cool tile of his bedroom floor. He sleepily rubs his bare stomach, flipping the light switch and groaning, annoyed at the sudden brightness. He brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face before walking into his closet and sifting through the random pants and jackets strewn across the floor. There’s gotta be some smokes in here somewhere. 

He finds a nearly empty pack of Marlboro reds and wastes no time sticking it between his lips, lighting it up with the lighter on his nightstand before getting dressed.

By the time Eddie steps into the law firm, his headache has intensified by about 80 beats per second, and he’s gone through the old pack of smokes. It feels as if the back of Eddie’s eyes have a heartbeat of their own, throbbing with every direction they turn. Eddie can hear his attorney giving him pointers for the conference, but if Eddie’s honest, he doesn’t plan on talking much, so he doesn’t pay close attention to what the man is saying.

When they enter the conference room, Eddie is seated across the table from his wife and offered a cup of coffee, to which Eddie gladly accepts to nurse his hangover. “You could at least take the glasses off.” A sweet voice that’s grown to grate every one of Eddie’s nerves whenever he hears it. He glares at his wife from across the table, and though nobody could see his eyes behind his glasses, everyone could sense the distaste behind his words, “Fuck off, Nezza.”

A strong hand is placed on Eddie’s shoulder, his attorney’s, stiffly squeezing the thick leather jacket. “How about we get started then? Before things get… rowdy.”

“Great idea.” 

Now that voice—- that voice, Eddie could hear at any second of the day, any time of the year, and know exactly who was conducting that sweet song. 

Eddie likes to believe that the universe works in mysterious ways and that things really do happen for a reason, but sometimes he swears whatever god is up there behind the clouds just likes to fuck with him for fun. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could’ve prepared Eddie for the sight he sees when he flits his gaze from Nezza to the woman sitting next to her.

For a moment, Eddie is taken back to a time he remembers in golden dream-like clouds of smoke—- the spring of ‘83 when he fell headfirst in love with the woman sitting next to his wife. And for that moment—- for that split fraction of a second, Eddie is happy to see you. 

It’s surprising; after all this time he spent resenting you and spitting out the sour taste you'd left in his mouth, Eddie imagined he would never be able even to see a picture of you and not want to slam his head against the nearest surface he could get his hands on.

However, that feeling only lasts about .012 milliseconds before Eddie’s entire being is filled with every emotion he’d suppressed towards you over the last nine years. Eddie looks at you and sees the girl he loved and the girl that broke his heart. His last memory of you is so vivid that it almost outshines all the good from your past relationship. Almost. Like a python wrapped around his neck, Eddie chokes on adoration and hatred all in one breath.

If Eddie said it didn’t piss him off to an ungodly level that he has a sliver of excitement to see you, he would be lying. You had always known the best ways to wriggle under his skin. 

This one takes the cake for the cruelest way so far.

————

Eddie looks the same.

Not much has changed on him throughout the years apart from expensive clothing, healthier-looking hair, and a little more muscle on his arms to fill out the black leather jacket clinging to his frame. He still has a knack for jewelry, you note from the priceless rings hugging nearly every slender finger of his and the chain resting against his chest, hidden beneath his shirt. He carries himself the same way, confidently with a smear of carefree and chaos. You couldn’t get a read on him when settled down in his seat across from Nezza, and the black sunglasses shielding his eyes didn’t help you decipher him any further. 

He smells like Marlboro reds and a sharp cologne; dark scented and intense, easy to tell he’s the one wearing the scent. It’s a different scent than you remember from him. He’s swapped the cheap four-cent bottle of Brut for a more decadent scent— a mix of tonka bean, musk, and patchouli with a dash of something feminine you can’t quite put your finger on. The scent matches him better than Brut could ever amount to, but you find yourself reminiscent of the past.

Eddie doesn’t look your way until you speak, and either Eddie has mastered his poker face over the years, or he doesn’t remember you.

Not even briefly does Eddie’s expression falter from the bored look plastered on his face. The sunglasses do no justice either, and you wish the universe would strike them off his face at this very moment. You had forgotten what his eyes looked like in real-time and desperately wanted to remember— take a mental picture and shove it in the corner of your brain filled with essential memories, all things that make you smile, cry, and scream.

There’s a moment where you feel pained by Eddie’s unwavering reaction to seeing you. That feeling is quickly replaced with relief, relief that Eddie has matured just as much as you’d hoped he had. When you found out your client would be filing against Eddie, your high school boyfriend, you had initially panicked and paced the living room floor of your tiny studio apartment, thinking of ways to back out of the case. However, after a hefty glass of wine, you managed to persuade yourself that Eddie most likely isn’t still hung up on something as silly as a high school relationship. It happened nearly a decade ago; surely, you’ve both moved on, right?

With this indication, you feel the tension in your shoulders ease a little, hopeful that this process will be seamless, seeing as both parties want nothing to do with each other and Eddie holds no hard feelings against you.

Once the conference begins, you don’t look away in time to avoid Eddie’s gaze as he removes the glasses, your eyes landing on those dark pools of brown that you used to dip into each night. Vibrant and so full of life, full of untold stories and sights you’d missed out on in the last decade, a story unfolds beneath the glimmer of his eyes under the lights. They feel like home at first, but as you continue holding his gaze, your home becomes clouded by lightning and wind, dark storm clouds with a promise of a downpour.

As you gaze into Eddie’s eyes, you see nothing but the boy you left behind in the summer of ‘85.

————

Stomach growling and frustrated sighs indicate the need for a break at around 12:40 PM.

The conference had started on a good note, with seamless agreements between you, your client, and Eddie’s team. That was until your client decided to become rather difficult and demanding.

“We’ll pick up where we left off in ten minutes.”

The atmosphere in the room has become stuffy and tight over the hours, so you get up to stretch your legs on a short walk to the coffee cart in the hallway.

Your mind feels muddled, pushed to exhaustion from hours of reading documents and going back and forth with Eddie’s attorney. Nezza wants more than Eddie is willing to give, money-wise, property-wise, and everything else under the sun. You’re determined to get your client as much as possible, but it’s proving to be more of a struggle than expected; Eddie’s team is headstrong and unwilling to bend to your substantial advances. Oh, and Eddie’s been practically throwing daggers at you from across the table with each chance he can get.

As you stir in a sugar packet, you watch the dark brown liquid swirl in the foam cup. You fall into a short trance as you watch the tiny bubbles dance within your drink, but the sound of a throat clearing shatters the spell. You glance to your side where the person is standing and are surprised to be met with a leather-covered shoulder and dark brown curly hair. 

“Are you done with the sugar?” Eddie points towards your hand, and you blink, stuck as you stare at him for a moment. You know you should be professional, you’re an established attorney, and you’re in the middle of doing your job, but you’re also 100% fucking human, so— “I don’t know, are you done sending me death glares from across the table or do you wanna keep being an asshole?”

Eddie grabs the jar of sugar packets from your hand, “You wouldn’t have to put up with it if you just… quit the case.” Eddie shrugs as if his advice is a task as easy as folding towels. You take offense to his response, eyebrows pinching together as you watch him rip open a packet and sprinkle sugar into his cup, “I can’t just drop a case, Eddie.”

Eddie mockingly laughs, “Really? That’s weird; I mean, considering how you kind of just dropped everything and fled the fucking state, I’m sure you can drop a case just as easily, sweetheart.” 

His words hurt. As much as you wish he didn’t have that effect on you, it’s evident that he still does, considering how your neck heats up in anger. You don’t miss the pet name he slipped in; you hate that it makes your neck even warmer. “I didn’t flee the state; I went to fucking college— and how is that even my fault? I gave you the number to my dorm, and you never called.”

And Eddie remembers that letter you left him. He remembers it like the back of his hand. He memorized every sentence, including that stupid number you left for him. “Yes, I did. I called you after every show for months, and you never picked up!” 

You spent eight years in New York, and out of those eight years, you spent four of them staring at an ugly green phone on the wall of your dorm hallway, waiting for it to ring so you could pick it up and hear his voice again. You asked your roommate to listen for a call if she was up studying late or if you went out and she stayed in. Now, you wonder if she failed you on her part because you would’ve never, in a hundred years, missed Eddie’s call. Never.

Before you can respond to the information, you are being called back into the room to resume the conference—  you’d almost forgotten that’s what you were here for.

You and Eddie let the man know you’ll be right there and watch as he walks back into the room. When you turn to Eddie, his gaze is no longer on you as he tosses the small wooden stirring stick in the trash.

Eddie is silent for a moment before he looks at you and gives a forced, close-lipped smile, “It’s nice to know you’re still full of shit.”

And then he’s gone. Eddie leaves you there, stunned and offended by his words. Eddie Munson thinks you’re full of shit— as if you were the only one to blame for your falling out. You feel stupid for believing in a better-evolved version of the Eddie you’d known. You wish his words didn’t affect you, but the conversation has left a bitter taste on your tongue. You glance down at the cup of coffee in your hands, and your stomach churns. You no longer have an appetite for the drink.

————

Late-night club hopping has never been your preferred way of spending a Saturday night. There’s a different type of energy in LA’s club scene than there is in New York. It was easy to have a good time in New York; the clubs are all close to one another and stay open nearly all night. In Los Angeles, it’s been a slow rise to liking the nightlife— clubs are more scattered, and on top of that, you learned the hard way that it’s difficult to even get into clubs when you’re not Madonna-level status. That last problem isn’t so much an issue now that you’ve settled in and made a few connections around the city. 

Tonight you’re celebrating a friend from work's birthday. Penny was the first person you talked to at the law firm; she instantly made you feel at home and offered to buy you lunch at a cafe next door. The two of you have been joined at the hip ever since. 

You’re happy to celebrate Penny’s birthday and glad to be tagging along with her in this new chapter of her life, but what you’re bothered about is the fact that you chose to wear the most uncomfortable shoes in your closet. You were under the impression that you would be eating dinner with Penny and a few of her friends, but somehow, dinner turned into a night-long clubbing adventure. 

Logically, you have no one to blame but yourself for wearing Steve Madden pumps, but if Penny had told you the night would be long, you definitely wouldn’t have worn these god-awful shoes.

You’re sitting on a bar stool waiting for your drink and thinking about what excuse you’ll give Penny to go home when suddenly, you feel someone walk up beside you, waving over the bartender. You glance at the person and immediately look away, preparing to run for it before they notice. 

Sadly, you’re not fast enough to escape his line of sight, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re stalking me.”

You turn to the man and take in the sight of him as you tilt your head. “Wouldn’t it be the other way around since I was… you know, minding my business until you came here.” You motion to where Eddie is standing, and he smirks, silently taking his drink when the bartender passes it to him.

“How’d you get in here anyways?” He asks. It’s not a bad question; sure, you’re a damn good attorney, but you’re of no celebrity status, and this club is one of the more difficult joints to get into. However, you still take offense to Eddie’s question.

Your eyes narrow slightly, debating whether you should continue entertaining Eddie or leave and find your friends. “If you’re going to continue to be an asshole, then I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me; I want nothing to do with you.” Eddie scoffs into the rim of his drink before taking a short sip. You roll your eyes, feeling like kids in elementary getting into petty fights. “What makes you think I want something to do with you?”

Eddie snickers over the rim of his glass, “The fact that you’re still sitting here says enough.” 

You scoff, looking away from him as you shift in your seat, attempting to make it seem like you want to get away from him, but it only scoots you closer to him, your arm brushing his elbow. You panic at the touch but act as if it was nothing. “If my feet didn’t feel like they were about to fall off, I would be miles away from you by now.” You grumble as you distract yourself by tugging down the hem of your dress. 

“I don't believe that.” 

You let out an exasperated breath, looking over at Eddie with an annoyed expression as you speak, “Not everyone is head over heels dying to be around you.” 

It might be the alcohol or Eddie’s sinister pheromones you’re breathing in paired with the sound of his ridiculously annoying laugh—- you’re not sure which it is, but you find yourself enjoying this back-and-forth banter. A big part of you is frustrated by Eddie’s insistent prodding at your nerves, but your other part is intrigued. Too stuck to grab your things, bid him goodnight, and leave.

You almost think you heard him wrong when he responds, “We’ll see if you’re saying the same thing once I get you in the back.”

You blink, momentarily silent, as you glance at him to watch him calmly sip his drink. Not a single hint of regret or shock flashes across his face, and you almost think you imagined it until you see a ghost of a smirk brush the corner of his lips. “Excuse me?” And like a child, Eddie’s response is quick and irritating, “You’re excused.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m willingly going anywhere with you that’s not a fucking law firm or courtroom.” 

Eddie laughs, glancing at you and nodding once, “Sure.” You hate how smug he is, and you hate that he’s so fucking right, but you swear you won’t fold for whatever stupid game he’s playing. “Sure?”

You watch Eddie tip back his drink and finish what’s left, placing the empty glass on the bar countertop before lazily nudging it forward. You shift back with an annoyed grimace when he turns to you and leans an elbow against the bar. He points over your shoulder, and you catch yourself before you follow his lead, gaze stuck on his face as you prepare for whatever bullshit is about to leave his mouth.

“I’m gonna head to the restroom to take a piss. You can sit here and bitch about everything under the sun, or you can quit being a pussy and meet me there.”

And without further explanation or interaction, Eddie gets up and leaves. You turn and watch in shock as he walks off, watching his back until it’s washed away by the sea of people on the dance floor. You turn back to the bar and gaze at your drink. For a moment, you think this might be some elaborate scheme Eddie has to fuck you over. Complying with this proposition, Eddie has now opened, could very well lead to you losing your job, something you’re not very keen on doing.

You glance towards the direction Eddie had walked off in and groan, briefly shutting your eyes as temptation washes over you. There’s no way this is real. There’s no way you’re actually thinking about going into that restroom with Eddie.

You take a deep breath, clenching your teeth in thought before muttering a curse. You’re fucking yourself over with this one, but you do it anyways. You toss back the rest of your drink, wincing at the bitterness, before hopping off the barstool.

Your adrenaline is so high that you don’t even feel the ache in your feet as you cross the dance floor, maneuvering through sweaty bodies and spilled drinks toward the bright neon RESTROOMS sign.

From the corner of your eye, you see Penny standing at her rented-out section as she tosses back a shot with the girls you’d arrived with. You should turn around and join them, return to celebrating Penny’s birthday, and forget all about your interaction with Eddie. That’s what you should do, but you don’t. You continue walking towards the restrooms, mentally going back and forth with yourself until you reach the door and wrap your hand around the handle.

However, the door opens before you can fully prepare to open it, and the scent of hand soap and Eddie hits you in the face. Your wide eyes meet Eddie’s glinting gaze. A smirk spreads across his lips, and he snickers, “I’d say I’m surprised, but that’d be a lie.”

Your gaze is hot and heavy as you stare up at him. The sounds of the club you're in seem muffled as you spend your last seconds considering what you’re about to do. You should really turn around.

You tilt your head up, silently sizing Eddie and daring him, a tipping point where you both know there’s no going back now—- especially not when you mesh your lips against his and stumble into the restroom. You plan to blame this on the alcohol.

Eddie makes quick work of turning to press your back against the door, fumbling to lock the door as you grumble a breathless ‘Fuck you’ against his lips.

“I intend to, sweetheart.” 

You hate how stupid and witty the response is, but it makes your stomach twist in need, nonetheless. Eddie’s hands are roaming and squeezing you wherever he can reach, hiking up your dress enough to slink a few digits into the hand of your skimpy panties, snapping them against your waist and smirking when you push up against him. Eddie manages to speak in between haste kisses, “I’m gonna be honest; I didn’t think you’d give in this easily.”

Eddie is now ushering you towards the sink, softly snickering at the gasp that escapes you when the cold marble digs into your lower back. “Are you trying to say I’m easy?” 

You can’t hold back the moan that slips from you when Eddie’s hand slithers between your thighs to press a thumb against your clit. “Maybe… also just pointing out that you clearly missed me.”

You don’t answer him, leaning forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss as your hips rock back and forth against his touch. You smooth your hand down his chest and over his belt to grasp the heavy bulge between his thighs, humming when he moans, “Looks like you missed me more, Munson.”

You giggle when he grunts in annoyance, fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties before shucking them down your legs and lifting the flimsy garment for you to see with a smirk, “Won’t be needing these anymore, will you?” 

You grimace in faux disgust as you watch him stuff the soaked material in his back pocket. “Gross,” you comment, although Eddie doesn’t answer, busying himself with pulling you off the counter, flipping you around to face the sink, and eyeing you through the neon-lighted mirror. “You’re a perv; you know that?” You add as Eddie wraps an arm around your front and hikes your dress to sink his hand between your thighs.

Your shaky fingers grasp Eddie’s wrist, hips squirming as he begins to rub your clit, dipping a finger lower to spread your sticky arousal. “If I were you, I would start being very nice to me.” His voice is low and gravely against your ear as you smile, gazing back into his darkened gaze through the glass reflection. You push back against him, and you both sigh in pleasure. “Just fuck me, Eddie.”

You gasp when he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt, slowly pushing it in and out of you to create a sinful twist in your tummy. You shake your head in protest, although your hips rock against his thrusts. “No, no, I don’t need it. I don’t need that. Just fuck me, please?” You repeat, voice teetering on the edge of a whine.

“God, you’re still a fucking brat. So used to getting what you want, hm?” Despite his comment, he doesn’t give you what you’d asked for. Instead, he slips in another finger, greedily squeezing at your chest with his other hand. Your thighs tremble as his fingertips delicately massage that sweet spot hidden between your wet walls, a shaky hand reaching up to grasp his hand as he fondles your breasts over your dress. “Not anymore, princess,” His voice is low and foggy with sex, purring against your ear with ease as he plays with you. “This time, you’ll earn it like a good slut. You’re going to have to ask me very nicely if you want it that bad.” “A-ah…Fuck you.”

Eddie laughs at your response, digging his face into your neck when you throw your head back, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your perfume. He presses a kiss to the base of your neck, and you hate how it makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching around his hand, causing him to pause. “Keep them open.” He warns, ignoring your pathetic attempts at rutting against his hand.

When you don’t obey his instruction, Eddie brings his foot in between your pump-clad feet, knocking the toe of his shoe against both heels, causing your legs to part, shaky limbs failing you as you stumble in his hold. Eddie chuckles, nipping your jaw as he sinks another finger into your soaking heat. Your moan is loud and pitiful as you reach forward to grasp the sink counter for stability. “Oh my god—” “Jesus, you’re fucking tight. Barely taking three fingers.” Your moans are high-pitched as you rock your hips against Eddie, nails digging into the skin of his flexing wrist as he fucks you with his fingers. 

The sloshing sounds from between your legs are just loud enough to hear over the booming music of the club barely, and if Eddie’s fingers weren’t fucking you so well, you would’ve felt ashamed. You hardly notice Eddie’s free hand traveling to the low neck of your dress, tugging the material down to expose your chest. He groans at the sight, palming one of your tits as his mouth latches to the side of your neck. His fingers pinch and roll your nipples, his tongue warm and wet as he licks up your neck, humming at the taste of you and smiling when he feels you tremble against his body. “I can feel you squeezing me, princess; you gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your ear, humming when you hastily nod. “I don’t think so.” 

He slows the draw of his fingers, softly petting at your walls to give enough sensation to have your eyes rolling but not enough to tip over the edge. You frustratedly huff, “Eddie—” “Good sluts ask to come, you know that.”

Your stomach twists at his words, hips squirming in search of more, more, more. You have a lot of pride; you’ve been told it’s your strongest and worst quality before— but here in this dingy club restroom, with Eddie’s overwhelming presence surrounding you and the incessant need to cum gnawing at every cell in your body, you find your pride quickly dwindling like a flame under water. The time when you need your pride the most, it’s nowhere to be found. 

“Please, Eddie.” You whisper so quietly Eddie almost misses it. He smiles, “Since I know how hard that was for you, I’ll take it— but I won't be so kind next time, princess.” He pulls his fingers out of you and urges you to turn around and face him. 

He nudges you back to sit on the edge of the sink, stepping between your thighs and opening them wide enough to see your glistening cunt, sticky arousal winking up at him beneath the dim neon lighting. “N-next time?” You take in a sharp breath as he hitches your leg around his waist

He chuckles, glancing at your swollen lips as you gaze up at him trying to fight through the hazy fog of arousal. Eddie runs three fingers over your clit before sinking back into you, a low hum rattling from his chest when your shaky hands grasp his shirt, fingers curling and wrinkling the material, “Next time.”

Your words get lost on you when he begins fucking you again, eyes fluttering shut as your legs subconsciously tighten around his waist. You can feel his breath against your top lip, and you fight the urge to seek out his lips with yours. You push up into him, mumbling incoherent pleas into the air. You lick your lips, pussy clenching when the tip of your tongue catches Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie doesn’t wait for you to make a move this time, his free hand reaching up to grip your jaw, fingertips digging into your cheek as he pushes his lips against yours. You both moan into the kiss, your hips grinding into the thrusts of his fingers.

You keep kissing Eddie until you can’t, too overwhelmed by the pending promise of an orgasm. You slide away from Eddie’s lips and nuzzle into his neck, finding solace in the soft brush of his hair against your face, the distant but familiar scent of his shampoo invading your senses. “I’m gonna come.” You whisper, nails digging into his biceps as your thighs quiver.

Eddie keeps his hand working between your thighs, thanking the many hours he’s spent playing guitar for training his wrist to maintain endurance. His other hand dances up your heaving back, dipping beneath the curtain of your hair to grip the back of your neck, softly squeezing in encouragement. “Let go, baby. Let me feel it.”

You nearly sob when you finally tip over, body tensing before melting against Eddie’s body in shambles of incoherent words and shaking limbs. You can hear the sticky wet substance of your release squelching around his fingers; you can feel it smearing against your thighs and dripping onto the cool tiles of the floor, and you almost feel ashamed when Eddie points it out, “Fuckkk, you’ve been saving this for me, haven’t you?” You hardly register his words, but you nod, mewling as you nuzzle deeper against him, thighs twitching when you teeter on the edge of sensitivity.

“I… Enough, Eddie, please fuck me.” You’re practically begging, pulling away from his neck to blink up at him blearily, sex-drunk hands fumbling to reach out for him. Eddie kisses you and chuckles against your lips, fingers finally slowing down. He pulls away with a lewd hum, leaning back to watch as he removes his fingers from your cunt, dragging the drenched digits up to smear your arousal around your clit, grinning when your thighs twitch.

You try to catch your breath as you silently watch him bring his fingers up to his lips, sinking them into his mouth to sinfully lick your cum from his fingers. He glances at you with a smirk around his fingers, and you squirm in your spot. “You’re being a tease.”

He releases his fingers with a pop before stepping away, “Sorry to cut this short, sweetheart, but I’ve gotta run, and I’m sure your friends are worried about where you went.” You watch in disbelief as he glances in the mirror and fixes a few unruly hair pieces. He looks your way and drops his eye in a wink, “I’ll see you later, princess.”

You silently gape in shock, watching him turn around and stride toward the door. Eddie can feel your eyes throwing darts at him, and he doesn’t bother hiding his smile as he opens the door and steps out. 

You have to take a moment to wrap your head around it, but once you do, you wind up more annoyed with yourself for falling so quickly into Eddie’s trap. You clean yourself up and make yourself look presentable again before leaving the restroom to find your friends. 

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Penny exclaims once she sees you. She gasps when you get closer, and she sees your neck, leaning in to get a better look, causing you to slap a hand over the sore spot. “Oh, my god. Who?” “What?” “You were definitely screwing someone in the back! Who?”

You wince at her volume, quickly shushing her, “Nobody, Penny, this is old.” 

Penny rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to say something, but you quickly cut her off, “I have an early meeting tomorrow, Pen; I have to get going.” Penny frowns but understands either way, giving you a quick hug and bidding you goodbye for the night. You leave her with a final Happy Birthday and make your way out of the club, already yearning for the comfort of your bed.

Before getting a taxi, you find yourself walking into a nearby store and purchasing a CD of Corroded Coffin’s first album, letting the CD burn a hole through your hands on the ride home. When you get home, you fall asleep atop your sheets before you can listen to the record. 

You spend the rest of your night dreaming of hazy summers in Hawkins with a young curly-headed boy you knew once upon a time.

————

a/n: aH, i hope this was good, next part will be a bit more angsty so this part was for the sluts <3

————

teeny taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @sidthedollface2, @peachysink, @hereforshmut, @duncanhillscoffeecups

[cartoonrival]

what happened to the house

house md finale rundown 👇because theres no way to explain what happened briefly without giving all the context of why it was insane and sickening

SO BASICALLY. wilson (oncologist) (cancer doctor) got diagnosed with cancer. originally wilson was gonna do like dangerously expedited chemo that had a high chance of killing him, and house convinced him to do the chemo at house's place so house could look after him. it was rotten and sickening and insane becuase wilson has been looking after house at his worst moments for so fucking long but this time wilson was the one in so much pain he couldn't move and house was dabbing the sweat off his face with towels and holding the puke bucket and pressing vicodin (all that house (vicodin addict) had left) (all of it) past his lips (in a gay way, sorry to derail but it was). this super chemo didn't shrink the tumor enough.

and so wilson is deciding if he wants to go through treatment which sucks ass to experience but will extend his life or if he wants to just die when he dies but get to enjoy himself. and house is a very selfish individual who loves wilson very very much so he wants wilson to do the treatment. but wilsondoesn't want to. and wilson (selfless to a fault) is literally crying begging house to just let him make this one decision for himself (i need a friend i need to know that youre there i need you to say that my life was worthwhile and i need you to tell me that you love me) but house can't let him do it. beccause he needs wilson and something very bad (very bad) would happen to house if wilson wasn't in his life anymore.

finally through some events house caves. because his refusal to accept wilson's decision was jeopardizing their relationship and he realized that for once in his miserable life he needs to accept an opinion other than his own. But then house commits a crime that is significant to me but not very significant to you and he is going to be sent back to prison (he's been on parole) like the next fucking day. for six more months. and wilson (his best friend) (his only friend) only has five months. to live. so after all that some stupid shit he did was gonna take away all the time they had left together. then he dies high off his ass in a burning building because hes a selfish miserable sob who lived selfishly without thinking about anyone other than himself even the people he loved the most he couldn't think of them in any context beyond himself. and he died in the exact same way.

UNTIL. at his fucking FUNERAL. he sends a text to WILSON ONLY that he faked his death (this sounds far fetched but its regular day for house in terms of stunts) so that he could stay out of prison and spend wilson's last 5 months with him. and only with him. because you can't fake your own death and expect to go back to literally anything that you had before, there are no more medical puzzles that he loves so fucking dearly and are the only reason he's alive. now the sole reason that he is around is for wilson. so that he can be there for wilson and be with him. in his last few months. so conclusion house didn't kill himself but he also did........ and hilson (unit? gay? you'll have to wait for my next extensive housepost......) wins yet again

[lastoneout]

CW: Discussions of weight loss, fatphobia, eating disorders, and cancer.

I still cannot get over how when I dropped 30lbs in part because I had a massive IBS flare for like two months that was so bad I was going to get multiple tests to make sure I didn't have cancer and yet I could not and STILL can't even mention it to a doctor(or most people) without them congratulating me. Like there are a few things a doctor can say that piss me the fuck off but congratulating me for dropping 30lbs during a period of my life where I thought I might be DYING instantly makes me hate them. I'm STILL having to say "I got really sick and lost 30lbs" to make people shut the fuck up. I was getting skinny so fast it was scaring my family AND me but whatever I guess being skinny is SO great and I should be thankful I went through hell that permanently changed my body in a way that I genuinely don't like!

'Cuz that's the other thing, I don't like how I look now. I gained like ~8lbs when I was in bed with the blood clot and ngl I started actually liking the way my body looked again. I don't like how I look rn, my fiance does(he loves how I look 100% of the time and I appreciate that endlessly) but even he admits I looked happier and healthier when I weighed 160lbs and now I kinda just look like I'm exhausted. When I got up to 143lbs I was looking in the mirror like "oh, I almost look like myself again, I forgot what it felt like to be happy with my body" like I looked healthier!! But nah the weight is already falling off because 135lbs is my new baseline and there's nothing I can do about that. (Also I hated how I had to get new knee braces made because my old ones don't fit anymore and I had to buy new clothes because the ones I enjoyed don't fit anymore and augh the only thing that is making me like my body rn is dressing butch, if I didn't have that I'd be going insane.) And I still have to deal with people acting like this thing that has legit ruined years of body positivity work is a good thing. Because at least I'm skinnier.

Society is so sickeningly "skinny positive" it legit disgusts me. And like this isn't even a drop in the bucket compared to what fat people go through, and it's why I'm so fucking passionate about fat liberation, I've watched tons of people I love completely destroy themselves to look more like me and I have to sit here and not only feel awful because I love them and don't want them to have to go through this but also because I know even looking like me wont be enough. Doctors still tell me to lose weight because I'm like a couple of lbs outside of "healthy" on the BMI scale, which is insane I weigh less than 10lbs more than I did when I was SIXTEEN atm and I can't say anything because I know they won't listen if I explain that even just being this thin is making me hate myself and feel like shit.

Fatphobia is so fucking evil. It absolutely destroys people. I genuinely baffles me that most skinny people can't see it because it's being used against us too, just in an affirming way and to me that is genuinely repulsive. Every compliment on my weight loss makes me want to punch through a brick wall. Knowing my story is going to be used to bludgeon other people with my condition becuase I lost weight without doing anything so "everyone" should be able to makes me so angry I could cry. It actually makes me feel sick to be praised for this, to know I'm a "success" story, to be lumped in with people who hate the people I love for the way their bodies naturally are, who want my loved ones to destroy themselves, who think I'm better than them when I am absolutely not.

Fat liberation is what we need to work towards, not "skinny positivity" or whatever, this is a systemic issue just like sexism and racism and homophobia and ableism and it must be dismantled if we want to create a better world for us all.

[prodbymaui]

Phantom Limb (Equidistant)

did we come close to having it all?

PAIRING: jeong jaehyun x you

GENRE: slice of life; the hows of us

TEASER WC: 848 words

SYNOPSIS: Between the distance of sorrys and goodbyes, where does 'us' lies?

RELEASE DATE: October 30, 2023

TAGLIST: open !! (you can send an ask or comment your usn)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: if you have questions, you can send an ask. and NO, I didn't re-write the whole movie and replaced Jaehyun's name. the teaser is just a teaser and the actual fic will have a lot more which will be different from the movie.

YOU WERE YOUNG.

''Hmm this is how it feels when you've finally bought something with your own money, huh, Jo?''

''Jo? Is that the name of your ex or side chick?''

''What.. No.'' Jaehyun chuckles. ''Jo in scottish means darling, sweetheart–.. beloved.''

''Pfft, fine. I like that. Jo..''

YOU DREAMED TOGETHER.

''When we're both finally stable and successful in life, wouldn't you be arrogant?''

''Arrogant? Why would I be?''

''Because your boyfriend is the world's most famous singer.''

His imaginations emit a hearty scoff from you. ''Then you're arrogant by then as well.''

''Uh-huh, and why is that?''

''Because your girlfriend, the president of your fansclub, is the doctor who found cures to cancers and rare diseases.''

''And I would be so proud of you when that happens.''

''Someday, love.''

''Someday, Jo.''

THERE WERE UPS.

''Happy birthday, the love of my life!''

''Thank you so much, baby! You didn't have to!''

''Uh-uh, I have to and I want to. You've been juggling studying and working at the same time and I know it has been hard. A great woman like my love only deserves the best of the bests.''

''You're such a sap. I love you, Jeong.''

''I love you, Jo. So much that it hurts.''

THERE WERE DOWNS.

''Jaehyun? Could you maybe wash the dishes before you go? I'm just really short of time.''

''I'm sorry, Jo, but I need to go. All the guys are there and you know how they go when practicing by themselves.''

''Oh.. I'll do the dishes. You take care, hmm?''

''Dude, are you tone-deaf? You're literally fucking out of tune.''

''What do you mean, bro? I think it sounds fine.''

''No, no, you're not fucking hitting the right note. You know what? Get out.''

''Jaehyun–''

''Get the fuck out of my house. What the fuck is happening to musicians nowadays? If they're not taking it seriously, they're fucking tone-deaf.''

''Love, maybe you should rest first.. ?''

YET YOUR LOVE WAS STRONGER.

''Girl, be honest with me. Are you still studying? Your life before used to be all about studying, studying, studying, and a sprinkle of Jaehyun. But now it's all Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun.''

''Rosé, come on. You know we're still waiting for Jaehyun's biggest break. After that, I can focus back on studying.''

''And if that break doesn't happen?''

''Don't be so negative!''

STORMS AFTER STORMS.

''Hello? Do you know anyone named Jeong Jaehyun?''

''Hi, yes. That's my boyfriend. May I ask why you're calling from his phone?''

''You might wanna pick him up, he's dead drunk, been here since last night and won't leave. I'll just text the address from his number, I guess.''

''A-alright, I'm so sorry for the inconvenience–''

''Oh, and you might want to bring extra cash with you. His 7k bill is not yet paid, not even a penny.''

''Rosé–''

''Where the fuck are you? You can't miss this exam!''

''I-I'm coming, I just.. Jaehyun– fuck, he's–''

''Fuck him! Just leave him alone! A few minutes left and we're gonna start. This is a bar exam, get that shit inside your head! Get your ass here if you don't want all your efforts to go to waste.''

''Rosé..''

''Please, you don't deserve this. Think about all those nights you stayed up to study. I'm sure Jaehyun will understand..''

''I.. Okay– okay, I'm coming.''

''I love you, best friend. Jaehyun will understand, okay?''

You cradle Jaehyun's face in your hands, brushing his hair out of his face as if your own isn't a mess along with the tears running. Jaehyun looks through the hazy film of his eyes, he sobs with you.

''I'm sorry, love. I'm so so sorry– God– I'm sorry. Just this one time, please? Just this once, I need to take this exam. I'll call Eunwoo to pick you up.''

Giving one last kiss on your lover's forehead, you quickly catch a taxi and close the door on Jaehyun's face. You bury your face in your hands as you stifle your sobs. Maybe you can stop worrying. Eunwoo will pick him up, he's Jaehyun's best friend.

AND YOU WONDER..

But as you turn your head, Jaehyun with his clothes wrinkled lays on the cold ground, in his own pool of vomit. As he meets your eyes, he starts reaching out to you. For you.

You're just a lover. One that has so much love for Jeong Jaehyun.

The tires screech as you plead stop to the taxi driver, giving him the last of your money before running towards your boyfriend who's grunting and murmuring.

Your heart hurts at the worst state you've ever seen Jaehyun. The ache only gets unbearable as you take him in your arms and carry all his weight. Your heart.. it's as if being squeezed a thousand times, getting pricked with thorns.  

''Just leave him alone!'' Rosé's voice rings in your head.

''I'm sorry.. I can't.'' You whisper an apology. Not to anyone, no.

Because as you fix Jaehyun, clean Jaehyun, tuck him in bed– no one deserves an apology from you more than yourself.

IS IT ALL WORTH IT?

[avelera]

So now that I'm caught up on Interview with the Vampire (as of ep 2.5) I want to say a few words about the appearance of Raglan James, aka the antagonist in "The Tale of the Body Thief".

First, and on the most basic level, I lost my fucking mind when he showed up. Body Thief is perhaps a controversial installment of the Vampire Chronicles but it's actually one of my favorites (and I could write essays on why).

Once I was done screaming in delight at his appearance, I went looking to see the reaction of other book fans and here I must admit I am puzzled.

Many book fans here seem to think that Raglan James isn't what he appears. That he's Marius, or David Talbot, or Aaron Lightner, or some other book character in disguise.

I vehemently disagree with this both for Watsonian (in-universe) and Doylist (out-of-universe, practical) reasons.

Raglan James is Raglan James, the Body Thief, and I'm going to reiterate this a few times in explaining why I hold this view.

Now, to get into why I think the show is just giving us pre-canon Raglan James right now, and not already playing with his body jumping abilities by having him be someone like Marius:

When introducing a character who is effectively a shapeshifter, in this case the Body Thief himself, Raglan James, you actually do need to show him in his "normal" state first because not everyone in the audience is familiar with his ability because of the books. You have to introduce and build up this ability gradually because it's a very confusing ability for a visual medium to have a different actor playing the same character (and if you don't believe me, go check out some other famous shapeshifter characters like Mystique or The Doctor and see how carefully the narrative introduces and builds up how their power works, almost always starting by showing them in a normal "original" state as a baseline).

Showing him for the first time in another guise would only create confusion. We need to know who he is on his own before we can begin to play with the narrative. At most, I think his current form might be the body of his first "jump" into the body of his fellow inmate, but even then, I think that's something you save for later, when you introduce the ability he has. I really think we're actually seeing early or pre-canon, real Raglan (the one who had cancer) right now in his first original body. Honestly, I wouldn't even be surprised if Raglan doesn't have the ability yet and is building up towards achieving it. I think right now, he's just a normal, scummy, kleptomaniac Talamasca member.

Is "Raglan" his real name? Perhaps not, the man is an infamous con artist. But I took Daniel's skepticism to be more in line with "You made up a silly sounding name because you're a drama queen and great believer in your own legend. Your real name is probably something normal like "Bob', Raglan," rather than an invitation by the audience to assume that Raglan is, for example, Marius or another vampire in disguise.

My sense is that we're setting up Raglan to be the post-Queen of the Damned antagonist, just like he was in the books. But in order to introduce him to best effect then, instead of a totally confusing appearance out of left field (like he is in the book, tbh), it's actually very clever to introduce him now, early on, as a Talamasca member (or recently kicked out of it) before introducing him as the Body Thief. They're making him a normal, known member of the cast before they toss him out there as one of the most bizarre antagonists of the entire book series.

Personally, I think that Raglan is being introduced now as our first introduction to the Talamasca. The Talamasca is a very questionable organization on many levels, we are often meant to distrust them or view them with the same distrust as the supernatural creatures do who encounter them, despite the fact they're actually mostly benevolent in the books so the suspicion supernatural characters view with them often feels a bit excessive. So it makes sense that our first introduction to it is with a somewhat shady character, in order to justify the book levels of suspicion vampires and witches feel towards the Talamasca, because the first one of their members we meet is a con artist and a villain, even if later ones are mostly good guys.

Basically, I think instead of just introducing Raglan out of the blue after he's jumped bodies a couple times. Instead, we're going "back in time" so to speak, showing the prologue of his backstory and intertwining it with the main story so it's not so shocking when he shows up later as an antagonist.

For my money, Raglan hasn't been kicked out of the Talamasca yet or he has very recently been kicked out and is now hunting down Daniel on his own in order to get closer to his real targets, powerful vampires like Lestat or Armand. He's going to be a regular for a bit, a shadowy figure at the edges, perhaps drop away for a bit during the events of Queen of the Damned, and then come back as the main antagonist, with all the familiarity we have with him, after those events as the new antagonist.

And as for Marius... along similar lines of, "you have to show how something works before you break it / you have to show who a character is before you disguise them with a shapeshifter's abilities" IMO, when we see Marius, we're going to see Marius. We're going to see Armand's master in his original form. We're probably going to see him the way we first do in Queen of the Damned, busy tending the shrine of Those Who Must Be Kept.

I don't, for my money, think we're going to deviate so much that Marius is going to show up (except in flashbacks) just because the characters are talking about him.

The whole point of Lestat becoming a rock star, the whole justification for it in Queen of the Damned and the Vampire Lestat was to draw out all the vampires in his life, vampires he's missed like Louis and Armand and Marius. The whole point was to bring them to him.

Having Marius just randomly pick up that Louis and Armand are talking about him and then show up smacks of television coincidence. But the show's narrative is too carefully crafted for that.

So, in my opinion, Marius will be held in reserve. We will only see him in flashbacks at first, probably not until Season 3 so they can cast his actor for the whole season (nice thing about Raglan James, since he is a shapeshifter/body thief you can always recast him later once his plotline kicks off). Marius will emerge for the same reasons he did in the books, because that lends weight to Lestat's otherwise batshit insane plan to become a rockstar, because it might be crazy but it works.

Marius has no need to appear in the body of a human before that. It makes no sense from a television angle (where it only causes confusion) or from a story angle, because he'd have no reason to show up in Armand's life now when he hasn't done so before except that we've first learned about him in the show.

Obviously I could be completely wrong! It would be amusing to eat my words and it has admittedly been a very long time since I read all the books (though I read them over and over back when I did). But these are my lengthy two cents on the matter.

[jacksprostate]

Can you talk about how fight club is the story of a deeply closedeted gay man the wake of the aids crisis? How do his anxieties about hiv manifest?

yeah sure! i feel like i've talked about it in bits and pieces in a few different posts which I'll link here but I'll also type up a little summary. Not operating on 100% so forgive me if it's a bit all over the place.

On the narrator and Marla wrt sexuality

On the Lou scene of the movie

The central obvious joke yet not really comparison

Anyway so. I'm going to focus on the book as always but lots still generally applies to the movie and in the above links you can see a bit about the Lou scene from the movie if that's your interest.

So first I think it's important to acknowledge the narrator meets Tyler on an empty nude beach. This has a lot of connotations for a lot of reasons. Nude beaches/beaches in general have long been a gay male hookup spot. The beach is empty — it's the 90s. Many, many people have died. The narrator chose to go there — an interesting one. Stepping out of bounds a little only to be reminded of the constant threat, by how no one is there. He just watches Tyler do his thing, doesn't engage. He keeps his foot, with the AIDS-like rash on it, buried in the sand so he doesn't start dying in people's eyes (and presumably so if he ever got the gumption, he could tap it). Even if you assume the nude beach isn't specifically gay, all these things still apply, and it's still his idealized man he hallucinated all sweaty and tan.

Kind of discussed in the Marla related link above but he's like, horrifically repressed, even if he WAS straight. He can't imagine himself having sex. But when he has Tyler have straight sex (see above link for detailed thoughts on that), it's Marla he's jealous of. It is literally written that way. He is jealous of Marla stealing Tyler's attention and ruining the vibe they had with just the two of them.

Something, something, elaborate rituals for the touch of another man. Getting a big rubbery one in response to Bob. Arguably it's about him getting off on misery but it's not like it was written with regard to Chloe. And Chloe— amyl nitrite/poppers are commonly used in gay bathhouses and stuff. Used in straight sex too but yeah pretty common... Back to Bob though, this mimicry of closeness with another human being  another man in particular, staring down the gun at a man who can't functional have sex like society expects him to anymore. 

He invents a club that word for word could be swapped with gay sex for a large portion of its introduction. He is desperate for the touch of another man even if violence is the only way he can get it. Sex would be violence, in an age of being terrified of AIDS. 

The constant underlying sharing of blood and spit and contaminating food etc. All these other ways HIV is spread. But at least it wouldn't be That way. If that's his destined way to die then at least it wouldn't be like that. Dark, but.

The fucking scene about his birthmark holy shit man. Essentially, the doctors thought his birthmark was a sign of, pretty much, Kaposi's sarcoma. The cancer overwhelmingly associated with AIDS, and he's a medical marvel. Because he'd be dying from an unknown horrific disease. Now he hides the birthmark, because that unknown disease is everywhere now. <-bastardization of a line from the book. And when people see that birthmark, he starts dying in their eyes. If he was openly gay in any fashion, he'd start dying in their eyes too. The same way.

There is, distinctly, a sense of a complete lack of actual functional future. There is a sense of complete lack of role models from the past. 

The environmentalist turn even in this sense. The burden of history. He was not the one who spread the virus. There's a lot of deep, deep self hate and internalized homophobia in that. In the single time the narrator mentions gay men, too — as gay men wanting children being the cause for why all the single mothers in the clinic Marla goes to  are dying of AIDS. But that's not true. Gay men, overwhelmingly, are not the reason it went from gay men to eventually reaching women. But what he repeats is part of the societal curse upon them, and what he repeats is a chastisement, look what happens when you dare desire anything. If you actually want to act on those perversions. You curse everything and everyone. Stay repressed, or you'll die and kill everyone.

He invents Tyler. "Perfectly handsome and an angel in his everything-blond way." He invents the perfect man, who also can never infect him. Who also pisses and spits in soups, god what a conundrum — society assumes you're evil, sick, and damned, but you're still their responsibility. How do they like it. I am not glamorizing the willful spread of disease lol I don't think it's ever a sane response but in fiction it hits that like... vindictive anguish. 

Honestly, even the section I just mentioned. Where Tyler rants to the union boss. You don't actually give a single shit about me and better yet you probably hate the living shit out of me. But I am still your responsibility. You have sucked me dry til I have nothing to love, and you have everything. And the narrator says he says the same thing Tyler said, but about contaminated food. The parallels, with how that would apply to people with HIV, especially gay men. There is so, so much emphasis on the narrator's blood and how it gets all over the Pressman hotel's manager.

Fight Club, Project Mayhem — they're the designs of someone who doesn't expect to live long. The home of people who don't expect to live long. Whether that's because medical care is too expensive or because you catch a blood infection or because the cops shoot you. 

And at the end, after everything has happened, after his manic pixie dream boy helped him martyr himself, what does he really get? Idk man. Drugs that will kill his sex drive. A deep fear of himself that now has evidence for how far he can fall. A deep disillusionment. No hate, but no love either. Still just empty, now knowing he has opened pandora's box, whether he intended to or not. He can't put it back. He tried. 

Idk. something to be said about all that. Probably a lot more as well but that's just off the top of my head.

[rishiguro]

12; VISIT

iwaizumi didn't have to wait for long until his best friend picked up the call.

"hello iwa-chan," oikawa sang with a smile on his lips, "can't believe that this is one of the rare moments where you're the one to call me"

iwaizumi's lips curved weakly, rolling his eyes at the setter's antics.

well, he wasn't wrong. usually it was indeed oikawa who called first, usually during his breaks at practice or on his days off, when iwaizumi was either also on a break or already off work, getting ready for bed.

"yeah well, miracles happen," iwaizumi stated, shrugging. his eyes darted to the top of his screen, reading the time. remembering how late it actually was for his friend, he couldn't help himself, scolding him. "and you really shouldn't be awake anymore, you know? i thought you fixed your sleeping schedule?"

oikawa gasped, a hand on his chest as he laid back in his chair. "excuse me, i'm doing perfectly fine, thank you very much?”

shortly after the brown haired man furrowed his brows, carefully examining the image on his screen.

"also, don't try to change the topic. don't think i can't see that you're definitely not at home. at at mattsun's or makki's"

iwaizumi cursed mentally. obviously it was pointless, his best friend has always been incredibly fast to pick up the slightest shift of mood or every piss-poor attempt to divert his attention. "i know, i'm sorry. it's just—" he sighed, ripping his eyes away from the screen in front of him and opting to look at his hand holding the phone, "yeah i don't really know how to say this"

oikawa's face fell as he heard his, body leaning towards the phone propped up on his desk.

"hajime, you're worrying me" he uttered carefully.

the two of them have known each other for all their lives and been through every stage of life together. they've experienced joy, anger, loss and heartbreak together, yet oikawa could count on one hand how often he has seen his best friend so distraught.

silent seconds turned into minutes, words hanging on iwaizumi's lips, yet never really managing to spill over the edge.

slowly oikawa started to get impatient, his leg bouncing rapidly under his desk. there was no way that his best friend would make jokes about such situations, so he knew that the prolonged silence should be credited to iwaizumi's nervousness. and while the setter didn't want to pressure his best to tell him anything, his mind started racing, jumping from one horrible scenario to the next. "i swear if this is just some stupid prank i will fly over there and—“

"i have cancer," iwaizumi blurted out, jaw clenching immediately after.

"what?" oikawa stared at his screen in disbelief as iwaizumi looked away from the camera.

he slowly nodded, pulling his knees closer to him as he sat. "cancer. i don't know much more yet, the doctors told me they're going to do some lab tests and x-rays to figure it out"

oikawa cursed loudly, hiding his face in his hands for some moments before starting to massage his temples with closed eyes.

"yeah. fuck"

silence settled over the two for the n-th time, however this time it was heavy on their shoulders. iwaizumi didn't even dare to turn his face back to the camera, afraid to face his best friend, afraid of what he might see.

he didn't want to be pitied, he didn't want to see the look of horror on his face or the sad look in his eyes.

he didn't want it to be real.

it was the brown haired setter that spoke again, parting his tightly closed lips again. "how far along?" iwaizumi's jaw clenched. " don't know yet. not for sure, that is"

"okay" he nodded.

after moments that felt hours to him, iwaizumi allowed himself to take a glance on his phone screen. the setter was hunched over on his desk, face hidden in his hands. iwaizumi could see his forced deep breaths as his best friend desperately tried to stay calm.

the dark haired man swallowed, trying to get rid of the big lump in his throat. his eyes darted back to the time, instantly feeling regret. "i know it's late and i'm—“

"don't," his best friend immediately interrupted, holding his hand up. "don't you even dare to apologize. i just—" he paused for a second, leaning back on his chair again, arms falling down. his eyes were distant, like he was zoning out. "just don't know what else to say”

feeling ashamed, iwaizumi looked away again, chewing on his bottom lip.

"okay" oikawa took a deep breath, leaning forward before he started rapidly typing on his keyboard.

confused, iwaizumi looked at his best friend. "what are you doing?"

"i'm checking the next flights and getting myself a ticket,” he stated, like it was completely obvious.

"tooru—“

he shook his head, effectively cutting his best friend off, without even looking at the screen. "no, hajime. i don't care. my best friend is in the hospital and has cancer for fucks sake. there's no way i'm not going" he clenched his jaw, brows furrowed in concentration. "don't expect me to just stay here and not do anything. because i won't. i can't"

and if oikawa looked at the screen, he would've seen iwaizumi quickly wiping a tear from his cheek.

evanescent

/ɛvəˈnɛs(ə)nt,iːvəˈnɛs(ə)nt/ — “soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.”

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taglist: @ninjamomo @not-another-ackerman @midnight-drives-with-sunarin @bloombb @jewlmin

[madsworld15]

I Am Still Here Part 1

This fic is something that I came up with during conversations with @winderlylandchime about AU fic ideas. I am still working on Heal Me, Hold Me, Make Me, Know Me but I needed a break for a tick.

So, instead, I am writing an AU fic where Justin is 21 and Brian is 33, and they meet when their support groups have to combine one night due to a lack of group leaders. Justin has PTSD from a bashing 6 months prior. And Brian's cancer diagnosis isn't so cut and dry, so he is depressed about his odds. Anyway, here is part 1.

Word Count: 3,372

“So, what are you in for?” A bored yet sultry voice whispered from Justin’s left as he sat a bit back from the circle of people. 

He turned and almost lost his breath at the sight before him. At 21 Justin had been around the block a time or two when it came to dating men. He’d discovered his sexuality while still in high school and had run the gambit of one-night stands, quick, anonymous fucks, and boyfriends – both casual and serious. But, never before had he seen a man as gorgeous as the one speaking to him now. With a sharp jawline, a lean but still fit body, and bedroom eyes that could make even a monk forget his religious vows of celibacy, this man was the literal definition of sex on a stick.

“I’m sorry?” Justin asked, his brain had short-circuited and thus been unable to process what had been said.

“This,” The man motioned his arm to the room before them. “What brings you here? You don’t look like you have cancer. So it’s either grief or whatever the fuck the other one was they decided to throw into the pot today.”

Justin sucked his lips between his teeth to hide the chuckle that threatened to come out. He could already tell he was going to like this man. He had a laissez-faire attitude that harbored a level of no-bullshit Justin could get behind.

“PTSD.” Justin quirked his eyebrow. “Guess I’m lucky number three. I wondered why I hadn’t seen you here before. Then again, it’s only my second time coming.”

“And already you have decided to stay away from the class.” The man smirked, which somehow made him even hotter. 

Justin finally took stock of his well-styled brunette hair. It was styled to look like the man actually didn’t give a shit about it, which left some strands at the front spiked up while the rest lay flat. Judging by his designer, albeit casual, attire, this man never let anyone see him without first spending an hour in the bathroom on his appearance.

Justin shrugged, “I don’t like groups.”

“I tried to say that to Lindsay. I told her, ‘Fuck Groups!’ and she replied with a quip about how she thought I did.” the man slid down in his chair, spreading his legs out in front of him. “Do you think they’ll notice if we just duck out?”

Justin silently wondered who Lindsay was. At first, he thought maybe the man was married to her or something, but then he made a sex joke about groups. Now, Justin was even more confused.

“Jessica is the group leader for my typical support group, and she has eyes like a hawk. If she feels you are itching to leave, she will force you to talk.” Justin whispered out of the side of his mouth, having noticed that Jessica’s eyes were now on him.

“Justin. You didn’t share much with us last week. Why not try again?” Jessica’s voice was that fake sweet that made Justin angry.

“What makes you think adding more people to the mix will make me more willing to share? Yes, more eyes to stare at the poor fag who got his ass beat so bad he’s scared of his own shadow.” Justin hadn’t realized he had clenched his hands into fists or that he was breathing heavily until the brunette man’s hand landed on top of his left fist.

Without a word, the brunette rubbed Justin’s knuckles until he released his grip. Then, shocking those in the group who must typically spend an hour once a week with the brunette, he decided to speak.

“I’m Brian. Today was my third dose of radiation. The doctor told me it wouldn’t be a picnic, but did he really have to act like he enjoyed it? I mean fuck, my balls are on fire, and my stomach makes me vomit almost every thirty minutes. And don’t get me started on how much my body just hurts.”

“Thank you for sharing, Brian.” Jessica’s saccharin voice floated out, causing Justin to look up. “Would anyone like to share words of encouragement with Brian?”

Brian coughed and abruptly stood up, dragging Justin up with him. “Yeah, nope. I’m out. I came, and not in the way I’d prefer. I shared. And now I’m leaving.”

Without another glance toward the rest of the people in attendance, Brian dragged Justin toward the door and out into the cool night air. The minute the doors were closed, Brian dropped Justin’s hand, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one up. He inhaled and then handed it over to Justin, who shook his head.

“Don’t you have cancer?” Justin looked at the man incredulously.

“Yeah, but it’s in my balls, not my lungs.” Brian took another deep inhale as if to prove a point. Justin shook his head. He could already feel his heart falling for the older man named Brian.

“If you didn’t want support from others, then why do you go to a support group?” Justin stared at the man before him. There was an air of mystery about him. He was definitely older than Justin, but beyond that and his looks, Justin needed more.

“Trust me, it was the tidier of my two options.” Brian licked his lips and offered the cigarette to Justin once more. This time, he took it.

“According to my best friends and Debbie, I could either seek ‘help’ or face their unrelenting wrath.” Brian put quotations around the word help, further convincing Justin that he didn’t believe in therapy.

“If they are anything like my mother, I can completely understand why you’d opt to go somewhere you despise,” Justin commented, handing back the cigarette.

“You want to get out of here?” Brian stubbed out the cigarette and quirked his eyebrow at Justin. “I could use a drink.”

Justin knew he should hesitate; to not allow this perfect stranger to lead him to one of his unsafe spaces, but Brian’s eyes were convincing. So, instead, he motioned as if giving Brian permission to lead the way. As they walked, he pulled out his flip phone and saw a text message from Daphne.

From: Daphne 7:45 pm

Your mom told me about group. I’m proud of you. Come by after, we can drink and talk.

Justin shook his head and rolled his eyes. He would not be going by Daphne’s “after this” because it would be just like going to his goddamn psychiatrist. Daphne was studying psychiatry and felt the need to constantly practice on him. Or at least, she had for the past six months since that night.��

Brian must’ve noticed him pull out his phone because he slowed down his pace to get in line with him. Once they were side by side, the older man gently nudged Justin’s shoulder with his own.

“You have somewhere else you need to be?” Brian lifted an eyebrow in question.

Justin shoved his phone back into his pocket. “No. Daphne just wants to psychoanalyze me.”

Brian didn’t reply, but he did fix Justin with a questioning look. Justin went back and forth in his head for a bit before he decided he felt comfortable enough sharing with this man he barely knew.

“My best friend. She’s currently studying to be a psychiatrist. She offered for me to come over for drinks and a chat, but I know it’ll end up sounding more like therapy.” Justin stared at his feet as he scuffed them along the pavement, kicking a pebble of cement that had broken free.

Brian simply nodded and let the matter drop. Justin greatly appreciated that about him. They continued to walk. Justin didn’t realize where they were going until it was almost right upon them. One glance toward the bars of Liberty Avenue and Justin’s breath caught in his lungs. He leaned over, unable to take in anything more than short, shallow breaths. His vision started to swim when a firm hand landed gently on his shoulder.

Through the fog, sounding like he was underwater, a feeling Justin was extremely familiar with at this point, he heard Brian trying to talk to him.

“Justin. Take a deep breath. Can you walk?” 

Justin felt his chest tighten even more, and he shook his head. Or at least he thought he did. Based on the panic in Brian’s voice, he must not have moved at all.

“Justin. Please, just breathe. Close your eyes and think of your safe space. Once you are ready, we can leave.”

Justin’s brain felt like it had sand in it, but he could still hear each time Brian started his litany of reassurances over again. They must’ve stood there, with Brian’s hand barely on his shoulder, grounding him, for a good ten minutes before the panic in his chest subsided. Justin’s vision came back, and the first thing he noticed was the surly appearance of Brian had switched into one more vulnerable and freaked out.

“I’m sorry.” Justin stood up completely and shook out his limbs. After a panic attack, they always felt like lead for a few minutes after.

“Apologies are bullshit.” Brian shrugged, putting a wall back up. His face was stony once more, which oddly enough soothed Justin further. This man wasn’t about to baby him, and for that, he was grateful.

“I could really use a drink.” Justin released a breathy chuckle as he made eye contact with Brian.

“I know a place that is a little less scary than Liberty Avenue,” Brian suggested.

“Is it public?” Justin’s voice came out small and timid, which he could beat himself for, but with his body still recovering from his panic attack, he didn’t have the strength for it.

“Not exactly.” Brian drew out his words but immediately reassured Justin, “It’s my friend Emmett’s place. He hosts private parties there most nights, but he takes Thursdays off. I can always count on him for alcohol and a judgment-free zone.”

“If he takes Thursdays off, how do you know he will be there?” Justin questioned, still not entirely sure this option sounded any more safe.

Brian pulled out his phone, one of those fancy ones people with money had, and pushed a few buttons.

“Hey, Em. I need a drink. Can I swing by tonight?” Brian spoke into his device.

He must’ve heard what he wanted because a moment later, he pushed a button to end the call and looked at Justin with a smile on his face.

“We’re good. Let’s go.” Brian gently grabbed the lapel of Justin’s jacket and pulled him toward one of the side streets, away from Liberty Avenue.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a brick building. The lights of the first floor were all on and a sign over the door read: Milk and Honey. Justin glanced over at Brian, his eyebrow lifted in question. Brian smirked and shook his head. 

“Emmett is one of my closest friends and Pittsburgh’s greatest party planner.” Brian knocked on the door without any further preamble or explanation.

“Bri!” A tall, overly skinny man with auburn hair styled wildly opened the door with a grin that lit up the night street. “I was just about to close up when you called. Inventory day is no joke.”

“Hey, Em. This is Justin. We met at support group and then bailed on support group.” Brian shrugged and wrapped his friend up in a moment of intimacy Justin never would’ve expected based on what he’d learned about this man.

“I promise not to tell the mother hens.” Emmett kissed Brian on the cheek with a wink.

 “Hello, I’m Emmett Honeycutt.” the man turned toward Justin and put out his hand.

Justin bit his lip and gave a forced smile but didn’t take Emmett’s hand. He was still shaken from his panic attack, and his brain couldn’t handle even the slightest human touch right now unless it came from Brian, which was something he would need to unpack at a later time.

“Don’t take it personal, Honeycutt.” Brian cut in and wrapped his arm around Emmett’s shoulders. “He has PTSD and doesn’t let hardly anyone touch him.”

Emmett gave Justin a reassuring smile and then wrestled out of Brian’s embrace with a “Don’t call me Honeycutt!” that had no bite behind it. 

“I’m sorry.” Justin rubbed his hands together and gave Emmett a deeply apologetic look. “I just haven’t been the same since it happened.”

“Hey, what did I tell you? Apologies are bullshit.” Brian, who had somehow ended up across the room already, pulled out some glasses and held up the half-empty bottle of whiskey. “Who wants a shot?”

 Justin didn’t respond just moved closer to the bar setup and put his hand out for a tumbler. Emmett, on the other hand, squealed excitedly and clapped his hands as he bounced over to join the two.

Justin hugged his tumbler tight in the grip of his two hands and remained silent while Emmett and Brian started up a conversation. He sat on a stool and let his eyes observe the two best friends in their natural ease.

“So, support group still not your thing?” Emmett raised an eyebrow at Brian. “I don’t know why you go if you hate it so much.”

“It keeps Lindsay, Michael, and Debbie off my back.” Brian shrugged as he threw back the shot and hissed as it went down.

“You’ve never let them walk all over you before.” Emmett reached out to place his hand on Brian’s, which sat on the counter. Just as the man’s hand made contact though, Brian pulled away as if the touch was fire.

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly Brian anymore, am I?” Brian licked his lips and closed his eyes, leaning his weight onto his elbows on the counter.

Justin observed as the closed-off, staunch man he’d met at the support group not an hour prior suddenly wrapped in on himself and became a shell of a person. It kind of reminded Justin of what he was like when his depression really took hold.

“You know I don’t judge.” Emmett started to say, walking around the counter to stand directly next to Brian, who glared up at him. “However, I think you’re giving this too much power.”

Emmett didn’t say what this implied, but Justin could easily figure it out. Much like Brian, Emmett seemed to avoid putting the word to what Brian had: cancer. It was as if the two felt without labeling it they could pretend it wasn’t potentially life-threatening. Justin watched as Emmett silently ran his fingers through Brian’s hair, and Brian subtly leaned into the touch. Then, just as quickly, the moment was ruined by Brian cupping his hand in front of his mouth and rushing to the nearby sink. 

The sounds of vomiting permeated the room, but Justin ducked his head as if to show Brian he wasn’t paying attention to it. After he was done, the older man didn’t return to the counter right away. Instead, Justin heard a door behind him open and close, leaving him alone with Emmett.

“Sorry about that. The radiation really kicks his butt even if he tries to pretend it doesn’t.” Emmett smiled and shrugged, grabbing the glasses and putting them to the side to be washed later.

“If you knew it was going to make him sick, why’d you let him drink?” Justin was truly curious about this friendship dynamic.

“You just met him so you might not realize, but Brian doesn’t take too kindly to being told he can’t do something.” Emmett raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Besides, sometimes you just need a fucking drink.”

Justin raised his glass in agreement, “Amen.”

A silence fell between them. Justin took another sip of the whiskey and winched at the burn. He didn’t drink much, not because he wasn’t legally able to, but because he wasn’t really keen on the taste. For Justin, drinking had always been a social thing. He worried his bottom lip as his thoughts swam with visions of his attack and the support group and Brian rescuing him. Even six months out, Justin still had nightmares and day scares about the person who attacked him for kissing his boyfriend. The young man was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of Emmett speaking once again.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’m a curious Kathy so what caused your PTSD?” Emmett’s spark was back and he animatedly leaned forward to cut the distance between him and Justin in half.

Justin bit down hard on the lip he’d been nervously worrying for the past ten minutes. He didn’t know Emmett, but he also didn’t want to seem like a weakling who couldn’t even talk about what had happened to him. He took a deep breath and was about to respond when the door behind him opened once more, and he heard Brian’s footsteps approach.

“I was bashed outside my boyfriend’s concert six months ago. We were kissing, and this guy jumped us. He had a bat.” Justin mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Brian stopped in his tracks, his presence evident despite still being behind Justin.

“Fuck.” Brian breathed out as Emmett’s hand flew to his mouth in shock.

“Just drop it. Okay.” Justin took the last swig of his whiskey and stood up. He needed to leave. This was getting too personal, and he wasn’t comfortable anymore.

“I should go.” He walked past Emmett and Brian, still frozen where they stood, and out the door onto the street.

Twenty minutes later, Justin paid the cab driver and walked up the driveway of his parents' home. They’d been fighting a lot lately, and he hoped tonight wasn’t one of them. It was bad enough that he was 21 and had to move back in with his parents because he couldn’t hack it in the dorms with his PTSD, but to also have to basically hide who he was from his dad was even worse.

Sure, his dad knew, in theory, that he’d been bashed for kissing another man. However, once Justin had been released and realized that even approaching PIFA’s campus gave him extreme anxiety, his father allowed him to move back in. Not another word was spoken about his sexuality, and considering Justin couldn’t stand being around other people right now, it hadn’t been an issue. Justin reached the front door and was about to turn the key when it flung open, and his angry father’s face greeted him.

“Where the fuck have you been? When you moved back in, I told you that you had to be back by 9. It is 9:30.” Criag’s voice was menacing, but Justin didn’t even flinch. He wasn’t afraid of his father, not anymore.

“Relax. I went to support group and then hung out with Brian for a few minutes after. Then I had to wait for a cab.” Justin shrugged and pushed past the elder man.

“Who the fuck is Brian. He’s not a pervert like the boy who caused you to become confused and then be attacked, is he?” Justin looked up at his father, finally seeing the man for who he was.

It hadn’t been that his father didn’t realize he was gay. It was he thought that by letting Justin move back in, he was saving his son from being manipulated and brainwashed. With a deep breath, Justin stood strong and addressed his father.

“I wasn’t confused. That ‘boy,’ as you stated, was my boyfriend. We were in love. I’m gay. Nothing can change that, not you and not some assholes with a bat.” Justin inhaled and then continued, “As for Brian, he’s just someone I connected with at the support group. He has cancer, and we got to talking. That’s it, not that it's any business of yours.”

Craig slapped Justin across the face without hesitation, “I won’t tolerate any smart-mouthing or sexual deviance in my house.”

Justin rubbed his cheek gingerly and then smirked, “Okay. I’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

With that he turned on his heel and walked up the stairs to his bedroom and shut the door.

[callsignspark]

holding hands during a stressful situation for the intimacy prompts with Mary and Bradley!!

hi anon! thanks for sending this one!! I got the best idea for this and I loved the way it turned out!

surprise?

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, mentions of cancer, pregnancy, alluding to abortion, this is set once they’re already together, so many goddamn pet names, also you don’t need to read Mar[r]y Me to read and understand this but you should anyway

word count: 1.6k

note: I'm wandering somewhere around Boston at the moment, but please enjoy this! I'll be lurking when I can so please send stuff! I’ll see you on Monday!

“Honey, please sit down.” Mary is trying her best to be comforting, even as she feels the annoyance creeping up in her chest.

I know you’re scared, but I’m fucking terrified. Is what she wants to yell at him; it’s been a tense week, and his pacing is not helping her anxiety.

But she doesn’t.

She knows how stressed Bradley has been, how stressed he is. He’s kept a brave face on for the girls, but now that it’s just the two of them, she can feel his emotions bouncing off the walls.

“Okay, so based on what you’ve told me, I think our best course of action is to run some tests and see what’s going on.”

“Could it be cancer?”

“Mr. Bradshaw, I won’t speculate on what it could be, there are several things that-”

“I’m just asking if it’s a possibility. Her family doesn’t have a history of cancer, but they’re also not the best at going to the doctor, so who knows.”

Doctor Hong leans back on the stool, crossing her arms over her chest. She must see the terrified look in his eyes because she softens. “Mr. Bradshaw, like I said. It could be several different things that are causing these symptoms. I won’t lie to you; there is a possibility that it could be cancer. But we don’t want to worry about that until we officially have a diagnosis. Other than her recent problems, Mary is very healthy, and I’m confident that we’ll be able to handle whatever is going on.”

Her words during Monday’s appointment had done little to comfort Bradley. He had spent the entire week with his eyebrows creased. It’s Friday, and Mary is starting to worry that it’s going to be a permanent expression on his face.

They both took the day off, leaving the girls in the care of Grandma and Grandpa Mitchell before heading to the healthcare complex. Mary had spent most of the morning going through the tests Dr. Hong had ordered.

Blood pressure.

Urine test.

Blood work.

Pap smear.

Abdomen ultrasound.

Then, she was released and informed that the doctor would review her results that afternoon and call them if anything urgent showed up.

Her phone rang halfway to the house.

Bradley made the first u-turn he could legally make, tires squealing, and now they’re waiting in an office. Mary’s leg bouncing as Bradley paces up and down, across the carpet and back, tenser than she had ever seen him.

“Please come sit with me.” The shake in her voice finally getting him to stop.

“I’m sorry.” He mummers, grabbing her hand and squeezing. “I’m just scared.”

“Me too, Bradley. But it’ll be okay.”

“You can’t promise-”

“Honey, we’ve handled a lot. We’ll get through whatever this is, okay? Because it’s us. We made vows to each other, and I’m not done with you yet.” Her voice cracks on the last part, tears springing to both of their eyes.

“Fuck, I’m supposed to be comforting you, baby doll. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bad husband this week.”

“I get it, honey, it’s okay. It’s a bit too similar to your mom for comfort.”

“But that doesn’t make it okay! Shit. I wish I could talk to my parents about this. Dad wasn’t there, but I know he would have been so much better about this than me!”

Mary pulls him in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Breathe, handsome. We don’t know what’s going on yet.”

“Baby doll, I don’t want to sound like a paranoid asshole, but them calling us less than twenty minutes after we left can’t be good.”

Dr. Hong enters the room, cutting off any further worrying. “Hi guys, thanks for coming back in so quickly. Just let me get your file pulled up, and we’ll go through the results.”

It’s a tense few minutes, the clacking of the keyboard grating on the couple’s nerves, before the practitioner turns to them and folds her hands on the big oak desk.

“I reviewed your test results, and everything came back normal. We did find something on the ultrasound.” Bradley’s hand starts to crush Mary’s. “But it’s nothing to worry about. If you could just look at the screen right here.”

All three heads swivel to the monitor on the wall, a grainy black-and-white image showing up. “So everything looks healthy in here, Mary. The only thing we found was a baby. Congratulations, mom and dad! It looks like you’re about-”

Dr. Hong keeps talking, explaining how far along Mary is and what the baby's due date will be, but it’s white noise to the Bradshaws, blood rushing in their ears.

“I’m sorry, wait.” Bradley croaks. “She’s pregnant?”

“Yes, it looks like you’re about 13 weeks along. And everything is very healthy.”

“I don’t- I- I don’t…” Mary trails off, her heart racing at the news. “A baby?”

“Yes. If my interpretation of the scans is correct, you’re thirteen weeks pregnant.” Dr. Hong talks slower, used to patients’ shock at unexpected news.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Bradley can hardly catch his breath. “I had a vasectomy last year. I did all the follow-ups and was cleared. How is she pregnant? I mean, we’ve been having a lot of sex, but I’m shooting blanks.”

She’s heard a lot of things in her time as a healthcare professional, but for the first time in her career, Stacey Hong is unsure how to proceed. Mainly because if she opens her mouth, she’s afraid she’ll start laughing at the horrified look on her patient’s face. She has to bite her tongue when Mary slaps her husband’s arm, hissing his name as her face turns red.

Breathe. Don’t laugh. These are some of your nicest patients. Don’t laugh at them. Breathe.

She pushes through, ignoring the last part of his question and addressing the real issue. “Vasectomies are a very effective form of birth control, but unfortunately, they aren’t 100% effective. About 1 in every 1,000 vasectomies fail, and that failure usually reveals itself within the first year following the procedure. So you’re right in that timeframe.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Bradley bends over his knees, running his fingers through his hair before bouncing up like a Jack in the Box. “Mary? How are you feeling? You okay, honey?”

“I’m- I… I don’t know. So, all my symptoms were pregnancy-related? This is not how I was with the twins.”

“Every pregnancy is unique, so it’s not unusual that this time would be different than it was with your girls. We’ll have to wait for the results of your pap smear to be completely sure, but I’m fairly confident that we can attribute everything - including the exhaustion - to your pregnancy.” Dr. Hong stands up. “I’m sorry to rush you, but I do have another appointment to get to. I’ll have Ashley set up a follow-up appointment and get you set up in the system for this pregnancy. They can print off some ultrasound photos at the front if you'd like them. I’ll see you soon; congratulations again, you guys!”

They move at a snail’s pace, slowly making their way to the front desk in a daze. Mary stuffs the informational folder in her purse and grabs Bradley’s hand as they walk to the Bronco. They sit there staring at each other for a few minutes before Bradley pulls the ultrasound photos out of the folder.

“Another baby…” He stares in awe at the low-quality screenshots. “How are you feeling? I know we decided we were done after the girls, but this obviously changes things.”

“Are we too old to have another kid? We were already older when we had the girls, but we’re really gonna be old when this one comes.”

“So we had kids a bit later in life.” He shrugs, shuffling over the bench seat towards his favorite person. “We’re still the cool parents in our forties.”

The laugh she lets out is wet, tears streaming down her face. “Hey, are you okay? If this isn’t what you want, we don’t have to do this, Mary. I’m happy with either way.”

“No, it’s not that, Bradley. I know it’s not what we planned, but now that we’re here, I absolutely want this.” She squeezes his hand. “It’s just hitting me again that I never thought I’d get this life. A wonderful husband who supports me so much. A little group of kids.”

“Still no dog, though.” He mummers, kissing her tears away. “You think Lily will accept a baby brother instead of a puppy?”

“You think it’s a boy?”

“Yeah, I just have a feeling. Do we still have that list of baby names? We’re gonna need it again.”

“Mav is gonna cry again, huh?”

“Give me a minute, and I will be too.”

The kisses they exchange are tender, identical to the ones they shared after they found out she was pregnant with the twins. Happiness radiates through the car.

“There is just one thing I need you to do.” Mary pulls back, smiling as Bradley presses kisses against her face, excitedly whispering about how they’re going to be parents again.

“Anything for you. Whatever you need, mama.”

“You have to call Dr. Lewis on Monday and schedule another vasectomy. This has to be the last one, or we’ll be 60 and still popping out kids.”

“You’d be so sexy as a pregnant 60-year-old.”

“Bradley…”

“I’ll call first thing, baby doll. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She kisses him with all the love she has. “Let’s go tell our family we have a new member coming to join us in February.”

@gretagerwigsmuse | @bobfloyds | @hangmanbrainrot | @notroosterbradshaw | @princessphilly | @roleycoleyreccenter | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007 | @whatislovevavy | @kmc1989 | @sometimesanalice

fic tag | Mar[r]y Me masterlist | credit for dividers here

[dragonmasterkaylz]

🐻Alfie’s Sweetheart Part 2🧸

For @hoodeddreams13 who asked me to do a Part 2 to Alfie’s Sweetheart~!!! But this is a little sad….

“You know… if you ever want a day away from that… brute, pretty boy, I’d be more than happy to be your source of entertainment—!”

“Not interested! Goodbye Luca!”

Teddy slammed the doors on the Italians and turned to Alfie before walking up to him with a concerned look on his face. “Double-crossing Tommy? Again…? Really?! I’m starting to question your sanity!” Alfie let out a sigh and said, “This is for business—!” “No! Do not gimme that fucking bullshit, Alfie! Thomas… he’ll kill you!!!”, Teddy shouted at him.

Alfie then grabbed him and pinned him to the wall as he whispered, “I know, love. I know”. “Then… what…? Do you want to die?! Is that it?! Are you… sick of me?! Talk to me…”, Teddy begged as tears rolled down his cheeks. Then Alfie leaned his head against his. “As if I could ever get sick of you, Teddy. Fuck! I love you! I don’t want ya to ever think I’d get sick of ya, yeah…?” “Then…?” Alfie stayed silent before kissing him.

Teddy hummed and wrapped his arms around him as Alfie passionately kissed his lover. When they parted, the blonde was flustered, but also crying. “I won’t let Tommy kill me. Do you remember what I said to ya…? After our first night together…?”

Teddy was breathing heavily, when he felt his lover kiss his spine before turning him around. They both passionately kissed, trying to be as quiet as possible while the other soldiers slept. Alfie held his hand as they laid there, just feeling their bodies pressed up against each other. Teddy then laughed softly before asking, “Was this a one time thing?” “I fucking hope not. I plan to spend the rest of my life with ya, if we live through this anyway. I love ya, Teddy…”.

“Yeah, I do”. “Well, I fucking meant it. I want you… to take Cyril up to Margate and just wait for me. I don’t want you mixed up in all of this. I love you too much”, Alfie told Teddy, who kissed him again, tears running down his cheeks. “Alfie… please…”. “Teddy, I need ya to trust me, yeah? Can ya do that?” He nodded and wiped his tears away. “I-I can do that… just don’t die. I can’t… I can’t live without you, Alfie. You’re my—?!”

Alfie pulled him closer and kissed him again sweetly, before saying, “Promise me, you’ll tell me when I get there, yeah?” Teddy nodded as more tears fell. “Yeah! I promise, Alfie. And… I love you”. “I love you too”.

A Few Days Later…

Teddy’s eyes filled with tears when he saw Alfie in a hospital bed, a bandage over his face. He leaned over and cried into the sheets, when a doctor walked in to see him. He quickly wiped his tears away and stood up. “Well…?” “Well, his injury is going to take a while to heal. As soon as it’s alright for him to go home, it’ll be up to you to take care of him. As you know, he has sciatica, psoriasis and also lung cancer—!” Teddy just gasped and shouted, “He has what?!!” “He never told you?” He shook his head and the Doctor said, “Well, it’s a miracle he’s survived this long. Anyway, despite all of this, he’s gone blind in his right eye. You’ll take responsibility for him?” “Yes, I will. Give him a good… scolding too…! The big… idiot…!”, Teddy whimpered.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Shepherd”.

1929

Teddy heard a knock on the door and he walked up to it before looking out of the window. He growled as he grabbed a gun before opening the door to reveal the man he hated most, Thomas Shelby. “Hello Teddy! If you’re here then I assume—!” Teddy pointed the gun at him and he said, “Give me one reason why I should not shoot you right now, Tommy! You almost killed him! Or, was this your intent? To purposely make him lose his businesses, just so you could take over! He’s different, yet still the same, all because of you!!! Now, tell me!!! Why shouldn’t I shoot you right here?!!”

“Love… no…”.

Alfie came up behind him and put the gun away just before pulling him into his chest. “I’m sorry Tommy. Teddy’s been distraught, ever since ya shot me. But, come in. And have a look at the beach! I have some binoculars in the main room. Our maid will show you around, yeah?” Thomas just nodded and followed her as he heard Teddy cry. Alfie kissed the blondes head and whispered, “It’s alright. I’ll talk to him, yeah? You just play with Cyril and—!” “No! I’m going in with you! I don’t trust him, Alfie!” Then Alfie cupped his cheeks and kissed him before saying, “He won’t kill me…”.

“How do you know that, Bear?”

“I just do. I want you away from all this though. Just… do what I say, yeah…?”

“Fine. If that’s what you want”.

Alfie then kissed his eyelids, kissing his tears away, as he whispered, “And… please, no more tears. Every time you cry, my heart breaks even more. It’ll be the last time, I promise. No more tears. Please…”.

“Alright… no more tears, Alfie”.

‘I just realised… that I never told him what I was gonna say that day. It’s too late now’.

END

[tokillamockingbird427]

so, i decided to (temporarily) hop off the fluff/crack ask train and was thinking about all the possibilities how mama walker died(besides the usual she passed giving birth to logan cause well…ANGST.) and well, my tired brain came up with this while in public. this is also the angsty ask i mentioned(once) in my previous ask :). (this is pretty heavy angst…i think. idk i go into detail, so fair warning. also, this is probably dead dove:do not eat…oops.)

mama walker probably had cancer, leukemia, pneumonia…really any life threatening disease/illness that started out small. vomiting, high fever, non-stop coughing, symptoms of a cold basically. nobody thought anything of it—elias never thought anything of it, he thought mama walker was fine, just sick of the cold or flu, until they went to the doctors when she wasnt getting better after weeks, where she was diagnosed with stage 1-2 with the terminal disease.

now, hesh & logan were probably young when mama walker passed away, but i like to think they were at an age they would remember the events well. not exactly—but well. like around the ages 6-8 and 8-10 or to make it worse— 10-12 and 12-14 (im probably evil as fuck for that.)

after that doctor visit, it was slowly starting to get worse, especially with chemotherapy. chemotherapy probably even made mama walker depressed, as it made her feel sicker and beginning lose her hair, along with trying to fight the disease as hard as she can for her boys. Elias of course is trying to comfort his wife as best as he can, along with logan & hesh, which is helping, but the depressive thoughts keep entering mama walkers head in the end.

as the disease is getting worse, and way more visits to the hospital, elias and mama walker break out into a fight regarding mama walkers health cause now she doesn’t feel like going to the hospital, the argument ends with tears with mama walker stating how shes tired of everything and basically venting out her feelings, with elias basically not being able to help his sick wife beside comforting her into fighting the battle. (the brothers probably overheard the entire fight too. oops...)

one day,when the brothers are at school and elias is on leave, mama walker randomly faints and her hearts not beating as fast as elias would like it to be, so of course being the good husband he is, elias RUSHES to the hospital panicking, where the nurses/doctors rush towards him and take care of mama walker. luckily, mama walker survives that, however she has to stay in the hospital until her doctors decide shes able to be discharged as her terminal disease as officially gotten way worse than what they’ve anticipated. elias stays with her until he needs to get back to the house to the boys, however he informs her that the minute he leaves the hospital, he’ll call her to keep her company with logan & hesh, so no sad times there.

after many(tearful) visits from elias, logan, and hesh, and mama walkers health seeming to get better, they thought she’d win the battle and be discharged anytime soon—but sadly, it began to somehow get worser from there. at first, mama walker began coughing, it was a light cough every 30 minutes or so, then it repetitive until she couldn’t breathe at all, with elias screaming for a doctor and mama walker being rolled away and later being put on a breathing mask. ( logan and hesh were also there when this happened)

in the end, the final visit was when mama walker had logan on her side, hesh laying his head near/on her, and elias sitting down. it was during this time she was at her absolute worst, yet she tried for her boys. she passed with her family surrounding her, which was how she wanted to pass, with her final words being something with “i love you.”

bonus:

-logan, as he is mama walkers carbon copy(that man has his mamas genes.), gets called mama walkers name by elias sometimes, which elias automatically apologizes for but logan looks at him with a sympathetic look.

-besides the walker family, this death hit the ghosts team hard, as they all saw mama walker as a mother figure(besides rorke)

(im evil as shit im sorry. i really wanted to post this ask today for angsty feels LMAO. also sorry that this is quite long.)

(also this is based on how elias was bringing up mama walker in the beginning of the game :))

—🎧 anon

I'm fine.

You're so evil, you're so so evil. (In a good way.)

Drop the fic. If you don't write and you're scared that's fine but bro, first step is fucking around, second step is finding out, and it's equally as possible to be loved as it is to be disliked. You've already got the ideas going for you with how thought out this is and that's like 80% of it lol.

Here's an idea: Little Logan growing his hair out so his mama can style it because hers is gone and he knew she really liked her hair. After she passes he refuses to let anyone touch it, to the point that he'll scream about it if someone tries. In a random fit he kinda snaps and cuts it all off, never letting it grow out past his shoulders from then on out. (And then many many years down the road, after the Luxor and the pit and the war... Hesh realizes his brothers hair is past his shoulders for the first time in years.)

[mugiwara-lucy]

Okay after hearing this, I just need to comment…

So Trump will be “our daddy”?? 😂 I’m pretty sure we’d all get emancipated rather than Nathan Scott! 🤣

Yeah….with 11 days until the election, it’s imperative I remind people like always that while I am VERY happy with our voter turnout that the fight is NOT over yet!! ALL GAS NO BRAKES until November 6th!!!!! THEN we can celebrate!!

Here is the link to register to vote along with the deadlines varying by state! Also, your own vote isn’t enough! Get as many people as you can to vote for Kamala be it your friends, cousins, parents, grandparents, old friends from high school and college, coworkers, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, stepchildren (if they’re 18 and over) and the list goes on and on but every vote counts! ALSO PLEASE check your registration DAILY because MAGA WILL purge your voter registration!!

And early voting has started! And if you don’t wanna vote on November 5th, Early Voting is another option! Like I said get as many people as you know and try early voting that way you can avoid MAGA fuckery on November 5th! Here’s the link down below listing the dates by state:

Mail in Ballots are ANOTHER option I highly recommend!! And like I said get as many people as you can to take advantage of this option! BUT if you decide to go with Mail In/Absentee Ballots; PLEASE mail your ballots at the ACTUAL USPS office!! That way MAGAts won't fuck with it.

And lastly voting abroad is something I’ve seen people take advantage of and i HIGHLY recommend it!! Here’s the link!!

And I’ll end with this. Do you guys like the lives you have now?

Do you guys like your video games? No matter how violent they are? Because Trump has talked about BANNING VIDEO GAMES.

Do you guys enjoy Recreational Sex? Well a part of Trump’s project 2025 is to basically get rid of sex until marriage because apparently they think we wanna go back to some Ronald Reagan conservative bullshit. Like who waits until marriage anymore??

Do you guys like having IVF, Contraception and Birth Control? Yeah Trump and his camp want to get rid of all that. Why?? I don’t freaking know.

Do you guys want your abortion rights back? Because Trump’s dog Vance WILL pass a nationwide abortion ban with NO exceptions. Thankfully blue states still have that right but given Trump? I wouldn’t trust him.

Do you guys like Planned Parenthood? Vance wants to defend that? So cancer screenings and women’s health at cheaper prices than regular doctors? Kiss it goodbye and in return Trump plans to place RFK JR in charge of women’s health 🤢

Do you guys Hurricane Relief and Weather broadcasts? Trump’s camp will get rid of ALL of that so people in hurricanes will really be left on their own and without weather broadcasts? No words needed.

Do you guys like porn? Because Project 2025 wants to BAN porn. Ironic because one of Trump’s cheerleaders is that Amber Rose lady.

Do you guys like the military handling civilian affairs? Because Trump has said he will use the military against people who oppose him.

Do you guys like your rights being in the hands of state legislatures? They’re doing it with abortions (and failing MISERABLY). I GUARANTEE you if that old fool Trump gets back into office; say goodbye to interracial marriages, gay and trans rights.

Do you guys like having the freedom to worship whatever religion you want to or not? Trump and his camp LITERALLY want to force Christianity on everyone. Go look at Oklahoma and Louisiana.

Do you guys like having fresh food and clean water? Trump and his camp want to gut what we have now and put RFK JR in charge of that?? Gross much?? Especially with his history of killing animals.

If you want to enjoy your lives that you have now or make them better, PLEASE DO NOT GET COMPLACENT!!!

Yes we’re doing well but UNTIL we have news that Kamala won, there is STILL WORK that needs to be gone!

Knock on doors, send emails/post cards and texts, make phone calls and most of all V-O-T-E!! And get as many people as you can to vote too!!

In 11 days, we can be DONE with Trump and his bullshit ONCE AND FOR ALL!!!

[benoitblanc]

Episode ask game!

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead (DW)

The Wedding of River Song (DW)

Irresistible (TXF)

Nisei/731 (TXF)

Demons (TXF)

:)

silence in the library/forest of the dead (doctor who 4.08/4.09):

scum on earth | will not rewatch | pretty bad | not great but charming | objectively not good but i had fun | listen it's complicated | neutral | no complaints | this is great | this is fantastic | one of my favorites | actually a divine work nothing will ever top this PERFECT sci-fi. absolutely no notes. the character work is horrific (affectionate), the monster is terrifying, and the premise is so fucking weird. give catherine tate an emmy

the wedding of river song (doctor who 6.13):

scum on earth | will not rewatch | pretty bad | not great but charming | objectively not good but i had fun | listen it's complicated | neutral | no complaints | this is great | this is fantastic | one of my favorites | actually a divine work nothing will ever top this i think i've only seen this one once so i don't remember it super well, but i love every river song feature so i'm sure i liked it. i remember it being very very very strange

irresistible (the x-files 2.13):

scum on earth | will not rewatch | pretty bad | not great but charming | objectively not good but i had fun | listen it's complicated | neutral | no complaints | this is great | this is fantastic | one of my favorites | actually a divine work nothing will ever top this in my top three txf eps easy. i LOVE that there's no paranormal element and yet it's the most horrifying episode of the whole show. tattoo the scene at the end onto my eyeballs. it's about her not wanting to feel like he has to protect her but him wanting desperately for her to let him in because he cares!!! she doesn't want him to think she's weak but she's the strongest person he knows!!! sometimes chris carter actually really gets scully

nisei/731 (the x-files 3.09/3.10):

scum on earth | will not rewatch | pretty bad | not great but charming | objectively not good but i had fun | listen it's complicated | neutral | no complaints | this is great | this is fantastic | one of my favorites | actually a divine work nothing will ever top this this is my favorite mytharc ep/two-parter. it's funny, it's suspenseful, it's got the first insights into the fact that the government is really the ones behind all the alien crap (i choose to ignore the later mytharc stuff where they go back on this because GOD is it incredible storytelling and it fits in SO well with the themes of the show). it's got mulder jumping on top of a moving train and losing his phone as scully begs him not to. it sets up the cancer arc to a t. it's even got rob bowman

demons (the x-files 4.23)

scum on earth | will not rewatch | pretty bad | not great but charming | objectively not good but i had fun | listen it's complicated | neutral | no complaints | this is great | this is fantastic | one of my favorites | actually a divine work nothing will ever top this listen to me demons isn't about samantha and the smoking man it's about mulder and scully and her illness and how they both feel like they're losing control of their lives along with each other. you have to listen to me i'm begging please

send an ep for a ranking!!!