#i can only imagine how badly that would go

[oennpellmell]

I was thinking that the other after reading a yet another discussion about how women didn't have any sex drive nor phantasm because it wasn't in our evolutionary nature as a mean to reproduction. You the usual "only male orgasm is necessary"... as if nature gave a damn about only giving pleasure center to the beings with semen or had any write in stone logic about reproduction. But I digress.

So while all those men debate on why it wasn't technically possible for female to, you know, like sex, or anything related to it, the same way men did (as an argument as to why it was more difficult for men to control their libido), I though: "Does any of those weirdos not realize that the erotic industry is literally dominated by women consumers. That most of fandoms shipping and fanfics are in majority carried and created by girls and women, which HIGHLY contribute to the success of a media, as the more they are involved in said fandom, the more likely it will gain popularity. That there is an entire genre (Yaoi) catering to the ladies pornographic and erotic interest and that in any bookstore, the entire erotic section is practically entirely sold to a female audience?"

And it isn't just the naughty side of fandom/media. I cannot prove it because it is anonymous, but I convinced that AO3 is mainly composed of a female community, that is on the author side than in the readers side. Every time, I read one fan fic I can tell from the way it is written that a woman is being it. Women have always been the most efficient silent marketer of all those medias and when I read guys saying women don't understand anything about video game and fake interest into, I am thinking that if I type said game on the Google search engine, I know that all the fan merch and creation I will find will be mainly done by girl. Or queer people, because their community is also a big factor into that underground marketing. And I am a bit tired of this hypocrite view. Producer and big studios keep on saying that things that could cater to a female (and/or a queer) audience will not work, because, in fact, they are afraid that it will chase away their precious male consumers if the latter hear it isn't just for them. They think only their view matter so they choose to completely ignore what the real demographic of a fandom is really made of. It is the equivalent of an immature boy club that have build a tree house with a "no girl allowed" sign: If girls were not talking about it, that treehouse would lose its interest in a week. That is why they continue to do marketing survey with teenage boys (and when they do create stuff that is based on it, it is usually a flop) instead of expending to the entire human population. And when they do on piece of media they claim to be for everyone, they made so insanely badly without much effort to let people know about its existence, which they use afterward as an excuse to go back to their usual way because "obviously it isn't working."

Leading to douchebags claiming afterward the "females" do not and cannot enjoy media nor have elaborate taste of it, the way males do, because they cannot project nor comprehend the deepness and multilayer of a fiction. As they are creature of present, therefore their brain can't imagine meaning beyond concrete representation; that they can even understand that two actors not really related by blood in real life can play member of the same family on screen. thus, they only pretend to be interest to attract the male attention. this is pretty toxic and I would really like it to end.

[sissylittlefeather]

If I Can Dream: Chapter 6

A/N: Christmas is about to kill me, y'all. Have a chapter of Jo for your Christmas Eve! Love you guys! (Another one might be coming very soon so stay tuned!)

Need to get caught up? Masterlist HERE.

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one.

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, smoking

Word count: ~2.3k

“And you're right.” He mumbles into her neck. “But I'm not just scared; I'm fuckin’ terrified.”

“I know. It's okay.” She turns and puts her arms around him, kissing his forehead gently.

******

Jo flops around in her bed for about 6 hours and then gets up for work. It's amazing how quickly she got used to having Elvis beside her as she sleeps. She puts on her black skirt and red sweater with boots and heads into the office.

For about 9 more hours, she bounces between staring at her word processing machine and the clock, anxious for the end of the day to come. She wonders if he's thinking about her, or if he's realized their tryst was fun, but unrealistic to continue. In some ways, it does seem a little absurd to meet someone and love them so fully and so completely in such a short amount of time. But she knows what she feels and she knows he has to feel something similar. He's everything she ever dreamed he would be and more. She just has to convince him not to let his fear get the best of him.

******

Elvis wanders around the house after Jo leaves looking for traces of her: her glass in the sink, her makeup on the pillowcase, a lipstick kiss she left on his mirror. When he looks at the lip print, he catches his reflection and doesn't cringe for once. There's a light in his eyes that hasn't been there for years. He knows why it's there.

Then he remembers that he sent her away, turns from the mirror, and goes to bed. He sits on the edge of it staring down at the pills in his hand. Does he need them? He hasn't in days. But that was because she had been there, a constant reminder that he had a reason to try to live without them. He carries them into the bathroom and looks at the other bottles, the ones that he takes to get through the day. There's no way he can stop taking all of them just cold turkey like this, but he can cut back. Or he could if she was there. He drops the handful of pills into the toilet and flushes it. Sleeping is nearly impossible, but when he closes his eyes and imagines her next to him, he's able to get a couple of hours.

He drags himself out of bed around 1pm the next day. The Colonel shows up to discuss the New Year's Eve show he's arranged in Michigan. Elvis half listens and hopes he doesn't agree to anything too drastic. On his way out, Colonel Parker corners Jerry.

“He's distracted. What's wrong?” The Colonel gives him a cold stare and Jerry swallows hard.

“He met a girl.”

“He meets girls every day.” Jerry shakes his head.

“No, you misunderstood. He met a girl.” The Colonel looks at him sharply.

“What kind of girl?”

“A good one. She's good for him.” Jerry squares his shoulders defiantly, ready to go to bat for Jo if he has to.

“Hmm. Should I be worried?” Jerry shakes his head, shaggy hair moving wildly.

“No. She might save him.” The Colonel nods and walks out the front door.

Elvis looks at his watch. 2:30pm. Only an hour and half until she comes home.

Home?

Home.

******

At 3:45pm, Jo is ready to crawl out of her skin. She wants to leave so badly to see Elvis. Weirdly, the receptionist comes to her and tells her she has a phone call. She puts out her cigarette and follows the older lady to the phone. Who on earth would call her at work?

“Tink?” His smooth baritone cuts straight to her soul.

“Elvis! Why are you calling me at work?” She's absolutely beaming, trying to keep her voice even.

“Missed ya. But also I wanted to tell you to…” He trails off and Jo can feel him losing his nerve.

“To what, babe?” She hears him sigh.

“To pack some clothes before you come over. I wanted to see if you might wanna stay… for a while…”

“I would love to.” He brightens instantly, so much so that she can practically hear it through the phone.

“Well okay then! I'll see you in a little bit. I love you, honey.” She smiles.

“I love you too, Elvis.” They hang up and the receptionist stares at her.

“Was that really Elvis Presley?” She asks flatly. Jo considers lying for a bit, for his sake, and then decides against it.

“Yeah. It was.”

“Mkay.” Jo nods and starts to walk away. She hears the receptionist whisper under her breath. “Lucky bitch.”

******

When Jo knocks on the door with her suitcase, Elvis actually answers it himself. He grabs her around the waist and kisses her like they've been apart for months.

“Wondered when you'd get here.” He presses his forehead to hers.

“Well, I had to go pack, didn't I?” She gestures to the suitcase and he picks it up to bring it inside.

They settle into dinner, both of them avoiding the inevitable conversation that they started last night. Finally, when there's no more food or ice cream or anything else to distract them, Elvis clears his throat and lights a cigar. They're settled in the TV room, but there's nothing playing on any of the screens.

“Is this a conversation I need to be smoking for?” Jo asks tentatively. He smiles a little and she reaches for his cigar, taking a drag and handing it back to him.

“Tink, I spent the whole day thinking about it.” She expects him to go on, but he doesn't. Her heart is in her throat.

“And what did you come up with?” He lets out a puff of smoke and looks at her.

“I can't stand being without you.” She smiles. “But I have no idea how we make this work.”

“What do you mean?” Now it's her turn to take the cigar.

“Well, I'm not going to change anything about my life. I really can't. And you have a whole life of your own. I can't ask you to uproot all of that just to be with me. What if we… don't… what if it ends? And then what?” She smokes for a bit in silence and then speaks softly.

“What if I die tomorrow?” He blinks and his eyes flash with something he's not ready to admit.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about, honey?”

“What if I'm driving to work and one of those big trucks hits my car and I die?”

“Don't even talk like that.” He takes the cigar back, gritting his teeth.

“What if it happens in three years? What if you die?” Elvis is visibly uncomfortable with the way this conversation is going.

“You better make your fuckin’ point, Tink.”

“We have no idea what might happen tomorrow. Or in three years. All we have is right now. You can't live your life thinking about all the ways it can go wrong. What kind of adventure would that be?”

“No kind.” She takes the cigar.

“Exactly. So now I'm gonna ask you this. How do you wanna live your life right now?” Elvis looks at the woman in front of him: the one who ran on stage and then threw paper airplanes over the wall to get to him and make sure he was okay, the one who made him leave the house for the first time in too long, the one who convinced him to jump into a freezing pool and then made love to him even when he thought he couldn't, the one who brought him back to life and shows him every second that it's worth living.

“With you.” He reaches out and cups her cheek and she smiles and leans into his hand like a cat. She takes another quick drag and then kisses his palm.

“Then why do we need this big plan? Let's just live and be together until we can't anymore. Isn't that better?” He takes the cigar and puts it out in the ashtray. Jo isn't sure whether she should cry or not, so she just sits and watches him.

“You never cease to amaze me, honey.” He pulls her into his lap straddling his thighs and kisses her lips gently. Then he whispers. “Let's be together until we can't anymore.”

“Yes…” She giggles and nods. He kisses her again with more urgency this time and on the third kiss, both of their mouths are open as their tongues dance wildly against each other. She rolls forward, pushing her skirt up her thighs and presses herself against him. He moans softly into the kiss and grabs her ass with both hands, pulling her in as close as she can get. Reluctantly, she breaks the kiss. “Should we go upstairs?”

“Why?” He kisses her neck and drags his tongue up to her ear– a move he hasn't tried in years. She groans as he nibbles on her earlobe.

“Well, I'd like to do more than just kiss you-”

“We're on a perfectly good couch.”

“Elvis.”

“Tink.” He lifts her up and flips her over so that he's on top of her. “I had this couch made deep like this for a reason.”

“I'll try not to think about how many women you've had on this couch..” She giggles as he kisses down her neck to her collarbone.

“Smart girl. But I have to say, you're my favorite.” He lifts her sweater over her head and off, tossing it across the room. His lips drift down her chest to the place where her bra meets her skin. He gently pulls the cup down and slips his tongue around her nipple. Her back arches as he pulls it into his mouth and then releases it, moving over to her other nipple. “I want this off, honey.”

She nods, sitting up a little to unfasten her bra and take it off. He grunts when he sees her breasts bounce free, leaning down to kiss and nibble her soft skin.

“I bet you say that to all of us.” She lets out a small half-laugh. He stops and pulls back, looking down at her seriously.

“No, I mean it, Tink. I don't think I want any more. Just you.” She holds her hand up to the side of his face and traces the line of his brow down to his jaw and up to his lips. He kisses her fingertips and waits for her to speak, but she doesn't. She just runs her fingers through his hair and down his neck to his shoulder, finally landing at the middle of his chest under his necklace and directly above his heart, her eyes following the path she makes with her hand. He starts to get nervous that he's said something wrong. “Say something, honey.”

Her eyes flit back up to meet his clear blue ones and she opens her mouth, but closes it again.

“What is it?” Now he's really worried. She's never been speechless before. Finally, she speaks so softly he can barely hear her.

“I don't know how to tell you that I think I was meant for you without sounding like I'm crazy.”

“Oh, honey. If you're crazy, then so am I.” He dives into a deep and passionate kiss as she pulls at his clothes, pushing his jacket off of his shoulders and shirt over his head and off. He yanks her skirt down her legs, tearing at her panties with a fire he hasn't felt in years. The need to be close to her is so strong, it overwhelms any sense of doubt or apprehension as she pushes his pants down just enough to free his erection. The next thing he knows, he's on top of her with his cock sliding in and out of her as she whimpers and moans and claws at his back. He groans with the sensation of her wrapped around him as he pounds her with a fervor he didn't know he still had. The heat of their passion is matched only by their love for each other.

“Oh God, Elvis.” She moans in his ear as he hits her g-spot at a relentless pace. Her legs wrap around his waist and he grunts with the change in angle. Their skin burns with sweat in the places where it meets and she whimpers as she feels her climax approach. “Oh fuck!”

Her body shakes involuntarily as her orgasm slams into her like a freight train, rushing through her with the speed and intensity of a lightning bolt. She clings to him as he continues to rut into her while she cums, her pussy throbbing and pulsing around his dick.

“Goddamn, Tink, honey, I love it when you cum.” He moans and slams into her one last time, pressing his forehead to hers as his cock twitches and fills her with warmth.

They lay there, both of them trembling in the aftershocks of their orgasms. He kicks his pants all the way off and then rolls onto his back to settle her against his side with her leg and arm thrown over his body.

“Move in with me.” He whispers into her hair. She picks her head up and looks into his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Move in here and we'll be crazy together. You are my big adventure, honey. Live with me.” He holds her chin between his thumb and forefinger as he talks.

“I'm gonna need to pack more than that little suitcase.”

“So that's a yes?”

“That's a fuck yes, babe.” He giggles and tickles her sides excitedly and they laugh together on the big-enough couch, naked and unafraid of the future… for now.

******

What next?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[randomciabatta724]

Some other stuff that happens in the Lonely wolf AU (might change if I get better ideas)

Polites stays kneeled next to Odysseus' body, frozen in place, while the club keeps going down (Survive)

Athena screams at Polites (My goodbye)

Eurylochus becomes the new captain

Polites blames himself for Odysseus' death

Polites begs Poseidon for mercy (it doesn't work) Edit: I just got an idea that it could be something like "Please, Poseidon, we didn't mean to offend you and we apologize for hurting your son, isn't there anything else we could offer you instead of our lives?" And Poseidon just says no (Ruthlessness)

Wouldn't you like stays pretty much the same

Dead Odysseus appears (The Underworld)

Polites declares he will do anything to get the crew home (Monster)

Either both Siren Odysseus and Siren Eurylochus or just Siren Odysseus (Suffering)

Polites got all his mythology knowledge from Odysseus so he doesn't know everything, (example: he knows about the sirens but not Scylla) (Suffering/Different Beast, Scylla)

Not really knowing what they're up against, they try fighting Scylla, but once it starts going badly Polites decides to sacrifice himself to save the others (imagine him standing there, holding the only lit torch on the ship) (Scylla)

Eurylochus pulls him away, Scylla eats the arm holding the torch, Polites passes out from blood loss while Eurylochus is screaming "What were you thinking?!" and similar at him (Scylla, Mutiny)

Eurylochus tries to convince Polites to kill the cows and have one last meal together, Polites begs him to reconsider (Mutiny)

Polites begs Zeus to spare the crew and kill him instead, but Zeus refuses (Thunderbringer)

When Polites wakes up on Calypso's island, it truly sinks in that Eurylochus is gone. She holds him while he screams (Love in paradise)

With the crew dead, Polites loses his drive to get home (Love in Paradise)

Polites and Calypso develop an unhealthy attachment to one another (Love in paradise)

Unlike Odysseus' "All I hear are screams", Polites sees his dead comrades, watching him in silence

Athena decides that her best chance to get rid of the suitors is to find someone from Odysseus' crew that survived (We'll be fine, Love in Paradise)

The ledge scene still happens but it's a bit different (Love in Paradise)

Polites agrees to go back to Ithaca only after Hermes tells him about the suitors (Not sorry for loving you)

He gives Calypso his red headband so she can remember him (Not sorry for loving you)

Hermes gives him a blue headband (Dangerous)

Polites tries to convince Poseidon to let things go (it doesn't work pt.2) (Get in the water)

Polites stabs Poseidon until his arms go numb (might also throw some ugly crying in there) (Six-hundred strike)

Polites doesn't attempt the challenge both because he knows he can't pass (Growing up with Odysseus, I imagine he learned how to string his bow but can't shoot through the axes) and out of respect for Odysseus (The challenge)

Polites decapitates Antinous (Hold them Down)

Telemachus mistakes Polites for Odysseus (I can't help but wonder)

Polites delivers the news of Odysseus' death to Penelope and apologises in tears (Would you fall in love with me again)

Polites tells Penelope he's going to leave, insisting that there's nothing left for him in Ithaca and that he doesn't want her and Telemachus to be bothered by his presence while they're grieving (Would you fall in love with me again)

Penelope, not wanting to lose the only other person that could know how she feels and having a feeling that by "leaving" Polites doesn't mean moving away, asks him to mentor Telemachus. Polites accepts (insert very touching "You are wanted and you are needed here" scene) (Would you fall in love with me again)

Polites tells Telemachus stories about Odysseus and Eurylochus (future)

Polites starts learning how to play the lyre (future)

Polites has a garden with six-hundred stones, one for every comrade he lost and some flowers for Calypso (future)

Polites starts wearing a purple headband (future)

Polites and Penelope sometimes sit together in silence (future)

Polites doesn't know why he keeps living, he just does. With time, it gets a bit easier, but he still struggles finding purpose (future)

[riddle-me-ri]

how would the riddlers react to being shoved into a small closet with their crush? so basically 7 minutes in heaven ;3

a/n: hmm a few would be flustered but most would be annoyed lmao most of these will be accidents while a couple may be totally on purpose lol.

The Riddlers React to Being Stuck in the Closet w/ Reader

Arkhamverse Riddler:

- Oh great, oh great, this is fantastic!

- This is exactly why Edward insists-no ORDERS you to stay away while he's working!

- You got the two of you into this mess. You'll be one to get yourselves out.

- Edward barely gives you even a second to try and pry the door open or check the knob before he begins making his attempt.

- You couldn't deny enjoying the close proximity with the genius-

- There was a small floating bulb hanging from the ceiling that allowed you to enjoy some of his features-not to mention highlighting his toned arms–

- Your observations don't go unnoticed by Edward

- “Will you stop gawking and make yourself useful and get us out of here!” You definitely don't miss his slightly reddened cheeks.

Dano/Reevesverse Riddler:

- Definitely panics but tries to hide it…

- The claustrophobia lingers slightly–being with you, offering a slight comfort but being shoved in so close to your person-

- Edward is struggling to get a grip on his mind to find a solution to this predicament.

- He turns to face towards the door--so your body isn't pressed against his.

- Not that your body repulsed him..quite the opposite, and for that, he needed to try and create some distance even in this cramped space.

- However, he could still feel your soft and warm form even just pushed up against his side…

- Edward tries to remain steadfast on picking the lock-

- Once freed he catches his breath- only to lose it again at your genuine praise and gratitude.

Gotham Riddler:

- Oh well, isn't this just swell-

- He seems annoyed and frustrated at first…

- He sees a conundrum and just wants to be the one to solve it and-

- You're there awfully close beside him…

- Oh how impressed and grateful you would be to get you to out-

- You would bring yourself closer to him in an embrace on your own accord…not just cause you're both stuck in a damned broom closet.

- Your body was so close though…he has imagined a moment where you would be so close…

- Ah, he can't get distracted-there's plenty of time for those opportunities to arise-

- Like the sidehug you gave him when he finally got you two out.

BTAS Riddler:

- Edward's been showboating all night announcing his latest toy-

- You would've never known he could be coy until you found yourself stuck with him shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest with him.

- His face goes as red as his hair-

- He profusely apologizes for this predicament-

- Is that…sweat running down the side of his face.

- Edward tries to clear his throat and regain his composure as his gloved hand fiddles with the doorknob and keyhole-

- Edward practically jumps out of his skin when you place your hand on his shoulder for support.

- He becomes even more fidgety, between his twitching fingers and the damned purple gloves he's surprised himself that he managed to get the door down.

- Edward thinks he can take a breath of fresh air now that you two aren't trapped in a tiny closet-

- Until you thanked him graciously and topped off your statement with a sweet peck on his cheek.

Zero Year/Capullo Riddler:

- Asshole likely tossed you in here with him and locked the door.

- You know, that he knows, you know Edward has a key and could let you two out at any given time-

- But where's the fun in that?

- Edward is definitely going to tease you, egging you on to open the door yourself.

- I mean…if you want out so badly you can figure it out right?

- Surely, you can pick a simple old lock, right?

- You don't ignore Edward's hands as he strategically places his hands on parts of your body as you try to pick the lock.

- Ohh, you hate him, you hate him, PURE RESENTMENT

Gotham City Sirens Riddler:

- Well, this is better than having a bomb blow up in his face.

- Although…when he became a detective, he didn't think his life would turn into a teen sitcom-

- Edward reassures you that you two will get out and apologize for the inconvenience.

- A small side quest to do some reconnaissance has turned into a greater dibocal than it ever needed to be.

- However, as Ed kept mulling over in his head-it could very well be worse…

- He did always wonder what it would be like to have you close to him…mere centimeters apart.

- He tries to keep a confident cool about him, whether it’s to put you or him at ease, neither of you can say.

- The awkward scenario did put you two in a position to just talk casually about whatever came to mind.

- It made the forced proximity seem less suffocating and more comfortable…you two were able to find yourselves chuckling at your ordeal even as you finally escaped.

Telltale Riddler:

- Oh what a preposterous, careless quagmire you two are in.

- Edward is mostly exasperated at the dilemma-

- How in the hell did he-no you-no…just how was this even possible?

- Ed demands you give him room (which wasn't much) as he begins trying to get the door open.

- He picks the lock and even begins to try and ram the door open-

- You try your best to get him to calm down-

- Ed may have some umph that lets him keep up with Batman, but he was still a much older man.

- After considering your advice, Edward was able to free the two of you…he silently mumbles some gratitude towards you that you didn't miss.

Young Justice Riddler:

- Oh, what a cruel, cruel joke…

- Apologizes profusely, literally does everything he can to try and bleed through the walls somehow and escape this scenario altogether.

- Fumbling with his hands and other ligaments to not touch you…anywhere especially anywhere…suggestive.

- As Eddie's apologizing, you're reassuring him that he's fine. Everything's fine…you two just need to get out.

- You suggest picking the lock on the closet and Eddie takes the initiative-

- (totally not just something to distract himself from how physically close he is to you)

- Eddie's face reddens tenfold when you somehow nestle against him and give him words of encouragement.

- Your warmth, your presence, being surrounded by you in this cramped closet…

- Eddie comes to terms with the fact that he may very well just die here-

- But before he concedes to his death, the door opens, and he unceremoniously tumbles as the door he is supporting himself on quickly swung open-

- You catch him before he can face plant on the ground-

- Now he's flustered at the fact you held his hand~

[candiedspit]

THERE SHE WAS, PARADISE

Could go for a cup of coffee about now.

That was Spritzer; that old, foul mouth. Always at the end of his gun. Made of tuna cans and gold enamel. Smelling of black cigars and camel dung. That would make sense. A stake through his heart. The surfer collapsing beneath what he dared to ride. The whole thing. It was cold. We were out in Queens smoking blues and waiting for his cellular to light up. Waiting for the stocks to awaken. Bill was our friend and when Bill called we were going to follow his voice to Jerusalem and cash in our winnings.

It was Christmas Eve and Spritzer was the only thing I had.

This was life after hallucinating pink ducks in the motel off the freeway and this was life after grey goose romance and call girl valentines.

Fucking freezing, Spritzer said, blowing breath into his hands.

I always laughed when he did this. Imagined him to be a side of the road magician blowing crack smoke at kids birthday parties. After a while, the phone rang. It was Bill. We rode the J train back into Brooklyn where minimum wage men had strung up garlands of pretty blue lights from one end of the street to the next so that the streets, covered in a slush, reflected the manufactured twinkles. A baby blue twilight. As we went, Spritzer whistled an old showtune. As we passed skinny naked trees and all of the supermarkets closed and the only souls outside were the ones like ours, bastards who couldn’t wrap a thing, who shouted and ruined, who destroyed.

Ain’t known Bill was rich, Spritzer said as we approached Bill’s building.

He punched random buttons on the intercom. There was a buzz. We cramped into the elevator and whooshed to the third floor where Bill apparently lived.

There was Bill and the swinging monkeys. Bill hosted the meeting we went to, had founded our love club, the club you only got into when you’ve gone coma, when you’ve burned down the damn house except your the only thing living inside, when you can’t be coaxed inside in the middle of a cold snap and when you have nowhere else to go.

Absolutely nowhere.

Tatiana was poking through the records and Robert poured me a club soda and French handed me a small box.

No, I said. No, please. Don’t give me nothing.

I was new to the club, only six months. Spritzer had three years on me. But I had been lost a long time. I hadn’t been allowed to see my family for fourteen months at that point though I saw Juliana in my dreams almost every night. I imagined her playing the trombone and hating every second. How badly I wanted to hear the twisted music. I wanted to be the mouth piece. But I had hope. The hope had led me to Bill.

I opened the box and almost began to weep.

Whadya get? Spritzer asked. I got a rubber duck keychain.

I showed him, holding the thing in my palm.

Real nice, he said. His hand found my shoulder and stayed there.

Real nice, Rabbit.

[shaunamilfman]

Where the Lovelight Gleams

pairing: Shauna Shipman x reader summary: Christmas drabble Christmas Masterlist

You hold Shauna's hand tightly against yours, stuffed in the pocket of her jacket in a pointless search for warmth. Shauna has insisted that you had to go out to see the light tonight, even though you would be there for the rest of the week. Why it has to be the coldest night in your entire stay, you aren't sure, but she was so insistent on it. 

It would be one thing if the town square was anything particularly impressive, but like everything else in her hometown, it seems to be disappointingly small. The worst part is that Shauna herself doesn't even seem to be impressed by the whole thing, which leads you to question why she wanted to come so badly in the first place. 

It's not that she's having a bad time, not with how eager she is to drag you from place to place with an adorable skip in her step. Every so often she stops in front of something utterly inconspicuous–a lit storefront or a lamp with an uninspiring wreath on it.

She'd gotten you to take no less than four different pictures with her in front of the big Christmas tree, even resorting to bribing you with paying for the hot chocolate in order to get the last one. You decided to be the bigger person and not point out that she was always going to be the one paying, if only to watch the way her face lit up as she handed it to you. 

Her cheeks were flushed, either from the cold or sheer excitement. It wasn’t like your girlfriend to be so interested in a place like this. Truthfully, she had never seemed all that interested in holiday events, so it had really caught you by surprise.

Shauna rolls her eyes as she catches you eyeing her hot chocolate, glancing away to pretend to look at the lights above you until she wordlessly lifts the cup up to your lips. You had your own cup, of course. But the keyword was had. That cup has long since made its way to a trash can. 

Besides, Shauna's tasted better anyway. 

You grin over at her as you take a sip, enjoying the way the twinkling lights look reflected in her eyes.

“It’s kind of lame, isn’t it?” She asks, bumping her hip playfully against yours.

“...I wouldn’t say that,” you say slowly, wondering if she’s trying to lead you into a trap.

“I would. I always thought so.” She looks around slowly, dragging you back toward the tree. You laugh joyfully, breath coming out in white puffs of air as she brings you to a stop. Shauna rests her head against your shoulder as she looks up at the tree.

“Then why…?” You ask, trailing off as you rest your head against hers.

“Jackie always used to drag me here with Jeff. Always insisted on not doing stuff like this without me, since we used to go together as kids. It just sucked, having to follow them around with the camera this whole time while he was all over her.” 

Shauna pauses, squeezing your hand tightly in hers with a bitter smile on her face. “They’d be laughing together, and I’d just also be here. I kept thinking about how much I hated it the whole time and how much I wanted to come here with someone who wanted to be here with me one day.”

You can almost see it: a teenaged Shauna getting dragged around the square by an equally teenaged Jackie, her gloomy expression matched by Jackie's enthusiasm as she directed the show. The thought of Shauna's broody expression behind the camera as she glares at Jeff almost brings a smile to your lips, but you brush the thought away in favor of imagining how lonely it must have felt. 

Despite how close she and Jackie obviously were, a lot of Shauna's stories from high school seem to have a common theme. The more you hear about it, the more you start to suspect that Shauna was the only one making herself feel that way, but it still felt real to her. Having an unhappy girlfriend this close to Christmas simply won't do. 

Shauna breathes out a sigh. “Well, it’s not that Jackie didn’t want to be here with me, but it just wasn’t–”

“The same?” You finish. Shauna nods slowly, pressing a kiss against your shoulder.

You want to kiss her right now more than anything, but the two of you are getting enough suspicious looks as it is that you don't dare to risk it. 

“I guess you got your wish, then.” 

Shauna laughs softly. “I guess I did.”

“It still sucks, though,” she admits in a low whisper as she looks around. “I don't think they even try.”

“How about we get some more hot chocolate–” 

“Highlight of the night,” she agrees. 

“And then we'll drive around to go look at lights instead,” you finish. 

“And maybe while we're in my car…” Shauna trails off expectantly, a hopeful note re-entering her voice. You could always count on her for one thing. 

“Ask again when the heater’s on.” 

Her laugh is quieter this time, but it feels lighter than before as she drags you back toward the coffee shop.

[thelocalconstellation]

Something I'm Very aware of is the way Branzy always seems to slip under the radar, no, he's not a strong combatant, maybe he can't seem to weave webs of lies so elaborate and well said that he can control people enough to keep them off his back, but I will always say that I think he's got the hearts of the people. He's harmless enough that people will run right by him without a second thought, harmless enough in practice that people can cross him and doubt he'll actually get his promised vengeance, he seems harmless enough to be an easy target.

Like one might assume an angel dropped into hell to be.

But what I'm overly aware of because it's such an interesting character trait, is that there's that underlying bloodlust. There's that desire to be seen as a threat. It's the fact that he can trap people and pull out redstone contraptions that are just insane actually (I had to figure out how that fucking roulette wheel was built, and my design is undoubtedly more spaghetti-ish and far more complicated than Branzy's was, but By Fucking God. As somebody who built that. No.) I mean. look at the death carnival! He wants so badly to be dangerous, he Knows that he's a target and he's sided up to Clown, somebody who is dangerous but there's also that hint of the fact that Branzy seems to enjoy playing with fire sometimes.

Which. Because he's harmless, at least in most conventional situations, people forget that Branzy likes being a threat.

So that also explains the fallen angel branzy headcanon.

But uh. Yeah. He goes in as an angel and the betrayal of Vitalasy was probably part of the tipping point, the other part being Spepticles murder, but it's the second time around that he's proper condemned by whatever god he was to follow.

I think it's interesting to imagine that from Vitalasy's perspective too though. Because your ally, who you likely knew wasn't entirely harmless, but you knew wasn't exactly the strongest player on the server, has ended up in cahoots with Clownpierce. The evil murder clown. the guy who could hunt most of the server and plan his way on top- the guy who. just does not give up. And your ally, this angel who has managed to land on this server, the angel on your team whose wings have been slowly tinting more and more grey, is helping that murder clown. And then you're invited to the funhouse your friend has helped with. And you probably suspect for a moment that this is a trap, but that's your friend who has helped build it- he hasn't warned you not to go, and it's Clown, even if it is, he's just going to hunt and kill you anyways. So you go! And you see your friend so cheerfully explain the system, getting that kind of finnicky he always has when people activate his redstone when that's his thing to do, and you think that maybe it'll be okay!

And then it's not. And then you're falling, and you keep falling, and that murder clown your friend has been helping is down there. And you're being chased and hunted and he didn't warn you. And even as you die, he apologizes, he says he's sorry, and he says "surely you understand- working with- with a murder clown!" and you don't. Because how could you? How could he think you'd understand when you don't really understand his choice to work with the murder clown in the first place. And you die there. And he's still saying sorry. But if he was, would he have done it to begin with?

And next time you see him, that angel that was on your team, that angel who managed to get this far on lifesteal, it takes a minute for you to find his wings again, they're so dark. It's clear he's fallen. And you wonder, even if only for a minute, if Clown did this. If Clownpierce did something to him- dragged him down this path and so fundamentally changed who he is.

And on that note.

I like to think that Clown, for a moment, was almost scared he did- was almost scared that he was at fault for Branzy's baseline change in what he was. I like to think that when the horns were coming in, Clown, entirely- oh so human, one of few on the server, somebody who had managed to hide that fact so well many thought he was a demon for a period of time, was scared that he was at fault for this. And Branzy just looks at him and tells him that Clown didn't do this to him, it was a long time coming. Branzy was just waiting to find that tipping point for his god and he considers it a kind of freedom because he can finally disregard the expectations from his god. Branzy- hazy through the fact that horns growing in when you're this old and have definitely pissed off at least one deity- thanks him for giving him that freedom. Clown is just glad that slight worry doesn't haunt him anymore.

Now? After Falling, the rest of the server probably Knows of his penchance for chaos- Knows of his break from whatever morals he might have had left- the morals they thought he had. Branzy... hasn't changed. And nobody understands that except Clown. Branzy is still the same person, usually worried about Something or other, penchant for chaos and making traps, harmless as he was. Well. Except for the sudden acquisition of a murder clown he has wrapped around his finger, but when the clown isn't around, he's practically harmless. And it takes a little bit for people to figure that out. And then he's back to being seen the same way he was. And people forget just when he fell, people forget he Fell at all, sometimes. Sometimes they just think that he was always like that, he was an angel maybe? Who knows!

Branzy is still good ol' Branzy. never thought to expect him to slip poison into your cup, but he might just do it anyways!

Clownzy but its human Clownpierce and angel (Fallen angel) branzy. Something about in the funhouse era between the casino portion and after the betrayal of vitalasy Branzy who has been slowly sliding out of the gods domain finally crosses that unseen line and the feathers that were going from the grey they turned as soon as he joined lifesteal to a pure vantablack shade. Something in Branzy having that small measure of power left to him not knowing, never wanting to or caring to use it, being free enough from whatever expectations his god may have held still disregarding the gifts he was left with, but Clown, all the bloodlust and lingering threats and danger that he can be being so completely human. Something about the impressiveness of that skill especially in comparison to the inherent power that was deliberately never used in an act of spite.

Something in the opportunity for Ash to look Branzy in the eye, knowing that those horns weren't there three weeks ago, knowing that the last time Branzy molted, those feathers were a grey, now dark enough you can't make out the individual feathers anymore, the chance for Ash to know all that, look Branzy in the eye and ask if he's being held hostage. The question of "what did he do to corrupt whatever might have survived this server- what did he do to make you Fall?" When Branzy wasn't dragged down by Clown his morals were never changed by his sudden associate. Branzy was always like that. Clown just gave him the freedom- the protection enough from the rest of the server to actually show it.

Something about worship, I think.

[hilacopter]

I want so badly to talk about how much the right and even center here sucks how bad the military indoctrination is all the rampant bigotry but I just know fuckheads will see it and go "SEE THIS IS WHY ISRAELIS ARE EVILLLL BURN TEL AVIV TO THE GROUND" and yeah no that's a really stupid idea actually

[suddencolds]

.~

[johanna-swann]

I had a long ass rant with way too many personal details half typed out already, but I think I can sum up my thoughts on the matter with this simile:

Canon Buddie (another couple instead of a solid friendship*) happening now would be like thinking "Hey, how about we have another baby to save this marriage?" That baby will be screwed up for life and it won't fix anything.

The marriage (the show) will still be bad and the baby (buddie) will turn out accordingly. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[*I miss the friendships on 911. :( Give me Chim&Karen shenanigans. Give me Hen&Buck doing tequila shots. Give me Athena&Maddie solidarity over their crazy firefighter husbands. Give me Eddie&Bobby sharing a deep connection over similar trauma. Give me the friendships back, I don't need another romantic couple to take screentime away from the found family dynamics. Fix the core of the show first, after that we can make more additions.]

[astrarche-x]

what do you people think. if Esen was alone when Ouyang returned from Bianliang. would they have kissed

[magnusbae]

yall guys didn't even hear me rant about how fucked it is that Dream was not allowed to mourn his raven and how his feelings been bluntly disregarded because clearly someone else knows best for how he should mourn the loss of his companion

[1980ssunflower]

aouhhh 🥺💖💙🥰

[mgsdelta]

being poor is literally so miserable

[fingertipsmp3]

About to bawl my fucking eyes out over this OCD blog I just found

[heatwa-ves]

seijoh third years karaoke night