#i was in the glee fandom did you know that

[faiell]

yapping about fics and commenting

sorry to yap but work is boring today and tumblr isn't blocked on my work computer LOL

ok it's abt that post where the writer friend stopped writing because they weren't getting the comments/kudos they wanted.

i'm like. an overeager fandom person. like i cannot get into a fandom without wanting to meet new people and make friends. i love yapping about whatever silly gay idiots i'm hyperfixating over. i'm all about community, and sharing the joy of fandom, and all that fun positive stuff.

i don't post my art for stats but like. that means nothing coming from me tbh. i get stats. i can't accurately predict what would happen if i stopped getting notes on my art, but i would probably keep drawing and keep posting, just maybe less confidently, and less often. i recognize that stats make it much easier and while it’s not my primary motivation, it definitely motivates me to keep posting.

and yet. for years, i never commented on fic. i think i left kudos? and i saw posts like this all the time about how writers were so sad they didn't get comments. and i would feel super guilty about it all the time. but i still wouldn't do it! it sounds stupid, but i would feel pressured. if i liked a fic a lot, it felt even more difficult to comment, because i thought i would have to somehow give back to the author everything that fic gave to me. i wanted to craft the perfect comment that could perfectly encapsulate everything a fic made me feel. and that was way too much pressure so i would just not say anything.

when i got into drarry, i started reading a shit ton of fic. and i still wouldn't comment. i left maybe... 2 or 3 comments, maybe, i think. i can't remember. but i had a lot to say and i WANTED the writers to hear that i had read it and liked it. i just... didn't comment! u know what i did instead? i just fucking straight up DM'd writers on discord and started gushing to them that i liked their fic. somehow i was confident enough to do that, but writing a comment still felt like too much pressure. ?? i don't understand it either, but in my head it felt like a writing assignment, but when I was in DMs it felt more like a conversation and so there wasn't any pressure to make it "good"? idk!! it's very weird.

then i wrote and posted my first complete fic. just a oneshot, nothing special, and i was like. UNREASONABLY nervous about posting it. like. i am a confident person, okay? i was going to make a burner AO3 account and post it under a different name so nobody would know it was me, and then never mention it to anyone except MAYBE super close friends. i got talked out of doing that (thanks i feel a bit silly about considering that now). and then i received my first comment on it, which was basically a two-liner where someone said they liked it and thanked me for writing it.

and i was like. ??...?????? ???????? ...??!!! because i felt like... uncontainable glee? i was freakishly happy. the amount of serotonin those two sentences gave me was definitely unnatural.

is that healthy? idk. will it continue? idk. LOL. i hope so? but idk, some people said it wears off if you write/post for a while. but whatever, the fact that one little comment like that could make my entire day blew my mind. tbh i thought writers were just exaggerating when they said stuff like that.

ever since then i started leaving comments! that shit's easy! like what was i overthinking for? i'm such a fucking tryhard! all i gotta say is that i liked it, and even the bare minimum can bring lots of joy to someone.

so basically what im trying to say is that negative reinforcement doesn't do shit!! it just makes people feel bad about themselves. that post is nasty for guilt-tripping readers like that, and i bet you it's going to have the opposite effect (or no effect tbh).

YAPPING FINISHED. for now.

[spagheddiediaz]

and NOBODY

IN ALL OF OZ

NO WIZARD THAT THERE IS OR WAS

is everrrrrr gonnnnnaaaaa brrrrriiiinnggggg……

mEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE DOWN!!!!!!

[merry-the-cookie]

GUYS!!!! GUYS!!!!!!!!!!! i commissioned the incredibly talented insanely cool and radical jay @tacogrande​ to draw my favorite dudes and im so happy loOK AT THEM........ ashtons lil smile 😭 michaels sleepy eyes 🥺 all of it so gorgeous

pls go give her a follow and check out all her socials and if you can commission her i cannot recommend it enough, i mean look at this dreamy lil portrait 🥺🥰💖💖💖

alt version under the cut cus yea i got tWO VERSIONSSS

jay has been an inspiration to me for so many years since i was a wee little teenager and ive learned soooo much from them and to commission her again after so long whilst still being a huge fan of their art felt like a full circle moment hehe will definitely do again <3 maybe complete the 5sos set dfhjGHFD

[jclolz22]

Mamma Mia! themed bot release 🪩

Challengers

* ˚✧ / Art Donaldson & Patrick Zweig / Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (you can either be freaky with them together, or you can do what tashi should’ve done, which is make them be freaky with each other!!)

* ˚✧ / Patrick Zweig / Money, Money, Money

* ˚✧ / Tashi Duncan / Our Last Summer

Glee

* ˚✧ / Marley Rose / Thank You for the Music

* ˚✧ / Quinn Fabray / Mamma Mia!

* ˚✧ / Santana Lopez / Dancing Queen (not showing up on my profile :/)

Grey's Anatomy

* ˚✧ / Addison Montgomery / Does Your Mother Know

* ˚✧ / Derek Shepherd / I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do

* ˚✧ / Lexie Grey / Super Trouper (i can’t she’s such a cutie 🥹)

Marvel

* ˚✧ / Agatha Harkness / Slipping Through My Fingers (request that I incorporated into this release)

* ˚✧ / Bucky Barnes / Honey, Honey

* ˚✧ / Natasha Romanoff / Take a Chance On Me

Miscellaneous

* ˚✧ / Logan Huntzberger / SOS

* ˚✧ / Regina George / Lay All Your Love On Me

* ˚✧ / Winston Schmidt / Voulez-Vous (also not showing up on my profile)

thank you all for your love and support!! it genuinely means so, so much to me and i could not be more grateful. watching mamma mia! for the first time honestly really inspired me and i've loved ABBA for a while now already, and i thought it'd be fun to make bots inspired by the songs!! (and yes there are like 3 or 4 songs not included, i know)

i decided to do them split up based on the fandoms i am apart of, because the songs (i feel) are versatile and I don't think that there are characters from a single movie/show that would be able to be used for every song. i would've loved to do abba/mamma mia x challengers, but not every song can be applied to tashi, art, and patrick, which is why i did characters from different movies/shows :)

and i do need to give some credit to @voidsuites because really, maya did it first with her brat x challengers bots (which you should go check out/use if for some reason you haven't yet).

[temporaryrose200]

✩Baby Photos✩

✟pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x GNReader

✟genre: Fluff

✟warning: Nothing

✟One-Short

✟fandom: Twisted Wonderland

✟summary: After coming back from visiting family, Floyd has a little surprise for you involving your boyfriend Azul

Spring break had ended, your boyfriend, Azul and the twins had spent the break with their families and today you finally were going to see him again after a plainly long few weeks of being apart. You called him but usually, they would last for an hour. So now with Azul back from the Coral Sea the two of you planned on meeting up at the Lounge.

Walking into the Mostro Lounge that you had oddly missed, not even a few seconds, Floyd had jumped out from nowhere, smiling, showing off his sharp toothy grin. “Hiya Shrimpy~” the teal-headed teen teased watching with excitement as you nearly jumped out of your skin. Your eyes were wide open and you took a deep breath, placing a hand over your heart trying to calm it down. You most definitely didn’t miss this.

Giving Floyd a nervous smile, you gave him a small wave, muttering out your own hello. A long arm slithered around your neck, pushing you closer towards Floyd’s body. A mischievous smile danced around his face, putting you on edge. You never could get a read on him. “Do you need something, Floyd” you questioned, watching him giggle in response. He had something planned and that scared you.

“I’ve got you a present~,” Floyd said in a sing-song voice, leading you over to an empty table. Sitting yourself down in one of the booths, the teal-headed teen sat himself across from you smiling with glee. He reached into his pocket, you watched with furrowed brows waiting for him to pull out something frightening. Yet it didn't come. Instead, he placed down a stack of pictures. Warily you sent Floyd a suspicious look, still not trusting him.

Slowly reaching out towards the pictures, you pulling them closer towards your side of the table. Looking at the first one, staring up at you with wide cornflower blue innocent eyes was a platinum white-haired chubby mer-octopus baby. Glancing up at Floyd with a wide grin stretched across your face, you stared at him in disbelief. Flipping through them, you recognise the baby to be Azul. “Where did you even get these from?” You questioned, your eyes not even looking up, too captivated by the adorable picture of your boyfriend. “Cuz Azul would have never agreed to give there’s to you” you pointed out with a laugh.

With his hand resting against his head, Floyd was slouching in the booth with a bored expression. “His mom” he replied with a shrug, his eyes fixated on the aquarium tank next to him, watching as the fish go by. “Told her that Azul's partner would love to see baby pictures of their boyfriend and she was more than happy to give them to me” he added.

Laughing to yourself, you glanced down at the next picture. A fond smile grew across your face as you were met with a picture of Azul inside a clay pot. “Aww,” you gushed out loud, a hand covering your mouth to hide your giggles. He was a cute baby. Footsteps were heard coming which caught Floyd’s attention but you, on the other hand, were too busy looking at the next picture to notice. Floyd immediately knew who it was and I mischievous smirk spread across his face.

“My dear, If I had known you were here I wouldn’t have kept you waiting” came the familiar voice of your boyfriend. Your face paled when you heard Azul's voice. Slowly you glanced up, Azul was standing only a few feet away from you and next to him was Jade, holding the same smug expression as Floyd. Smiling nervously at your boyfriend, you tried to hide the guilty look on your face. “What are you looking at?” Azul questioned, his eyes looking down at the pictures you were holding. You stayed silent, not knowing how to tell him you were looking at pictures of him which he was self-conscious about.

It didn’t take Azul that long to figure it out. A bright pink blush engulfed his entire face and he glared daggers at the twins. You placed the picture down on the table confirming to Azul it was what he was thinking. “That was why you were distracting me in my office” Azul accused Jade, pointing an angry finger at him. “So your brother could show my partner!” Picking up the photos off the table he shook them around in anger. “THESE baby photos of ME!” Jade only smiled, a hand covering his mouth hiding his chuckles.

Watching your boyfriend this humiliated made you feel guilty. You knew he was self-conscious about how he looked in the past and you still looked, but how could you not? Sliding out from your seat, you placed a reassuring hand on his arm, stroking him gently. “Let’s just go in your office” you suggested, looking up at Azul who was still blushing like mad. Nodding, Azul began walking with you to his office, but not without telling the twins that he’ll talk to them later.

Entering the office, Azul marched towards his desk, sitting down with a huff. He flipped through the pictures muttering angrily about something. Closing the door, you bit the bottom of your lip, trying to come up with something. You knew he wasn’t upset with you, but you couldn't help but feel guilty. It seemed as though he was going to cry and that broke your heart. “This is such an ugly picture of me” you heard him mutter to himself.

Stopping by his desk, you looked over his shoulder seeing what he was talking about. It was the picture of him in the pot that you were gushing about only a few minutes ago. “That’s my favourite” you stated, leaning against him. Azul turned his head, frowning up at you. “It’s such an adorable picture” you continued, taking the picture off him. Azul scoffed at your words, obviously not believing them, thinking they were just a way to make him feel better. “I’m serious! I don’t even know why you hate it. You look adorable” you reassured, taking the picture from him. Pouting, Azul didn't say anything, too flustered to actually talk. “Perfect in my eyes.”

Azul hated feeling this vulnerable, especially around you. But you never really judged him and he appreciated you for that. When looking at a version of him, Azul could see all his flaws, but you always seemed to see the best in him.

[lxkeee]

IT'S BEEN SO LONG

-PART TWO

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Adopted! Fem angel! Reader [platonic!]

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

genre: fluff and cute

notes: will be making a male version of this. Someone please remind me.

PART ONE | PART THREE | NAVIGATION

THIS TAKES PLACE TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE PART ONE TIMELINE

Lucifer smiles as he watches his daughter interact with the new guests of the hotel, after the recent extermination, sinners began to slowly get interested with the hotel and wanted to give redemption a shot. Though, he can't exactly say that business is booming as the hotel only gained three new guests—a sibling of three, an older sister, a middle child brother, and their little sister.

They thought the hotel could help them and decided to join, in which Charlie, his daughter welcomed them with open arms.

Currently, he's sitting by the bar while Husk prepares his drink. Lucifer watches the interaction between the youngest new guest and his daughter. Charlie holding the small girl in her arms as she raised her up in the air, the small child giggling in glee. The scene evoking an almost forgotten memory of Lucifer.

“Charlie, Charlie! Uppies again! Please!” the girl giggles and Charlie nodded and raised the smaller girl up, making the child laugh.

The scene almost made Lucifer cry, as a memory flashed in his mind—a certain angel that he sees as a daughter despite not being related to him. [Y/n], his adopted daughter. The first girl he raised, he remembers an almost exact scene as this—the memory where he was still in heaven with her, gently throwing her up in the air and her little angel wings fluttering behind her as she falls back into his arms. Heck, he even remembers that the girl accidentally hit his face with a blast of snow.

Husk raises an eyebrow as he notices the king of hell had such a somber expression on his face, Lucifer didn't even react when he placed down the drink he made for him and just opted to play with glass as he was in deep thought.

The feline raises an eyebrow, turning around to continue wiping a freshly cleaned glass, “Penny for your thoughts?” he grumbles, breaking Lucifer's trail of thoughts.

“Just thinking about something. No need to worry.” Lucifer says softly and Husk huffs but decided not to press any further.

Lucifer went back to thinking again, wondering how his daughter is. After he got cast out of heaven, he never saw her again. He never prayed for the sake of himself nor his family as dare he says it would be offensive as his wife and daughter are demons but he prays that his angelic daughter is taken care of.

Even though kneeling down and praying to his father shatters his pride a little bit but he begs, he begs that [y/n] is well taken care of.

He missed her so much. He's guilty for not being there for her, for not being able to see her grow. How is she? Did she grow up to be a fine young woman? Did she become powerful? Does she remember him? Does she miss him like he misses her? He'll never know.

His memory of her getting worse and worse each day, bit by bit her features become blurry in his mind. He tried painting her once but dear God, he's not a painter. He's more of a singer and musician. He threw away the painting, his skills can't do his daughter justice. A shame he doesn't have any pictures of her.

A somber expression returns to his face, Charlie turns to look at her father who had such a sullen expression on his face. The girl gently let's down the child she was holding, ushering them to go play with Vaggie as she was worried about what had gotten her father down in the dumps.

She then walks towards the bar, takes a seat next to her dad. Husk immediately prepares her usual drink—a glass of wine.

“Is there something wrong, dad?” she asked softly and Lucifer chuckles, taking a sip of his drink—a white Russian cocktail.

“Did I ever tell you that you have an older sister?” He began and Charlie's jaw dropped, Husk stopped midway in making Charlie's drink.

Lucifer chuckles at their reactions, “Yes, you have an older sister... Well, adopted older sister rather.” he says with a lazy smile, nostalgia present in his eyes. For a brief moment, the background noise of the hotel blurs.

Charlie's eyes sparkled, “Wait, really?!” she asked excitedly and Lucifer smiled and ruffled her hair.

“Yes, back in heaven. Older angels were tasked to watch over the newly created angels and that's where I took an angel named [y/n] under my wings,” he explained, taking a deep breath as Charlie nodded intently, Husk giving her the wine glass filled with her drink. Lucifer looks at Charlie again, a somber smile on his face, “She's like a daughter to me and I was like a father to her, she always calls me dad.” he explains, his hand twirling the half empty glass cup, swirling the alcoholic drink around.

Charlie nodded, opting to listen to him and ask questions later, “We used to play everyday, I always spend time with her... Teaching her how to fly and how to use her powers.” he chuckles, his finger wiping away a stray tear from his eye.

“I think she grew up to be a powerful angel, after all, she manifested her powers at such an early age. I think she's a prodigy,” he smiles, his dull eyes sparkling as he mentions her, is what Charlie noticed and she just smiled at him, taking a small sip of her wine.

Lucifer took a sip of his own drink, tasting the vodka, coffee liqueur, and cream mixed together before gently placing down the cup back to the counter, “She actually shot my face with a blast of snow accidentally while trying to make a snowflake.” he says.

Charlie laughs at the story, imagining it, Lucifer smiles and he became sad again, thinking the what if's, what if heaven didn't curse him so bad and allowed him to see her or allow her to see him? What if [y/n] grew alongside Charlie? Would she have been a good older sister to Charlie?

“She sounds amazing, dad.” Charlie whispered to him with a smile and Lucifer nodded, “She is.” he agrees.

Charlie's eyes softened as she held her father's hand, “When was the last time you saw her? If you don't mind me asking?” she asked and Lucifer sighed, remembering [y/n]'s tear streamed chubby cheeks as she watched him fall from heaven, his twin brother, Michael holding onto the girl.

“When I fell from grace.” he whispered and Charlie's eyes saddened and she gave a reassuring squeeze to Lucifer's hand. She imagined how painful it must be for him and for her older sister. She wishes she'd gotten a chance to meet her.

“I am sure you two will meet again one day.” Charlie says with a small smile and Lucifer nodded, giving her a small smile in return. “I hope so, Charlie. You're going to love her.” he says, confidently.

“I think I already do, dad. She sounds amazing.” Charlie said with a grin and Lucifer chuckled, “You two will get along just fine when that time comes.”

TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @yukichan67 @apple-pop @akiralovespenguins @storydays @kaurochika @amphiroxx @lil-writer-523 @avitute @lbcreations-blog @dreamzaremyrealityy @des-deswain5621 @snoozewritezz @uiquz @randomuser-89 @flowerboy4eva

[sadesluvr]

Hi, if you're fine with it could you write doctor!William and patient!fem!reader and William fucks the reader in her hospital bed after lying to her about something. What it is, up to you. Happy holidays!

A/N: Thanks for the respectful ask Anon! Happy new year!!🎉 The irony of this was that the day before I got this req I’d literally read a fic for another fandom that was similar to the concept lmao. I’m sorry it’s taken a while, thanks for being patient! :)

WARNING: Reader is a little naive, or has amnesia (You chose). Below the cut will contain dub-con, manipulation and abuse of power. Minors DNI, and read at your own discretion. 

“Dr Afton…Am I going to be okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart. You’re under my care after all…”

You’d come to Dr Afton a few weeks ago, concerned with the fact that you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. You’d tried essential oils, music, even pills - all to no avail. Now, not only could you not sleep, but you were even more tired than before, becoming no stranger to headaches and irritability.

William had almost cum in his pants when you’d come back to him, eyes heavy and on the brink of tears; desperate and pleading for him to ‘fix’ you. In that moment, he almost felt bad that he’d given you stimulants, the same given to people who suffered from narcolepsy.

Today you were lying flat on the sterile medical beds, face up as your legs were spread in stirrups. Dr Afton had requested you to take off your underwear, and your pussy was exposed to the cool of the room. You were a little embarrassed, but luckily a sheet was draped over the bottom half, so you couldn’t see the man’s face.

“What is it?” you asked slowly, hearing as the man clicked his flashlight off. He sighed and hummed, and you’d come to know that it wasn’t one of promise.

“Forgive me for asking, sweetheart, but…How many sexual partners have you had?” he said, clearing his throat.

You swallowed.

“Um…One?” you said unsurely, biting your lip. “It was a while ago…On prom night,”

“Hm,” William said, and the corners of his lips twitched into a smirk. He didn’t know how you’d made it through three years of college without sex, but he was certainly glad. “I think I’ve found the source of your problem…”

“Really?” you squealed, and William adjusted his glasses in anticipation. Even though he’d locked the door, there was still a risk. If a nurse was to try and wander in, it would certainly ring alarm bells. He’d have to make this quick.

“Uh-huh,” he sang, and you were pleased to hear the glee in his voice. Dr Afton took his job so seriously! “Sweetheart, the source of your insomnia isn’t from the head - well, not directly - but your hormones. Most specifically, your endocrine system,”

“Oh,” you said. You remembered that stuff from high school. But how did that have anything to do with sleeping?

William sighed.

“The secret to a good night's rest is simply through achieving orgasm. You haven’t had sex in four years - and I assume you don’t masturbate - and your hormones are all messed up because of it. Upon reaching orgasm, we release oxytocin - the happy hormone - which in turn makes us relaxed, and then sleepy. Not to mention the physical movement that comes with sex,”

You were in shock. How could it have been so simple? How were you going to start having these, let alone every night so that you could sleep?

“Dr Afton, I –”

“No worrying about it, darling,” he hummed, beginning to shush you. “I’ve got just the thing…”

He was oh-so quiet as he zipped down his pants, his already hard cock jutting out of the hole. Taking off his gloves, he gave himself a few languid strokes before placing a hand on your knee, peeking over the cloth to get a glimpse at you. You were staring up at him with curious eyes, squirming slightly under his cold hands. It was different without his gloves.

“I’m just going to run a few tests, okay?” he smiled, blue eyes wide and sparkling. “It may hurt, and it might feel a little uncomfortable, but it’s going to help, okay? Call my name if you want something, alright?”

You nodded.

“W-What is your name?” you said, suddenly shy. Calling a doctor by their first name felt strangely intimate. 

“William,” he said, nodding at you before he disappeared back under the sheet, placing his hands on your thighs to signal for you to spread them apart. As you did, he lined his cock up with your entrance, taking a moment to rub his nub; pink and leaking with precum, along your folds. He let out a low groan as he felt you tremble.

“Just one of my tools, baby,” he assured you. “Don’t worry, it’s sterile, of course,”

You shut your eyes and scrunched your nose at the feeling. Whatever William was using was warm, slightly sticky and thick, yet it was making you feel good. You felt your thighs begin to quiver in anticipation, a hot, pulsing sensation rushing to your privates, in turn making it easier for William’s tool to glide across your pussy.

He hummed at the feeling of you growing wetter. Slyly, he placed his thumb onto your clit, beginning to rub it in circles as he pushed his head into you without warning, making you gasp. He hissed as he sank deeper into you, hands gripping the styrofoam of the chair, his body looming over you slightly. He could see the top of your face, eyebrows furrowed to the ceiling at the strange sensation, your lips slightly parted and wet. He longed to be able to kiss them; to hold you a little closer as he took all of you, but time was of the essence.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he smiled. “Almost there…”

He grumbled, choking back a moan as he bottomed into you, glancing down to admire your skin-on-skin contact. You were so fucking tight, and wet, that he was surprised he hadn’t broken you - much more he cum right on the stop.

“W-William…” you moaned, covering your mouth at the whorish sound. “It’s — The tool…It’s big…”

“Does it feel good?” was all he said, and he smirked as you nodded, a small whine escaping your mouth as you did. The man chuckled and adjusted his glasses. “This is gonna put you to sleep baby, I promise,”

He withdrew his hips before slamming them back into you, your head lolling against the rest. The sudden pressure was alarming, but it felt amazing, and as if a miracle had taken place you could feel your body relaxing already. Your breasts moved with the contact under the plastic garment, and you reached up to cup them, in turn making you feel even better. William grinned, watching in awe as your pussy took him completely, keeping up with the frantic movements from his greedy thrusts. He wished you were a virgin, that he could’ve popped your cherry right there and then, hugging and comforting you at the fact that you’d bled. Still, you only having one man (boy was the far more accurate term) was far better than two, and he could tell that you moaned and gripped him that this was what you were missing in your life. Desperate to bring you to your peak, he rubbed your clit eagerly, the feeling of his throbbing cock sliding in and out of you effortlessly bringing you to a point of overstimulation. Your raw nipples rubbed against the material of your gown, creating a friction that both pleasured you and made the nubs harden further, practically displaying themselves for William. A thumb on your clit turned into an index finger in your pussy, gently moving against the man’s own base. William’s grunts, the filling, yet rhythmic sensation and the build up of tears in your eyes at your sheer emotion was building up to too much.

It was bittersweet agony when you came. You didn’t know for how long, but you knew you blacked out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as your chest heaved and legs quivered. For a moment, William was nothing, just a figment of your imagination, but a wet, sticky sensation filling your cunt and dripping down your thighs brought you back to life.

Your limbs felt lifeless, eyes heavy, and a warm feeling spread across your body. Dr Afton had been right all along.

“I hope you feel better, sweetheart,” he said, words nothing but a jumble in your brain as you came down from your high. “Do note that this is only a temporary fix – I’ll need to see you in three days for an immediate checkup. From there, we’ll need to work out a year-long schedule. It’s imperative I monitor your progress.”

[ennn]

Assembled: The Making of Agatha All Along – What I Liked / Reactions

Y'all I joined Tumblr fandom with Glee, I can sustain my insanity with fuckin' crumbs.

I know some of you are delulu about this but being a (horrible and awful and morally unpredictable) mentor is so central to Agatha as a character

I'm not sure whether to shake the editor's hand or yell at them for putting that second almost-kiss shot after the "instant chemistry" line

Interesting how Aubrey Plaza said Kathryn called her to talk about the character

Really love seeing all these alternate line readings and takes

RIP Coat you will forever be cherished and remembered.

I did not know pink was once considered a masculine colour, hm. Would love Sasheer to just host things and talk about history forever.

Cyberpunk influence on Alice! "Barn's burnt down -- now I can see the moon." METAL.

Love seeing how the Lopezes work to create such amazing songs

"Darling I am a soprano and I do not sing back-up! Put me on the top baby!" -- Patti Lupone everyone!

"Honestly kind of rude they put me and Joe after her." Sasheer continues to be hilarious.

The amount of effort and time that goes into making a model house, my god. I'm curious whether CGI would have still been more expensive.

"sliding down a lube slide with Patti LuPone" -- KATHRYN

Is it weird I'm just happy to get Aubrey finally talking about her damn character as Death. Fuckin' FINALLY. She just here to have a good time and hang around her ex!

Really wish we had a bit more of a back-and-forth banter / argument between Rio and Agatha in the initial part of the final "battle".

That badass shot of Agatha just pulling glass out of her face and looking annoyed, why did we not keep it you guys.

[mixingandmelting]

No, Between the Two Of Us - None of Us Are the Sane One

Summary: Childhood to lover trope feat. Dick Grayson where you were best friends with him since the start of his Robin days which was also when he first having a crush on you

Words: 2.7 k

A/N: First time posting in the DC fandom, so please be gentle with me! Also there will be a version for Jason and Tim. ; )

Being besties with Batman and the first Robin is an experience to say the least. Many fantasize how it might go, romanticizing the prospect and excitement the friendship may bring. For you? Zero out of ten, would not recommend. The public masses claimed them to be heroes, but only you and villains know how unhinged they were. You did not appreciate playing the middleman when the two gave each other the cold shoulder or being the center of their amusement. Especially with Robin. You swore on your nonexistent Aunt Patty’s grave that boy was chaotic evil, the agent of all chaos. You grew paranoid for months having been pranked by him every time he swung by so you wouldn’t do “something stupid”. Or so he said only to get you to scream at the top of your lungs whenever you were hanging around on your apartment’s roof, creeping silently towards you and whispering the most random fact he found. He would then cackle with glee and proceed to rub on the wound by reminding you how the first meeting between you three which led to the constant check-ups  (a whole, another story you rather not remember involving a much younger you and Robin, Santa Claus, and pajamas printed all over with I <3 Batman and Robin).  You tried to get back at him multiple times. You never once won. 

However, there were times when he wasn’t pranking you. Moments like those, he’d simply sit and brood next to you, waiting for you to ask what’s wrong before starting his rant about Batman. With little to no knowledge said man, himself, would visit you and ask about him a few minutes after he leaves. Yes, you did question why they thought it would be a good idea for a kid younger than themselves to mediate between their fights only to give up  when you found yourself going in circles as to why you still chose to be friends with them. Way too complicated and big of a headache for your small head. It didn’t seem like Robin cared either, as he would tell you everything on his mind, not a single thing held back. Hands being held or a head leaning on a shoulder was a must when he talks. When that tradition started you genuinely had no idea but you never thought about it. More like you can’t when you saw the expression he wore. 

What started when both of you were merely children continued on to high school, where you discovered his identity. The way you found out was disappointingly anticlimactic. After the many years you hung out with him, of course you would recognize him right away. The same gremlin laughter, the corny jokes he shared with his fellow peers. Oh, and the fact his hairstyle stayed the same as both Robin and Dick Grayson. 

Dick, on the other hand, obviously hadn’t thought through that. At all. Okay, sure, you were on the more observant side but still, you shouldn’t have been able to piece all that together within a semester. He wasn’t even at school often because of all the missions to the point the school had been frequently calling Bruce and Alfred about his many absences. There were plenty of guys who sounded, talked, and looked like him, including his height. He was careful. Shouldn’t have been a “dead give away”, whatever that meant. So when he came over to comfort you after a mission, hearing how you got stood up at the school’s dance, he wasn’t prepared for you calling him by his name. Worse, he couldn’t even play dumb or pretend to not know what you were saying. Not when you gave him the same eyes you always did that held comfort and support he always seeked, as if understanding everything he was going through. 

With the cat out of the bag, he soon had you meet Batman as Bruce Wayne. He enjoyed the mini meltdown and sense of horror you were having, realizing just who exactly you’ve been chummy with all those years. Maybe he shouldn’t have gloated how you should've treated them better when you gave a mean, actually painful jab to his ribs. Still was worth it. So was the impromptu meeting with his team, Teen Titans, when you started working part-time at the pizza place they always stopped by to eat when celebrating a mission gone well. You didn’t know how silly and adorable you were acting, not as bad when meeting Bruce, but definitely shy and frazzled from being star struck. Well, for a bit that was. An hour later, you were sitting and laughing with them about a mission that involved Condiment King. The way you smiled and brightened the room had him thinking for a moment that he had a shot. After all, you practically met everyone he considered family. It had to be a sign for him to seal the deal. 

It stopped and ended as a thought. When you all started talking about love, he didn’t know as much as how he didn’t know which hurt him more; you saying you weren’t going to be in a relationship ever or you, not friendzoned, but bro-zoned him. You don’t notice the way Wally stiffens or the worried glances Donna shot at him. Starfire voiced opposition to your decision to stay single. Raven, not knowing anything, gave you her support. He most definitely did not appreciate Gar feigning disappointment only to get snapped at for going over the line by Vic. 

He didn’t know how to act around you afterwards when he escorted you home. He knew he was making you worried,  more so when he kept telling you he was fine when you asked if you had done anything to make him uncomfortable. He wanted things to stay the same. Retain the precious relationship that led to his love for you. There was no intention to make that night his last night with you. Yet, how was he supposed to act when he found out he never had a chance from the start? As crazy as it sounded, he once even thought about you being a Grayson. Of course not in high school; when the two of you got much older. It filled him with guilt when he heard from Bruce how you were asking about his well-being. It felt like a knife was being twisted in his heart when letters you wrote were slipped between his homework whenever he had gone to school to get them, belatedly realizing he never gave you his number. All he could reply back was the same, lousy excuse of being busy with missions. 

You, on the other hand, waited, hoped, prayed that Dick would visit you again. You knew somehow it was your fault and you wanted to apologize, make things right. Every night you stood on the rooftop, doing homework or simply reading. The nights you don’t, you left his favorite candy with a note. Batman was the only one who visited you then, though his visits were becoming rare from the increase of crimes occurring all over the world. It was through him you learned about Dick’s decision to leave the state and go to some college in New York by the end of the school year. You ended up rejecting the invitation to go with him to the graduation ceremony, knowing there was no point in seeing Dick again.

So really, Dick should’ve seen it coming when he learned from Alfred that you were leaving on the day of. As if to one up him, you weren’t leaving New Jersey.  You were leaving the states. It didn’t help that he had been forced to hand over Robin’s mantle to Jason not too long after the rejection. He had to face another heartbreak, as he mourned over the Robin who first met you, the body wonder who was your best friend, was no more. He naively thought he had time. To debut and cement his role as Nightwing, leader of Teen Titans while getting himself back together, all to come back to you. It was apparent enough to know he didn’t. Finding out on the day of, his hands fumbled with the keys to his motorcycle, rushing to get to the airport on time. Despite breaking every traffic law in Gotham (which he ended up owing Babs on not getting taken to jail or paying a big ass fine), he arrived too late. He couldn’t call out to you, his eyes taking in the glimpse of your hair  through cracks of the closing gates to TSA. 

Years passed and he tried to get over you. First with Starfire, then with Babs. Zatanna, Helena, Bea, Lori, Clancy, mixing one-night stands in between. But none of them ended up working for him. None of them were you. They didn't have the same humor you had. They didn’t give him the same warm hugs you gave him without him ever having to ask because you simply knew. Hell, the whole reason for things to end with each of them was because they called him out for it. His whole team did. Even his whole family including Bruce, Steph, Duke, Tim, and Damian. He’s not going to talk about what happened with Alfred, Jason, and Cass. He still gets nightmares for what they put him through. 

As he continued failing on nurturing a permanent relationship, you found yourself frequently buying magazines or skimming on the webs on the latest news and gossip covering vigilantes and heroes during your study abroad. You had brought with you newspaper clippings you kept on the Robin you still missed and cherished. You could count the number of times Robin changed, recognizing none of them were Dick. Yet you never found the heart to ask Bruce what had happened, if he was okay. Nor would you have been able to when you left without ever getting some sort of contact information to stay in touch with him. 

Now, he’s in his early thirties and you’re in your late twenties. So much has happened during your lives but you still think of each other. All the what-ifs playing in the back of each other's minds, regret and hope constantly raging back and forth. But not once have either you met even when you came back a few days ago. 

Currently, you’re sitting on the ledge of the same roof of where everything began. Gotham glows beautifully without the stars, its artificial lights so bright it makes the city shine as much as it does in the day. Kicking your legs, you hum mindlessly enjoying the scene. That is until someone calls out your name. 

Your grip slips and you scream, nearly falling to your demise. Or about to until a warm arm quickly wraps itself around your torso and pulls you over to safety. Gently the person places you on the concrete floor, a few seconds passing afterwards as your mind registers you’re still alive. Guess they weren’t expecting you to get angry, two hands quickly in the air and sputtering apologies when you stand back up and rage why no sane person would ever scare the living daylights out of a person sitting on a roof along with profanities that could shame Deathstroke and bring pride to Red Hood. You’re panting in the end and reach towards the can of soda you had placed when you were sitting. And when you take a sip, it then hits to who you had raged on. 

He looks away, a hand covering his face from holding back the laughter that threatens to spill out when your face matches a tomato. You’re barely whispering when you apologize for the profanities, of course you aren’t going to apologize for everything else you both know you’re very much right on that part, horrified and embarrassed that you had done that to a very famous vigilante. Out goes his self-control when you go absolutely silent and start to fidget from the lack of response. He bursts at the face you make from mortification. 

“You haven’t changed one bit.”

You freeze at those words. 

“Do…I know you?”

Immediately he stops. The air turns tense, you looking at him with wariness as he slowly turns himself completely towards you. Gently, he calls out your name. When you continue to look confused, he does it again, taking a step closer and pulling off his mask. 

He can see so much denial in your shaking eyes. The desire of you wanting him to say the person standing in front of you isn’t him. He’s quick to grab both wrists and root you on spot, keen and trained eyes already noticing your feet turning to make a run for it. His grip on you is firm but soft, enduring all the words you thoughtlessly, recklessly say while tugging to get him to let go. 

Eventually you stop, acknowledging there isn’t going to be a chance again in the future for you to speak to him or him to you. In fact, you both most likely would  evade each other for the rest of life if not for now. When he’s sure that you won’t escape, slowly, he lets go and takes a step back.

“..Why?”

There’s a tremor in your voice, the area of concrete in front of your feet becoming bi-colored. You don’t scream. You don’t raise your voice. Dick can feel himself break, his throat and chest constricting, dawning on him how not once you fault him for ruining the friendship between the two of you while listening about, for the longest time, all you desired was to apologize. When you weren’t even in the wrong. Too soon your words start to mesh and trip over each other. He takes the opportunity to open his mouth. 

“I love you.”

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting a smile fill with bitterness and self-loath. Your heart initially refuses to accept everything he tells you, how long ago he started to have a crush on you to how it ended up turning into love. You can never relate how his love for you ruined him where all his relationships with others never lasted for long when it’s him. The gremlin child that held confidence to defy everything on Earth, the gremlin child you developed feelings for. Silence hangs in the air once he’s done. All of a sudden you’re livid. Offended. Dick doesn’t notice, going from rubbing the back of his neck to shifting his weight from one foot to the other, wanting to give you the space to soak everything in. When he finally can’t wait anymore, he rushes to think of something, even resorting to begging for your forgiveness. Not looking down at your hands that slowly reaches for his collar.

“Please, all I really want to say is that I'm sorry. I know I was a dick to you so I don’t even deserve to have chance to ask you to be f-”

It takes Dick a hot minute to realize what’s happening before melting in. His hands make their way towards yours, pulling them up and placing them on his cheeks. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss without crossing a nonexistent line that you probably aren’t ready for. It ends up being the right call when you end up breaking it, lack of oxygen in your lungs from having no experience.

“Next time, just ask instead of assuming things.” You growl, pinching the flesh on both sides of his face.

He doesn’t reply or lets you say another word, his soft and warm lips placed right back on yours where they belong. Where they should’ve been since back then. Too bad the second kiss doesn’t last longer than the first, all of sudden hearing wolf-whistles around the two of you. Everyone from the Bat family and the Titans reveal themselves on the roof, some clapping, most teasing on how long it took for you two to get together. You quickly duck your face into his chest while Dick chuckles and pulls you into a tight embrace. 

Later on, a ring adorns his and your left hand. Never once getting taken off, no matter the reason. 

[loulovingho]

I 100% agree with you that that was lazy writing. What was the point of deliberately picking someone the audience (and the 118) were familiar with to be Buck's LI when they could have picked some random. What was the point in delving into Tommy's history and his feelings, what was the point of showing him head over heels for Buck in the last ep, of getting a gift for their 6 month anniversary only to say "oh well, I figured we wouldn't last, so I'm gonna get out now before you break my heart". Why let him get that involved if Tommy's ideology was to never allow himself to move forward in the relationship because ultimately he thought it wouldn't last? It's whiplash for the audience after you saw how INVESTED Tommy was in the last ep! And how exactly is this Buck getting off the hamster wheel? This relationship has ended pretty much exactly like all his others - he gets invested, they leave! They had so much potential as a couple - seeing what it's like for two fire-fighters to date knowing they're both in risky jobs, maybe Buck having to meet/deal with Tommy's homophobic father, getting to explore a "new" character's back story instead of rehashing the same story lines from the mains as well as seeing more of how Buck deals with being in a same sex relationship. All wasted.

And since they referenced Glee, if the plan is for it to echo the Kurt/Blaine relationship in that show where they broke up so they could "explore" before getting back together, by doing so they ruined that relationship so much that by the end it wasn't satisfying that they WERE endgame - they weren't the couple we fell in love with. (And also, way to reinforce the negative stereotype of "you can't ever be long term with your first". I should let my sister, my cousin and my aunt know even though they've all been married for years to their husbands - all their first.) Even if they do decide to bring Tommy back down the line, would it even be the same relationship we fell in love with? Would we even trust the writers to stick with it and treat it well? Or if they did a final episode reunion so Buck doesn't end the series alone, how is that satisfying for the audience?

I have been watching 911 since it started, and I have always been part of the general audience up until S7 where I joined the fandom because I thought Buck/Tommy were adorable. It's the first time in years I've become invested in a couple on a show. It's the first time in years that I've dipped my toes back into a fandom. Like you, this ship inspired me to write fic again. I have a bunch of wip's waiting to be posted on ao3 and I honestly don't know if I'll finish them now. And if they have broken them up for Buddie to get together I think I'll stop watching. And not just because I never saw them as a romantic couple (I only ever saw a deep friendship) but because logistically I don't see it working. Besides the fact that I think that while they work as friends, they probably wouldn't gel as a couple, two people on the same team in a relationship? That will screw up the 118 dynamic, especially as this show looooves relationship drama. If they get in a fight, or worse, break up, then what? How would that work within the 118, unless someone transfers out, but then it's bye bye the 118 we love. And not to mention, in the only 4 months I have been in this fandom I have seen some VILE crap from the buddies, and from what I understand it they've been like that for years. And the show runners know about it, so if they go with Buddie, congratulations, you've rewarded toxic behaviour and given them a license to be worse (look at them already, going in the bucktommy tags and gloating).

I told myself after Glee ended and they royally screwed everything up that I wouldn't watch another Ryan Murphy show because he has a history of doing that sort of thing. When 911 came along I was cautious, but it looked like it would be different - more grown up if you will, especially since Ryan Murphy hasn't really been involved since season 1. I should have just gone with my gut. I just hope that, knowing these last two eps were filmed weeks before they aired, the showrunners see how popular they were and realise crap, we've made a BIG mistake. (Everyone should flood instagram and especially Facebook, whoch is more GA than most social media platforms, with RESPECTFUL comments about how devastated they are, and who knows, it might make them consider bringing Tommy back sometime in 8b - I believe they're still writing the back half of the season.)

Side note, I feel really sorry for Lou. Yeah he's going back to SWAT, and I love him in that (even though his character can be a dick sometimes) but he's said in interviews how he's tired of always being cast as "the muscle" due to his size and he seemed genuinely happy to get this role, which was exactly what he was looking for - the sweet, caring, romantic love interest role where he could show some depth, and they screwed him over (sounds like he even thought Buck and Tommy were doing well and wasn't expecting the break up until the end).

(Apologies for the long rant. But what you've been saying really resonated with me and I needed to share your sentiments.)

.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Home At Last

Sherlock is restless. He hates waiting. Especially when he doesn’t know how long he has to wait. It’s fine when he’s on a case, but not when it’s related to the two Watsons. His patience is stretched to its limits and his skin feels taut and itchy.

“We’ll be around some time in the afternoon on Sunday,” John had said when he last visited.

What Sherlock wants to know this instant, is what John had meant by some time. Was it 1 pm or 4 pm? 

He paces back and forth in front of the fireplace and startles when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His curls look like a birds’ nest and that is intolerable. He must look his best when John and Rosie come home.

Did he shower at all today?

The last couple of days have passed in a frenzy of organising, planning, rearranging, and tidying – making 221B fit to be inhabited by three people instead of one. Sherlock doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Everything is in place; there’s nothing more he can do but wait. One more look in the mirror makes him stride to the bathroom.

***

The hot water pours down his body. He sighs contentedly and revisits his last encounter with John. 

He’d left Rosie downstairs with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock’s heart leapt to his throat when he realised that John wanted to talk to him undisturbed. This could mean all sorts of things. He dared not hope for anything positive for his own part, though things had improved between them. John’s hostility and reluctance to even look at Sherlock, had evaporated.

“A stern talking to from Molly,” John explained.

“Oh,” was Sherlock’s response.

What did that mean? Didn’t John know that he needed it spelled out to him? 

“You need more data, I reckon,” John said, his lovely smile from before directed at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded and didn’t take his eyes off John’s face, lest he miss something important, some clue that could enlighten him if John left anything out.

John sat down in his chair opposite Sherlock. He was tense but not excessively so, and Sherlock relaxed a fraction.

“Molly made me realise what I was about to lose. That you wouldn’t wait forever,” John started.

I would wait for eternity if it meant that I would have you back in my life, Sherlock thought to himself, but he stayed silent.

“I’ve been an idiot. Nothing new, really.”

John chuckled but Sherlock couldn’t detect any mirth. Before he could respond, John continued.

“My legendary stubbornness and anger got the better of me. Again. But then I realised that…this, 221B, is the only place I’ve ever felt..it…”

When Sherlock met John’s gaze he saw tears in those ocean-blue eyes, and he knew what John couldn’t say.

“Home,” Sherlock murmured. “From the first time you set foot in this flat, it felt like home.”

“Yeah,” John agreed. “That.”

John’s breath was heavy, and Sherlock didn’t known what to do. Before he could make a fool of himself, John asked the question there was only one answer to.

“Can I come home, Sherlock? With Rosie.”

***

The glee Sherlock felt at that moment, still lingers in his chest. His expectations are great, grand, glorious, and the sensation is utterly addictive. When he hears the familiar steps ascending, Sherlock stands in the doorway, ready to greet the two people he loves the most.

Rosie beams at him and stretches out her chubby arms, chanting “Lock!”

He takes her in his arms and buries his nose in the nape of her neck. A sharp pain makes him yelp a little. The little girl’s tiny fingers have grabbed a handful of hair and pulled hard.

“Careful, darling. You don’t want Sherlock without those beautiful curls,” John says and carefully entangles Sherlock’s hair from the surprisingly strong grip.

Sherlock expects John to move away, so he’s taken by surprise when a strong arm is placed around his waist. John rests his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and exhales.

“Home at last,” he whispers.

Finally, Sherlock wants to say, but his throat is uncooperative. So, instead he pulls John tighter and tries to just breathe.

The trio stands enveloped in a cocoon of bliss and contentment for a small amount of time; Rosie isn’t a patient girl, but it’s enough for Sherlock to create an art installation in the newest wing in his Mind Palace. A wing that is light, kept entirely in pastel colours reminiscent of Turkish delights. 

A sign over the door, white with green letters, reads:

The Baker Street Family

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

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @helloliriels

@raina-at @meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @topsyturvy-turtely

@jolieblack @peanitbear @phoenix27884 @bs2sjh @brandiwein1982

@meandhisjohn @a-victorian-girl @221beloved @ninasnakie @shy-bi-inlovewithregandmoony

@lhrinchelsea @missdeliadilisblog @salmonsown @oetkb12 @jawnscoffee

@gay-ass-bitch

(Tell me if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

PRIDE MONTH PROMPTS 2024

They are here!!

Last year I released them in May, and I asked you when I should release it this year. You agreed I should release it early/mid april. And I think the perfect time is now! You have plenty of time to prepare your things for June!

So, here are 30 prompts, 1 prompt per day, for all of June! Use them for writing, or for art, or why not for something else creative you can come up with?

I will now write all the prompts in the list if it's hard to read, plus some explanations/suggestion what you can do for them.

Day 1. Actually, I'm not straight. Someone kicking off pride month by telling their nearest and dearest that they aren't straight, like everyone seems to think!

Day 2. Surprise! We're dating! A couple comes out to their friends ;)

Day 3. Early signs. Early signs someone was not straight, or not cis. Or both!

Day 4. Gender euphoria. Euphoooooriaaaaa forever to end of time /j Ok no but yeah, someone experiencing gender euphoria :) It's great :)

Day 5. Surprise! We're engaged! Surprise engagement! Did people even know they were dating?

Day 6. Proposal. You can choose to show the proposal for the couple at day 5... or a brand new couple! :D

Day 7. Pride flags. Are they making pride flags? Buying pride flags? Identifying pride flags? So much you can do! :)

Day 8. Prideful baking. A return from last year! Who's baking? Are they doing it with pride? Are they making rainbow cakes? This is also a way to make some ships be cute together as they bake.

Day 9. Wedding. To quote Sam from Glee: "YEAH! COME ON GUYS! GAY MARRIAGE GOOD!"

Day 10. Shenanigans at the Pride Parade. Time to let those characters run wild at the pride parade!

Day 11. Coming out as trans. Pretty self explanatory I think ;)

Day 12. Planning for a child. Two women, two men, maybe a trans couple... any not-cishet couple are planning for a child <3 Are they adopting? IVF? However they're doing it, they're gonna get that child :)

Day 13. Two moms. Two mommies thriving with their kiddos!

Day 14. Are they dating or not? People are speculating the relationship of some people.

Day 15. First crush. Aww, someone's first crush! Have they ever felt this before?

Day 16. Alternate universe. Go crazy with this! This could mean anything from "a universe in which this ship is canon" to "they live in a fantasy world". Do whatever!

Day 17. Realizing they're ace. Self explanatory ;)

Day 18. Two dads. Two daddies on request (Sorry I've watched too much of Papás por encargo (Daddies on request) to not make that joke). They'll do anything for the kids!

Day 19. I thought everyone liked both? What??? They don't?????

Day 20. Fruity sleepover. Anything and everything can happen at a sleepover!

Day 21. Pining. They pine so hard and yet... will their crush ever notice?

Day 22. Secret dating. Or are they as they secret as they think? How much chaos do they end up in to keep this?

Day 23. Dinner. Maybe just a normal dinner in a queer friendgroup. Or maybe someone coming out at dinner. Maybe the first dinner at their partner's house. Or maybe someone's making dinner for their loved one.

Day 24. Confession. Coming out confession? Confession to your crush? Just a confession about your favorite food in the middle of a pride parade? Yeah, you decide!

Day 25. Date. THEY'RE ON A DATE THE BABIES!!! Is it a good date? I hope so!

Day 26. Gender is a construct. Not everything is binary.

Day 27. Queer group meeting. You can toy around with this a lot. A group meeting with closeted gays? A group meeting with every character from your different fandoms that you headcanon as bi that you want to interact in the group meeting for disaster bi's? A group meeting for aces just vibing? Maybe we'll meet a lot of different groups!

Day 28. Accidental coming out. Oops!

Day 29. Alternate time period. You want to play out a little love story but instead they live in the 1950s? Or maybe they live in the future! Maybe they live in the medieval times! Woah!

Day 30. Growing old together. Look at them now. Who knew they'd find each other in the world and now they're here?

I hope I'm gonna see some of you in pride month! It's always a pleasure! Also, when the time comes in June, and you want to use one of these prompts, don't forget to tag me ;)

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones - I

Eris and Iris.  Son of a high lord, daughter of a fiend.  An arranged marriage brought them together and beneath all the hate, the two are more alike than they’d like to be. 

Genre: Angst/Drama/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse.

Author's Note: Today marks the three-year anniversary of when I first posted this story and what better day to start reposting than today! It means so much that people stuck around and are still excited for it to continue. I hope you enjoy how it unfolds!

biggest shoutout will go to @abruisedmuse ♥️ without you, I don't know how I'd finish this fic. ily!

Tagging: @abruisedmuse | @elizascarlets | @vanserrass | @climb-the-mountian | @positivewitch | @ladyelain | @helion-ism | @readthelastpaage | @sarions | @spinachtz| @elizab3th-grace | @ladystarrynight| @daily-dose-of-sass | @highlady-fireheart | @carnythian| @viewfromtheotherside | @lovedbyth3sun | @carolynmezzosoprano | @thedarkinmansfield | @moonfawnx | @imma-too-many-fandoms | @krem-does-stuff | @that-golden-lyre | @cynicalpotatoe95 | @lattristantketcup | @tiny-dragon-lover | @runningwiththeoceans | @sweet-but-stormy | @illyrianshadowhunter | @this-is-rochelle | @applestrudeldoo | @comingupbexx | @foxybananaaaz | @weesablackbeak | @roseliey | @my-otrand | @thewilderheart | @rityrooroo | @highladyofduskcourt | @electromagnetic-waves | @eastofatlanta | @secret-third-thing | @feysandfeels | @mali22 | @theeternalstruggle | @devilsfoodcake22| @maidr-00 | @the-midnightwriter | @moobell55 | @alohaangels | @readychilledwine | @lalaluch | @ladywhilemia | @easchies | @animezinglife | @zenkindoflove |

Find it all here.

Eris's hands were clasped behind his back as he stood rigidly next to the female who had now become shackled to him. His bride had only repeated the words of binding in a dull, dry tone and shifted her face slightly so he’d kiss her cheek rather than her lips in front of everyone. Already, she had more nerve than he anticipated. He had only smiled.

The two now stood in their finest before his parents, the festivities of the wedding raging on behind them. It would continue to rage on when the bride and groom took their leave. It all meant nothing to either of them.

Eris stood in his suit, tailor-made, and fitted in forest green. Iris’s bridal gown of white covered every inch of her, painted against every delicate curve. Eris had only stolen glances, not looking for too long. The hatred in her eyes had become grating. 

He spared Iris another side glance, aware his father was watching him, and gave his parents a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Father. You spared no costs on this wedding.”

“If only the bride and groom seemed to enjoy it as well.” 

Eris offered his father another tight smile. “It all happened so fast. We’re both a bit whiplashed but I’m sure Iris loved it as much as I did,” he said and finally fully looked at his bride. “Didn’t you...wife?”

Iris automatically bowed her head towards the Lord and Lady of Autumn and turned her gaze to her now-husband. “Of course...husband. Forgive me, I am a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

Eris and Iris.

Iris and Eris.

He only looked at her with boredom.

She looked at him wanting to desperately snap his neck.

“Well, run along then. Enjoy your wedding night. Don’t embarrass me, son. Make sure to show your bride a good time.” Beron mused with a laugh and the Lady of Autumn, Lady Enya, gave Eris a pleading look as he nodded to his parents. 

“Welcome to the family, Iris.” Lady Enya said softly.

Iris bowed her head in thanks and turned once more to look at her now-husband who gave her a small smirk and Eris couldn’t take his eyes off her. Couldn’t help the slight glee at how hard she was trying not to sneer back at him.

“Come along wife, it’s time for the fun part of being married,” Eris said with a coy smile and held out his arm. 

But Iris only stared at it. She stared at his arm and wondered what would happen if she just...snapped it off his body. Or stabbed him. Or at least attempted either option. Her father had nearly ripped her head off when he found out about the small knife hidden beneath her dress. The sting of his smack had barely settled down before she walked into her wedding. Nonetheless...her fingernails could be sharp enough to maim.  

When a moment passed and Iris still hadn’t taken his arm, Eris stepped closer to her.

“Take my fucken arm before I drag you out of here.” he hissed and Iris blinked then tilted her head towards him with a shy smile, the ever-blushing bride as she approached him and slipped her arm through his. Never mind that it was trembling slightly.

“Try dragging me out,” she said softly. “I’ll only end up dragging your bleeding body back across this hall.”

It was Eris’s turn to blink then his lips twisted into a smirk. “Is that what your eyes have been trying to tell me? We can fulfill your dirty little fantasy once we’re alone.”

Iris stood before her husband and schooled her expression so that anyone looking at her would see her gaze reverent rather than murderous. As if they didn’t know how reverent murdering someone you hated could be. 

“Oh, does that mean once we’re alone, I can run a blade several times through your torso?” she said sweetly. “Because that’s exactly what I was fantasizing about.”

Eris chuckled, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. The challenge in her voice. The sternness in her hooded eyes. “Big words for a shaking gazelle in a room full of wolves,” he said softly and leaned in to kiss her temple, ever the besotted groom. “Don’t forget, you married the worst of them. I’d watch that pretty mouth if I were you.”

Iris let him pull away and let him see the shy smile on her face even as rage flashed in her eyes. Her grip tightened on his arm and she leaned into him again.  “Or what?”

A chuckle slipped out before he could help himself. Bold. She was bolder than he expected. “You’ll find out once we’re behind a closed door, wife.”

He felt her body tense but paid her no mind as he nodded his acknowledgment to the people congratulating them, as he did practically drag her out of the room. The sooner they got out of there, the sooner this night would be over and he could somehow think of how to handle this female that had been shoved at him. 

They walked in silence down the hall, nodding to any lingering guests before turning a corner and the path before them was empty.

“Did you lose your tongue, little gazelle? No more big words now that you don’t have an audience?” he said quietly, as the two walked down the halls of The Forest House towards their wing. A whole wing where he was to now live with his little lady. “Not going to try and run?”

She finally yanked her arm free from his and openly glared. “And go where?” she spat. “As if you wouldn’t drag me back here and humiliate me for trying.”

Eris only hummed his response and watched as she huffed then continued walking and he took the time to openly observe her in the silence. In a tense, nearly suffocating silence. 

His wife. 

Wife. 

He mouthed the word silently to himself then frowned thinking of how, for the second time, he was forced into a union he had little say in. At least this one hadn’t fucked anyone else as far as he was aware. 

It wouldn’t have mattered if she did at this point. She was now his and he was hers. There was no escape. There would be nobody else. And Eris wasn't exactly sure how to feel about this. 

How was he supposed to feel about a female he knew nothing about? How, exactly was he supposed to feel when he had only found out a month before the wedding that she was to be his?

Her father, a wealthy merchant — a criminal as Eris had understood, wanted to build better ties with the High Lord of Autumn to no doubt get away with things he shouldn’t. Never mind that the male was as big of a piece of shit as his father. He had simply offered his daughter to Beron as a bride for Eris like she meant nothing to him. Wrapped her up for him like a delicious dessert to be eaten. 

And delicious she was. Eris let his eyes roam her body as she stalked in front of him toward the room. She didn't even know which way they were supposed to be going and yet, the confidence in her walk of rage didn’t hold her back. Her chestnut brown hair coiled up in braids, the tiara sitting atop her head, exposing her long lovely neck.

The train of her dress trailed behind her and he only quirked his brow at the design, not as frilly as he had expected. Then again, he knew nothing about her. No one had given him the chance.

Eris stepped on the tip of the dress’s train and she startled, a small gasp escaping her lips. Turning sharply, she glared at him.

“Get off my dress.” she seethed but he only gave her a small smile.

“We’re here.” he said and watched as she froze again, color seeming to drain from her face. He pursed his lips and wondered just how badly she thought this was going to go. “Are you thinking about running now?”

This seemed to unfreeze her body and Iris blinked at him. “Just open the door.” she muttered quietly. But he could hear her heart beating. He could almost taste her fear and his lips curled in disdain.

Eris waved his hand for the door to open and with a mocking bow, he gestured for Iris to step inside. She gave him a withering look then slowly stepped into the room and Eris followed her in. 

The two stood in the doorway of the suite taking in the grandness, the room a swirl of all the autumn colors in one, coming together to give it a look of a magical place of rest. Never mind that the two people required to live here wanted to do anything but be in this space. The suite was huge, decorated with a seating area in one corner, a small dining space in another, a bedroom set that included a large closet across the wall, a vanity, and —

Iris’s eyes fell on the bed that was big enough to fit six people and her fists clenched. She only gave him a look of loathing and wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to refuse even acknowledging the space.

But then Eris closed the door and locked it, and the sense of panic she had been holding back all day filled the room. He heard her swallow and as he took one step closer, Iris whirled around.

“Don’t touch me.” she snarled.

Eris paused then took a deep breath, his hands once again clasped behind his back, a sour taste in his mouth. Naturally, she was to assume the worst about him. Naturally, he might as well oblige her. 

“You’re my wife now. I thought the whole point of the wedding night was for us to be touching as much as possible,” he said quietly, his signature smirk gracing his face as he moved closer to her. “Or did they not teach you that?”

Iris flushed and shot him a glare, pointing viciously. “Don’t you take that tone with me or I’ll make you regret it.”

Eris’s smile was feral at the challenge. “Claws are coming out now, are they, wife?” he said quietly and took another step closer. “I wonder if you have claws like that in bed.” He tilted his head, observing her. “Why is your dress so modest? Didn’t they tell you I like to see some skin?”

She took another step back, hating the predatory look in his gaze. “You won’t be near my dress for too long so don’t concern yourself with it.”

“Are you sure about that? I do need to fulfill my husbandly duties and take it off of you.” he said again and took the final step for them to share a breath. “Make you feel all the wonderful things a husband should make his wife feel.”

“Stop talking to me that way.” she hissed, shoving him back.

He chuckled and grabbed her arm firmly, pulling her into his chest. “I will talk to you however I see fit, especially when it makes you flush so beautifully.” 

And indeed, Eris hadn’t gotten the chance to stare at her so openly until this moment and it was unfortunate how beautiful she actually was. Very unfortunate, he thought, especially when his own heart started beating wildly in his chest and he felt hers sing to the same erratic rhythm. 

The world seemed to still as his fingers gripped her arm. His amber eyes found her hazel ones and both pairs of eyes widened slightly. His gaze intensified as he soaked in her features and how a few loose strands of hair had slipped to frame her face so wonderfully. Iris’s own thoughts had paused at how close his lips were to hers and the way he stood so elegantly and effortlessly towering over her. 

It was truly unfortunate. Because Eris’s eyes had flickered down to her lips and back, the corner of his lips lifting. How much would she hate him if were to kiss her? Could he have one taste? 

Iris flushed deeply as Eris leaned in even closer and she did the only thing she could think of to get away from him.

Eris let out a groan of pain as she kneed him in the balls and crossed to the other side of the room.

“What the fuck was that for?” he hissed, doubled over, his glare meeting the one Iris shot at him.

“I told you not to touch me. Married or not.” she hissed, taking a step back. “And based on everything I’ve heard about you, I definitely don’t want you touching me.” 

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth as he straightened and took another step towards her.

A chair flew towards him then and he barely ducked in time.

“What the ever-loving fuck —”

“Stay on your side of the room.”

“I’m not going to —”

“One more step and the dagger will be next.”

Eris stared at her in confusion, at the dagger that looked so much like —

He looked down at his belt where he knew his dagger to be sheathed...except it was not.

“You were too busy trying to intimidate me to notice,” she said with a snort, and gone was the trembling gazelle that he’d seen all day, his dagger twirling her hand. “Surprise.”

Eris blinked then huffed out a noise of disbelief. “Well, wife. This is an interesting turn of events...How did you manage to steal it?”

“Most males are stupid and get easily distracted by beautiful females. If I let you believe I was weak, you automatically assumed you could dominate me and lose the upper hand,” she said simply and shrugged. “Your mistake.”

He narrowed his eyes. “From the things your father told me about you, handling weapons wasn’t on the list.”

“My father is a lying piece of shit and doesn’t know an actual thing about me.”

“He told me your passion was piano and you prefer to stay indoors because you were sensitive to the sun,” Eris stated flatly and Iris rolled her eyes.

“I do love piano but the only thing I’m sensitive to are the bruises he gifts me that people would notice if he let me out as often as I’d like.”

Eris froze. A distant roaring filled his ears as he stared at Iris. He stared and stared and when she narrowed her eyes at him, he clenched his teeth and took a breath.

“Your father beats you?” he asked quietly. 

Iris shrugged and it was a shrug that he knew well. A shrug he had mastered to deflect Beron’s marks on his own body. A shrug he had mirrored from his own mother.

“My father seemed giddy at the idea that you’d be beating me too,” Iris began and sunk the dagger into the table with a loud thud, before meeting his gaze again. “But if you think that gives you permission to lay a hand on me, I will break every single one of your fingers and carve your heart out of your body. I would die trying.” 

Eris stared at her. Trying to think of a response. Trying to think of all the things he’d heard about her before this moment.

“My daughter is delicate.” her father had told him. “She’s also foolish and needs guidance with a heavy hand. Don’t be afraid to put her in her place.”

There was nothing delicate about the fiery rage he saw in the female in front of him. Nothing but sharp glares and determination. Her stance alone told him she would be nothing of what he had expected.

His mother’s bruised skin flashed in his mind and Eris swallowed then met Iris’s gaze. 

“I would never harm you,” he said firmly and she tilted her head, quirking a brow.

“Your reputation says otherwise.”

“My reputation is catered to a specific audience.”

“Your reputation is the reason I am willing to kill you and face death myself rather than let you turn me into the broken doll my father tried to make me.”

Eris pursed his lips at that and slipped a hand in his pocket, the other coming to brush back his hair. “It appears wife, that you and I aren’t what we seem.”

Iris crossed her arms. “So it seems, husband.”

“We wasted time not getting to know each other a month ago.” Eris scoffed with an eye roll and Iris froze. “Your father insisted you were too nervous and shy.”

“What do you mean a month?” she asked breathlessly, her hands fisting at her sides.

Eris’s blink marked his confusion. “A month. Our engagement was announced a month ago.”

Iris blinked then blinked again and Eris watched as a cascade of emotions flashed across her face. 

“A week.” she gasped out. “I was told a week ago.”

Eris’s eyes narrowed and he took in her shaking hands. “A week?” he asked quietly. 

Iris only stared at him and he felt his chest tighten when she started taking deep breaths. Eris opened his mouth to say something — he felt compelled to say anything — but she held up a hand.

“I will only say this once,” Iris spoke, her voice surprisingly steady. “We may be sharing a bed but we will not...go further than that.”

Eris frowned, his own hands fisted at his sides. “Alright.”

She blinked in return. “Alright?”

His expression immediately turned sour at that. “I think the expectations for tonight have been made very clear. What more do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.” Iris replied, all steadiness was gone from her voice as her face fell. “I wish I had nothing to do with you.”

And with that statement, she darted into their shared bathroom and slammed it shut. 

Eris remained rooted to his place and simply stared after her, at the closed door she now hid behind, his thoughts a thousand miles a minute. 

He thought about their names and the silly way they matched.

He thought about the similar father figure they seemed to have and the history they seemed to share.

He thought about the small thrill he had felt when he had been within kissing range. 

Eris's frown deepened at the sniffle he heard from behind the door and wondered...just how much hell would they be in for now.

[farenmaddox]

SPN wild theory time

I will just go ahead and start with my thesis statement: I don't think that Jack killed Mary.

With that out of the way, let's get into my warnings for this post: 1. There will be spoilers for Seasons 11-15 of Supernatural 2. I wasn't in this fandom 5-6 years ago when these episodes were coming out; maybe you guys already talked this all out and your entire response is going to be "we already went through this, dude." 3. This post is actually like 3-4 posts in a trenchcoat. I may have gone slightly overboard.

All that said, buckle up, here we go.

Chuck's "omniscience" is questionable. He has been surprised by Dean's decision-making and been upset about it, and has admitted that Castiel is someone whose actions often contradict Chuck's narrative. So, by his own admission, he doesn't/can't know everything.

However, he always thinks ahead and always has multiple ideas on how to solve a situation, and he always has a contingency plan.

First, let's look at how he handled the Amara situation. I would characterize Chuck's behavior in Season 11 as writing a self-insert fic. Chuck is a writer, after all. He knew that Dean taking the Mark of Cain would either lead to Dean's destruction or to Amara being released, so he would have been ready for Amara to appear well before she actually did. But it's only in episode 11x20 that he chooses to do anything about it, ostensibly because Metatron talks him into it. We already see signs that he's kind of "done" with the prime world and the Winchesters here, but then Metratron convinces him to give it another go, and that's when it becomes self-insert fic.

He displays the ability to absorb Amara into himself in episode 15x17, so I think this was always the contingency plan if all else failed. But he wanted to be in the story. He wanted to be on the team and be a hero, so he joins up to do the big assault on Amara plan that is carried out in 11x22. I truly do not think he foresaw that Amara would win that fight. And with how badly wounded he is, the contingency plan is no longer viable. So he has to go with the Dean-as-a-bomb plan. He was already thinking about letting it all go to shit, so this is fine. But then Dean wants to save the day with his faith in familial love, which Chuck definitely didn't see coming. I think Chuck lets it happen despite the fact that he doesn't actually give two shits about Amara just because Dean is his favorite and has managed to surprise him so maybe the world should go on a little longer.

All of this is just establishing a baseline of Chuck-ness. Now we're going to talk about Jack.

See, I don't think Chuck ever planned on Jack actually being carried to term and surviving. The wild card, as always, is Cas. Who, when he had a chance to kill a nephilim (a thing he has done before! a thing he has assisted in doing in the past! it's a sure bet for Chuck!)...doesn't do that. But that's okay (Chuck thinks)! The Winchesters will probably kill the kid! And if they don't, and Lucifer wins, then Chuck can swoop in and be like "my beautiful son and my beautiful grandson, oh my me, this is delightful, we should be a family" and then kill them both.

Dean hating Jack was absolutely Chuck's first choice of potential plots for how to take care of the Jack problem when it turns out that there is going to be a Jack. He likes that story. It surely fills him with glee that Sam doesn't hate Jack and Dean does. But then... fuck, it's Castiel, again! Chuck had no involvement in Cas being resurrected, for once. No way to predict that one. And Cas being back means that Dean doesn't hate Jack and isn't going to kill him, especially since Jack helps them get Mary back, which sucks for Chuck, who is now very committed to this storyline of Dean killing Jack. Don't forget, Chuck can kill Jack whenever he wants. But he wants Dean to do it. He's bored and done with Dean and is ready for Dean to be dead.

So, how do we get Dean to kill Jack? Well, obviously Cas's death doesn't goad him to do it because the fucker just can't stay dead, so it has to be Sam or Mary. And it can't be Sam, because Sam has to watch Dean kill Jack and himself. That's the story. So it has to be Mary, right?

Chuck just has to wait for the right moment.

Jack has a strong sense of fear about hurting people by the time of Mary's death. 13x06 and 14x16 are some critical episodes where we see how he feels and reacts to hurting innocent people. And he seems to have pretty good control over his powers as well. He had just recently had a conversation with Donatello (in 14x15) about how easy it is to continue doing the right thing without a soul. His decision to kill Felix the snake was very much on purpose and very controlled, and honestly can everyone shut up about the snake. Jack fucking loved that snake. It was sick and nobody else knew how to help Felix either. He euthanized a sick pet.

So it is hard to believe that Jack just randomly lost control of his powers and killed someone whom he had no reason to kill. That's not really consistent with Jack's behavior. Even when he's in a complete rage in 14x20 after what Sam and Dean did to him, he doesn't kill them. At his most angry and while experiencing a huge surge in power, he somehow doesn't kill Sam and Dean. But we're expected to believe that in 14x17, he just "accidentally" flies off the handle and kills Mary.

The thing that is genuinely so crucial is that we do not see Mary's death in 14x17. It does not happen on screen. Deaths in this show always happen on screen, and it's not on screen. All we see is her face near Jack's, and the next episode all we see is the blast site. I think that the reason we don't get to see it is because it didn't actually happen the way we're told it did.

The fact that Mary can't be resurrected? That's weird, and new. That literally never happens. Everyone can be resurrected. People who were turned into paste by archangels can be resurrected. People who have been cremated can be resurrected. But Mary can't be? That's got Chuck's smell all over it.

Jack thinks he killed Mary, but he fucking didn't. Chuck did it. Chuck smote the shit out of that woman and Jack doesn't have any other explanation for what happened. I don't even think he is actually hallucinating Lucifer. Soulless guy who "doesn't feel guilt" and doesn't want Lucifer in his subconscious but somehow can't get rid of him? It's Chuck. It's Chuck dressed up as Lucifer to keep Jack on the edge and convince him it was his fault so he can lead everybody to the grand finale.

And then stupid Dean ruins the story and doesn't kill Jack. Which Chuck should have seen coming, because this is what happened with Amara! But he didn't, because sometimes Chuck actually doesn't know things! It's okay though (Chuck thinks), because Chuck always has a contingency plan. He has always been able to kill Jack whenever he wanted, and if Dean's not going to do it, Chuck might as well. So he does.

I'm telling you. Chuck killed Mary. Jack didn't do it.

[dangerliesbeforeyou]

ok so ive been rewatching psychoville and saw on the wikipedia that there were a bunch of websites made for the series (they were all written by reece and steve btw) which i've been looking through cos they are genuinely SO fucking funny & also just amazingly creative lol!

anyway i know people in the fandom probs already know about this (since the show came out literally 15 years ago pfft) but i thought i'd share some of my fav bits (but honestly would just recommend just checking them out if you haven't i have been crying with laughter for literally hours lol)

i will say that a lot of the media (videos, games, etc) no longer work on the archived sites rip but i'm sure people have uploaded some of the stuff (vids especially) to yt or other places lol

so a) i love that we get some background stuff on jelly and 2) 'captain CRACKERS' bernie clifton's dressing room reference question mark ??????? (ofc bcdr was AFTER this but i know love the idea that mr jelly trained under len pfft)

what that red raw stump do though 👀 (sorry pfffft)

mr jolly's website wasn't that interesting soz tho i did like him comparing being a doctor to being a clown lol

the comment about fag bears did make me wheeze i'm afraid lol i also loved the blurry photos of lomax's commodities lol (kinda reminded me of the bit in tlog w/ that terrible old photographer guy lol)

when i tell you i DIED with laughter at the 'now known as hull' bit like u just know reece wrote that bit pfft

not really a funny thing but this poem written by david honestly kinda breaks my heart lol... i think it also a lot of additional context to david's guilt when he thought he'd killed his father(faver) because perhaps he felt guilty about NOT feeling guilty you get me? like, it felt to me that when maureen told david it was SHE who killed her husband, it didn't feel like he was mad at her for doing it, but more that she kept the fact from him. it's about... the mutual oedipus-coded obsession with one another that couldn't even be destroyed in death and in this essay i will....

ghoul_lass23 is just like me but about tumblr lol fr

nothing feels more cursed than the phrases 'the river minge has burst its banks', 'crying creamy tears' and 'fleshy rapunzel' (which i've just noticed they misspelt lol... don't think that was intentional lol?) so if i had to read this so do you <3

the way that i kinda wish this actually existed tho pfft... also, it does kinda remind me of that video where jenny nicholson talked about that insane reality show 'opposite worlds' lol

'cross between seven and glee' is honestly sending me pfft

also on this part there was a script from stinkfinger (which is a show mentioned on the show) which sounded suspiciously like a reference to tlc lol

the less said about swastknickers the better

(will say i did nearly piss myself laughing at the nazi section of the hoity toity website lol which wasn't a sentence i thought i'd type today lol)

i just love these kinds of jokes pfft

also the whole biography sections of each of the pantomime cast are fab lol tho i AM kinda pissed they made debbie from yeovil and yet didn't give her a west country accent lol!!! (i guess they thought it'd be a bit much w/ joy being bristolian but i'm still mad about it lol)

also i know people have probably already pointed this out but i do find it funny that brian in the in9 episode last night of the proms is a closeted gay guy who likes watching drag was probably a reference to brian in this show that was a drag queen like... is anything these guys do NOT a reference??? u know those gaylor fans who obsessively look for clues in her songs about her apparent secret sexuality? all i'm saying is that i think they'd really like the extended reece shearsmith & steve pemberton universe pfft

all three of these made me cry with laughter lol

ohh this is interesting lol so obviously they suspected that some people might be all 'um why didn't the sprinklers go off during the fire at ravenhill? plot hole much!' so they wrote this into one of the websites so they could be like SEE! WE'RE ONE STEP AHEAD OF YOU DUMBASSES lol

both the jeremy kyle reference (remember when that was a thing? yikes... my mum used to watch his show CONSTANTLY...) and nurse kenshington's thoughts on david and maureen are interesting lol.. also there's a reference to the serial killer top trumps in this bit lol! (do people still play top trumps?? man i LOVED top trumps lol...)

the entire sunnyvale care home section is so fucking funny (both the website AND in the show lol mrs wren/mrs ladybird face is unironically probably my favourite character on the entire show) these were just some of my fav gags lol...

ok but why is this the SECOND reference to a guy punching a child who was apparently looking at his dick lol!??!! did this happen to one of you ??!!?!? reece did you punch a child ??!???!?!??

&&&& that's it lol

there were a few websites i didn't spend long on or generally weren't that interesting (coughmidgetgemscough) but honestly? i was really captivated with just how funny and well put together all these sites were! you can tell they had a lot of fun making it and i'm sure fans at the time LOVED being able to have this semi-interactive element of the show lol

there was just something so wonderfully late 00's about these websites lol i genuinely don't think i've laughed this much at anything in literal months and all of this is just solidifies that psychoville is a criminally under-appreciated masterpiece lol

[oonajaeadira]

I'll Leave a Light On For You

Fandom: Bloodsucking Bastards / Max Phillips

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n. (There is a little description, but it’s still you. Believe me, it will make sense. We’re dealing with the supernatural here.)

Rating: T. 

Warnings: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s.

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons.

A/N: This is my entry for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event. While I played one selfish card in my hand and wrote something of a companion to Light Only Shows You Where the Shadows Are, this can still be read as a standalone.

To my giftee, the amazing and wonderful @artemiseamoon : First of all, I admire you so much and I was really nervous to write for you. But I looked among your generous prompt choices (omgs thank you for so many good choices) and was surprised to find Max as an option. I wasn’t going to choose him at first but then my eye caught “past lives” and something in me zinged. Soul mates, angsty romance, second chance at love… and I’ve been itching to write an angsty Max. I know you are a fan of soft and whump, so all those elements had a party in my heart and here we are. I really hope you’re having a nice holiday and a good time off. Happy Secret Santa, Arte. <3

What we’ve been told is that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

That’s almost correct.

The truth is…it’s not just your current life.

It’s all of them.

Max hardly remembers the fear, the pain, the cold of his draining. Even though he knew what was coming, bought into the cult, the human instinct of fight or flight is hard to dismiss no matter how well they’ve been prepped and it was to be expected. But it was a flash in the pan and once he came around to the undead side of things, those pesky human responses were all quickly forgotten.

For a time. Until he saw your light and–

Anyway. Human instincts. Pffft. Adorable. Trading the constant possibility of fear for that of glee, of rapture, of delight? Human instincts are trash. Not to mention their senses, poor suckers. The things they can’t see can’t hear can’t smell can’t taste? Tragic.

If only the feelings weren’t heightened too. It makes some things–some people–hard to ignore–

Feelings were something he could also have done without in his human life–the latest one anyway–and did whatever he could do to avoid.

It wasn’t until he died that he understood why.

As the life drained out of him and the delirium set in, there was a rushing sound, a pull through his soul like the drag of blood from his body, and he was laying, feeble, wailing, bloody and naked among the limbs of his mother.

But not the mother he so recently remembered, the one that showed her approval only when he provided her with some accomplishment worthy of crowing about to her society friends. No, this one was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she died of fever when he was only five years old.

Max saw it all, from within himself and without, remembered the pull of his heart and watched the tears fall down his little face as they nailed his mother’s body in a pine box and put it in a hole at the top of a hill under a tree.

He always imagined he heard her singing to him in the grasses after that.

The world welcomed a new century, and not long afterward, he was a young man, looking to take over his father’s wine fields. But the chance was stolen when an archduke was shot. Max–Pierre, as he was called then–and all of the close friends and cousins he had were thrust into a great war. 

He was the only one to walk out of the fray. And when he came home, he found his father’s fields had been burned and that nothing remained.

That was a dark time. Ten years of looking back rather than looking forward. Ten years–it went by so fast–while he watched the world around him try to repair itself and find its footing again, not realizing that the roots of evil still grew beneath the soil.

He kept his head down and his hands working wherever he could.

But then he met a woman.

And she was Pierre’s life. Max’s life. Before he was Max.

It happened in the winter, just before Noël. And her name was Yaëlle.

Max remembered that before she even told him as he watched the story of this strange old life.

Yaëlle. It means “beautiful one.”

“It also means ‘goat,’” she’d said. “That seems more fitting.” She never thought of herself pretty, and perhaps she wasn’t fashionable and maybe she was stronger than she was dainty, with a weak chin and curly dark hair she couldn’t control. But the light in her eyes when she laughed–and what a laugh, like a little bird–the sway of her hips and the confidence in her carriage, her air of easy care and comfort caught his heart like a surly bear in the prettiest trap.

She’d simply been passing through the marché de Noēl, looking but not stopping, taking the kerchief off her head so the snow could land in her curls, when a child approached her selling buns in the shape of a cross and she gave the child a franc before sitting down at the statue of some cardinal or other in the center of the square.

She could have sat on any of the other benches, but she chose to plonk down next to Max. Next to Pierre.

“You want this?” she asked, offering the bun. “Not really my thing.”

How could she have known he was hungry? That he was lonely? That he was facing the market rather than the river because he was trying not to succumb to his inclinations, a pull to walk out onto the thin ice and let himself be taken by the stream?

He was instantly entranced by her. He felt himself smiling. Something shifted within. A destiny.

“You sure?” he asked.

She peered at him, scrutinized his whole self like she could see a glow around him and was looking for its source.

She found it in his eyes.

“Absolutely. I already ate three hand pies today. The last thing I need is more bread.”

He laughed for the first time in a long while. They talked. He ate.

On Christmas Eve when everyone was at the evening’s mass, she was there again, sitting alone, and this time it was he who had hot food and came to join her on the bench while the night was silent and cold and the stars were twinkling.

It was then that he learned why she was not in church–her folk did not observe Noēl. And she learned why he was not in church–he had lost his faith, that everyone he had ever loved was taken and there were not enough candles in the sanctuary to light for all of them.

“What if I lit one?” she’d asked.

“Who would you light it for?”

“For you. So you don’t have to sit in the dark.” When he was only silent, she said, “You fought in the Great War, didn’t you.” And when he looked away–when he shut her out–she continued. “My husband fought in that war. And he never could find his heart again. He said he loved me, but I don’t think he ever really did, not all the way. But I loved him all the way and when he put an end to his own life I thought I would have to do it too. Instead, I sat in the dark for a long time. It’s something I can see in a person. I can see you’re sitting in the dark.”

They stayed quiet for a time on the bench under the statue of the cardinal and when the church bells started to toll–signaling the magic of the empty square would soon be disrupted by the mass emptying into its streets–she stood and pulled her coat around her.

“My home is down that street, a little one with a red roof. It’s warm and I’ve plenty of hand pies--I made too many. I’ll leave a candle in the window until I’m asleep. You’re always welcome there, Max.”

And then she smiled and turned down the avenue where she’d pointed.

He blinked. Just before she reached the edge of the square he called out, “My name isn’t Max. It’s Pierre.”

She turned and gave a sly wink. “Good to know. I think once you get a belly full of my pies, you’ll let me call you whatever I want.”

He only sat long enough to watch the churchgoers file out of the holy service, many of them with people they loved, humming, happy, cheeks glowing in that way when one steps into a fresh cold world after being an hour or two soaking in the warmth. And once the square was empty again, he stood, gave only a fleeting look to the river, and then walked resolutely down Yaëlle’s street.

A little house with a red roof and a candle in the window.

He stayed for supper and came back many nights after.

And then one night he never left.

Max recalled the rest of that life with a lurking despair. While he couldn’t quite remember how it went, something in him carried it through to the life he’d just left…and he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was yet.

A few years of joy, of the greatest love he’d felt since his childhood. Like the mother he’d lost, another woman who was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she couldn’t anymore.

They never celebrated Noël as the others did, but in their own way. For a handful of years they would go sit on the bench in the square and hand out pies to their neighbors and anyone who came to join them where they sat. They would listen to the singing in the church and watch the stars scintillate overhead. They would leave their shoes by the fireplace and wake up to find gifts they’d bought for each other with the little francs that they had. And they would never talk about what they would do in the future, because they knew it would be this and that’s all they aspired to and it would be a happy life.

And Max watched Pierre forget about the rot that still ran its roots through the soil.

And one day soldiers came to town when he was out in the fields and they took Yaëlle and some of the other dark-haired, joyful, bird-laughing folk about town and murdered them. By the time he returned for the evening, the soldiers had gone and left him nothing but a ravaged house and a body to bury.

There’s nothing he could have done, the mourning neighbors told him, the tide was rising. If he had fought them, they would have shot him too.

Pierre said that it would have been better that way.

Pierre stopped working in the fields when he started to hear his mother’s voice singing among the grasses again…now joined by Yaëlle’s sweet alto.

He had one more Noël in that life. He drank as much as he could take without falling over and stumbled out to sit on the bench in the square, weeping once the churchgoers had gone. He didn’t say a word, but Max remembered what Pierre was thinking then.

Love hurts too much. It is always taken. It’s not worth the trouble.

And then Pierre fell asleep on that bench and never woke up again.

There wasn’t much time between that first life and this one, maybe a few decades in the dark. Just long enough for a voice to reach him in the void–a voice he knew well and loved with his whole heart for only a short time–to say,

“That was a good first try, Max. Let’s give it another go, okay? Another place, another time, when it’s not so hard. I’ll leave a light on for you.”

____

Max’s life had been shorter this time. But he’d learned a thing or two and kept love at arm’s length. Sex was good and companionship was fine, but he wouldn’t invest in anything that could drain him in an instant and leave him destitute. 

Now power, that could fill the void. 

So when fortune smiled and he was given the choice, he swallowed hard and put his neck to the teeth, traded in his humanity for power that nobody could take away from him…and a heart that had no need for warmth.

He was wrong about that last point though.

And he didn’t even know it until he saw something that humans couldn’t see.

Heard something they couldn’t hear, a long ago and far away voice singing.

Smelled you on the wind.

Followed it to you–a woman, just another human woman–walking out of a bar along some street in the city.

And he saw a light glowing from within you.

You wore another face, another body, but all he saw was you.

Yaëlle.

Beautiful one.

He followed you that night, and several nights after. He was the reason that car swerved before it hit you, the reason you weren’t approached by that seedy guy at the club. He was the reason you kept looking behind you now and then and when you finally saw him–having dinner at the same restaurant, totally by coincidence, you on a friendly outing, him trying to charm a client into a contract–it broke his heart that you did not know him instantly.

He found he was surprised that he still had a heart to break. He’d been so fucking careful.

Max almost gave into the anger, the disappointment. Replayed the pathetic way Pierre let himself be brought down and tried to remind himself not to let himself be broken again.

But then he heard your voice in a way only those who walk in death can.

Let’s give it another go. I’ll leave a light on for you.

____

Heightened feeling is the one drawback of all this power. It’s one thing to latch onto a target, to fixate on some middle manager or accountant or IT specialist until there’s a good time to finally strike. That is an itch that can be satisfied with a well-timed, fear-seasoned, adrenaline-soaked kill.

But love sinks its fangs in and doesn’t let go. It sucks at something that can’t be drained, has no end, can never get enough. It can drive an immortal--a never-ending being of heightened existence--to madness.

There will come a day in the future when you’ll trust him for no good reason, when you’ll understand the monster he is and whisper under your breath against your better judgment, when you’ll invite him in. For dinner.

And he’ll come around again and again.

And then one day, he’ll stay.

And you’ll yawn ask him on the edge of sleep, “Why me? Of all these humans that you could easily enthrall and have without question, why choose this?”

Max will look at you in the darkness and see nothing but your light.

You won’t understand when he puts on a show of an irritated sigh and tells you, “You gave me another chance, sweetmeats,” but you’ll doze in his cold arms, absolutely confident as he is that nothing will ever hurt you again. Including himself.

And that night he’ll stay until you wake.

He won’t have you sit in the darkness alone.

_____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST