#i'm like tired to the point that driving would be dangerous so i can't even like

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[crimeronan]

i need to go grocery shopping today or tomorrow because it's gonna be 103F / 40C here in two days and then it will be dangerous for me to go outside but i am So Tired. i've spent the past two days waking up just enough to eat the food rafi gives me n take my lupus meds n scroll tumblr for 5-10 mins before falling back sleep. i woke up at 4AM feeling semi-energized n was like "yay, flare is over" but four hours later i'm back to feeling like a broken phone battery so i probably need to crawl back into bed and sleep another 12 hours :(((

[fortunekookie07]

Alright, I am redeeming myself with this one! All the sappy mushy stuff coming your way!

Confessions in the Rain

Zayne had to admit to himself that he was tired. He couldn't even remember how you had gotten to this point in the first place. It was like the universe had set you to forever misinterpret him. Yet there you stood, face red in anger and eyes watery from un-shed tears.

"Why don't you just admit you hate me already, Zayne? I don't understand how you could even say that to me. I'm doing the best I can." Ahh there it was, a single tear had escaped your control and was rolling down your cheek.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. "Don't bother, I know when I'm not wanted. You've made that painfully clear. I'll look for another Doctor!" You're almost shouting by the end of your words as you spin around and run from his office.

You run right past the nurse's station, ignoring them all staring at you. They'd never seen you anything but cheerful in the years you'd been coming. One of them even stood up hand reached out, but you're already gone.

The receptionist tries to stop you as well, but you don't hear her warning that it is pouring outside. You don't care. You have stopped paying attention to your surroundings. Eyes too blurry to see clearly anymore. Whether from rain or crying you don't know.

As you're about to step into the parkinglot you miss the edge of the sidewalk and go sprawling to the ground. Scraping your palms in the process. You land with a grunt. Your palms are bleeding now, but still you don't care. You sit up on your knees crying harder.

You're still sitting there crying when splashing footsteps come in your direction, and your name is called. "Come on, get up off the ground. It's pouring out here. You could catch a cold or pneumonia." Zayne has come after you, of course he did. He had a reputation to maintain after all. "No!" You yell back at him, swatting his hands when he tries to help you stand.

"If I'm sooo much trouble, then don't bother anymore. I'm not your responsibility. Just go away!" You swat his hands again. "You silly girl," Zayne says. softly grasping your arms and forcing you to stand. He holds you to him. Not minding your squirming and attempts to push him away. His voice rumbles in your ear as he speaks again. "Why do you always misunderstand me? You've been like that since we were kids." You freeze at his words, tears still sliding down your cheeks and washed away by the rain.

"Wh-what?" Your voice is shaky from crying. "I have never cared that you cause me trouble, trouble me more. Turn my entire life upside down. I don't care, as long as it's you. Let me take care of you, I've always wanted to." He pauses for a breath. Zayne has never said so many heartfelt words to you before.

"I just wish that you would not take what I say the wrong way. I decided to become a cardiac surgeon for you. I wanted to find a cure for your heart condition. You are the drive behind my every action. Don't you know that yet?" You look up into his hazel eyes, burning with the intensity of his emotions.

"I'm always worried about you, you're job is so dangerous, but you disregard my worry and dive headlong into danger every day. I know I can't stop you or hold you back. Just don't push me away again." He's pleading now. Zayne has never, ever done that for anyone. You try to squash the feeling in your heart again. You have always suppressed your feelings, certain he would never return them.

"Why, why would you go so far for me? Is it because we're childhood friends?" Zayne closes his eyes and drops his head a long sigh coming from him.

"You're so silly, why are you so silly. Fine, I'll spell it out for you then." He takes a breath, "because I love you." He looks into your eyes with finality. There is no way you could possibly misunderstand that.

Tears well up to your eyes again. "Y-you do??" Zayne gently grabs bot side of your face. He rubs circles on your cheeks with his thumbs as he stares into your eyes. "I've always loves you, ever since we were children." He says quietly. You grab his tie and stand on your toes pulling him down to your level before you can kiss him.

Zayne is surprised, his eyes going wide before he returns the kiss. After a minute you pull back and smile. "I love you too."

You're both completely drenched by the rain and the receptionist was standing in the entrance with a scolding look and towels. When you finally start back towards the hospital she's fussing about how wet you both are and the water you're tracking across the floor.

She wastes no time throwing towels over both you and Zayne and ushering you into bathrooms to have a warm shower and put on dry clothes. Despite all this, you can't get the silly grin off your face. Your heart is elated, and you feel like you're soaring high above the storm clouds. You hope that you never come back down from this feeling.

[cowgurrrl]

Sweet Jane

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: this actually ripped my heart out and made me realize why I don’t write angst

Summary: “If I have children, I hope they live quiet lives. No fires for them. No sickness. No breaking news stories. I hope they die of old age, far from the pages of history books.” - oh, to live unremarkably by Trista Mateer [2.3k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, talks of child loss (reader has lost a child) teen pregnancy, tumultuous parent/child relationships, references to a sexual relationship but nothing explicit, reader is a badass because I said so, ANGST

The second you saw her, you knew this was a possibility. You knew it would happen at one point but watched your tongue. You thought it would happen in the middle of a firefight or trying to survive a horde of Infected or some other dangerous situation where you couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. It doesn't. It happens on a sunny autumn day while walking away from the ravaged Kansas City. She was trying to show off or prove something to Joel when she tried to run forward without warning. It came out as a gasp as you grabbed her backpack and yanked her back before her foot could slip off the ledge of a cliff. Your heart pounded as you gripped her like you were waiting for her to start falling again. She mumbled a quick sorry before you let her go. She didn't try to run forward again after that.

She waits longer than you expected to ask about it. After you set up camp for the night and cook whatever Joel decided, Ellie looks at you and asks, "who's Jane?" Joel's brows furrow at the question, and your chest tightens. “You called me Jane earlier."

"Jane's my daughter." You catch yourself using the present tense, and grief trickles down your spine like an unpleasant cold shower. Saying that she was your daughter sounds wrong. It's been years now, but you can't make yourself switch. She's still your daughter, even if she's gone. You're still her mom. You'll always be her mom.

"Oh," she gapes, and you nod. You can feel Joel's eyes on you, but you don't look at him. If you do, the words will tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't know." You say, shrugging as if she gave you the wrong directions instead of asking about your kid. She doesn't push the subject anymore, and you eat silently until Ellie crawls into her sleeping bag and falls asleep. 

Cicadas' chirps and the fire's crackling fill the space between Joel and you. The stars twinkle as the clouds move in the night sky. It's peaceful. Or it would be, at least, if Joel hadn't been fiddling with his gun for the past twenty minutes. The metal clicking is almost enough to drive you crazy, and you shoot him a look. He freezes and meets your eyes before letting his hands drop.

"Sorry," he says, and you chuckle. He props the gun up next to him and glances around to make sure nothing's decided to sneak close to you. 

"I think we're safe," You say.

"For now."

"Joel Miller, ever the optimist."

"It ain't about being optimistic. It's about being smart."

"Right," you shake your head and look at Ellie sleeping in the corner. Her chest rises and falls steadily as she dreams secret dreams. You smile when she snuggles deeper into her sleeping bag and scrunches her nose. "You think she'll be okay?" You ask, meeting his eyes. 

"Kids seem to handle these things better." 

"Sam was her friend."

"I know." He says. Images of shaky guns, Ellie's screams, and the silence that followed Henry's body hitting the floor replay in your mind in slow motion. You're trying to figure out where it went wrong, when the universe pulled yet another rug out from under you. When you put the two kids to bed, everything was fine, and not even eight hours later, Sam and Henry were dead. How many people will you bury before you get to the Fireflies? 

"I'm tired," you admit softly. You can tell by the faraway look in his eyes that he's in his own head, turning things over to look for new details. He's looking for something he missed. "What're you thinking about?" You ask, snapping him out of it, and he shifts uncomfortably.

"You never told me you had a daughter." He finally says, and you nod. You look down at your bootlaces and untie them, so you don't have to look at him.

"It never came up." 

"Her name was Jane?" He phrases it like he wasn't listening the first time, but you know he's trying to get you to open up about her.

"Jane Eloise," saying her full name scratches at an unhealed wound deep in your stomach. You think about all the times you shouted those names across the apartment to her. You were always late for school, late for a birthday party, and late for appointments. You're almost positive she would've been late to her own birth if you hadn't been induced. Rushing was the way you lived your life for that decade. You would give anything to be running late with her again. "If I talk about her, I'm gonna cry." You warn.

"That's okay." His voice is so soft, and he's looking at you with those big eyes, and something shifts. You haven't talked about her in years, but something in Joel's demeanor makes you feel safe enough to unlock the door in your brain, holding all her memories.

"I had her when I was sixteen. I was pregnant throughout my sophomore year of high school and had a toddler by the time I went to college. I still don't know how, but I graduated. I was gonna go to med school and start a brand new life, just the two of us. I spent so fucking long studying, but it didn't matter."

"How come I didn't know all this?"

"We agreed to keep our pasts to ourselves when we started," you hesitate—started seeing each other as stress relief and nothing else? Started lying to Tess so you could fuck in alleys in between deals? Started pretending like it meant nothing? "I never thought you'd want to know more than you had to."

"I want to know now," He says like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Did her dad stay around to help you?"

"No, he left the second he got the chance. It was probably for the better, anyway. He was an asshole. I still don't know if he's alive or if he even knows what happened. I don't know if I care enough to find out."

"How old was she when she…" he trails off, the last word dying on his tongue. You swallow around the lump in your throat and take a shaky breath.

"Ten."

"I'm sorry." He says, and you nod. You never knew how to respond to people when they told you they were sorry your kid was dead. You still don't. Nobody tells you about this part in parenting classes.

"We got out on Outbreak Day. Somehow, I kept her alive until I could get her to the QZ nearby. I smuggled there for a few years and made enough money to feed and clothe her. That's better than most people were able to do. I would pick her up from school and walk her home most days but I had a deal with one of my neighbors, Mrs. Carmichael, that if I couldn't pick her up from school, she would. She picked her up a few times, and nothing went wrong. So, when I got caught up in a deal outside the walls one day, I thought it was safe to finish it and be home by dinner," you say, regret washing over you all at once. "Then, Fireflies started dropping bombs. I heard the explosions all the way out there, and I ran back, but it didn't matter. They were both gone."

"When I told my mom I was pregnant, she was furious. She told me that a mother's love is nothing compared to a mother's fury. At least, that was her excuse when she threw me out, but I didn't know if I believed her until that day. After Jane died, I ripped the entire city apart, looking for every single Firefly that had orders to drop bombs that day, and I killed all of them without batting an eye, and it still didn't bring her back. I still woke up every morning and listened for her breathing or the sound of her making cereal in the kitchen. I waited for her to come home every day for years," tears fall from your eyes, and you quickly wipe them away. Joel is clinging to your every word. "I couldn't stay there. My daughter and everyone who could've been responsible for her death was dead, so I came to Boston. Met you and Tess, and that was it."

"That's why you wanted to kill Marlene when we got Ellie." He says, connecting the dots, and you nod.

"I wanted to drop a fucking bomb on her head for what she did. I don't care if that makes me cruel. She killed my kid and called her collateral. Made it seem like she was a part of the cause and not a fucking child just trying to get home from school."

"I get it," he says. You open your mouth to say something about how he could never understand, how nobody ever could, but he beats you to it. "My… Sarah was fourteen," He stumbles over his words. "I wanted to kill the guy who shot her. I didn't care that he was following orders on that day, I wanted him to suffer, but he was already dead." 

Joel had a daughter, not much older than yours, and you never talked about either of them. He's one of the only people in the world who can see your pain, the black hole Jane left in you, and show you his matching one. Joel must've been young when he had his daughter, too. Twenty-two, at the very least. How could you have never talked about this?

"What was Sarah like?"

"She was a spitfire and just about the funniest person I've ever known. Smart as hell, too. She was always readin' and telling me everything she learned in school. I never understood half of it, but she loved it," He says, and it's your turn to cling to his every word. His eyes light up as he talks about her. You see now what a good dad he must've been. "Still don't know where she got it from."

"Well, I'd say she got it from her dad. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for." You say, but he shakes his head, refusing the compliment.

"What about Jane? What was she like?" He asks, and you think for a moment. You remember her big brown eyes; how they widened when she was excited about something or glazed over with tears when she was afraid. You remember how her laugh could fill a room. You remember cradling her in your arms when she came into the world and when you found her.

"She was the most beautiful person I've ever met. When she was born, all the nurses would take turns coming into my room to look at her. They couldn't stop telling me how cute she was, and I agreed with them. She was perfect," you smile, remembering how many pictures you took of her tiny face. You had been terrified your entire pregnancy, but the second you saw her, you knew you were meant to be her mom. You felt completely at peace with her, even as young and unprepared as you were. 

"She was quiet and curious, but she also had moments where she was loud and careless like kids usually are. I never understood what people meant when they said having kids gave them a whole new idea of what love could be until I had her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me." You say. Joel watches you wipe more tears away before putting his hand on your knee and squeezing. He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes tells you everything.

"I wonder if they would've been friends. Our daughters." He thinks aloud.

"I like to think so."

"Me too," he says. He clears his throat, probably trying to bury any emotions this conversation brought up. "She would've loved you."

"You think?" You ask, and he nods. 

"You two would've been thick as thieves. Probably conspire against me or somethin'."

"And that's different from now, how?" He laughs at that, and you smile. You put your hand over his and let your thumb trace the contours of his knuckles. Those bruised, scarred, terrifying mountains that have killed and beaten soften under your touch. 

You don't say much else for the rest of the night. You just hold his hand and stay awake to protect the girl not much older than your daughters were. The fear, cautious optimism, and sadness that came along with Ellie, that you thought you were alone in feeling doesn't feel as heavy anymore. The black hole Jane left will never be filled, and you will miss her for the rest of your life, but Joel opening up and showing you his similar wound makes you feel less alone. 

It makes you wonder if your girls are together somewhere far from all the pain and bloodshed. You wonder if they've secretly conspired to make you two find each other. You wonder what they would think of each other, of the people their parents turned into, of Ellie. It's nice to think they're together, playing silly games while waiting for you. 

Not yet, sweet Jane, you think as you look at the stars, and maybe it's a mind trick or exhaustion, but you swear a star winks back at you. Not yet, Mommy, she seems to agree. 

💫

💫

[stargazer2709]

The Boogeyman & The Hangman | 1. After Hours

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I'm a Gotham man from birth. A man who lived under the wing of a Falcone for twenty years, even since I was just a young boy. Doing what I was good at made me who others think I am. Loving made me who I really am.

After the best part of my life, the job was just dealing with obstacles for the Family that I chose, or maybe they chose me. However, that didn't stop me from being kicked out, despite working there for almost half my life. Who doesn't love receiving nothing but pats on the back for their hard work?

The worst part about being unemployed is that you have nothing else to think about, and I can't deal with the absence of the woman who gave me hope at the lowest point in my life.

My former boss, Carmine Falcone, was killed a few days ago, and I can say that he has left a very big space to fill. Things have not been the same since he passed away, and with it the end of my service to the Family.

Anyway, today, November 23, I just finished one last pending matter, returning to my apartment tired, it being still very dark before dawn. Just when I think this early part of the day has been stressful enough, I get a phone call. No one but my good friend Oswald Cobb, calling at this hour, I'd be willing to bet he's screwed up somewhere and needs help or it's going to be a night of drinking.

“What's the matter, Oz?” I say as soon as I answer the call, and the phone is on my ear.

“Hey, what's up? Listen here, somethin' big just happened, and I'm gonna need a hand.” Yes, indeed, he screwed up. “Come on, I'm at the Iceberg Lounge, it'll be a quick matter.”

Oh God.

“Fine. I’ll be there.” As we finish talking, the call ends and I can only theorize what the hell mess Oz has gotten himself into this time to ask me for help.

Do I have another choice? Of course not, I don't. Since any Oz-related business involves a car, I have no need to use mine. I hail a cab outside my apartment and ask to be taken to the club. I pray that this little matter will not be so important and I can return home early.

Fast forward a few minutes and I'm here, at the Iceberg Lounge, closed for obvious reasons, after the blood of Gotham's most dangerous bastard was spilled literally right at that entrance. Getting out of the cab, my most reasonable option to find Oz would be in the back, and I was right. I can see the beautiful Maserati parked, but no sign of good old Oz.

I'm about to call him, when I'm surprised by the sound of a door opening and there's the man. Apparently he doesn't come alone. He looks at me with a certain sparkle in his eyes. He seems pleased to see me.

“Hey, come here now, I need someone strong. This kid is a fuckin' spaghetti strand, he's not helpin' me at all.” He sounds exhausted, apparently carrying something. Or someone.

“'Kid'? What kid?” The moment I approach to help, just after Oz, a young man comes out of the place, with a worried and completely scared expression. I don't know which part of this strikes me as weirder, the part where Oz is removing a corpse from his own club or that he just adopted a stray.

I help load the bagged corpse with the help of Oz and the guy I barely know and together we get to the trunk of the Maserati to leave the place. Closing the trunk, I finally get a breather and head over to Oz to talk.

“I don't know if I want to know who this poor idiot is, and what he did to end up like this." I say this jokingly, and receive a brief awkward silence, which is then softened by that oh-so-sarcastic Oz tone.

“You're right, you don't want to.” He pats me on the shoulder and walks with his classic limp towards the boy. “Now, you wanted my car so badly, you can drive.” After that, he gives the car keys to the young man, to which he agrees and takes them. “Go on.”

It was all a long, uncomfortable car ride to specific points in the city that would eventually end at a junkyard where Oz would dispose of the body. I waited in the car for a couple of minutes for the two guys to finish the job, sitting in the back seats, in this case, like a child with two parents arguing while he looks out the window.

As we return, the boy is back behind the wheel and Oz is in the passenger seat. The whole atmosphere feels lighter and my good friend turns to look at me with a more carefree smile.

“Hey, man, the kid's stayin' with us, okay? This is, uh... Victor.” He returns to his seat and continues smiling at me through the rearview mirror.

“Nice to meet you, Victor.” Now I lean over to the front seats and pat the boy on the shoulder, trying to comfort him, because I could tell he had had a bitter experience just now.

“N-nice... Nice to meet you too, sir.” He answers me and seems less nervous than he was a few minutes ago.

Oz smiles as he assures us that we are all in the same boat, as this mess seems to have only just begun. An issue later got in the way, as Oz was in charge of the Falcone Family's Drop operation, and he had to keep an eye on it, especially in these tough days. It's not all good news when it's time to start the engine once again to head to the Falcone Mansion, as my good friend has been requested for a 'business meeting'.

Holy crap, it's even dawn already.

And so, our journey ends at the entrance of the mansion, parking there, planning our next steps carefully.

“Alright, listen, if we don't come out...” There is a slight pause in his words and in an instant he continues. “Nah, we'll be fine. You'll be fine. It's gonna be fine.” The boy at this point doesn't know whether to actually be scared or not. Maybe it's just Oz playing one of his practical jokes on matters like this. For God's sake. “I'm messing with you, kid! Alright, just sit tight, you know? Maybe look for your sense of humor. It's gotta be here somewhere.”

Oh man, this guy. Before he interacted with his door to leave, I stopped him by putting my hand on his shoulder having approached him.

“Hey, hey, what do you mean by 'we'? Do I really have to go in there?”

“I need you to be there. That way they'll know I have your back, you know? Come on, they're just weak pricks, they couldn't do anything to you if they wanted to. You just have to be there, dammit." Without even letting me respond, he opens the door and walks out, leaving me behind.

As always, I can't let good old Oz go in there without me.

“Easy, Vic. It's just in and out. Just stay here.” Just like Oz did, I'm just trying to make the boy feel safe even in these circumstances. I open my door too and follow Oz into the mansion.

The doors open into a small dining room where the guys behind this stupid business are waiting for us.

“Johnny. Milos.” My good friend greets them both, walking around the place until he sits down. The two men pay attention to him, and then notice the anomaly here. Me.

“What the hell is he doing here?” The man sitting at the end of the table asks, clearly not happy to see me here.

“Hey, calm down, Johnny, he's with me, okay? If we can finish this soon, go ahead.” Oz has my back even when I'm not welcome in this house, at least not now, not when I have no one else to owe loyalty to.

Viti and Milos prefer to leave the matter aside so as not to make it bigger than it is. It's just blah blah, business, and they will move the operations to Robbinsville. Oz tries to counter-argue with an alleged shipment that will arrive in the next few days. I admit this guy always has an ace up his sleeve.

At this, the two subjects in front divert their attention to the other side of the room, leaving everything in an awkward silence. What the hell are they looking at?

“Sofia, please, join us.” Now Milos motions with his hand for the person they were looking at to come closer. But hearing 'Sofia', just that, makes my heart, without exaggeration, want to jump straight out of my chest.

Damn. Is it really her? It's been ten long years. Maybe I've gone mad and this is a product of my fatigue and exhaustion from long days of work.

“Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt.” That melodious voice echoes in my head over and over again. I'm so afraid of turning around and discovering that voice is just in my imagination, or maybe I'm hallucinating.

The fact that Oz turns to look behind him gives me some hope. Maybe I'm not hallucinating it. Maybe... it is her.

“Oz, you remember Carmine’s daughter?”

“Yeah.”

Oh my God. Seriously, it's her. I immediately turn around and what a surprise, it's her, Sofia Falcone, finally and after ten years, without a window in between to separate us.

“Sofia. I thought you were still at, uh...”

“Arkham?”

“Yeah.”

“No. I've been rehabilitated.” That lovely, subtle, elegant voice, along with a smile are so far the best damn thing that has happened to me this crazy week.

Just seeing her, out in the open, without that striped suit, finally within my reach, makes me feel so many things right now. I could take her in my arms, hug her, kiss her, as if the day after this one didn't exist, but I can't take that risk. Not even for me. For her. I would love to be able to obey my feelings, my heart, but the show must go on.

“Miss Sofia, it's... A pleasure to have you back home.” And there it is, my best attempt at the proper, formal man the Falcones had hired long ago, the one who would never dare even look in the same direction as the princess of the family.

She looks at me, instantly deducing my false role as a bodyguard who is just doing his job, without any personal motives or love affairs involved. That smile on her face could mean many things. To those in the room except me, it might just seem like a polite response to my greeting. But for me, I think it's the best way she finds to reciprocate without pulling back the curtain of fiction.

“Yes, quite a pleasure, indeed.” She answers dryly, as if my presence doesn't keep her awake at night, as if I'm just someone else standing in the room like the rest of the guards at home. Without anything else to add, she looks back at the back of the room, now addressing Milos. “Have you asked him about my brother?”

“I thought we agreed-” The bearded man tries to reply but is interrupted by the beautiful and elegant newcomer.

“Have you heard from Alberto?” Now she asks Oz the questions, maybe he might have answers.

“Al?”

“He went out last night, he refused his bodyguards, and he never came home.” She remains sharp with her words, but I can bet that deep down she is dying of anguish to know the whereabouts of her brother.

“Sofia, that's enough.” Viti breaks the tense atmosphere, putting his word over hers.

“I-I better get out of here.” Feeling this atmosphere as much as everyone else, like water almost reaching the point of drowning him, Oz decides to leave before this gets worse. He walks to the exit, but not before saying goodbye. “And, uh... It's good to see you.” After this, he walks away, not even making sure I'm following behind him.

“Well, uh... I think... I should go too.” Personally, I also feel the tide rising over me until I almost drown and I decide to leave too before the bomb explodes. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” I nod my head to the two men, and then to the beautiful young lady. “Miss.”

I'm about to start walking out of the room when Sofia stops me in my tracks, mentioning my name, and having all my attention to herself, she speaks up. “Don’t go yet. We have a lot to talk about. I’ll wait for you at the end of the hall.”

At this point I have no idea how to react. Maybe this really is Sofia's new mood, or maybe it's her wonderful acting tool in front of the judging eyes of the Family. Whatever it is, it's Sofia, and I would do anything for her. I nod again and I can leave the room, still trying to come to terms with what has happened. The woman I once loved and still love is here, just when I thought I couldn't miss her anymore in life. Once upon a time this seemed like something far away from happening.

Only a few minutes pass when I see Sofia coming towards me. That white outfit of hers suits her incredibly well, and I've noticed that over time she looks even more beautiful than she did years ago. She stops right in front of me, looking up at me with her gaze that now seems more vulnerable than a moment ago, as if just passing through the door made her mood change.

With her so close, I can only think about the time we missed each other, and which I plan to make up for. Starting now.

Finally, after a long time, I can feel Sofia's body and the warmth of it close to me, having surrounded her tightly with my arms, bringing her closer to me. Every part of me shivers at the feeling of this kind of physical contact with her. Her hands touching my back in response to my hug causes something in my body that I haven't felt in years, and I'm not exaggerating. It feels like we haven't hugged like this in a lifetime. After all, I've waited a whole decade for this.

“I... I don't know what to say, honey, I... I missed you so much.” Along with my body shaking, my voice shakes being so close to her, and I can't find a better time to speak than now, hugging her body.

“I know, love, I know.” Her voice so close to my ear is just one of many reasons why my knees might give out and let me fall to the floor. She buries her face in my neck area, feeling her hot breath on my skin, which only makes me want more. “I'm finally here, just for you...”

We separate from each other's embrace and, standing face to face once again, the kiss we've been waiting for years is a reality. Every second Sofia's lips press against mine makes the seconds I spend missing her, wanting her, worth it. I just want to stay like this forever, enjoying this moment for longer than circumstances could offer me. A caress on my cheek gives me the reassurance I needed. My love is back, and she's not going anywhere from now on, and I wouldn't let her go again.

Sofia's slender fingers slide over my cheek after she pulls away from me once our kiss is over. I can still taste her on my lips, and though I could have a lot more of them another time, her presence is enough for me. A warm smile appears on her face and that's when she speaks again.

“Like I said before, honey, we have a lot to talk about, so I hope you're hungry. We'll go get lunch.” Damn, she's so straight-laced when she wants something. And I'm certainly in.

This day just gets better and better.

[chrome-barkz-aac]

bit of a vent /asking for help belowwww

i know that im LSN but i dont feel like other people struggle like i do. that sounds really pretentious and dramatic to say out loud but i look at all of my other LSN friends and they have jobs and aren't failing classes and are taking their meds and not behind on chores. I'm not sure if its the combination of my SCZ and other mental health issues that have made me drop out of school before or what but why isn't ne 1 else struggling like this? every day i feel like im walking through a cloud where nothing makes sense and everything is so hard.

i guess i should be fucking grateful that i get to go to school at all (because of financial and disability reasons) but it doesnt feel like a blessing it feels like a burden. im tired all the time and i cant study and i can't keep my apartment clean and im having to skip class. i can barely drive nowadays bc cars keep darting in and out of existence and i feel like its too dangerous to drive for me. i love driving i dont want to give it up.

i can barely bathe myself because im just so tired. i just sit in the water and cant even wash. and i can hardly brush my teeth more than once every other day.

idk man i just want to be able to finish college, get a job or do a PhD program and live on my own without fear that i'm not going to be independent. i don't want to be dependent on my family or a partner for the rest of my life. i don't want to do that again.

i just want to be able to do science man but at this point it barely feels worth it to persue a career. i dont want to be beholden to something outside of my control. and im frustrated that no one else seems to get this. im not disabled enough to be MSN and qualify for the kind of help that would get me but every day is harder than the last and im worried that im going to relapse or lose everything again.

does ne 1 have ne ideas for how i can manage this stuff? im really really struggling and im terrified that im going to have to drop out again, which would effectively end my chances at living independently.

(also i have asked for help about stuff like this before and gotten the response that i am privileged [for needing help with chores/living independently and considering options such as a group home or home care service] because i am american. this is me asking for help. if you feel that strongly, you may want to consider writing your own post)

[othervee]

Portrait of a royal family

I love that Young Royals is the kind of show you can re-re-rewatch and discover new stuff every time, because of the care and attention that's gone into it.

For instance - what we learn about the royal family and Wilhelm's place in it, including the unspoken things.

First vision of the royal family, and we see that their space is not theirs. There are thirteen people in this room; courtiers and staff outnumber the family more than 2:1. The family is also divided, with Erik and the Queen (the current and future rulers) standing together attending to business, while Wilhelm and his father are seated and talking. Wilhelm is also separated from his father by the staffer standing between them while she covers up Wilhelm's bruises. There's an array of cosmetic products in front of them; this is something they take seriously, not just a bit of concealer. So not only is Wilhelm unable to lick his wounds in privacy, but the family wants to conceal his injuries; they can't show that he's hurting.  

The Queen's first interaction with her youngest son is all about the visuals. She grabs his face to check the makeup job; we don't know whether she actually checked the visible injuries before Wille sat down. It's as if he's a little kid. No boundaries. You could almost see it as an extension of their relationship in general; Wilhelm is at the age where teenagers test boundaries, and his mother is angry and maybe a little scared because of the dangers he's exposing himself to. In a non-royal house, this perhaps wouldn't be quite such a big deal.

Kristina's next act is to slap Wilhelm's hand out of his mouth when he's biting his nails, with an exasperated snap that tells us she's done this a lot and is tired of it. The end result is that everyone in the room witnesses Wilhelm being scolded. Even his "private" humiliation is not private.

What else does this scene tell us? It is not a comfortable, or comforting, environment. The chairs are straight-backed and gilded. The table is covered in the detritus of a working day - laptops, coffee - but it does not look like a convenient place to work. Everyone's quite formally dressed; staff in uniforms or office attire, Erik in his military uniform, Wilhelm and his father in suits, and the Queen in royal blue. Her jewellery is conservative-coded with its tiny pearls and cameo. Dignified, stately, not flashy; stiff; made for show, not comfort; old-fashioned. This is the world Wilhelm uneasily inhabits and has tried to escape.

The scene on the couch is excruciating for Wilhelm and clearly uncomfortable for everyone else. The family are not in harmony; there's not a moment when they all look in the same direction. Ludvig looks like he's thinking about his stamp collection or his stock options or what he wants for dinner. Erik is keeping an excellent neutral expression but his eyes keep moving to Wille, checking out his face and his nervous hands, monitoring how he's feeling. The Queen is also looking at Wilhelm, but it's a pointed look, expectant and also silently saying Get on with it, and don't stuff it up.

We learn more about the family when Erik and Wille arrive at Hillerska. Note that Erik is the one who drives him there, probably taking time away from his Crown Prince duties. Did he offer, knowing it would be easier for Wilhelm? Although he clearly cares about his brother, he's also trusted to do the right thing and deliver him safely. He's part of the apparatus that's setting Wilhelm back into place. (Erik, I think, is not nearly as much on Wille's side as much of the fandom believes; he's just the closest thing Wille has to someone on his side).

August, like the Queen, is all about the image - and grabbing Wille's face without invitation. He's also all about Erik. And I'm sure he's also very aware of all the faces watching them from the window behind them, and the press in front of them, but he sees it as an advantage. He doesn't care about the reality as long as the image is right.

Does Wille find it disconcerting that August and Erik are so closely bonded? Erik clearly intends Wille to think of August as another big brother, an Erik-substitute, but Wille's seeing that there's another 'little brother' in Erik's life and that Erik is leaning in to seeing August again at the moment when Wille needs him most.

August is letting down his guard here. I think this is the most natural, uncalculated reaction we get out of him all season.

Wilhelm is being almost squashed between August and Erik as they talk across him. Again, Erik barely pays Wille any attention while August is around. This would further alienate Wille from him.

And here we really begin to see that, as much as he loves his brother and his brother adores him, Erik is part of the machinery that grinds Wille down. Let's look at his lines in this scene:

He's lived through his own adolescence and his time at Hillerska, and he came around to the establishment way of thinking. Surely Wille will too. So he'll be understanding and kind, but like his parents, he expects Wille to knuckle down. He's not going to encourage Wille to dream of a life beyond the gilded cage.

[n30nwrites]

the lost boys with male reader who loves naps and is always so sleepy, falls asleep anywhere and gets whiny when the boys tell him he can’t nap cus he sleeps too much n it’s not good for his health <3

Hand in Hand; Comfort mixes with Safety

Summary: Heading to the pier, you can't help but Fall asleep, that's what happens when you finally find your safety.

a/n: Yk I love my lost boys soft, i don't do that manipulative shit (also it drains me). This is short. I don't even know when this request was sent so sorry if it's been a bit.

Word Count: 1.0k

Reader: Male, 2nd person. Use of nicknames but they are genderneutral for the most part, He/Him pronouns are used.

Warnings: Fluff, Surf Nazis, Mention of murder and othr Lost Boys stuff but nothing gone into detail. Reader wants to sleep but boys are worried.

Disclaimer; i do not own The Lost Boys Characters nor Story line nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any images used.

Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are appreciated.

It was easy to fall asleep around them. Not that they were boring, they were quite the opposite actually. But once you had felt safe with them, being around them just felt so calming that you could close your eyes and rest.

And you did that, often.

You loved them, just a little but more than you loved naps. You were always tired, and with your trust in the boys, you knew you could fall asleep at any point and they would protect you.

You never got sleep, you just had naps. Which you preferred. A few hours of sleep made you feel better than sleeping for 8 hours.

Like now, you were napping. You were in the between stages of awake and sleep, your body slowly going numb as your eyes kept fluttering close, your jacket was zipped up to prevent the cold and you were laying your head on David's back.

You were falling asleep, holding onto David on the back of his motorcycle while you and your boys were heading to the pier. The boys could hear your heart beat slowing down, and Marko and Paul looked at each other.

Sleeping on the back of his motorcycle whilst the boys drove at high speeds was dangerous, and David faltered when he felt your grip loosen, his foot slowly lifting from the peddle and slowing down, he readjusted his hands.

"You gotta wake up Darling." David drove with one hand, the other gripping both of your wrists, holding you tightly. "Can't fall asleep on the drive, you'll get hurt." Still human, still fragile, he hated it.

"i'll be fine..." your voice came out soft, as your whined and dug your face deeper into his back, and through the rushing wind if they were human you wouldn't have been heart at all.

"Gotta stay awake, not good for you." He rolled his shoulders, disturbing your comfort more for the sake of keeping you awake. You just huffed at his words, groaning and just turning your head, now facing Dwayne instead of the terror twins. "Don't ignore me."

"We'll be there in a few minutes, just let me sleep until then." It was almost hard for him to argue against you. Out of the four of them, David liked spoiling you the most, anything you wanted, he was willing to give to you. David's one hand that was steering the motorcycle quickly left to gently slap your thigh, "Few more minutes, for me?"

"Love you." Your hands grabbed his shirt, as you put your head on his shoulder, wind blowing in your face so you could stay awake. David returned to his normal speed, which was illegally fast, and it wasn't long before they arrived at the pier, and immediately received dirty looks from the onlookers. You continued to lean, except this time on Dwayne as he was the quieter and stood still better than the blondes. "What are the plans?"

"Terrorize some surf nazis, eat some food because, you, Darlin', haven't eaten at all today and I'm not even sure about yesterday." You weren't with the boys yesterday, work tired you out more than usual and you slept throughout the day, only waking up to do some chores, which they had no idea about. Paul wrapped his arm around you, pulled you away from your human pillow, tugging you to the rides and the food, the sweet smell filled the air.

Nothing really stopped you from your tired state though. While Paul pulled you ahead, Marko, Dwayne, and David followed behind, a few steps away as they spoke to each other.

"It's not healthy for humans to be sleeping this much, right?" David asked.

"Not really, especially with the way he forgets to eat." Dwayne watched as your steps stuttered, slightly tripping over yourself.

"We need to turn him."

"He doesn't want to yet, we're lucky he's fine with everything else." Marko wasn't just mentioning the fact that you knew they were vampires. It was the fact that when David would do anything for you, that meant killing for you, and the other three wouldn't have opposed doing so in your name. And you were aware of that, just that your mind often was imaginative and the one time you had stumbled upon them whilst they were killing, you hadn't exactly been fine with it all. You knew they killed, seeing it meant something else though.

"His health will only get worse if he continues like this."

"Not like he'd actually get it checked out."

"Come on Boys!" You called for them, as Paul was quickly walking to a food truck and grabbing you something. It didn't take long for him to come back, probably because he cut the line and despite his aura, Paul was threatening. You ate quickly, as Marko had insisted that they should head to the Ferris wheel, your eyes were heavy but you tried your best to stay awake.

That didn't last long.

Hadn't even reached the top and your head was slumped against Paul's shoulder. You said you were just resting your eyes but that was a clear lie to everyone that knew you. When you reached the top you were out of it, and the boys just watched, staring as your chest relaxed and your stomach slowly went in and out, your heart beat being the one thing they were focused on.

When the ride ended, Marko was the one to try to wake you, he put his hand on your thigh and gently shook you awake. "Stop..." You dragged out the 'p' as you gently pushed him away.

"We gotta get off."

"Don't wanna," You slurred your words, "I'm tired, Paul's comfy."

"You think all of us are comfy," They were getting closer, and whilst they would be fine with threatening the worker and making the teen just skip them, the boys still had to eat. "We gotta go, time to feed."

"Already ate."

"Not you Mi Corazón."

"Oh." You took your head off of Paul's shoulder as the door opened and Dwayne stepped out. The four followed after him, as they headed towards the beach for a bonfire.

"You've gotta stop sleeping so much, completely ignoring the party all night we got going on." Paul joked, laughing at your playful scowl.

"Plus it's not healthy." Marko adjusted his arm to wrap around you. Another thing the boys did, constant touching. It didn't have to be all the time, but just one of them needed to be touching you.

Comfort, that's what you all felt around each other.

[heyftinally]

saw you on the comments of a fake news post about taylor swift removing homeless people from hotels and i'm here to tell you that exactly zero homeless people were removed and the entire thing was a vague "what if" scenario that actually never happened. i know it's pretty harmless in the grand scheme of things if you fall for fake news about a random celeb, but it does show that you have a tendency to believe things you see online when they confirm your pre-held beliefs, even when they're not true. this could be very dangerous for you in more serious areas like politics or crime, so i'd recommend fact checking everything you read rather than having a gut response of "it's true" simply because someone you already hate is apparently doing something outrageous.

Y'know, I was going to ignore this, but actually I'm going to call you out because this is ALMOST funny.

THESE were my comments:

NOWHERE in these comments did I say ANYTHING one way or another about whether Taylor Swift did or did not drive out homeless people.

What I ACTUALLY SAID is that she *should* put some of her disgusting, obscene wealth towards building housing facilities for homeless people so that they would no longer be homeless.

For someone who wants to come into a stranger's inbox and get all moralizing and preachy, maybe you should actually READ what someone *really* wrote first. Because this who "getting mad at what you wanted to read instead of what was actually said" is the EXACT thing you're trying to scold me about. Your hypocrisy is almost funny.

Furthermore, you don't know jack shit about what I do or don't fact check. You sure as shit didn't fact check your own bitching before you brought it to my inbox, so maybe you should practice what you preach BEFORE you preach it.

Shit like this is why I can't stand swifties - y'all made up something I said just to get mad at me and bitch about how I don't like your priss bitch, so "obviously" I'm in the wrong *somewhere*.

Incorrect. I pointed out that Taylor Swift hoards obscene amounts of money - which is true, because she's a billionaire which is unethical by default - and that she COULD use that money to do a lot of good, but doesn't - also true because, again, she's a billionaire.

Next time you want to cry about what I said, actually read it first. I'm tired of dealing with people with intentionally piss poor reading comprehension.

[cho-aaacho]

(Flufftober 2023) Sick/Injury

Main Masterlist I Archive of Our Own

Flufftober 2023 Masterlist l Prompts List

Tags : Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Sick/Injury, Caretaking, Flufftober 2023, Reader is genderless.

(Flufftober 2023 Day 3)

The hallway seems so long for him to reach every time he walks; his foot feels like stepping into the clouds. The air conditioner's frigid exhale felt like icy needles against his skin, each one leaving a shiver in its wake. The world around him appeared as a hazy fog.

Albert had a difficult time seeing his office. A headache rendered him vulnerable. Gravity falls strangely. His head felt so heavy, like a burdensome ton of bricks placed on his shoulders.

Albert halted his steps; his hands were trembling, making his mountain of paperwork scatter on the floor like a fallen leaf. He embraces his weight against the wall as his fingers gingerly touch his temple in pain.

His forehead was slick with sweat, and his cheek felt hot like boiling water. As he attempted to walk forward and examine his paperwork, his efforts were in vain when his body stumbled and fell because of the gravity.

"Eh... what has come over me?" He mused, breathless, gasping, and tortured.

His mind traveled back to a moment when Chief Irons had given him a bunch of paperwork, a task that rightfully belonged to the Chief himself. Albert could have easily refused that since it wasn't his job desk, but Chief Irons' threat made Albert afraid that something bad would happen to his team.

His actions were the reason why his health has become worse this week. He sacrificed himself to a pit full of Chief Irons' nonsense. The Alpha Team was trying to help their captain, but since they weren't compatible enough to finish that paperwork, it ended up being troublesome for their dear captain.

"Good evening—Oh, Captain Wesker, what happened to you?'

With swift urgency, you're running toward him, having a fear after witnessing that he almost fainted. As you draw near him, your eyes lock into his weak state. He can't stand on his own and seems in pain. Is he okay?

You've never seen him like this before, not in your life. Because he always hid them beneath his stoic expression whenever he felt tired or sleepy. This is a good yet dangerous act.

"Captain, are you okay? Do you need something? I'll call an ambulance!"

Your voice is a gentle lullaby to his ears, comforting him to the point of making him fall for your beauty.

He gave a reassuring smile as he shook his head, yet his body was quivering, trembling like the first snow in December. 

Your tender touch is circling softly upon his back, and your soothing voice is calming him. At that moment, he couldn't help but think of you as his savior.

"I think—"

"Oh, Captain! You have a fever! Don't worry, I'll help you. Do you want to go home?"

He has a problem breathing, distressing his struggle for air. Of course, it makes you worry even more.

Worried. You leaned closer to him; your palm gently touched his, squeezing them in care. He was trying to stand up on his own but failed.

"I don't wish to go home; I'm sorry—"

"No! Captain, you're not a burden," you insisted, cupping his cheek with your caring touch and reassessing his condition. "You're far from well; I can see that. What you need is a rest. I'll drive you home!"

You are guiding him to stand up, wrapping your arm around his waist, squeezing them, and sharing warmth and support. 

His body radiated heat; really, you don't even know how long he had concealed his suffering, pretending that he was fine.

You feel bad for him because he tirelessly leads the Alpha Team, but the team can't do much for their captain.

He nestled his head on your shoulder, his weight leaning upon you and creating a gentle, warm pink blush across your cheek.

He had never been this close to your face before. With this distance, you felt his breath on your neck and the rhythmic beat of his heartbeat.

"You'll be okay, Captain. You can count on me."

"Thank you..."

As the two of you enter the elevator, your reflection gazing back at you, a cute giggle fills that tiny cubicle. "I could also help with your daily chores if you'd allow me, and you can sleep without bothering them."

He giggling. "Hum? Oh... like a good partner?"

You tease him. "Yes, like Mama and Papa at home."

[possibilistfanfiction]

Hi! I just wanted to say I love everything you write for warrior nun (& butch bea especially!!) If you're ever in the mood to write more ficlets can I put in my vote for something about mary and ray? the part about them made me so happy !

[a little something!]

'don't laugh at me,' you say, coming downstairs from your guest room at beatrice and ava's to where they're sitting and doing a puzzle at the kitchen island. well, beatrice is doing the puzzle, diligently finishing the edges, while ava just kind of sits and stares. it's... kind of ridiculous, but beatrice had been hurt; there's still a bruise on the back of her head, turning green now — painful, and healing — and the brace over a compression sleeve on her leg. but she's only using one crutch now, and the incision down her stomach has knit together fully now. she's a little stir-crazy, you think, but also pretty tired still — and has been relegated from olympic-level judo to things like puzzles, so, of course, ava had come home with ten of them.

'we'll definitely laugh at you,' ava says, looking up with a grin.

'why wouldn't we?' beatrice asks, attention still on the puzzle pieces.

you sigh. you're happy for them — so, so happy — but the two of them together are also the bane of your fucking existence. ava makes beatrice's shoulders relax, makes a big smile stretch on her face, makes her laugh, every single day; beatrice makes ava brighter, which had seemed impossible, but now you watch them in their own home and you ache, you hug them tightly every night before they go to bed while you stay here while your apartment is finalized. they also, however, love to collectively make fun of you. no shooting allowed, in this new world, even though ava would still be fine. whatever.

'i'm — i'm going on a date.'

'oh, we know,' beatrice says. 'ray hasn't shut up about it for days.'

'so you know what we're doing? thank god, i have no idea what to wear.'

ava grins. dangerous. you could kick her off a cliff again, you really could. 'yeah, we can't tell you where though.'

you roll your eyes. maybe you could swipe a puzzle piece when they're at the beach, that would drive beatrice nuts. 'can you, like, advise an outfit, at least? i've worn all black forever but i don't think that's the vibe.'

'yeah, hot mercenary is not the theme.' ava grins. 'but i love shopping. and bea knows all the good spots.'

'okay, but not boring spots.'

'ava has never complained a day in her life about me being boring.' you just let it pan out from there, ava's adoring smile, the familiar scratch to the back of beatrice's head, so soft and careful, the way beatrice's hands still on their puzzle pieces and her chin lifting, just slightly, so ava bends near her, like a willow to water, and kisses her. eventually, beatrice turns to you. 'see?'

'i don't need you making out to know that you're into each other,' you grumble.

'oh, if you want to see us making out,' ava says, but beatrice puts a gentle hand on ava's wrist. 'okay, never mind. but... shopping! bea, do you feel good enough to go? otherwise i'll just facetime you everywhere.'

beatrice laughs. 'yes, i can go. i'll just sit while mary tries things on.' she turns toward you. 'i know it can be — daunting, to figure out who you want to be. maybe it won't be; ava's always enjoyed it.' ava preens. 'but we'll have fun; i'll take you places where there will be stuff you might be interested in. and, at any time, if you want to leave, just say the word.'

'okay,' you relent — you want to look good for your date, and, as you look at ava in her flowy wide-leg pants and especially beatrice, in a favorite, soft crew neck, you realize that you desperately, and joyfully, want to know who you are.

/

as promised, beatrice does take you to stores that have interesting clothes — expensive, not that that's anything you'd worry about at this point — and sneakers you had always wanted when you were younger. beatrice finds a pair of dunks that you think are both very clean and, as expected, extremely boring; you get a few that are more interesting, jordan 1s and 4s and a pair of union dunks. ava knocks over a whole rack of clothes, who knows how, but charms the attendant so much they end up laughing as she helps pick things up.

there are a few more stores, with t-shirts and flannels and perfectly fitting pants. they're fancy, you know, understated and cool, and everyone knows beatrice and ava; they're happy to see them, although everyone is worried about beatrice, who handles things like a champ: she's just fine, a cycling accident in spain; recovery has been easy and she's glad to be out of the house; yes, she wants that hoodie even though — with a laugh — she definitely doesn't need it, but ava will steal it anyway.

you can tell this one is beatrice’s particular favorite, because when ava holds the door for her and beatrice walks through — slowly, but steadily, fairly coordinated with her forearm crutch opposite the big leg brace, one of the attendants shoots forward. he’s, well, beautiful, with perfect braids and and dark skin, cargo pants and a pair of off whites you don’t even want to think about how much they cost.

‘beatrice,’ he says, seemingly torn between grinning and frowning, and wraps her in a careful, familiar hug.

‘hi jalen,’ she says, and then jalen hugs ava too, who smiles into his shoulder.

‘hey bud.’

‘i’ve missed you both,’ he says. ‘how are you feeling?’

‘much better,’ beatrice says. ‘i had a facial and a massage yesterday, and down to one crutch, so i can’t complain.’

‘first, still obsessed with your hair.’ he ruffles the top, and you’re a little floored, because beatrice just laughs. ‘and, secondly, ava, you’re okay?’

‘spick and span,’ she confirms, offering two dorky thumbs up that just come off, annoyingly, as charming.

‘jalen, this is mary,’ beatrice says. ‘one of my oldest friends. mary, this is jalen. he’s a regular at ava’s bar and my favorite stylist.’

‘quite the resume,’ you say, and shake his hand.

he smiles. ‘if only beatrice would add keiko’s boyfriend to that list.’

ava snorts. ‘we would if it was true.’

‘one day.’ he sighs. ‘anyway, what are we here for today? we just got the new aime leon dore crews, beatrice.’

‘while i will be getting one of those for sure,’ she says, ‘more importantly, mary has a date tonight! and, plus, needs some new things anyway. she’s been away on business.’

‘delightful.’ he looks you over. ‘i’m feeling a tasha cloud, arike ogunbowale kinda vibe.’ he smiles, excited. ‘what do you think?’

‘i’m into it,’ you say, your chest warming: beatrice knows you; she loves you; she wants to share her life and all the good things in it. she’s built it herself. she knows who will understand.

‘great! and, please tell me if you don’t like something. my feelings won’t be hurt at all, and we want you to feel awesome.’

‘that — yes,’ you say, a little choked up out of nowhere, and you spare a glance at ava and beatrice. beatrice has settled on a couch, her leg outstretched, while ava looks through some crews and holds them up for beatrice to pick a favorite. ‘that sounds perfect.’

jalen helps you find a few pieces you love, that you can mix and match for a number of outfits. it’s surreal, to get to choose what you want — to wear every day; to wear by the beach; to wear to drinks with your sisters, so in love it’s impossible to really be annoyed; to wear on a date.

eventually, beatrice starts to fade, slumping over on ava’s shoulder on the couch, her eyes fluttering, which makes you laugh — and then jalen too, who understands somehow, that she’s okay. or, at least, that she will be.

ava tells jalen to charge everything to their account; she’d told you when you’d first come that the church pays for whatever they want, and, plus, they have beatrice’s essentially infinite trust fund anyway. you leave with a few bags, but not before you ask jalen where he gets his braids done and he grins and gets your number to send you the information. it’s one of a few in your phone; your world grows every day.

/

'okay,' you say, looking at yourself in your mirror one last time. 'good?'

'you look sexy,' ava says, helpful as always, but bea laughs softly and squeezes your hand.

'you look amazing,' she says, and she really means it. ray hadn't told you much, just that it was casual and no pressure. she's known beatrice for a while now and so, you know, she seems to understand the hesitancy toward big things, a big life. beatrice has one now, and you want one too. it's different, so different than what you thought you would have. but it's not bad; in fact, most of the time it's good.

you tie a flannel around your waist for when it inevitably gets cooler later; you had your braids redone two days ago and your babyhairs are down perfectly. ava is basically vibrating when — endearingly, because she definitely has a key — ray rings the doorbell.

'go, go!' ava says, spinning you by the shoulders in the direction of the stairs. 'beatrice and i are going to ... stay in on your balcony, i guess. right, bea?'

it feels a little like they're your parents or something; whenever lilith visits she trudges along behind them like a teenager being dragged out of her bedroom. but beatrice's smile is gentle and she takes ava's hand. 'yes, i'll make sure that ava gives you your privacy.'

you take a deep breath and nod. 'wish me luck.'

'godspeed,' ava says. 'we definitely won't stay up late waiting on the couch to make sure you get home by your curfew.'

despite yourself, you laugh.

/

ray brings you flowers and you kiss her cheek and she smiles at you, bright in the setting sun, and takes off her sunglasses and opens your car door.

'this is about as lowkey as it gets,' she says, 'but i thought we could get some in n out and watch the sunset on the beach. i know you get to watch the sunset from beatrice and ava's every day, but i have a spot i love that i want to share with you. i brought some craft beer i like, if you want a drink.' she pauses, grips the steering while tight in her hands, and it sets you at remarkable ease when you realize — she's nervous too. she's excited too.

'that sounds amazing.' she smiles and it's worth it; it's so worth it.

she lets out a relieved breath. 'okay, sweet. do you have an in n out order?'

'i've never actually been.'

'god, that's a crime.'

'look, i've only been in california for a month.'

'that's a whole month!'

you laugh at her genuine dismay. honestly, you didn't think you would be staying; you hadn't even brought more than a few days clothes in a duffel when lilith teleported you. you had planned to stay and take care of beatrice and help ava for a week tops. but then, well — 'better late than never, right?'

'so much better,' ray says, and turns on good 90s r&b while you wait in what you think might be the world's longest drive thru, although when you say that ray just laughs. she's beautiful, and your mind drifts slightly when she licks her fingers after finishing her burger, the pink clouds washing over the both of you. there are a few streaks of grey coming into the inky black of her hair, a mess of curls, and you wonder what it might be like to tangle your hands in it. to let her kiss you. to touch her back.

you talk about everything and nothing at once: who you are, but not the worst parts. not yet.

the sun sets and you put your flannel on and ray grins. 'you look really good,' she says.

'thanks. i — beatrice took me shopping.'

'ah,' ray says, 'my favorite activity to share with her. i love when she charges things to her account.'

'it was pretty sweet, honestly. i — well, you knew her, when you first met. getting out of our old line of work, at least for me, it's a lot of just... trying to figure out who i am now. who i want to be.'

'well, if tonight is anything to go by, and how highly beatrice and ava speak of you, who you are is incredible.'

you duck your head, busy yourself with gathering the napkins from dinner and putting them in the bag. you lift your head and the sun sits gold on the horizon behind ray's head. you almost laugh, then, in a little bit of disbelief — the kind of blessing you are just coming to understand. thank you, shannon, you pray. when ray smiles at you, her eyes squinting in the light, you allow yourself to really wonder: there is a halo around her head, some kind of saint, some kind of holy.

you wonder about resurrections and how ava loves so full, how beatrice is quiet and attentive and so deeply herself, now. you wonder about all of it — hell and grace and the rough orange blanket beneath you and the apartment you'd just gotten approved for, the scar along your shoulder from years ago and how often it rains here. you wonder about all of it, as you cup ray's jaw in your hand as gently as you can and ask is this okay? and she smiles — yeah, of course — and kiss her, in the remnants of the sun and the inky dusk setting in over the waves. the tide goes out, and a beautiful woman kisses you. it's a life. it's one hell of a life.

she holds your hand on the drive back to beatrice and ava's house, and when you open the front door ava scrambles up the stairs to, you guess, act like she wasn't watching out the front window, but beatrice still has her crutch and just waves from the couch, nonplussed. ray had walked you to the door and kissed your cheek and heads back to her car with a little wave in beatrice's direction, and you close the door.

'did you have a good time?' she asks, sleepy and looking like she'd showered earlier, comfortable with her leg propped on a few pillows and a heating pad on her stiff hip.

you sit next to her and then ava flings herself in the middle of you. beatrice lets out a little oof but she laughs, and ava climbs practically on top of her without any resistance. you'll never have a love like that, you're pretty sure, in this life or any of the next, because ava is ava — exuberant and unrelenting and desperately kind — but the quietness is good too. the small intimacies. 'i had a wonderful time.'

'good,' ava says, a kind of totality you're just beginning to understand: things are good. things should be good. 'bea has been falling asleep for an hour —' beatrice pouts — 'but, brunch tomorrow, maybe? i want to hear all about it.'

'yeah,' you say, a little overcome, thinking about the sunset and in n out and what it felt like to kiss someone kind after all this time; thinking about what it was like to come back to people who love you, who want you to be happy — your sisters. 'that sounds perfect.'

and it isn't perfect: beatrice is still hurt and grumpy, which makes ava grumpy, but it's beautiful and smells like the ocean and you eat whatever you want, with no plans for the day. it's not perfect, but it is good. it's a home, and a life, and you let yourself wonder about it all as you steal potatoes from ava's plate and she swats at your hand with a laugh, the sun high in the sky.

[divinequo]

⚠️⚠️Major s2 ep5 warning and analysis below!!! Scroll if you haven't watched ⚠️⚠️⚠️

@mooooooosicals

I WATCHED IT AND OMG I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY

Lovely :,)

(ok but the Parallel that they both (maybe both) tried to k*// themselves because they've disappointed their loved ones is wbhxehbxejxbjecjbrjb)

I know glam is probably just blinded by his distractions but out of context this is just hilarious, bro really said

"Yeah I'm choosing hoes before bros your point??"

I noticed this and I think it's supposed to be a parallel between this do and the guitar episode where Dee wanted to learn guitar but walked away from glam and his office instead, I've noticed people walking away/leaving glam is an ongoing thing within this show, which honestly makes me start to wonder if glams chosen family will also leave him (⁠・⁠_⁠・⁠;⁠)

Ok I feel like this is going to be ignored if I don't say it so can we just talk about how glam was Lowkey manipulative towards ches in this scene? Guilt tripping him to stay and basically saying "I was here for you when you weren't competent to do so, be grateful and let me do what I want with no problem" and he even showed a lack of care when ches did decide to leave him?? Really make syou question just how much glam actually cares about ches because this whole scene shocked me, how glam acted was just so so toxic in my opinion

also his petty/tired eyes are so gorgeous omfgggg

Step on me

I CAN'T HIM PREDICTING THE FUTURE AND THE UPMOST UNINTENDED SHADE TOWARDS HEAVY OMFFFFHHGGGG DBHBXFH

"call and win or fold and continue to Play" this absolutely indicates his ongoing battle between choosing his closet friend (glam) or his rockstar life, he's debating internally whether to call glam or not but knows its no use especially since to him glam subconsciously left him behind, him driving away was what he left glam was doing to him, leaving, walking away, he "folds" meaning he chooses to go back to his dangerous lifestyle and continue on with his self destructive (and as we've seen) even deadly habits and behaviors

The lights matching the drums in this scene makes it all even more heart wrenching :,,,(

(also realizing maybe those beats were supposed to symbolize his heart beat starting back up??)

I feel like the bar scene and this tie in perfectly, his mother says he showed everyone "he won" (when in reality he was rich, successful, famous, but not rightfully loved or showed his love towards the last person he cared about) he knows he hasn't won because he hasn't called yet, how hasn't he called?

GLAM.

Anyway I'm going to go watch the English dub now so I apologize if I don't respond :,) would adore to discuss more ideas and potential theories/things to analyze within this episode though!

[haileydilmore]

how did barnroe start in your au?

unprompted barnroe question hello???????!!!!!!!!

^ the vibe

i feel like. it takes a while. linda needs a lot of time. everything is related to that hospital though. river gets sick. or something. remember when his brothers wanted him to wait what was it. put a fork in an electrical socket? or something like that? something super dangerous.

coming to terms over the course of Months. years maybe. there's lots of crying and pretending and more crying. and more pretending. and then she stands in front of becky fucking barnes and they're both yelling, because now, becky yells back.

linda tries to hurt her but it doesn't work and she's getting more frustrated by the second, words that used to cut like knives barely break becky's skin. linda needs to leave. she needs to go up in flames, run out of there, scratch off her own skin. she doesn't know what she needs. no, she knows what she needs. she just hates that she knows what she needs.

she stops. becky stops too. becky is tired of it. she's looking at linda like she's pathetic. like she feels sorry for her. she does. but she also fucking hates her.

there's a moment. "why do you hate me so much? high school was twenty years ago, linda."

tension. sparks. her nostrils flare and she averts her gaze. "you're-", she starts, but doesn't know what to answer. pathetic. no, that's herself. weak. nope, also herself. despera - no wait shit that's also linda.

"you ruined my life." it just slips out.

"how did i ruin your life?"

linda doesn't answer. her face burns red. becky'll fucking figure it out herself. she feels humiliated. she leaves.

becky does figure it out. she just doesn't really believe it. maybe she had a crush on linda at one point. maybe it was just...a desperation for approval? she could never figure out why she hated her so much, after all. it's complicated.

becky thinks about it. still doesn't believe it. drives to linda's house in the middle of the night.

"are you in love with me?"

linda would. what. slam the door in her face. deny deny deny. she can't deny anymore. not when the moonlight is illuminating becky's form and she looks like an angel standing at her front door and linda is drunk, she is drunk, and then she drops the facade. no more. not now. she's exhausted. she is so fucking exhausted.

maybe she cries. i mean, she's drunk. isn't she always. becky comes in and they sit on the couch. linda asks if she wants water.

"i'm not. in love with you, that is." because she's not. how could she be? she's never had a conversation with the woman without tearing her asunder, or even letting her speak. she's just...infatuated. obsessed.

everyone loves becky barnes. everyone adores becky barnes. why does becky barnes get to be adored? she isn't even rich! why does becky barnes get to be adored? why do other people get to adore becky barnes? why do they get to look at her? they shouldn't be allowed to. only linda should be allowed to. god, she fucking hates becky barnes.

"it's so easy for you," linda says. but it's not. and both of them know that.

"i didn't even know you were...you know, i mean, obviously you're, you know, married, and-"

becky is stammering. this situation is so absurd. linda hasn't even called her a bitch once.

"yeah, well. yeah." linda doesn't know what to say. it's not like she's come to terms with it. she's aware of it, a general feeling of disgust always at the back of her mind. but she's just apathetic now. and still drunk.

becky maybe tries to hug her. like a vaguely confused mom whose daughter just came out. but it's worse, because it's not her daughter, it's a bully, a queen b, a prophet, it's linda monroe, and right now, she is pathetic. small and weak.

linda wants to scream. she doesn't. she wants to claw becky's eyes out. she doesn't. she wants to cry. she does.

they sit there for a while. it feels like months.

"everyone just fucking loves you."

"i'm nice to people."

linda scoffs. becky almost smiles a little.

"you're a huge bitch, you know that?"

linda is shocked, to say the least. her jaw drops, she almost laughs. becky sighs.

"that felt good to finally say."

linda wants to be becky, wants to kill her, wants to fuck her, tear her apart with her claws, wants to learn from her, wants...her. linda wants her.

"what'll you do?"

linda doesn't answer because she doesn't know. she'll get a divorce. she got into the marriage with gerald knowing that to be true. she'll be the biggest embarrassment in hatchetfield. people will gossip, god, she hates when it's her they gossip about.

becky sees that. she tells her some "being happy as your true self matters the most" bullshit she probably got from some children's book. linda tunes out. she's still drunk. it's just nice to listen to becky's voice.

she'll be okay someday. not tomorrow, though — that hangover's gonna be fucking awful.

[callme-whatyoulike]

Facedown

I've had this in the drafts for a while (not because I forgot about it or anything, whaaat, nooo). It's a cute little piece. Tiny tiny bit of angst if you squint, I guess? Mentions of alcohol and drinking. The ending is sweet though, trust me. Enjoy ♡♡

"You look awful."

"Ah, thank you, darling."

"Don't 'darling' me right now, Matthew."

He tumbles into the passenger seat, barely conscious, reeking of alcohol. He stares over at me for just a moment, as if to say something, but he remains silent.

"Put your seatbelt on," I tell him, a bit harshly. He slowly does as instructed. I pull away from the bar and toward his place, though I'm not sure if he's in any sort of condition to be by himself.

We drive quietly for a while. He fights to stay awake, I fight to keep my cool with him. He had said it was just a night out with some of his old mates. That's what I'd been told, anyway, when I had informed him that he was invited to come along for dinner with me and some other friends.

I'm not mad about him declining, that'd be ridiculous. I'm mad about the call I subsequently got at 3 AM. A frantic Matty, saying the cops were there, one of his mates got into a fight, the rest ditched him, and he was in no state to drive home himself.

When he told me who he was going out with, I brought it up to the group. They didn't exactly have the highest opinions of who Matty was spending his time with that evening. Deciding not to drive was probably the only smart thing he had done the whole night.

And Matty's not stupid. He's arrogant, yes, but he's not one to put himself into a dangerous situation, to drink himself to the point of not even being able to walk home. I was furious...but I couldn't just leave him. Unfortunately, I care about my friends and their safety.

Especially Matty's. But particularly caring for Matty for some reason are feelings that I can figure out another time.

After a long time in silence, he speaks up.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't really cut it, Matty."

He nods. Fidgets with something in the cup holder.

"I know. It's...it's really all I've got."

I pause. Glance over at him. He glances at me.

"That was really stupid, Matty. You're smarter than that. Do you have any idea how scared I was for you? You've never done this. I thought you were hurt. Or worse. All because you wanted to get drunk with some friends?"

I take a deep breath. Squeeze the steering wheel.

"I just don't want something bad to happen. Okay? I don't know what I would do...if-"

"If you found out I was dead in a gutter somewhere?"

We're pulling up to his place. The car rolls into the driveway and comes to a stop. Not another soul is awake. It's like we're the only people in the world.

As I put the car in park, I look over at him again. He's tired. Really tired. The streetlight just outside his house illuminates his curly hair, which is even more of a mess than usual. I notice the top three buttons of his shirt have come undone.

"I'm sorry," he says again. This time, he adds, "Not just for my shitty actions, but for dragging you into it. For making you worry."

"You're...you're one of my best friends," I tell him quietly, as if to keep it a secret between the two of us. I want to tell him that, sometimes, he's one of the most important people in the world to me. But I don't. "I'll always worry about you."

He reaches for my hand and I let him take it. He brushes his thumb over mine. He doesn't look up at me.

"Can you stay?" he asks me. A strange feeling shoots through my chest. "I know I've asked enough from you already. And I can only apologize so many times until it loses its meaning altogether." He meets my eyes and says, in a near whisper, "Please. Please stay."

I squeeze his hand. I mean, I've stayed over before. Though, those were very different circumstances. I've never stayed over because he's asked. It's just...what happened.

I get the feeling he isn't just talking about staying over for the night. But, as mad as I am, I can't seem to say no. I want to stay more than anything in the world.

"I'll stay."

[griseldabanks]

Okay for the not-so-nice OC asks:

Break for Jakey

Nightmare for Dr. Robbins

Future for Leyla (suddenly can't remember if it's two as or an e and an a?)

-Rain

Jacob Rogers - break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

There are a lot of different ways I could answer this, because my Jakey-boy goes on quite the character arc, but I'll just take him from the end of the story. At that point, he's five, so still not completely out of the realm of full breakdown tantrums when he's particularly tired or stressed. The thing that probably makes him break down most is when he acts out in one way or another, and then kind of realizes what he's done and that Daddy is disappointed in him. At that point, the tears are mostly a sign of the fear he can never quite seem to shake - "Someday, I'm going to do something so bad that Daddy won't love me anymore." He doesn't really have the words or the self-awareness to articulate that, exactly, but the fear is present and sometimes overwhelming. Thankfully, it's not true - Steve is a wonderful father who will never stop loving Jake no matter what he does, and he's learning the right words to say to reassure Jake of that.

Dr. William Robbins - nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

Dr. Robbins is a therapist who treats the worst of the worst (if that's how you want to describe it) - men who have done the most horrific things imaginable, and who have had the most horrific things done to them. He's heard it all, he's imagined it all, sometimes he's even been there in the middle of a crisis or in the immediate aftermath of a brutal crime. So yeah, he can have some pretty awful nightmares. As a therapist, he knows a lot of techniques to deal with trauma, anxiety, and other distressing emotions, and sometimes he has to use the same techniques he uses with his clients on himself as well. His wife, Diane, has learned what helps the most in the immediate aftermath of a nightmare: to sit in the kitchen with a cup of tea and look through family photo albums that have nothing to do with his nightmares. Also, Dr. Robbins has his own therapist that he sees regularly to make sure he's taking care of himself well enough to help others. He and Diane also take vacations several times a year to visit family or just to get away from the city for a weekend and recharge.

Leyla Tailor (yes, you spelled it right) - future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

Lol, I went on quite the tangent in thinking about this question, and incidentally determined that Leyla is probably an enneagram 7. (Especially when I read a thing on 7's and 2's in relationship, and guess who's a 2...)

Leyla is a highly motivated person who needs to have like five projects going on at once or she gets bored. She has all kinds of great ideas and all the energy needed to get them done, but sometimes she can struggle with deciding which of her many projects should be the priority and where best to direct her energy. Especially since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., there's a danger of her floundering and ending up unable to support herself anymore and/or continue to do things that are productive and helpful for others. She doesn't really spend much time worrying about this (it would seem like a waste of time to her), but that probably is something that fuels her need to go-go-go.

And I'm not trying to suggest that romance fixes everybody's problems or anything, but she also tends to surround herself with people who have a very well-defined drive to do good in the world, and that helps direct her energy as well.

Not-So-Nice OC Ask Game

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

Hi! I saw ALW’s Phantom of the Opera live a couple of days ago and I haven’t been able to stop consuming Phantom content ever since, which is why I happened to read your interpretation of Leroux’s Phantom of the Opera, and the post is so well thought out I really felt compelled to send you an ask. It’s so hard to find a good book commentary in which Erik is not depicted as the worst man alive or the sweetest angel who did nothing wrong.. I’ll definitely be going through your tags in the next couple of days!

I hope this doesn’t come off as inappropriate, just wanted to say I absolutely love your take on the character, I don’t usually see interpretations I actually like or agree with!

Have a good day 🫶

nonono this was SUPER cool of you and I really appreciate it! and I'm sorry my tags are a mess and you can't find all my Erik thoughts in one place.

I find the current dominant fanon on poto to be...frustrating. It's a bunch of people engaging in the most shallow, deliberately bad faith reading, rehashing the same tired ass takes. I'm off reddit now but for a few months there I had a lovely time on the poto subreddit, with, like, one good reddit friend who was, like me, an adult age fan of gothic literature in general, and we were constantly batting theories back and forth for why the culture is like this--and why only the English speaking portion of an international sensation is like this. We ultimately concluded that some people are just saying shit for the clout, but also the show brings out a TON of repression in people. We are convinced that some of the loudest, most irritating, most condemning voices are the ones also reading absolute filth on a03.

Some people are attracted to Erik and cannot handle the reality of that. It's easier to not admit you like something you "shouldn't," and pop culture has not come nearly as far in this way as it thinks it has. There's a lot of internalized hang ups and even shame about liking something that is, on some level, portrayed as potentially dangerous. Something powerful. Some people are still hung up on power = bad, lust after someone powerful in whatever way as indistinguishable from lust for power = bad.

And some other people are genuinely repulsed by the fact that Erik is canonically physically ugly, and they can't live with the realization that they're that shallow. Therefore: Erik must just be a fuckin loser lol and it's all his fault. And this is where some frustrating distortions of Christine's character happen, imo. The contemporary audience can't handle a female character who is anything but free of judgement. Christine is a perfect angel, a good girl, therefore any hesitation about Erik means that EVERYTHING IS HIS FAULT EVER.

But it's also frustrating, too, like you say, when Erik is seen as a perfect little blorbo who's done nothing wrong in his life. The point of it all, imo, the actual point of gothic horror et all assorted genres, is that the suffering is real and it matters and the actions can still be terrible. The character can be both a monster and a martyr.

And maybe it's just that those ideas are too complex for everyone to hold at once. Erik is absolutely a victim and he's not WRONG about how his face is the problem, and of course that would make anyone bitter. But Erik just as absolutely does some terrible things. It's all very understandable, imo--as long as the audience knows that understandable doesn't automatically mean justifiable.

And he's just such a powerful figure, in and out of his story, and also tragic and so Romantic and so romantic, and it drives me crazy that people reduce him to textbook normal male loser.

Like, don't apply your real life filters to fiction, you guys! Erik is not a normal guy! He's brilliant! He's different! That's why there's such fun tension in story--he's got a lot to offer; it's just also very very complicated.

AND THE MOST FRUSTRATING PART IS THAT IT WASN'T ALWAYS LIKE THIS. The stuff that the phandom seems to think is essential and obvious is not essential nor obvious! Broadway carried the show for decades on the strength of mostly women who were mostly obsessed with the Phantom! That's just the reality of it all.

Or, no. The MOST frustrating part is how some people accuse you of internalized misogyny for being sympathetic to Erik. As if reducing all media to the standard of "does the female character choose the Good Husband?" isn't wildly patronizing.

anyway, preaching to the choir, etc...

getting back to important things, CONGRATS ON SEEING IT LIVE FOR THE FIRST TIME! It's such an experience and so deliciously definitive. Do you mind me asking who you saw? I love looking up new cast members and hearing their takes and quirks.