#it pisses me off that my dad thinks he's doing all his efforts in reconnecting with me by texting me at max 5 times a year

[dokjaism]

i think it's interesting that my dad who hasn't texted me since my birthday decided to text me the day after (thursday) i received my diploma like u cannot convince me this man actually cares about me

[hellsdisneyprincess]

Charlie isn't sure how she feels about God arriving. Sure He made a lot of beauty and wonder and good things in the world. But he also made suffering and despair and pain. Yes, she knew that human freewill dictated where they went, but as far as she was aware, He made or at least allowed a system to judge and separate souls for eternity and the rules around it without actual clarity on what determines who goes where. That someone can be eternally damned for making a mistake. To be at risk at having their soul forever destroyed because they happened to be spending their afterlife in one place and not the other.

But even above all of that, she was also upset about how He hurt and treated her father. How a being that claimed to be a Father to just throw away His child like that for just voicing an opinion. To hurt him so profoundly to affect him for all time. That was a pain that could never be just fixed.

Charlie's whole purpose in life was that people were complicated and can be changed and could be worthy of redemption and forgiveness if they put in the effort to make themselves worthy.

But she wasn't sure she could ever forgive Him.

((OOC Mun commentary under the cut. Essentially very personal connection to the concept that will absolutely affect my interactions and ability to interact with the God blog TW: mentions of child abuse and death))

((My dad didn't have a great childhood growing up. He was emotionally and physically abused by his mother and protected his little brother throughout the whole thing. From what I was told, she was schizophrenic and would put him in front of her as a shield whenever she and his dad argued. He wouldn't give me more details than that, but it was very clear that he just didn't want to talk about things further than that and I'm not going to be the kind of person to pry just to satisfy my curiosity.

As an adult, he distanced himself, but didn't cut her off until I was born so my siblings and I wouldn't be at all involved in her nonsense. He never really spoke badly of her. Just never mentioned her. I did have a step-grandmother so it wasn't like I was ever "missing out" or anything. All we ever really were told for the longest time was just that things happened and so she just wasn't in his life anymore and didn't want her to know us. Fine by me.

When I was about 16 or so for one Christmas, my uncle approached me and showed me a picture of my two cousins as toddlers interacting with an older woman at a piano. He asked me if I knew who that was. I said "no" of course. But then he told me "that's your grandmother. Don't you want to know her?" I just said "no."

Apparently my uncle, who was shielded from her abuse by my dad, was able to fInD iT iN hIs HeArT to forgive her and reconnect and had been trying for YEARS to get my dad to reconnect with her. But he always said no. I have lots of issues with my uncle, but this event took me from mere annoyance to active dislike. The only family member I actually dislike in any capacity.

Because what he did by asking that was try to use ME to guilt my dad into reconnecting with his abusive mother against his will. And that pissed me the fuck off. I will NEVER forgive him for that. Because how fucking DARE you??

Anyway, this isn't about my uncle. Anyway, his attempt failed and things went back to normal. Then we find out that she is dying. Dad was understandably very conflicted. He finally decides to go see her and my sister wanted to go with him. I can't quite recall, but I think something came up and they had to cancel their trip, but she died before they could get back up there.

My uncle took it upon himself to organize the funeral. Whatever. Not like I wanted anything to do it. I was only going to support my dad who was definitely still upset and conflicted since he didn't get any closure. Also, side note, at the funeral, not many people were there, but my family came how you would normally dress at a funeral, you know, black suits or dresses. My uncle and his family came dressed in fucking shorts and polo shirts. For someone who made a big deal about being the good son and organizing the thing, you couldn't even be fucking bothered to dress the part either? Ugh.

Anyway.

My dad had a really rough go of it, but time marches on and he's, as far as I concerned, back to normal.

So how does that fit in with God in this RP community? I don't think I'd be able to ever truly separate my feelings regarding my biological grandmother and the pain she caused my father, from how God as a character affected Lucifer and in turn, Charlie. I would be okay RPing mentioning or interacting with the character, but I don't think I could do so without being emotionally invested more than I should.

So if you're not wanting to get caught up with that, I advise you don't interact with me on this topic.

[comeonfuckmeemoboy]

PROBLEMS

Sirius Black x Remus Lupin Smut

Warnings: smut below the cut ;), malexmale, dom!Sirius (cause Sirius as a bottom is so overused), under-age drinking, smoking, drunk!Remus, drunk!Sirius, also don't judge this is my first smut and though I'm far from a virgin I'm very slightly female, that's about it me thinks

Idfk how many words this is

It's been weeks since Sirius and Remus broke up, but when a drunk Rem confesses something he shouldn't have, Sirius takes his chance.

(Fuck if my dad sees this when he checks my phone :( )

Look it's 1am and I could do with some sleep so ignore any typos, spacing errors and the word 'appendage' I'm sure I wrote somewhere.

Fuck I'm going to hell

My gran is turning in her grave rn

Sirius Black couldn't breathe. It felt like his heart had seized beating the moment he laid eyes on his ex drunkenly dancing along to some Queen song in the middle of the common room. He had no idea what alcohol the boy had been drinking, but by the colour of the dark liquid in his glass, he'd take a wild guess at Cola and whiskey. 

Remus didn't know what the hell he was doing. Why was he so drunk and why in the name of the devil was Sirius Black staring at him as though he wanted to strip him from his clothes and take him right there in the common room. Remus' heart leapt when he caught sight of the taller boy making his way towards him.

"What are you drinking?" Sirius asked casually, nose wrinkling at the scent of vodka and wine covering the boy in front of him.

"Coke." He replies, gently pulling on the ring in his lip with his teeth.

"You don't like coke."

"I do when it's mixed with Jack. Then it's nice." The short boy replied, taking a drag from the cigarette clutched in his fingers. He delicately blows the smoke off to one side, sipping on the alcoholic beverage in front of him.

"You shouldn't drink whiskey. You know how pissed you get." Sirius reminded.

"Why would you care?" Remus asked.

"Just because we broke up, doesn't mean I don't care about you. We had something, you can't deny that."

The other boy snorted derisively.

"Why are you drinking anyway?"

"Because I love you and you don't so this is how I cope. I ain't trynna think about the world, I've got way too many problems."

Sirius moved his hand as if the touch the other boys face, but pulled his arm back at the last second.

"Point proven. You won't even touch me." The younger boy raised an eyebrow and stubbed out his cigarette, making a move as if to walk away.

"You think I don't love you?" Sirius asked, grabbing the man's wrist.

"Look we've been here before, I can tell when you're lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Prove it."

Sirius pulled the smaller boy back to him, carding his hands into his hair, and furiously pressed their lips together. Remus gasped at the sudden action, his lips parting, allowing Sirius to slip his tongue inside. Neither of them knew how long they were stood there in the middle of all the dancers, tongues fighting for control and lips dancing together in a passionate display, but to them both it felt like a century. When Lupin finally pulls himself away, he places his glass down on a side table near them and reconnects their lips, fingers pulling gently on the small hairs at the back of Sirius' neck, eliciting a groan from the older boy.

The contrast between the cold of the silver metal ring and the burning heat of Remus' lips caused a throb to Sirius' cock. Remus suddenly pulls away, pulling Sirius upstairs.

_____________________

Sirius pushed Remus up against the wall in their shared dorm and Remus found his lungs airless again, his hands pulling at Sirius’ hips, fingers dipping between the waistband of his jeans.

The kiss moved from lips to Remus' neck, Sirius sucking and pulling on the skin roughly, raising purple marks over his lovers neck. He just couldn't get enough of the moans erupting from Remus every time his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of his jaw.

"Pads, I need you." He whined, head thrown back against the wall, eyeliner smudged and beginning to run and lips swollen. His back arched into Sirius' chest, dick rock hard in his pants and pushing onto the other boys jean clad thighs, desperate for some sort of relief.

"Shirt off." Sirius commands, pulling back and practically ripping his own top off, revealing his toned abs and defined V-line for Remus to drool over. He unbuttons the shirt he's wearing throwing it to the ground and pulling Sirius down onto the closest bed, his arms being forced above his head.

"You're all mine Lupin. Always gonna be just mine." The gravelly tone in Sirius voice sends a throb to Remus clothed cock, the appendage hardening with every gentle kiss, every light roll of his hips.

Remus struggles to free his hands, but finally achieves it, pushing down his trousers and boxers. His member springs up and hits his stomach, the angry red tip oozing pre-come. Sirius' hand moves down and circles the head, his fist smoothing over the hard flesh.

"Aww baby. Are you this hard for me?"

"Yeah... yes only you."

"How pathetic." Sirius snarls, his hand moving faster, forcing the other boy right to the edge. "You gonna come for me?"

"Oh god!" He thinks he hears Remus groan, but it sounds unintelligible. The bordering pornographic moan that forces it's way from Remus' throat as Sirius drops down to his knees and takes his dick into his mouth almost has the older boy erupting into his boxers.

"Holy shit, Sirius. Don't stop." Remus yells, hands coming down to tangle in Sirius' hair and legs shaking with the effort to not explode down his throat.

"Come for me baby." Are the words that push Remus over the edge, abdomen clenching and things shaking as he releases onto Sirius' tongue. The werewolf collapses back, catching his breath. When his heartbeat has returned to something resembling normal, he rolls over, ass up in the air and face resting on his hands.

"You gonna fuck me pretty boy?" Remus asks, eyes a bloodshot mess.

"Fuck yes." Sirius smirks, opening his mouth and letting a line of saliva drop onto the other boys hole. He unzips his jeans, pushing them down, but not fully off and begins palming himself over his boxers.

"Hurry up then." Remus whines.

"Patience darling." Sirius replies, slipping on a condom and smearing lube over himself.

He lines himself up and pushes in, grabbing Remus' hands and holding them behind his back with one of his own, the other holding his hip with a bruising grip.

It doesn't take long for either boy to climax again, especially when Sirius reaches round and starts tugging on Remus' dick.

After both boys have caught their breaths, Remus curled up into Sirius' side under the blankets.

"You know, when I told you to prove it, I didn't expect anything remotely this nice." Remus smiles.

"You and that smart mouth Remmy."

"Wait, isn't this James' bed?"

Sirius snorts and presses a kiss to the short boys forehead.

"I won't tell him if you won't."

@thotbutpurple

For you baby 💕

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #429

“i’m just a bad luck charm to blame when things go wrong”

Are all-nighters something you have grown used to? God no. I have those SO rarely. I don't know how I used to do it. Do you usually wear sunglasses when you’re driving? I don't have sunglasses, and my driving permit has long since expired. Is there ever a time that you enjoy cold showers? COLD, no. A tad chilly, very rarely. I have to be burning the hell up. What clothes are you most comfortable in? Men's pj pants and tank tops. Is there anybody you’re not ashamed to tell anything to? No, not anything. Have you ever unbuttoned someone else's pants? Yes. Are you good at painting nails? Nooooo. My hands are way too shaky. If it’s late at night and you’re hungry, what do you reach for? Usually a granola bar or piece of bread, lol. What word should you really probably remove from your vocabulary? I don't know. I don't really use any words I find wrong/offensive. Will you eat something if it falls on the ground? NOOOOOOOO SIR. Ignoring nutrition, could you live off veggies for the rest of your life? God no. I'm not a vegetable fan. Do you see the value in education? Of course I do. Are you more physically flexible or situationally flexible? bitch neither lmao Does anybody know about your sex life other than your partners? I don't have one now, but my mom knows of some things from the past. Do you make an effort to eat healthy? Yeah. I could try harder, but I do try. Have you ever lived with a girlfriend/boyfriend? Pretty much. I wasn't an official resident, but I was essentially always there and just counted as a guest, I guess. Would you ever be a stripper? No way in hell. Can you honestly say that you love yourself? No. Do you think that you’ve ever actually been IN love with someone? I don't just "think" it, I know very goddamn well that I was. Have you ever done a psychedelic drug? If not, would you ever consider it? No and no. Did you ever see the movie Good Burger when it came out? Not when it came out, but I've seen it and love it. How often do you clear your browser history? Never. Honestly, have you ever eaten raw cookie dough? Yeah man, gourmet shit. Do you consider yourself a burden to anyone? Why do you feel this way? I absolutely do. I'm just a leech at home. A financial burden to my parents since I'm unemployed. I have a lot wrong with me that my mom has to deal with. Who was the last person to carry you? Why were they carrying you? Probably Jason, realistically. I'm probably too heavy for anyone in my life to carry me now, and there hasn't ever really been a reason to besides him just being cute many years ago. Are you a clingy kind of person? If so, how has this affected your past relationships? I know I am. I'm lucky that I don't think it really affected any. I'm not OBSESSIVELY clingy at least, just moderately so. Have you ever witnessed someone drowning? Did you help in any way? Jesus, no. Have you ever felt like you just weren’t enough for someone? Who in your life has made you feel that way? I absolutely have. No one like... intentionally made me feel like that, I just felt it due to my own self-doubt. The times I've felt that that I remember have been in my only two serious relationships, but not endlessly. I'd just do something stupid and feel like it for a while. Have you ever been at a party where the cops came due to complaints?No. What were you doing the last time you spent a night away from home (or wherever you regularly reside)? I was having a sleep study to determine whether or not I had sleep apnea. Where do you like to sit when you’re on the computer? In my bed. Do you feel as though you’re good at understanding/communicating with animals? Absolutely. Are photographs important to you? Do you like to take a lot of pictures? Not incredibly important, because nothing is quite like actually experiencing that moment, but I definitely like to have some of major events. I honestly don't take a lot of pictures documenting my own life, but rather like nature and stuff. And when people pay me to take family/couple/child photos for them. Would you rather hike through the desert, the prairies, the forest, or the tundra? The forest, for sure. So long as I had my camera. If you could reconnect with someone from your past, who would it be and why? Guess. -_- What was the last game you played? Was anyone else playing with you? Do you prefer to play games alone or with others? World of Warcraft. And well, it's an MMO, so you're playing with what, thousands of other people? I mostly do solo content though, but I do usually chat with guildies when I'm on because I'm close and comfortable with them. What is the longest distance you’ve walked in a day? Idk, but definitely far. Do you prefer homemade food or restaurant food? Restaurant, sadly. What was the last new food you tried? Ummm... I want to say sweet potatoes, back at Thanksgiving. I didn't hate them, but they were okay. What is your most recent regret? I dunno, probably something really minor like eating/drinking something unhealthy. What was the last unexpected thing to happen to you? How did you react? I guess that would be the sleep apnea diagnosis. At least, that was the last big one. I can't think of anything in-between. I was very shocked, even doubtful that the results were reliable. But given how my APAP mask has almost completely solved my nightmare issue, I think it's safe to say it's correct. Name your three closest friends. Sara, Girt, and uhhh... Sam. Do you get excited or annoyed when the phone rings? Annoyed, honestly, lol. Do you prefer writing poems or stories? I prefer writing RP, which is pretty much just gradually writing stories. What pisses you off more than anything? Probably rapists, specifically when children are the victims. It's just... so, so repulsive and unforgivable to me. Like I don't understand how a human being could possibly be so diabolical as to scar someone like that. What’s the appropriate age to have sex? I think you should be adults, honestly, given the risk of pregnancy. Not that I followed that, so I can't really talk, and I know most people don't either. When you're really in love with someone and have a sexual side, it's kinda... hard to avoid 'til you're 21. Is there anybody you’re really jealous of? It's so stupid, I'll probably always be so jealous of the girl Jason dated after me. Even though I know they're not even together anymore (well, last I heard a few years ago). Is pornography evil or are you neutral about it? Meh. I'm not into it, but I don't think it's necessarily evil. I personally don't get sex without emotional commitment, but you do you, so long as you are both consenting adults being safe about it. Do you prefer to be monogamous, or are you more a casual dater or swinger? I'm strictly monogamous. I'd be way too jealous to share a partner with someone, and then there's the heightened risk of STDs, too. Have you ever had a crush on more than one person at once? Do you now? Yes, but I don't now. Who is your favorite relative? Excluding my immediate family, Uncle Rob. He is so damn funny. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? I know I would, realistically. Do you think you will be in a relationship three months from now? No. What’s the greatest thing that happened to you today? It SUCKED while actually doing it, but I'm very satisfied having done around 20 minutes of cardio today at the gym. Cardio is something I 110% need in my life. Have you had any beer this week? I've never had beer. I hate the smell of it, and it's associated with memories of my dad as an alcoholic anyway. Could you cry right now? Nah, I'm in a good mood. If you could see one person right now, who would it be? I'd honestly love to hang with Sara again. Do you wear contacts? No, but I wish I did versus glasses, contacts are just WAY too tedious. What color shirt are you wearing? It's a dark teal. Song playing right now? Ha, I am STILL obsessed with Powerwolf's (but with Alissa White-Gluz's vocals) "Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend." Do you wear the seat belt in the car? Absolutely always. Please, please, wear your seat belt. Has anyone ever mistaken you for someone else? Yes. There was a kid at dance who, from behind, thought I was his mother and he just ran up and hugged me from behind and I nearly had a heart attack. Do you like the color orange? Yeah; it reminds me of Halloween. Sometimes, do you wish you were someone else? Not really entirely someone else, but a much better version of myself. What is the weather like today? It's hot as shit and pretty hazy. Do you want any piercings? UGH like you have no idea. Have you given anything up for Lent? No. You do what you want, but I honestly think it's a dumb concept. Would you rather go to a rock concert or a rap concert? Rock, for certain. Have you ever dated someone that was a different race than you? Yeah; Juan was Hispanic. How old is your best friend? She's 23. What does your favorite necklace look like? It's a spiked choker with some dangling chains. It's fuckin' hot. Are you keeping a secret from anyone? I don't like the wording here. I don't have anything I'm hiding from someone in particular, and nothing they need to know at all. I just have a few inconsequential secrets I just don't share with anyone. Would you take a million dollars if it meant you had to die a month later? Uh, no thank you. Do you keep any type of diary or journal? You could say surveys are like snippets of a diary of sorts for me. I share a lot and use them to vent and just jabber on about my thoughts and feelings without exactly burdening anyone with them. What was the last thing that made you really happy? I'VE LOST A POUND SO FAR AT THE GYM!!!! :') It's been just one week, I know, big whoop, but it means A LOT to me. Prior to this, the numbers had just been gradually creeping up and up... but not anymore! :D Can you remember what you dreamed about last night? Very vaguely? Or maybe that was the night before's dream... Have you ever gotten kicked out of a class for being disruptive? Definitely not. I was a well-behaved, quiet student. Have you ever injected a drug? Noooo. Do you think the whole day is better if you smoke pot? I've never smoked. Last time you killed a bug? A while back when an ant walked over my laptop. Are you wearing perfume? What kind? No. The last male you spoke to… is he attractive? That would be my personal trainer, and yeah, he's very handsome.

[porkchop-ao3]

And They All Lived...

I’m not sure how many fics I have left in me for this fandom or this pairing, but I wanted to at least somewhat wrap up Tailor Rick and Hairstylist Rick’s storyline. So here’s a little something I wrote this weekend, it’s pretty feely. Just a little warning, there is a brief mention of suicidal thoughts in this one. 

Tailor Rick gets a shock when a surprise visitor appears in his kitchen and ruins his day. He seeks out his favourite Rick to make it better. It’s SFW, so no smut! Just some angsty hurt/comfort that I hope you’ll think has a happy ending. There’s a little cameo from a buck-toothed friend too, hehe. I hope you enjoy! <3

-

Tailor heard multiple voices coming from the kitchen. He knew that Beth was home, but Morty and Summer were both at school, and Jerry was up in his office pretending to work. Beth must've invited a friend over, Tailor's face twisted in a grimace, he didn't like guests that weren't his. He especially didn't like it when he wasn't informed before people were invited over, it was his house, damn it. He turned on his heel and headed back upstairs briefly to change out of his dressing gown and into something more presentable, all hope of having a lazy pyjama day scuppered. But, he still needed his coffee, which meant entering the kitchen and interacting with whoever it was.

Sliding quietly through the kitchen door he hoped to stealth-pour his mug of coffee without distracting them from Beth's fascinating recount of Morty's last birthday party. With his back to them, he retrieved his favourite mug from the mug tree, listening to Beth tell her guest about the birthday cake and how we'd been sent the wrong one by the bakery. A sound hit his ears then, one he hadn't heard in a long, long time, and one that immediately sent the blood rushing to his head, his heart pounding and a cool spike of something highly unpleasant thrumming under his skin.

A laugh. His ex-wife's laugh.

If he was any more dramatic of a man, he'd have dropped the mug. He settled for slamming it down on the marble counter before spinning around to confirm his suspicion. There she was, as blond and tall and narrow and… pretty, as the day they'd settled the divorce. There were a few more lines in her face now, but she looked just the damn same. Tailor felt light-headed and could do nothing but stare, expressionless, as Diane met his eyes.

“Richard,” she smiled, that smarmy little smile she'd always throw at men.

“Dad!” Beth said in surprise, finally realising that he was in the room. “I was going to come and find you–��

“No.” Tailor cut her off, shaking his head. “No,” He turned for the doorway, marching right through it. Beth followed him, uttering something to Diane before she did.

“Dad! Hold on,” he caught his wrist, halting him in the hallway. “I was going to tell you, I didn't know you were up.”

“What the hell is she doing in my house?” Tailor leaned into her face, hissing at her, spit flying. She flinched and her brows curved with hurt.

“I've been emailing her for a couple of months now, I want to reconnect,” she explained, and Tailor shook his head at her with a slack jaw. His whole body felt strange, pressurised, like his blood was trying to force its way out of him through his pores. It almost hurt.

“And you did-didn't think to tell me about this sooner?” He raised his voice, feeling his eye begin to twitch. He rubbed at it and sighed heavily, trying to get a grip on himself before he had a heart attack.

“I knew you'd try to stop me.”

“You think that? I'm not going to try and stop you, sweetie, she's your mother. I jus- I just don't want any part of it. I don't wanna hear about it, I don't want to know about it, I certainly don't want her here!” He jabbed a finger at the floor.

“Shh, she can hear you!”

Purposely raising his voice, Tailor responded; “I don't give a fuck if she can hear me.”

“I thought you could talk it out, maybe move past–”

“Are you insane?” Tailor seethed, clutching at the sides of his head, not quite believing what he was hearing. “I wouldn't piss on that woman if she was on fire. I have absolutely no interest in seeing her ever again, if she dropped dead in front of us right now, I'd step over her fresh corpse just to make my fucking coffee. Do- do you understand me, sweetheart?”

“Dad,” Beth's eyes welled, her voice wobbly.

“Get her out.”

“No!”

“Fine. I'm leaving. Let me know when she's fucked off again, just like she did thirty-odd years ago.” Tailor turned and yanked his coat off the hook by the front door.

“Just calm down and stay! Talk to her just a little, ten minutes!”

“Beth. You were young when we had the divorce, I don't expect you to understand anything about it. But what you're asking me, I ju-just cannot do it.” Tailor shook his head, shrugging on his coat.

“For me?”

“What about for me, huh? J-j-j–” Tailor sighed and closed his eyes for a second, biting his tongue as a punishment for not fucking working. “Just think about me. How I feel. I haven't seen her in years.”

“I wanted to warn you,” Beth was crying now, as she spoke to him apologetically. Tailor didn't have it in him to feel guilty about it, not right then.

“Text me when she's gone.”

He let himself out, slamming the door behind him. Diane's car was parked behind his on the drive. He considered for a few seconds, putting his foot into the side of it, but decided against it. He opted to go for a walk instead, just wanting to put as much distance between himself and the house – or rather who was in it – as he could.

Ten minutes away from home, his body began to feel more normal. His eye wasn't twitching. His heart wasn't squeezing in a way that made him wonder if he was dying. His bloodstream didn't feel as though it was filled with ice. But, he did feel something. Nausea, exhaustion, a hollowness in the pit of his stomach. It felt like betrayal. His own daughter had fucked him over in the worst possible way. Of course, he couldn't exactly blame her for wanting to rekindle her relationship with her mother, or for thinking he and Diane might be civil. She had been far too young to understand why their relationship crumbled, and it wasn't something Tailor had spoken to her about once she was.

He had not been prepared to see her again. He didn't think he ever could be prepared for that; even if Beth had told him he wouldn't have been able to stomach meeting her again. Diane was a big gaping wound in his heart, his mind, his life. He was fully aware of how his relationship with her had warped him, the effects still evident all these years later. He hadn't been right since, a therapist would have a field day with him if he ever bothered to go. How on earth could he consider letting that back into his life? Even just for a minute?

But of course, he was the villain in Beth's eyes. The grumpy bastard not wanting to make his precious girl smile by speaking to mummy for a few minutes. Tailor's lip curled in disgust. He wished he had told her every little detail, looked up all the blokes she'd shagged on Facebook to show her, tell her how she knew most of them through him. Tell her about how she'd do it in their bed, never change the sheets after either, how she'd indulged in telling him on the day of their divorce that she'd use his pillow to clean herself up with sometimes. How she'd let him fuck her barely half an hour after the other guy. How she cheated on him even on the day of his father's funeral. How she was literal scum and he wished he'd portaled her out into the vacuum of space the day he found out.

Tailor's throat ached with his efforts to hold back a sob. He was in the middle of the bloody street, he could not cry here. But his name was replaying in his head in her voice. Richard. He'd just about gotten used to Rick calling him that, replacing her with him in his memory, associating that name with something good. And now it was ruined. He needed to hear Rick call him that again, over and over, scrub that woman's voice from his head once more. He reached into his inside pocket, retrieving his portal gun. It was set for the barber's already from the last time he'd used it, so all he had to do was fire it and step through and he was in another place entirely.

When he arrived, Stylist Rick was cutting around a bowl atop the head of some Rick. He couldn't stop himself from remarking; “a bowl? I thought you knew how to cut hair professionally.”

“Huh? Oh. I know right? I did try to talk him out of it. He brought the bowl from home,” Stylist snorted, not even flinching at Tailor's arrival. In fact, he didn't even look at him. Tailor wasn't sure whether he enjoyed how routine their meetings had become, how mundane his presence had become for his partner. He frowned and crossed his arms, waiting.

“I-i-it's the only way to get it to look right,” the other Rick whined, like he was tired of explaining himself. Truthfully, Tailor couldn't care less.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Stylist finally asked, glancing over at Tailor.

Their eyes met, and immediately Stylist spotted the look in Tailor's, the troubled, pained, unsure look that he'd always try and fail to hide whenever he had something on his mind. This time, though, it was different. His eyes were wet, his face was a little blotchy with pink spots high on his cheeks, the corners of his mouth pulled down in a tense sort of grimace. He looked as if he was about to burst into tears, and for a moment, Stylist didn't know what to do.

“Uhh, d-do you want to go up to the apartment? I'm almost done here, I can close up for a little while,” he suggested softly after a few moments of just staring at him, wondering how he was managing to hold it together; Stylist knew that he personally could never hold back when he was going to cry.

“Wh-who's up there?” Tailor asked, his voice sounding different, less sure and firm as it usually was.

“Nobody. Place is empty, you wanna let yourself in? I'll be like, five minutes,” Stylist glanced at the Rick in his chair, who was looking between the two of them through the mirror, a quizzical look in his misaligned eyes.

Tailor nodded, and Stylist approached him, fishing the keys out of his pocket as he did. He pressed the keys into Tailor's hand, holding them there for a few seconds so he could take a good look in his eyes. Tailor stared off to the side, refusing to make eye contact so close. He pulled away quickly when Stylist pressed a kiss to his temple, marching off towards the back door of the barber shop that led to an elevator. He took it up to the penthouse that Stylist lived in and prepared himself for the assault on his eyes that was his choice in interior design as he let himself in.

Everything was either black, white, or hot pink. It was glamorous and expensive looking, whilst still managing to maintain an air of tackiness. It didn't faze him on this occasion, though, and Tailor simply crossed the room to sit on the white leather sofa, leaning his head back with a sigh. At least nobody was around to look at him, here. He didn't know why he felt so close to tears, he'd only seen her for a moment, only heard her say one word, she hadn't really done anything but stand there looking at him. That shouldn't hurt him as deeply as it did. It wasn't like he was still in love with her, he hated her guts.

But it'd taken him by surprise, jarred him to his bones, shaken him up more than the one time he'd accidentally put the sewing machine needle through his thumb. Hurt about as much, too. Tailor cried more often than he'd like to admit, when he'd drank too much, thought too much, been alone for too long. Half the time he cried he didn't really know why he was doing it, this time wasn't much different. He knew that cow had something to do with it, but the specifics, he was clueless. He wished he could've just walked away from her without feeling anything, he wished she didn't have so much power over his emotions, he wished she was the one in agony over seeing him again. She hadn't even flinched.

Tailor let himself cry, leaning forwards, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. It was so quiet in the room that he felt embarrassed about the amplified sounds of his pathetic sniffles and sobs. He took a few minutes like that, though, trying to get it out of his system before Stylist came up so he could try and brush it all off and sleep with him. Let him take his mind off it. He was good at that; when they hooked up he took up enough space in his head that there wasn't much room for anything else. That was probably why Tailor kept coming back to him.

The ping of the elevator announced Stylist's arrival, much sooner than anticipated. Tailor sat up, sniffing and dragging his hands over his face in a futile attempt at composing himself. When Stylist approached, pulling off his t-shirt, Tailor thought he'd gotten away with it somehow and this would go on like one of their usual meetings, getting down to business right away. But then Stylist was redressing himself in a different shirt tossed over the back of the sofa, and it became clear that it wasn't the case.

“Covered in hair; itchy,” he explained briefly, staring at Tailor the entire time. “You want something to drink, coffee?”

“I know it's early, but do you have any whisky?”

“Is my name Rick Sanchez?” Stylist snorted, heading for the kitchen. The place was open plan, and Tailor heard the clinking of glass and the slosh of liquid as he poured his drink. He came back around to the sofa, handing him a half-filled tumbler and sitting down beside him.

Tailor could feel him staring as he took a drink, and he knew the questions would come soon. He knew for sure Stylist could tell that he'd been in tears. He placed his glass down on the coffee table, sliding a sliced agate coaster underneath, resisting the temptation to down the whole drink in one. A hand touched his chin, turning his head. Stylist ran his thumb back and forth over his cheek, studying him. Here it comes.

“You haven't shaved,” the observation surprised Tailor. His brows raised.

“No. I left in rather a rush this morning,” he explained.

“A little stubble looks good on you.”

“Does it fuck. I look like a scruffy bastard.”

Stylist smiled a little. He leaned in, kissing the corner of Tailor's mouth, stroking his hand up and down his arm. Tailor closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close so that he'd continue to kiss, moving his attention to his neck. His mind was already fogging over, and he felt his heart swell with affection; a rare occurrence. Stylist's lips paused by his earlobe.

“You wanna tell me why you've been crying up here?” he whispered.

Ahh, shit. Tailor sighed and let his arms drop.

“I had a bit of a shock this morning. I'd rather forget about it.”

“I'd rather you tell me, you look terrible,” Stylist leaned back and looked at him.

“Thank you.”

“Emotionally. Physically, you look as good as always,” he clarified. A little flattery never hurt. “What happened, is everything okay? Your family's alright?”

“My family is fine. Nobody's died, if that's what you're getting at,” Tailor stated drily. “Though, if that's what you were expecting, it's going to be all rather anticlimactic if you get the truth out of me.”

“I intend to do just that. It'd be easier for us both if you just spit it out, anticlimactic or not. Don't worry about disappointing me, it's not gossip I want.”

“What do you want?” Tailor cocked a brow.

“To see you smiling, not looking like you're on the verge of a m-mental breakdown,” Stylist's brow arched in concern and Tailor sighed.

“Well, Diane was in my kitchen when I woke up today,” he told him, almost downplaying it with his tone.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I don't exactly know how to react. I understand that you're not on good terms with her, what happened?” Stylist winced a little.

“Nothing happened, she was just there,” Tailor was getting irritable now.

“And that's what you're upset about?”

“I told you it'd be anticlimactic. You can tell me I'm being a big girl's blouse,” Tailor rolled his eyes dramatically and Stylist shook his head, scooting closer to him on the couch.

“I wasn't insinuating that you're weak. I'm just trying to understand the situation. You haven't told me much about your ex-wife. All I know is that she cheated and you had a divorce.”

“She cheated, yes. More times than I can count on both hands. She hurt me more than anyone ever has, she metaphorically ripped out my heart and spat on it. I've never loved anyone like I loved her, d-do you understand? She was everything to me. When she did that to me, I can't tell you the number of times I thought about- about–” Tailor stopped and shook his head, feeling the tears coming again. He rubbed at his eyes.

“Thought about what?” Stylist leaned forwards, putting a hand on his thigh.

“If I'd have told anyone about the thoughts I was having, they'd have had me sectioned. I've never mentioned it to anybody. I was in such a terrible place back then, it took everything in me to dig myself out. I can just about say I'm over it, b-b-but then I see her out of the blue and I suddenly realise that I'm really not. I'm not over it, am I?” Tailor finally looked Stylist in the eye, his were all bloodshot and puffy and Stylist's chest ached seeing him that way. Without hesitation, he pulled Tailor into his chest.

“Richard,” the word gained a violent sob, and Stylist stroked his hand over the back of his head softly. “Please don't do anything–”

“I'm not going to do anything stupid. I'm not going to off myself over her, I haven't thought about that in years.” Tailor hissed in annoyance, though he pressed himself closer to him.

“Thank God. You're worrying me,” Stylist's voice wobbled nervously.

“I-I-I just know that I've been acting like- like–” He sniffed loudly and started again. “I haven't been able to get it out of the back of my mind for my whole life. I keep telling myself I do the things that I do because it's my choice, but it's really not.”

“What things? Talk to me, I want to know all of it.” Stylist clutched him ever tighter, and for the first time – with his face buried in his chest – Tailor felt like he could be honest.

“I drink, I sleep around, I treat people like crap. I'm not saying that I ca-can't help all those things, but I know I only do it because I'm scared of being– I just don't want it to happen again. I don't want to feel like I did back then because I got t-too close to somebody.”

Stylist was impressed with how self aware he was. He knew that what he was saying was true, but he hadn't known that Tailor knew too. He kept quiet, though, letting him say his piece.

“I do it to you,” Tailor exclaimed, shifting so he could look up at him.

“What?” Stylist's eyes widened.

“I act like you're nothing, a-a-and that I merely put up with you. But I– you're–” he shook his head, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks.

“It's okay,” Stylist whispered, cupping Tailor's face in his hands.

“It's not!”

“I understand,” he closed his eyes, feeling something in his gut. He couldn't tell if it was good or bad, but his adrenaline was pumping now. “You don't have to say anything.”

“I want to. I wish I could just say what I feel without feeling like I'm s-si-signing my own death certificate.”

“All I want from you is your presence in my life,” Stylist told him, pressing their foreheads together. “And I want you to be happy, Richard.”

“You make me happy,” he admitted, and Stylist's heart thumped heavily in his chest.

Stylist said it. He didn't give Tailor the chance to stop him. It needed to be said.

“I love you.”

Tailor seemed to deflate a little in his arms, his muscles loosening.

“I know.” Tailor's words weren't arrogant, he didn't mean it like that. They were accepting. Stylist felt like that would be the closest thing to reciprocation that he'd hear all night; he was wrong. “I know the feeling.”

Everything went silent, Stylist's mind went blank. Tailor kissed him, and he could taste the salt in his tears that had rolled to his lips.

“I love you,” Stylist repeated, and Tailor nodded in response, kissing him again. It felt good being able to say it without being reprimanded. He wanted to say it again, but it came out muffled behind his mouth. He expected Tailor to escalate things, try to remove his clothes or something – and truthfully he wouldn't object – but he didn't. He broke the kiss and leaned into him, hugging him more tightly than he ever had before. Stylist felt like if he woke up and all of this was a dream, he wouldn't be able to stand it.

“Say my name,” Tailor whispered.

“Richard.”

“You're the only one who gets to call me that,” that's all Stylist needed to hear.

“Just know that I'm yours, if you want me,” he told him. Tailor pulled back and gripped the front of Stylist's shirt, looking up at him.

“I do want you.”

“Then that works out quite nicely, doesn't it?” Stylist smiled.

“I can't promise I'm going to be perfect. I can't even promise I'll be alright. But I want to move on, I'm sick of trying so hard all of the time and still being miserable.”

“That's your problem. You just don't let yourself be happy, do you?”

Tailor shrugged his shoulders with a sigh, looking down at the other man's chest.

“Have you ever thought about speaking to someone?” Stylist asked, keeping his tone light.

“A councellor? Oh, of course. I've thought about it.”

“Maybe you should do it.”

“I know that I absolutely should,” Tailor let out a humourless laugh. “I've just been putting it off for the last thirty or so years.”

“Maybe it'll help. It helped me when I needed it,” Stylist told him, Tailor looked at him as though he wanted to ask him about it. But this wasn't about Stylist. “You should do it for yourself, work through all this. You deserve to live without it hanging over you.”

Tailor nodded, closing his eyes and dragging his sleeves across them.

“Tackle that, and you'll be telling me how much you love me every single day. I won't be able to shut you up, just wait and see.”

“Of course,” Tailor muttered, allowing a small laugh to escape him. Stylist pulled him into his chest again, leaning back against the sofa.

He couldn't put into words how it felt to finally be able to hold Tailor like this, without feeling him pull away, without any underlying tension, without him being blissfully unaware in his sleep. Stylist stroked his hair, allowing his hand to trace down to the curve of his neck before returning to the crown of his head, over and over. Tailor's face felt wet where it was pressed into his collar, but they weren't fresh tears anymore. He wanted to stay there, let the moment stretch on for as long as Tailor would let it, and he planned to. But Tailor wasn't going to change over night. He wasn't suddenly going to be writing love letters and serenading him. He fidgeted, making to break away from him; and Stylist loosened his grip.

Tailor rubbed his face, sucking in a jagged, post-cry breath, before picking up his whisky and finishing it off. He didn't flinch when Stylist stroked his hand up his spine and squeezed his shoulder. He looked back at him and offered a small, awkward smile. For a moment, Stylist's heart dropped, waiting for him to regain his stiff upper lip and leave.

“Thank you,” Tailor told him softly.

Stylist shook his head. “No need to thank me.”

“I really do… care about you,” Tailor said, letting his eyes drop to his chest. “I enjoy your company far more than anybody else's, I hope that says enough.”

Stylist smiled, nodding his head and massaging Tailor's shoulder a little.

“I hope that one day I'm able to offer something more than that, but for now,” Tailor trailed off with a sigh, turning back to the coffee table to place his glass down.

“I can see what you want to say, you're not a difficult man to read. You can be a confusing one, but no matter how hard you try to mask things, people notice.”

“You can wipe that arrogant smirk off your face,” Tailor grumbled.

“You aren't even looking at me.”

“No, but I know it's there.”

Stylist snorted, sitting up and leaning over Tailor's shoulder so that he could kiss his cheek. The stubble against his lips felt coarse, something he wasn't used to. As much as he liked the look of it, the texture wasn't so great.

“Hmm, you want me to shave that for you?”

“I thought you liked it,” Tailor glanced over his shoulder.

“I do. But I'd also like to show off my skill with a straight razor. Besides, a lot of people find it relaxing, getting a professional shave.”

“Having someone wave a blade around in your face? Yes, very relaxing,” Tailor tutted.

“You trust me, don't you? I'll give you a five star treatment.”

“Alright, as long as you don't Sweeney Todd me,” Tailor sighed softly.

“Don't worry, I have a very steady hand. I've only slit one throat, and that was years ago,” he grinned. “Come on, baby. I'll start heating up some towels for that pretty face.”

[velvet-tread]

Unfiltered sweary mess: 507 edition

I had thoughts so I decided to this again. Let’s hope it doesn’t become a habit.

Let’s start with the Bellarke of it all, and the sheer joy of seeing them hustle up a plan together on the fly. AND LISTEN I am not on the #bellamysucksnow train, or the #bellarkeisdead train either and as such fair warning there is squee incoming. It feels like the core of the show has returned to us after s4’s barren years and IT IS GREAT. And honestly? I don’t care that romance isn’t in the air between them RIGHT NOW. I thought I would mind but I don’t. It feels right. It feels true to Bellamy, and it feels true to Clarke, and it feels exactly like the vibe I’d expect and want between two characters who love and respect each other and their choices, who have been apart for so long and need to reconnect. Let’s do right by Clarke and Bellamy, yeah? We’ve waited for 4 seasons (the last of which gave us sweet fa) we can wait a little longer.

And seriously, even if it turns out they are just beautiful co-leaders with a lot of professional respect for each other (yeah RIGHT) they could never, ever kill that relationship for me as long as they are in scenes together like this. I don’t care if they don’t bang (call me out on my lies someone), but the concurrent Bellarke scenes in the dining hall, and the triffid room, and then on Echo-watch just gave me so many OTP vibes. Bellarke are at their most effective when they’re together, even better when they have the support of their genius friends. And we got a return of the Bellarke dry-as comedy double act WTF @the100writersroom are you trying to be good at your jobs or something.

Top bantz, as we’d say in Essex.

Too bad the Bellarke unity ain’t gonna last, but thankfully, Bellarke are just as awesome when they are just…very angry and exasperated with each other ok, but DON’T HURT YOUR PRECIOUS SELF I MAY BE FURIOUS BUT WHEN DID YOU LAST SLEEP AND DO YOU NEED SOMETHING TO EAT

Great to have Monty back in the frame cutting through everyone’s bullshit. I thought he’d been relegated to a bit part this season. Oh ye of little faith. Does anyone realise that Monty is the biological weapon earth forgot? Put that angry face in a room with Octavia and see how long it takes for her to crack and wither from Monty’s externalised disappointment with everyone and everything.

Bellamy burning Octavia ow ow ow. I’ve already spoken about this at some length but damn that hurt. And it was deserved, but still spoke to the depth of his contempt for Blodreina.

Which brings me to…BELLARKE V BLODREINA: GRUDGE MATCH

And man, was this grudge match some time coming. To make sure the audience was VERY CLEAR on EVERYONE’S MORAL STANDING, the show helpfully prepped us with some little reminders that Bellamy helped commit a massacre, and Clarke did a load of horrible human testing in Becca’s lab last season. Thanks show.

So, all armed and loaded, the mud slinging began, and boy was it awesome.  First of all Bellarke takes Octavia to task about the worms and TURNS OUT OCTAVIA DIDN’T KNOW which get a grip on power here Octavia because it’s slipping from your grasp faster than you can say Wonkru Barbecue (shoutout to @mego42 – your time is coming). But Miller obviously watched the earlier part of the show and recapped for Octavia just in time because she’s ready for that shit and fires everyone’s dark past back at them. Cue: Bellamy’s best frowny face and Eliza Taylor’s saddest, most regretful Clarke eyes.

Bellarke disarmed and cowed (for now) live to fight another war they don’t want to fight.

But Octavia’s grudge match continues in her office when Indra enters with the intention of being reasonable, which is exactly the kind of shit Blodreina has warned her about before so help her god.

Indra is, obviously, the Queen of Everything and My Heart and delivers some bitchass Truths as Indra is wont to do and Octavia rewards her by throwing what my mind remembers as a skull but was probably a paperweight because why would Octavia have a skull in her office *nervous laughter*

Indra leaves, still Queen of Everything and My Heart, but not before delivering a portentous warning about losing yourself in the dark, which obviously Octavia is not going to listen to because DAUGHTERS, MAN.

Talking of daughters, Madi trying to suck at training was the most adorbs thing I’ve seen in a long time, guys and I am subscribed to a LOT of cat blogs. And man I felt for her. Sucking at anything sucks, and sucking on PURPOSE is just the height of unfair. And she’s in a new school! And the other kids are mean! And maybe they eat people!

Serious question though: from whence did Madi learn her swordswomanship? Clarke? Helios? Roan? (too soon?).

But don’t blame Clarke, Madi! Clarke’s Madi feels are pretty much on a par with mine which means she wants to cry every time she looks at her earnest little face AND CLARKE I FEEL THAT SO HARD YOUR BABY IS ADORABADASS. Which also means MAMA MODE ACTIVATED when Vodka Aunt Octavia starts messing up that precious braid she put in Madi’s hair earlier.

Hey Vodka Aunt, you don’t just get to come in here and make executive choices about Madi’s career, especially given your past efforts at parenting *looks at Ethan*

Oh, oh, oh and WE GOT A RETURN OF THE MUSICAL INTERLUDE! It was like Knocking on Heaven’s Door and Early Seasons feels all over again. But I gotta say Jason, fresh from the Sense8 finale my musical interlude expectations are higher these days and I was a bit disappointed there wasn’t a dance off. Perhaps an orgy or an endgame B/C/E triad instead? *Wanheda jaw clench*

But anyway that whole sequence of Clarke sending Madi off to her first day of training sent me in to a spiral of sadness that lasted for a lot of minutes I wasn’t counting. It was very sad and I am sad about it. Poor Clarke.  Just as well Octavia helped her remember she’s motherfucking Wanheda.

MY GIRL ECHO MY GIRLING UP THE HOUSE.

Let’s just take a moment to appreciate what a babe Echo kom Spacekru nee Azgeda is.  First of all: EVIDENCE OF SPACE GIRL SQUAD and I am all here for that. Second of all Echo is officially the first person on the show to get one over of Colonel Charmaine Diyoza SOMEONE GET ME A FUCKING SHOT.

And listen up everyone who bashes at their keyboards dribbling with rage about the things other women like on television: I love ladies with swords and if you want an apology for that you’ll have to prise it out of my cold dead body. But can we just take a (second) moment to appreciate that for all of Echo’s badass sword skills, she is Clarke Griffining up this joint like a motherfucker. Echo is as Slytherin as Clarke and as sneaky as Clarke and as smart as Clarke and that manoeuvre she executed with Zeke and Raven was 100% a Clarke Griffin move, don’t @ me.

It’s almost like….they’re similar….on purpose….

Shout out to all the smart, insecure girls who aren’t sure if they belong. Learn to swordfight, use your brain, and get yourself a girl squad and a soft space dad boyfriend.

Sidebar: Clarke’s faith that Echo would take the eye down and her admiration when she does will keep me in Clecho feels for months.

But friends…I am the most fervent of Echo stans and Becho shippers and I am AFEARED. She is very much circling the abyss here and it gives me a sick feeling in my stomach. I believe Raven will forgive her (FOR WHAT CAN SOMEONE PLS ENLIGHTEN ME AS TO WHAT RAVEN IS SO PISSED ABOUT??) and I believe the rest of Spacekru will 100% understand what she did because it was presented to us as an understandable choice.  But but but… what’s next?  Diyoza ain’t gonna take the turn the other cheek approach to learning that Echo took down her eye in the sky. What if her next move is to make *Echo* her eyes in exchange for safe passage for Spacekru?

*sweats forever*

That seems like a Diyoza move. And like…where would that leave Echo with Bellamy? Her choice would be: tell him and risk the whole mission and/or turn him into a lying liar to his sister too, or not tell him and risk their entire relationship and hurt him very badly. I think I know which one my loyal girl would choose and how that would end.

Fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

*ugly crying*

I’m not ready.

Okay it’s time for a Raven rant. What the hell is going on with Raven this season? Raven has had some beautifully executed arcs in the past, and I am high key here for her to finally get some NC-17 action now she’s done all that Work On Herself, but if Raven’s arc in s5 amounts to RAVEN DIDN’T GET BONED FOR 6 YEARS AND NOW SHE’S GETTING BONED then Imma flip a table.

Sidebar#2 obviously Raven got boned on the Ring, it’s not like they would have had a space orgy without her, come ON.

And just… I’m sorry I don’t get the Zaven. When they released the s5 pics I thought WOWZA these two are gonna be gr9 together and LOOK HE’S A SPACE EXPLORER. How could this possibly go wrong?  But somehow, they’ve managed to introduce a character who, on his own, is 10x as compelling as Wick, but has about -100% of the chemistry with Raven. Which is???? Some kind of alchemy??? how has that happened? I love Zeke! I love Raven!!! They’re both MAGNETIC on screen. On paper they should be a perfect fit but it’s like whenever they’re in the same scene together I have the sudden urge to check my emails.

And someone, please, just tell me what work Zaven is doing for either of these characters. What’s Raven’s conflict? How does Zeke resolve it? Is it *literally* Raven being presented with a hot dude with a similar skill set? Sorry I’m out.

And before anyone comes at me with the usual packet of whining about how Echo has stolen all of Raven’s screentime, I’d beg you all to remember that there is no law saying that one woman’s time on tv has to be at the expense of another and this is a GIANT SEXIST TRAP DO NOT FALL FOR IT.

Talking of out, Kabby is also circling the drain and [averts eyes from discourse].

But I’m calling Diyoza’s ship name, and if she bangs Kane I hereby pronounce it TEQUILA [whatever Kane’s ship name is, someone hmu].

OK I need to talk about Gaia now before I get shot down by a thunderbolt. The girl creeps me tf out but I SOMEHOW LOVE HER NOW. This is new and unnerving because feverish religious types are not usually my jam ESPECIALLY if they present Clarke’s daughter with a creepy sacred flash drive that they want to insert in her neck, but somehow Tati Gabrielle nails that line, even if my reaction seeing the Flame was exactly the same as my reaction to seeing the worms.

But I believe Gaia’s intentions, while creepy, are pure. And WHO PICKED UP on how fluid her loyalty is? She will serve Blodreina faithfully as long as she reigns. Huh.

In other news McCreary, and more importantly McCreary’s undercut, were absent from this episode I hope they are both enjoying Memori’s couples counselling retreat. I look forward to seeing his glazed expression next week as I cry my Becho tears.

[dokjaism]